My Husband Left Me for His Yoga Instructor Who Helped Him ‘Heal His Inner Child’—Four Years Later, I Saw Them Again and Almost Felt Sorry for Him

I was the one who kept things moving. I remembered birthdays weeks in advance and packed school lunches. I knew which kid liked the crusts cut off and which kid needed to eat a fresh fruit with every meal. I knew which doctors took our insurance. I knew the difference between white and colored laundry detergent, which bills were due when, and what time Ryan’s allergy meds wore off.

We were opposites in motion. But for a long time, that worked. At least, I thought it did.

Then came what he called his “wellness phase.”

At first, it was harmless. I mean, it was all meditation apps, breathing exercises, and a few bookmarked videos about inner peace. I even bought him a lavender-scented eye pillow as a joke for his birthday.

“Thank you, Jules,” he said, smiling. “But you don’t really believe in this stuff, do you?”

“I believe in anything that makes you less of a grump on Mondays, honey.”

He laughed then, but a few weeks later he was burning sage in the kitchen and calling our coffee machine a “vibrational toxin.”

I didn’t argue. I’d heard that people cope with midlife in all kinds of ways. If chanting, healing subliminal videos on YouTube, and crystals helped my husband sleep, who was I to stop him?

But then he changed.

Mark started sleeping in the guest room. He journaled more than he spoke to me. He stopped reaching for my hand in the car. And then one night, as I folded towels on our bed, he sat down across from me and looked at me earnestly.

“Julia, honey, don’t take this the wrong way…” he began. “But you’re grounded in too much negativity. It’s weighing you down.”

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