Well, to put things simply, he is a bad friend. I don’t mean to be cold saying so. When I would turn to him for support, comfort or advice, he could not provide. A lot of times I’d feel like I was screaming inside, in need of a friend, to be met with silence. There was a lot of neglect – emotionally, but sometimes literally/physically. And when I started to notice the same pattern in the way he treated our daughter, it made me fiercely protective of her.

I have a very clear image in my mind of her clinging to his legs, howling to be picked up, and he didn’t even hear her voice. He remained glued to his Twitter feed, ignoring her entirely. I remember thinking, “He treats me like that, but he can’t treat her like that.” It was defining.

I have a distinct trigger of not feeling important to those around me – of feeling voiceless and small. And that feeling echoed back to me in our interactions. It just wasn’t healthy.

He would see me crying and not ask after me or offer help – in fact, he felt my lack of happiness was my own failing and was quick to say as much. He has trouble prioritizing people in his life, often choosing non-mandatory work functions over the needs of his friends. He can speak coarsely, oblivious to the affects of his words, and finds feelings entirely exhausting, even maddening (including his own).

And, in fact, as we exited mediation, I asked him out of curiosity, “As a partner, what did you want for my life?” He admitted – and I hope I’m capturing this word for word – “I don’t think of that. Really, I don’t think of you.” It was like he realized it all at once.

This all seems so small in the face of people met with abuse and addiction. I just knew that when I needed someone, it could not be him. I wanted to matter.