The break-up: there are two sides to a split, here’s both
Around 42 per cent of marriages in the UK end in divorce. Here, with searing honesty, Kate, 45, and Kristian Gunn, also 45, relive how their marriage died and they came to the heartbreaking decision to separate…
The wife’s tale…
When I said my marriage vows in May 2003, I meant them for life. I certainly never imagined that, after 10 years, we would be seeking a divorce. To me, it was something that happened to other people…
I’d met Kristian in 1999 when I’d embarked on a yearlong solo adventure around Australia. On my first day abroad, I walked into a hostel in Byron Bay and there he was – loud, funny and passionate. Then we got chatting… and that was that.
We travelled together for three months, lapping up every moment, before Kristian returned home to Portsmouth. But we missed each other terribly – phone calls and emails weren’t enough – so he flew back out to meet me. We didn’t really talk about the future, just about where in the world our next adventure would be.
We both wanted children and, when Kristian proposed on a beach in Australia in 2001, I said yes.
We married at a church in my home town of Greystones, County Wicklow, Ireland.
Our daughter, Kaya, arrived the following year. Becoming a mum was life-changing and I felt every emotion. Kristian was a brilliant, laid-back dad, while I had trouble letting go and never left Kaya’s side.
I should have made more time for Kristian. Well, in hindsight, we should have made each other a priority, but after Marley was born in 2006 and Baxter arrived 22 months later, our lives were hectic.
We loved our children, but the sleep deprivation was acute. It became a mission just to get through a day without snapping at each other.
It wasn’t until a few years later that it dawned on me we’d stopped communicating. I shied away from confrontation, while Kristian would have been prepared to clear the air.
We both seemed to misunderstand each other, even when dealing with the simplest of conversations – from taking out the rubbish to cooking dinner.
We protected the children as much as we could, trying to find our way back to each other. But, by 2011, we’d both recognised how strained our relationship had become.
We agreed to try marriage counselling. It helped having a third person in the room, who didn’t judge or take sides, but I found it hard to be completely honest about how I felt.
I can’t put my finger on when it happened but, slowly, Kristian and me had started to fall out of love with each other. There were things we could have done differently, like making more time for each other, listening more and trying harder, but…
It got to the point where, even when we were trying not to argue, somehow it always escalated into a quarrel. I buried myself in the children and my work for a parenting website. It was exhausting.
‘Please stop fighting,’ Kaya would say every now and again. Then, understandably, the guilt started to set in.
I think we both spent months, even years, wondering if we were doing the kids more harm by trying to stay together than separating. It was a thought that kept me up at night.
In 2013, we decided to start afresh in Spain. Kristian’s parents were living there and we hoped that, by beginning a new adventure as a family, we might be able to re-affirm our relationship.
But our problems followed us, and the kids found it difficult being away from the home they knew and loved. Kristian was suffering from depression and I couldn’t seem to reach him.
We’d tried for so long to save our marriage – I couldn’t help but think it might be easier on all of us if we separated. After Christmas that year, with a heavy heart, we agreed that it was over and I should leave. There was no big moment and he didn’t put up a fight. We both knew this day was coming.
We told the kids together and agreed that I’d take them to Ireland while he sorted out our rented property.
It was a terribly lonely time. The grief would catch me unawares and floor me. Then there was the fear, the uncertainty that we’d be able to care properly for the children apart, how we’d survive financially…
I knew Kristian was hurting, too, but, with the help of mediation, we agreed he’d have the kids on alternate Friday and Saturday nights, which we increased to midweek days, too.
It was a struggle for all of us but, somehow, we made our way through. Kristian is a brilliant dad, and we’ll always be in each other’s lives. We get on better now. All decisions about the kids are made together.
I’ve got a new partner and, despite the pain, I’ll never regret marrying Kristian, because of our beautiful children.