Sabotaged My Life Twice — And Why I’m Still Standing

A Life-Changing Decision

In August 2023, I made a decision that many men dream of but few dare to act on. I flew out to the Philippines to start building a life with the woman I love. We were expecting a child, and I had plans to expand my handyman business by managing it remotely—running it from abroad as a contractor, hiring trusted tradesmen to carry out the work.

 
Sabotage from the Shadows

But while I was building my life, someone close to me was tearing it down. His name is Mike.

And here is how the story started.

I met my girlfriend on Christmas Eve 2016. By mid‑2017 we’d both realized how strong our connection was and decided to officially enter into a relationship.

Throughout 2018 I visited her twice in the Philippines—each trip deepened our bond and confirmed my plans.
Then, in early 2019, I flew to Vietnam to teach English and martial arts—rates were excellent, and it was only a two‑hour hop from Manila. My plan was to work there long‑term, save aggressively, and eventually bring her over so she could teach English alongside me. Together we’d build a life, a home, and—down the line—a family, whether in Vietnam or the Philippines.

During my time in Vietnam, I traveled back to the Philippines every few months to be with her— Working in Can Tho in the south of vietnam, Then make the 4 hour journey to Ho Chi Minh City to Saigon Airport and then making the two‑hour flight back to Manila, Giving my girl the best 3 weeks i could out of every 3 months, Then back to vietnam to work, I did this consistently for just over a year. We got engaged. Just before lockdown hit we made plans to get married and also bring her with me to vietnam.

Then, just as lockdown swept the globe in early 2020, Vietnam—and much of Southeast Asia— Vietnam and the philippines halted visa issuance. I had already spent 13 months in Vietnam by that time and had no choice but to return to the U.K.

When back in England, I went first to my dad’s house—but my friend Mike invited me to stay at his place instead. What I thought would be temporary turned into a three‑year stretch: the Philippines kept its borders tightly shut, and I couldn’t get back. During that time I intended to launch a business in the U.K., Starting out as a self employed contractor to develop subcontracting to trusted tradesmen while saving up for our life together overseas.
Unfortunately Mike,  began actively undermining everything i was slowly trying to do and tried to stear me towards doing things that he wanted.

From the moment I moved in with him—just as lockdown began—he progressively and systematically, slowly imposed impossible conditions. Starting with, I need complete absolute silence and darkness when i sleep, Not a peep, Not a sound of a mouse. Not a flicker of a light what so ever.

At first i thought nothing of it. 
And then.....
He’d sleep through the day and stay up all night!
How am i supposed to live through that?

Demanding absolute silence and total darkness whenever he rested.  Over time....
Any ordinary noise—taking out the trash, cooking, even washing myself—would wake him and trigger an outburst. He would throw tantrums, Screaming and shouting and using guilt trips even though i would do my best to move quietly up and down the stairs while cleaning my room, Washing my clothes, Going out to work, Coming home, Going to the toilet, Washing. Etc....
All the normal stuff but in silence and darkness as much as possible.

To keep the peace, I ended up doing everything in my room, using just a bucket of water, so as not to disturb him.

I would end up washing in my room out of a bucket, Cooking from a gas camping stove and rice cooker, Washing my clothes in a bucket, Pissing in bottles until i could pour them away, Dropping black bin bags out of the window instead of taking them down the stairs. It honestly developed slowly in to a prison. I was slowly isolated.

My work schedule made things even more chaotic. My clients would finish around 4–6 pm, so I’d begin jobs at 6 pm and wouldn’t get home until late at night. That meant I had no time in the day—Mike was asleep—and no time at night—I was at work—to clean or even straighten my room. The mess just grew, and every time I tried to talk to Mike about it, he’d get defensive or launch into long, one‑sided lectures that left me drained. All I wanted was a clean space and a moment’s peace—something he’d made impossible.

Just before I landed a contract to build a garden room, Mike flew off to the Philippines. Over the years I’d spent separated from my girlfriend—stuck in the UK during the country’s strict lockdown rules—I’d shared my experiences so often that he was inspired to go himself.
While he was away exploring what I’d described, I secured a this six‑week job building a garden room. I worked 10 am to 10 pm, seven days a week, determined to finish in time to visit my girlfriend—whom I hadn’t seen for three years—once the job wrapped up.

With Mike out of the house, I finally had the space to focus and clean my room before leaving, But it was a absolute state. And he called constantly, rushing me to hurry up and join him in the philippines, Even though he was on a completely different island and behaved as though we are supposed to be on a lads holiday when in fact i was actually going 1000 miles away from his location to be with my girlfriend.

