Wife left me and our kids, but now she wants to talk

I’m a man in my early 40s and a few months ago my wife left me and our two young kids out of the blue. But looking back there were warning signs, and I think she was having some kind of midlife crisis.

She started going out with her friends all the time and doing less with me and with us together as a family.

If ever I challenged her about it, she would just snap at me and tell me that she could do what she wanted.

I thought our marriage was OK, but we didn’t have sex that often and before she walked out, we hadn’t had it in a long time. It was impossible to talk to her, though, because she’d just get so angry.

I found out she’d been telling people I was boring and she’d lost respect for me, which really hurt. I’ve got through with my family’s help, but now my wife is saying she wants to talk.

She says she regrets the way she left and isn’t sure it was the right decision.

I still love her, but I’m not sure I can ever forgive her for walking out on the kids.

I have no real idea what she’s been up to – whether she’s been seeing anyone else.

Should I talk to her? I’m worried if I let her back in, she’ll do the same thing again and we’ll all be left devastated for a second time.

I don’t know what to do.

You have to talk to her, otherwise you’ll be left with lots of unanswered questions.

On the surface, it sounds like she’s had a crisis or breakdown and couldn’t see a way out other than leaving. Maybe she was unfulfilled and bored, but instead of talking about it, she ran away to have fun with her friends, then realised that feels empty after a while.

Talking doesn’t commit you to anything – you’re not saying, “I’ll take you back”, but you’re saying you’ll listen. And she has to understand how this has affected you and how you’re still feeling now. You say she “isn’t sure” leaving was the right decision, which sounds vague to me.

But even if you both decided to give the marriage another go, you can’t just go back to playing happy families because things weren’t happy before she left. It has to be a work in progress. Don’t rush into any decisions, instead, take it slow and steady, and have counselling.

You want to avoid putting your kids through this twice.

I don’t know how you’ve explained things to them, but until you know exactly what place you’re in, you shouldn’t say anything.

Don’t give them hope when there might not be any.

I’m worried she’ll do the same again if I take her back

My glam mate Lou looked at me critically as we stood at the old bag make-up counter in a wellknown department store.

I was moaning about my ashen winter skin being as dry as the Dead Sea scrolls, and she said bluntly, “You need a lash lift. And then a brow dye. And a skin peel.”

I gave her a hard stare and replied, “Thanks for the pep talk. Where did you learn your people skills – Putin’s school of hard knocks?”

I was only moaning because I have my first Christmas party this week, and I’m feeling about as festive as the Grinch with carbuncles.

It’s all very well-meaning when groups book an early slot to avoid the rush, but we’re only halfway through November, and I haven’t got my party face on yet.

But Lou did have a point. Some lucky people have eyelashes that flutter, I have short, stubby lashes that stutter.

The menopause also means that my thin, sparse eyebrows are fading to grey.

Some of that was my own fault in the 1980s with over-plucking to get the Blondie look, but I also blame those medieval torture instruments – eyelash curlers.

It was only years later someone told me you were supposed to use them before applying mascara, not after.

There are no right angles in nature, so I don’t know what possessed me to force a curl in my stumpy lashes with them, because when I released the clamp, the teeth stuck to my thick blue mascara and practically ripped out both my eyes.

Anyway, I’ve already paid for my two-course seasonal supper on Thursday night, so I’d better go and show willing.

I was looking in my wardrobe for something to wear, but haven’t been able to summon the enthusiasm for the sparkly dresses that are hanging there from Ibiza earlier this year.

On the party island every single female looked exactly the same. Lash and hair extensions and big furry eyebrows that were brushed upwards, like someone had stuck mini bristly brooms on their forehead.

“Fake it till you make it, baby,” said Lou, shimmying around in her little gold numbers.

But she literally sleeps with a can of hairspray and bronzer, while I sleep with a pug, cat and mouth guard to stop me grinding my teeth, so it’s not a fair comparison.

I think I’ll wear black to the early Christmas party. It matches my mood.

Email me at siobhan.mcnally@mirror.co.uk or write to Community Corner, PO Box 791, Winchester SO23 3RP.