My husband and I have three kids and we have been through a tough year financially. I thought we might be the small percentage of those who survive – I kept telling myself that these few months.

I took a job out of state and now have an apartment and commute a long way each week. I keep one child with me and the other two are with their father at home. 14 months ago we missed our first mortgage payment. I had quit a well-paying job, that nearly killed me due to stress, to come home and work on our businesses.

The economy made sure my dream of being my own boss was shattered quickly. My husband on the other hand still lives in a dream that it is not over. Blowing through $500,000 of our savings and 401k still has not proven to him it is over.

He now works on – something – all day in our basement. I found the best job I could, far away unfortunately. In the 14 months since we missed our payment he has actually continued to lose clients – being well – an ass to them.

Meanwhile I continue to run my other business, work full time and do side jobs to make the mortgage. The payment on the house that now holds the remainder of my life’s earnings.

I’ve been the bacon maker, he is the bacon eater. I found out this weekend his own mother cut him off. His brother also did and is furious he took $12,000 from her before getting cut off.

We couldn’t eat last year or pay for oil for the house. We nearly froze and ate powdered milk when we could afford it.

I used to be a top executive in my field, we took trips to the Carribean, South Africa, Europe. He lived large on my salary. Now I can’t get him to even get a job at the local fast food joint to make ends meet.

We were on a “modification” the past 6 months, it will be only 3-4 before we are in trouble again. This time, I have an apartment, my own checking account, and an escape plan for me and my three kids.

I have cried many nights, I have mourned the loss of my marriage, my husband. He is not the man I married. No one recognizes him and he scares me and the kids. This weekend was the final blow – literally.

He hit me – right in front of his mother.

I’m not weak, I won’t subject my children to this any longer. We are all afraid of him. He is also a huge man. He could kill me in one blow – although I pray each day it will never come to that.

I write this blog in fear I may not be here to tell my own story.

My children are my world, for him they are an annoyance most of the time. I miss him – the man I married. The man I thought I would die next to. That man was wonderful – this man is terrible.

I just can’t believe I’m here. That I’m “that woman” who is pondering divorce, has a husband who hits her, who’s kids are scared of their Dad. I can’t believe I work 80 hours a week while I see him sit in our basement, 10 feet from his bed, and does nothing. I looked at his email – he sent 5 in the past 2 weeks.

No applications for jobs, no motivation to fix our lives. He just sits in the basement. I’ve tried to talk to him, I’ve yelled at him, I’ve cried in front of him, I’ve lost my mind trying to get to him. He is gone. I don’t know if he will ever return.

Meanwhile I have to rescue our children. They are all that matters.

It is amazing how alone you can feel with people everywhere….