He would rush me though.
When I finished the garden room and spent a week trying to clean my room, everyone kept pressing me—so I told Mike I’d pay someone to finish it when he gets back in the uk and can let them in the house while I was away.
He agreed. 
There where many occasions i had mentioned to him that i cannot maintain my room or even move around in my room when he is asleep and he sleeps in the day.  Sometimes waking up at 10pm at night as i am coming home from work.
He knew his undisciplned lifestyle and voluntary sleeping pattern of sleeping for 10 or more hours per day and waking up and sleeping when he feels like it was just effecting me. 

Life had to depend on Mikes sleeping plans.
His sleep was the first of his priorities over everything.

Weaponising My Mess: From Domestic Control to Digital Sabotage

When Mike travelled to the Philippines, it was off the back of three years of me inspiring him with stories and experiences I had lived before the lockdowns. During that time, I had been separated from my girlfriend due to strict entry restrictions—rules that finally eased after three long years. I planned to stay for at least six months, potentially even live there for good and start a family. I made it clear to Mike all along: this trip wasn’t a holiday. I was returning to a relationship I’d been committed to since 2017.

But while in the Philippines, Mike met a woman and, within a month, began calling her his wife. He burned through his funds after just three months and had to return to the UK. I even lent him £100 while we were all in Cebu—my girlfriend and I flew in from another island just to visit him and his new girlfriend. He was desperate to return to the Philippines again, but this time he wanted to use me as the means. He expected me to return to the UK and provide him with consistent painting work so he could save up and go back. But I never made that arrangement with him. I reminded him, as I had for years, that my business was all-round handyman work—I didn’t have a painting-only operation, let alone consistent leads.

When I refused, that’s when things turned dark.

He returned to the UK before I did and used my still-messy room as ammunition—sending photos to my family and branding me irresponsible. This, despite the fact that he knew full well why it was like that. His strict house rules had made it impossible to live normally—he slept through the day, demanded complete silence and total darkness, and would become irate over the slightest noise. I couldn’t even cook, clean, wash clothes, or take out the bins without disturbing him. Everything I needed to do, I had to do out of a bucket in my room. By the time he woke up around 4 PM, my customers would be finishing work and expecting me on site. I'd get home late at night and try to avoid contact with him completely to escape his long, draining monologues and unsolicited life advice. I wanted to clean, but between his sleep schedule and my work hours, I never got the chance.

Still, we had agreed that I would pay someone to clean the room while I was away, and he had no issue with that—until it became convenient for him to use it against me.

Frustrated that I wouldn’t return to the UK and essentially work under him so he could go back to his girlfriend, Mike turned to sabotage. He created multiple fake Google accounts and flooded my verified business listing with baseless complaints and damaging reviews. Google only allows one verification attempt and one appeal—I had already used both from the Philippines, submitting all necessary documents and proof. By the time I realised what was happening, my profile was gone, along with a steady income of £2,000–£4,000 per month.

I had no choice—I was completely out of money and had to fly back to the UK. I returned with the original device and paperwork to prove my identity and legitimacy, but it was too late. I had to start from scratch, build a brand-new Google profile, and fight to get noticed again.

It took me three years to build my first profile. This time, I did it in two months. I worked through 48-hour stretches on just 12 hours of rest, going business to business, pushing my services by hand. Eventually, the calls returned, and I climbed my way back to the top.

Mike thought he could break me. He thought sabotaging my livelihood would force me into dependency and ensure i have to live under his room with him in control of the work i do and ensuring i emply him. But I rose from it. His manipulation only sharpened my resolve. I built everything back—and this time, I knew exactly what I was fighting for.

Survival in the Philippines

I used what I’d saved to keep us afloat. We shared the bills. When that ran out, my girlfriend started covering food and living costs. She paid out around ₱50,000 over time. Near the end, before I left, she gave me another ₱10,000 so I travel and eat when i arrived back in the UK. She didn’t complain—at first. But the stress eventually hit her hard. She was heavily pregnant and couldn’t work as much. Her savings were draining. We were both in survival mode.

Leaving her was the last thing I wanted—but it was the only choice I had left. I had to get back to rebuild what had been destroyed.

 
Back in the UK—with Nowhere to Turn

When I arrived back in the UK in May 2024, I had nowhere to go. Mike—ironically, the same person who ruined everything, Bribed me, I can live there if i get him a job!  I needed to survive. But it came at a cost.

 
Living Under Psychological Warfare

Living under his roof was a psychological war.

