I could not describe our marriage as made in heaven; made in a famous Swedish furniture stores discount department more like (fits together, looks good, but is not quite right and is unlikely to last). But it was a marriage and it was my marriage, and I was not about to give it up without trying to make it work. Every conversation we ever had about my son and his autism led me to believe that she was totally committed to his support. She worked very hard in his potty training, and that was not easy by all accounts. The last thing my son wanted to give up was his comfortable nappies; walking around in just underwear did not suit him at all and sitting on a chilly plastic bowl was not acceptable either. But his mum persevered and little by little she got him to give up his nappies for good. With a great deal of patience and soft reassuring words he finally relented and grew to enjoy this new experience. But it seemed that was the turning point in her commitment to his support. After that she was not so empowered.

The fact was we could not carry on as we were. I felt like I had two children. I would return home from work after a busy dinner shift, put my son to bed, then listen to her complaints from her day. Often she would ask me for a shoulder massage (you know the stress of caring for an autistic boy!). She would ask if I was making myself some hot chocolate, and if so could I make some for her. I would and she would then complain about it.

Most evenings I would watch the families that dined at the restaurant where I worked; they seemed to be a unit. They brought with them some of the atmosphere of their home life: warm, safe, loving, and above all nurturing. This was sadly lacking within our household and I knew we could not continue as a family for much longer. It was already affecting my work ...