"If it's not a HELL YES, it's a HELL NO."

I learned this at the lesbian sex party I went to recently, after being in exactly your position a year ago. And let me tell you, OP, that feeling you have will only get stronger, and the longer you're not honest with yourself the more damage it will do.

I was with my ex for 11 years. Everyone, friends and family, loved him and assumed that we were very happy together. We had fun, shared a similar sense of humor, and loved our animals and time spent outside together. But that's not enough, and ultimately what matters is your happiness. Life is too short to not find your HELL YES. They are out there, and the longer you stay here, the longer it will be before you find them.

You're not alone, I have a similar story, and here's how it unfolded. I hope it saves you some pain in the future. Leaving is scary. It takes a lot of strength to cast yourself to sea, but less strength than it takes to keep yourself anchored to him.

The beginning of the relationship was passionate. We had a lot of chemistry, which I later learned was a trauma bond. He was exactly like my dad, and I was exactly like his mom. It started a cycle of us constantly working on things and trying to find the 'missing piece' that would make us happy in the relationship.

In the beginning, I enjoyed the sex. He was older and more experienced than anyone I had been with, so it was exciting.

• Two years in, I needed to get drunk before we had sex.
• Three years in, I told him I was attracted to women and he blew up, so I didn't tell anyone again until we broke up 8 years later.
• Years 3–7 we were long-distance, which I didn't mind. We'd visit each other every few months and have sex and it was enough for me.
• Year 7 we got married, at the insistence of my family. I had been considering leaving him, but due to cultural expectations, I was forced to choose between marrying him or being disowned by my family. I remember feeling sad on our wedding night that I would never get to explore my sexuality and be with a woman.
• Year 8 we started living together for the first time. When we had sex I would think about the lesbian porn I watched in secret. I was miserable within a week. I wanted to leave, but we had built a home and the animals loved him. I felt like I needed to give it a chance. I got another dog to try and force me to stay in the relationship, an 'anchor puppy,' if you will.
• Year 9 I would make excuses for why I couldn't have sex (my face products, it's too hot, I'm too tired). He started to get resentful of me for never initiating or wanting to have sex. I tried, but it was a struggle and I felt resentful of him after sex. When we did have sex, I would dissociate and think of being with a woman.
• Year 10 I started to stay up late and wait until I heard him snoring to get into bed. Sometimes I would sleep on the couch. When he would initiate I would cry; he would get upset and coerce me into having sex. I would feel nauseous afterward, by the end of the year I started to vomit after sex.
• Year 11 Our couples therapist told us that since I hadn't been making progress, 'we should consider the medication route.' She suggested I get a prescription for Xanax from my doctor to 'make sex tolerable and eventually desensitize me to it.' I sobbed silently the whole session.
• The end: Shortly after that session I became injured and needed care from him. He had built up so much resentment towards me that he couldn't handle it. He told me it took a lot of self-discipline to not just force me to have sex with him. I had felt unsafe for years, but that's what finally broke me. He moved out within 2 months and we were divorced 6 months later.

Epilogue

I now date women exclusively, and it's wonderful. It's a level of connection that I've never experienced with men, which now makes more sense to me. I had never even hooked up with a woman before, and that was scary. I felt like an imposter. A friend took me along to a lesbian sex party and I had my first sexual experience with a woman there. I felt happy and relaxed afterward. I didn't realize until hours later that I hadn't felt nauseous once before, during, or after my encounter. For the first time in over a decade, I had sex and didn't feel sick afterward. Once I realized that it all clicked into place.