He talked endlessly, promised support, suggested we go into business together—but followed through on nothing. He begged me to get him a job under my business, saying he’d work as a labourer. I explained clearly that I couldn’t risk sending someone with zero experience to a customer’s home, especially under my name. I’d spent my whole life mastering my trade—he hadn’t even picked up a tool.

Still, I tried to compromise. I made a Checkatrade account in my name doing plastering,  Took him on one job, He wouldnt even carry a bag of plaster, It was me, 2x 50kg bags on foot to the customers house… and after just two days, he quit. I was left with the subscription bill and a damaged profile.

 
Mind Games and Abuse

Day to day, he’d set traps to get under my skin. He’d lock doors, then blame me for it. When I didn’t react, he’d unscrew locks, dismantle door handles, and accuse me of tampering. He wanted me out. The guilt of what he’d done was too much for him to face while watching me cry in silence over my baby and my girl on video calls—scared and alone.

He couldn’t take the weight, so he did what cowards do: he made my life so uncomfortable that I’d be forced to rush, to get money together, to leave.

 
The Breaking Point

And I had no peace in that house.

Mike demanded total silence in the day again!. I couldn’t even flush the toilet without triggering a confrontation, so I started pissing in bottles, pouring them away in the morning just to avoid another explosion.

Then one night, I came home and found he’d poured my bottled piss all over my mattress.

He knew I was bottling everything up. He knew how close I was to the edge. I can’t count how many times I wanted to break his jaw, to show him what it means to violate a man’s space and dignity. But I had a child now. If I hit him, I’d be the one behind bars—and I couldn’t let that happen.

So I swallowed the rage. And drank instead.

Ten bottles of Budweiser a day, every day, for 2 solid months. Just to stay numb. Just to stay out of prison.

Eventually, I confronted him. Fists clenched. Ready to swing. I looked him in the eye and stood tall.

But I held back—again.

Because I had to think of my daughter. What kind of father would she have if I lost control? What future would I leave her with?

Violence would’ve been easy. But the bigger picture demanded more. So I walked away.

Took it on the chin.

 
A Call That Changed Everything

I was keeping my girlfriend in the dark about all of this. Because One day, after being awake for two nights rebuilding my business from scratch—visiting business after business—I got the call.

My girl had to take herself to hospital. Her blood pressure was dangerously high, and she was already a month early. The doctors told her her blood pressure was 180 over 110—she had preeclampsia. At that level, it’s life-threatening for both mother and child. I prayed. I cried. I was terrified.

The Birth—and the Breakdown

Following the doctor’s orders, she admitted herself to the hospital.

I was 7,000 miles away. I hadn’t slept in two days, out there rebuilding my business from scratch—door to door, business to business. Then I got the message. She was in hospital, and it was serious. Once again I prayed. I cried. I was terrified.

They induced her into labour.

She spent 24 agonising hours in labour—exhausted, vulnerable, and unsupported. Then another doctor came in, saw what was going on, and said, “What are you doing? She needs an emergency C-section.”

Then they cut her open.

After the C-section, her blood pressure spiked again—and her mental health broke. She thought the doctors were trying to steal our baby. She thought people were cursing her. The paranoia was unbearable. She was trapped in a mental state where everyone was a threat—and I could only watch from a phone screen, helpless.

She stayed in the hospital for two weeks. Only one note managed to reach her through her cousin. I called the hospital daily—no one answered. I tried to arrange private care, but I couldn’t get the doctor’s referral without her family’s help, and nobody followed through.

I was powerless. Helpless. Guilty. Broken.

Holding in all the anger. I had to stare this man MIKE in the face daily knowing what he had done which caused me to come back to the UK and now this happens and i am powerless!

I tried to keep the peace. I had set up a plan with a landlord to begin a rent-to-rent arrangement where I’d live in the property, pay full rent, and manage it long-term. It was part of my goal to stand fully on my own two feet. And despite everything, I still tried to maintain some kind of relationship with Mike. But that changed—fast.

Every time I left Mike’s house to bring over a few more belongings—or even just stepped out for an hour—I’d come back to find more and more of my possessions in the trash.

Important documents—gone. Cooking equipment and utensils—gone.

A gold chain with a holy cross, the one my girlfriend placed around my neck in the Philippines as a symbol of our bond—found at the bottom of a dustbin.

My first aid certificate and ID? Dumped. A spare phone? Gone. Another gold chain? Tossed like rubbish. My electric scooter—smashed into pieces. And this wasn’t over weeks. It happened bit by bit, within hours—even when I’d told him I’d be back shortly. 

