I am slowly destroying Phil. I don’t mean to; I really don’t want to, but I don’t seem to be able to help it.

Last weekend, he slept around, and it completely freaked me out. I couldn’t wait for him to go, not because of anything he did, but because it just felt very uncomfortable having him here when the children were home. I barely spoke to him all week and more or less decided I would have to end the relationship, yet again.

I was going to go around to his place last night, but I was so tired that I stayed home and relaxed here instead, telling him I may see him today.

We had a few crossed wires, which resulted in Phil turning up here out of the blue, and I’m so glad he did. As soon as I opened the door and saw him, I felt okay again. I was so pleased to see him.

He was angry and hurt because of my withdrawal all week, but after chatting and me apologising for most of the afternoon, we’re okay again.

I wish I didn’t keep having these massive panics with him, though; they’re ruining everything, and I don’t want to keep hurting him. I don’t want to hurt him ever again.