'I'd been married 12 years when I discovered everything I knew about my husband's life before me was a lie.'

I'd only been in one other relationship before I met Jay*. It was a guy that I met while at University and it got real serious, real fast.

Before I knew what was happening, those feeling of first love were drowning me, everything else in my life took second place to spending every waking moment with him… and his family. His family adored me and had big hopes for the future of our relationship.

My own friends and family were concerned about how involved and invested his family, particularly his mum, were. They urged me to remember the things I loved before I met him and gently encouraged me to put up some boundaries. I didn't. In the end, the interfering and meddling became too much and the relationship imploded. The fallout was traumatic for all of us.

Watch: The Mamamia team admits the moment they knew it was time for a divorce. Post continues after video.

It took a while for me to dip my toe back into the dating pool, and when I did, my walls were so high that nobody could penetrate them. First mention of their mum or their home life and I was out the door. Then I met Jay.

Jay was aloof, the complete opposite of my first love. He was an only child whose parents had passed away in a tragic motor accident when he was an infant. He survived the crash, to be raised by his maternal grandparents who had, since, also passed.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that his lack of family was a big attractor for me, but it wasn't the only thing. We had great chemistry and soon fell into an easy companionship that became the envy of my friends.

After two years, we were married in a small civil ceremony attended by my parents and our two best friends. Soon after, we made plans to begin a family. I'd be a stay-at-home mum, and Jay would support us with his thriving electrician business.

Having our three kids highlighted some challenges in our relationship that I'd been sweeping under the rug. Jay was a liar. Nothing big, little pointless white lies that annoyed me when I caught them, but didn't warrant any major conflict.

That was the other thing, Jay was not a fighter. He was adept in smoothing over, a real expert in understanding what I needed from conversations and delivering it. It was a strange feeling, in theory I felt heard, but I was sometimes left unsatisfied by the way that conflicts panned out.

While my friends complained about their partners, I would try to chime in, but I couldn't make him sound bad. It was an intangible 'something' about him that I couldn't explain.

Our other main issue was that Jay never wanted to travel anywhere. He'd often share stories about growing up in Western Australia, painting beautiful images of the coast and the people, but when I suggested we go take a look, he'd become agitated and flustered.

Even the idea of traveling up or down the east coast was met with excuses. The business was too busy, he had anxieties about travelling with the kids because of his past, "maybe next summer". It had been 12 summers so far and he hadn't budged once. When I floated the idea of going to Bali with friends, he became almost catatonic.

I put it down to the trauma of losing his parents so young and tried to focus on all the good parts of our relationship. As the kids got older and we moved out of the exhausted stage, we had less niggles and slipped back into the easy companionship that marked the start of our relationship.

It was a phone call that changed everything. I wasn't meant to be home, I was supposed to be at basketball training with our eldest son, but he'd sprained his ankle at school so had the afternoon off.

I answered the call with a basket of laundry on my hip, holding the phone to my shoulder with my cheek as I navigated all of the kids' shoes that were strewn near the backdoor.

I wish I could remember the exact conversation. I do remember some back and forthing as I tried to explain to the woman caller that she must have the wrong Jay, the Jay that lived here didn't have a mum. I also remember becoming annoyed at her invasive questions, cutting her off with a, "Sorry I can't be more help, I have to go."

Ten minutes later the home phone rang again, this time my son answered. "Muuuuum, there's someone on the phone saying she is our grandma. Says she's Dad's mum and she's just found out about us."

I snatched the phone, more annoyed, and told her to stop calling, she had the wrong Jay. She was insistent and I was busy so I told her I would take down her number, get my Jay to call her, and they could resolve this themselves.

I was about to hang up on her as she was still speaking when I heard her say: "I know this is confusing, but we hired a private investigator who found you. We knew Jay was lying about having a family."

I knew then. Like a bolt of lightning, a knowing feeling came over me that this was true. I sank into the lounge as she continued to speak.

Jay's parents didn't die in a car accident. They were alive and well, living with his two siblings in his hometown in WA. His maternal grandparents were both still kicking too.

They'd been in regular contact with him but hadn't physically seen him in over fifteen years.

He'd been telling them that he moved regularly for work, had no home base and he had cancelled numerous plans to come home for Christmas, always at the last minute. He'd even been sending money to them to help them out with bills.

She was still speaking when Jay walked in the door. He could tell that something was up and began to mime questions at me as I held the phone to my ear. In response I put the phone on speaker while maintaining eye contact with him just as his mum began to explain that Jay had always "been a fibber" and they had begun to suspect that he was hiding a whole life from them.

He barely reacted. A kind of resolved, almost relieved look came across his face and he, ever so slightly, shrugged his shoulders.

That sent me. All of the frustrations at all of the white lies for all of the years came spewing out of me. I threw the home phone, his mum still talking, and in a pure blind, shocked rage launched myself out of our home. I called my best friend, who came to pick me up and together we tried to process what I had just heard.

It's been 12 months since that phone call. Jay has moved out. We've been to counselling with no resolution. Everything I have learned about his family and childhood is positive. There was no abuse, nothing to run from, nothing to hide.

The most frustrating part of the whole thing is that Jay offers no reason for his lie. He can't explain any of it, offering simply that he went too far with it, was getting away with it so saw no reason to change anything.

That leaves me with no place to land. I can't get past the lie, I circle around and around but with no reason offered, I can't move past it.

There is so much good to salvage from our relationship, but more and more I feel like I'm going to have to let it go. The breach of trust is such a huge chasm, it might be the end of us.

*Name has been changed for privacy.

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but remained anonymous for privacy purposes.

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