“I love you, but you bankrupted us!” A Wife’s Crypto Heartbreak
I never set out to be, but in so many ways, I was the typical suburban mom.
Jacob, my now ex-husband, and I, had built a beautiful life together. We had three beautiful, intelligent, happy and adventurous children. We had a meaningful connection and would make time for each other. We had a strong relationship.
Before any of this happened, I’d often think about how blessed I was in my life. Waking up to the familiar, comforting sounds of their kids bustling around the house, brought me a sense of peace like nothing else in my life. The laughter and playful arguments between our three children, Noah, Lily, and Sam, made me feel like everything I’ve worked for—the family we had built together—was worth every moment.
When I met Jacob, it was like fate had its own plan for me. Jacob was driven, kind-hearted, and surprisingly down-to-earth for someone who was so successful. He had always been someone who gave 110%—whether it was in his schooling, his work, or his personal life. We met in college, and our first date was at a small local café. I remember being immediately struck by how much he genuinely listened when I talked. He asked questions, not the kind of questions that came from polite conversation but the kind that made me feel seen and understood.
I had always known I wanted a family, but I wasn’t sure what the path would look like. I studied occupational therapy in school, and initially planned to have a career of my own. Circumstance, however, would lead me to choose the path of a stay-at-home mom. This role afforded me time that I cherished with the kids—waking up early to make breakfast together, reading books in the afternoon, and watching them grow in their own unique ways. Noah, our oldest, is the curious, adventurous one, always asking questions and wanting to explore. Lily, the middle child, is a dreamer, often lost in her own world of art and stories. And then there’s Sam, our youngest, who keeps everyone on their toes with his boundless energy and mischievous nature.
The years have just flown by since our kids were babies, and while there’s never a dull moment, I’ve found joy in each stage. I loved being involved in their activities, helping with homework, and being a constant source of support. The house was always filled with noise, but it was the kind of noise that I wouldn’t have traded for anything. These days, our apartment is quiet.
Jacob’s success at work meant that he was often busy, but he made sure to carve out time for us. He never missed the kids’ school plays, soccer games, or birthday parties, even though his schedule was always packed with meetings and charity events. It felt like we’d really learned to make our time together count. Sometimes, after a long day, the two of us would unwind with a quiet dinner at home, talking about the kids, work, or our future together. In these moments, I would feel grounded and connected, knowing that, despite the whirlwind of daily life, we were still in sync with one another.
After so many years, sometimes restlessness comes up in any marriage, but we really tried to challenge ourselves and keep things fresh. In recent years, I’d found a new passion for CrossFit, which I never expected. Jacob had been into it for a while, pushing his limits with each workout, and I really admired his dedication. After seeing how it brought him such a sense of accomplishment, and with his encouragement, I decided to give it a try. For a while, we attended classes together, challenging one another, laughing when things don’t go as planned, and cheering each other on through every difficult set. It seemed like such a healthy way for us to bond, especially since we were both so busy. Plus, it felt like we were setting a good example to the kids, showing them the importance of taking care of their bodies and pushing themselves outside of their comfort zones.
Now, I don’t want to make it sound like everything was perfect, but everything was good. We communicated, we were loving parents. We worked together when we needed to. We each deferred to the other when necessary. We built a good life.
Something about Jacob that always attracted me was how seriously he took things and how he did everything well. Really, he seemed to be good at most everything he tried his hand at. He was a successful executive on the board for a major charity. He taught CrossFit classes in our community and was seen as a leader and role model for others. Heck, in college, he tried his hand at photography and has his pictures published in a major periodical. So, when Jacob came to me and told me he was making more money at trading than he was at his regular job, I wasn’t entirely surprised. I think it was 2017 when he told me about margin trading on places like BitMEX and Binance. He would essentially place short-term bets on whether the price of Bitcoin or Ethereum would go up or down. He won a lot.
What a thrill. Every trade a win. Jacob couldn’t wait to tell me about his big wins for the day when we would wind down for the night.
