Now, this really is wanking in a dark, damp room – when my ex left, was it the best thing that could have happened?

Hmmm…. K and I had been together for 23 years, we were friends before that. We had good times and bad, but through it all, had a solid belief that we would be together forever. Cliche, I know, but that’s how it felt.

Being with someone for that long you inevitably alter your behaviour, your beliefs and opinions to work with the other half; most of the time completely subconsciously.

Things became tough after a couple of years, and we had some really shitty financial problems to deal with; he got made redundant from his very well paid job in the City, just after I had bought my horse, our large house on a river, and were taking regular shopping trips to the designer shops in Brighton’s Lanes. It all came at exactly the wrong time.

The problems just carried on and it took many years to dig our way out of the deep dark pit. The stress created fractures that we never really managed to Polyfiller over. We fell into habits of behaviour, patterns of arguing; we silently blamed each other for our problems.

We both covered the hurt by criticising each other. He started gaslighting me and I started almost believing him. It was a vicious circle. But through it all, we did love each other, and still took it for granted that we’d always be together.

The run up to christmas 2013 was difficult. My depression was at an all time low, and for a few months previous, I had been wondering where we were going as a couple, and K seemed to be suffering with an internal trauma, but not entirely sure what it was.

Finally, during a week long powercut that had us cooking our xmas dinner on a disposable bbq in the porch, he told me we were over. He needed something else, he wasn’t sure what, but felt our time together had run it’s course. Cue hysterics and drama of the highest degree from me, once the chill had dissipated.

I am ashamed to admit quite how badly I took it – fear, fear and more fear. I just didn’t understand. There was no one else involved, so I only had an invisible foe to rail against. And rail and fight I did.

Due to finances, we had to keep sharing the same house until July. This was a nightmare and made things so so hard. We wanted to stay friends, 23 years is so much to just throw away like rubbish.

My friends, whom I love dearly, pulled and dragged me through, kicking and screaming. And are still picking me up on the bad days xxx

It’s now October, and over the months I’ve worked out who I am. I am not the weak, confused c.u.n.t. that K used to call me. Since February I started to feel stronger, and hold my head up. Tits to the sky, as my old dressage instructor would say. I realised that I never was the feeble, useless woman that fell into place. Ironically the drip drip drip from K gave me the fight to stand up. I know that probably doesn’t make much sense, but over the years of our partnership, I never really accepted that I was that person that he said I was, fortunately some of the old me was still in there, fighting. So I brought her out into the open once again.

In March, I met my sub – and he, unknowingly, gave me the go ahead to be strong,  confident, and proud. I could show who I was finally, with no shame or embarrassment.

I know it all sounds like a contradiction, and it is to a certain extent, but who cares? Not me – I am who and what I am and up yours, world!

So, was our breakup the best thing? Well, K seems happy with his new life, and that is what I want for him. He is a good friend that I only wish the best for .

And where am I? I have my life, I have my strength, my friends, my gorgeous and very dominated, but happy, sub. Things are good! And will get better!

So, who’s to say where we would be as a couple if we hadn’t split, but we did and I am the product of that, and all that I was before.