At first, it seemed like a good way for him to spend his extra time. He was making money, and he was clearly enjoying himself. He talked about “securing our future,” and made it seem like he had a clear handle on how to be involved in this in a way that limited any potential risk while capturing as much upside as possible. That was, at least, until the end of 2021.
Around December of that year, I started to notice a change in Jacob. He wasn’t his usual, jovial self. He seemed increasingly bitter and angry. This manifested itself in a number of different ways, but of the most noticeable was his change in how he treated the children. Jacob had always been a loving and doting father, but now, he was more cold and harsh with the kids. He was short-tempered and irritable. He resisted attempts by both the kids and myself to find out what was wrong.
Initially, I put it down to stress over the holidays, but when Jacob’s bad mood continued into the spring, I realized something else was going on. Up to this point, Jacob and I had an open and communicative relationship. We shared not just what was going on in our individual lives, but what we were feeling and thinking about, as well.
Jacob became much more withdrawn and wouldn’t talk about his feelings anymore. He stopped going to CrossFit and replaced this activity with solitary, early morning runs. At first, I was convinced he was having an affair. He had always received lots of positive attention from women due to his physical appearance, but I’d always been secure because we had such a strong relationship. With his withdrawal, I felt like maybe he had met someone or maybe he had just started to lose interest in me. His anger toward the children seemed completely irrational, and that, more than anything is what bothered me. If he had lost interest or if he had fallen in love with someone else, okay. These things happen. But it was infuriating watching him take his anger out on the kids, who were completely innocent in all of this.
Things came to a head one night when he yelled at Noah over something so trivial, I can’t even remember what it was. I lost it. I laid into Jacob and told him he was being completely unfair and that I wasn’t going to have it any longer. Jacob reacted in a way that was totally unexpected —he broke down and cried. After we put the kids to bed, we talked and he confessed what had been going on. Around November or December of 2021, the market turned, and he lost big on some bets. He had since tried to recoup his losses, which only led to greater losses. He agreed to get help and to stop and we had a tearful heart-to-heart that made me feel that everything was going to be okay. Unfortunately, things weren’t going to be okay. He lied about almost everything he told me.
Jacob’s losses were much greater than he let on, but worse than that, he didn’t stop at all. His next move was to leverage himself as much as possible and put everything he had into Luna, a project that I’d heard him talking about for months by that point. To give you an idea of how bad his timing was, this was about a week before Luna imploded and the token went from over $100 USD to worthless in a matter of hours.
When I found out what had happened, I just stood there, paralyzed. He raved on about Binance attacking Luna and how this was all some orchestrated scheme. I quietly asked him if he had lost his mind. I wanted to slap him, but I didn’t. Instead, I put on a smile, nodded, and told myself that maybe, just maybe I could still pull him out of this. Over the next few days, however, I realized the extent of his deception, and how he’d been lying about everything for much longer than he even let on. I also found out he was sleeping with a girl from our CrossFit group about twenty years younger than us. I quickly filed for divorce. I won’t go into the sordid details here, but the girl he was sleeping with tried to blackmail him. She showed up at his job, and that led to a series of events that wound up with him being terminated for cause. Last I heard, he was driving a shuttle to and from an auto detailing place near the kids’ school.
These days, I’m working full-time as an OT assistant, a role I’m incredibly grateful to have landed. The kids are doing okay—as okay as you could expect in the aftermath of a divorce. We live in an apartment. It’s a far cry from the old house but it has enough space for all of us —me and the kids.
So, here we are. Trying to rebuild our lives, picking up the pieces of what used to be a real future, while he’s off buying ordinals or whatever he’s into now. Sometimes, I don’t even know what happened to us. It’s like crypto was a wrecking ball that destroyed our lives. But it wasn’t crypto, it was him; it was the decisions he made. And I have to live with that. The man who used to love fishing and cooking on Sundays is now someone I don’t even know; his life consumed by bitterness and scheming. But me? Well, I’m free. I’ve learned that without trust, nothing really works.
And now, looking back, I don’t regret leaving. I don’t regret starting over. In truth, it’s not like I had much of a choice. But sometimes, you have to lose everything to find out what really matters. Maybe I just tell myself that to cope.