He just did it. Cold. Calculated. Malicious.

After everything that happened, He still went to this extreme level.

I have trained my whole life in martial arts. I have even tought this man how to fight. It has taken every ounce of strength and discipline within me not to attck him with everything i had. 

I wanted to, Believe me i wanted to physically deal with this. 

I had to think of my girl and my baby. 

Rebuilding—Again

I drank more. I worked more. I rebuilt everything from the ground up—for the second time.

Then, By the time my baby girl was around 6 months old, During the night time on the 14th March 2025  I finally posted a picture of my daughter and her mother on facebook. I wrote a caption from the heart about the pain of watching my child grow up from a screen

As you can see, Nobody else was mentioned, However the story now takes a even worser turn.

 

More Sabotage, More Games

By the 16th, Around 36 hours later. Mike messaged me from another hidden fake account which i had not previously located and blocked.

More sabotage.

When I posted a picture of my daughter and her mother, a moment I’d been aching for, to share the pain and joy of finally seeing them grow, I wasn’t prepared for what came next. It wasn’t just about posting pictures—it was about finally expressing the love and hurt I felt. My baby, my girl and my beautiful Girlfriend, The ones I’d been separated from for so long. It was raw. It was real. And I needed the world to see what I had gone through, what we had gone through.

But Mike couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t face the reality of what he’d done. Instead of understanding, he lashed out, calling me a bad person for sharing that picture. As if expressing the pain of being away from my family—of watching my daughter grow up through a screen—was somehow wrong. But the truth is, Mike couldn’t look at himself. He couldn’t face the consequences of his own actions, the sabotage he’d orchestrated, tearing apart the very life I was trying to build.

It was easier for him to deflect. Easier for him to attack me than to accept responsibility for destroying my business and my peace of mind. He wanted to blame me for my pain. He wanted to twist the narrative so that I was the villain. It wasn’t about me at all—it was about his own guilt.

And then, By the 17th, Exactly 24 hours after mike had contacted me.

As if on cue!

Google notified me that my business profile had been reported!

AGAIN!!!!

Guess where the report came from?
Kingston upon Hull—the very place Mike was living. It was him. The same person who had already caused so much damage was trying to destroy my livelihood again. This time, he was using the tools at his disposal to tear me down even further.

It was clear now—Mike didn’t want to see me rise. He didn’t want to see me rebuild my life. Narcissists never can handle it when someone they’ve wronged starts to get back on their feet. But no matter how many fake accounts he created or reviews he left, it wasn’t going to break me. I’d been knocked down, but I was getting up again.

He couldn’t handle seeing me rise again. Narcissists never can.

I’ve seen Mike do the same to his girlfriend—verbally abusing her for hours just because she had a different opinion, then blocking her for weeks just to pull her back and dump her again. All manipulation. All mind games.

 I blocked him on everything. Cut him off for good.

 
Mike's Pattern of Destruction

Mike has consistently demonstrated an inability to follow through on commitments, especially when it comes to work. Time and again, I’ve seen him struggle to complete tasks and maintain a consistent level of responsibility. He works in security, but I’ve witnessed firsthand how he fails to commit to his job. Even while on duty, he’s been two-faced, attempting to poach clients from the security business he works for, all while supposed to be representing the company.

Despite his position in the security industry, Mike claims high-rate PIP and ESA benefits, raising serious questions about the validity of his claims. But it’s not just in his own work that Mike has caused issues. I’ve seen him make false claims against other businesses too—like when he tried to sabotage Izzy’s Takeaway on Anlaby Road by making unfounded accusations.

Mike spends a lot of time at the gym, trying to keep up an image of strength and resilience. But his physical appearance doesn’t change the fact that he’s emotionally weak and incapable of taking responsibility for his actions. The gym doesn’t help him deal with the destruction he causes in the lives of others.

When it came to what he did to me, Mike couldn’t handle the consequences of his actions. Instead of owning up to the damage he caused, he deflected. He tried to call me a bad person simply for posting pictures of my own child and expressing the pain I was feeling. His unwillingness to confront what he had done speaks volumes about his character. It wasn’t about me or my pain—it was about his own discomfort with the consequences of his actions.

And just when I thought he couldn’t sink any lower, I received a notification from Google about a report against my business profile. It came from Kingston upon Hull—the same place Mike had been living. His attempts to sabotage me were far from over, but I’ve been through too much to let him break me.

Until now ive had no choice but to choose resilience Over revenge.
He’s tried to break me more than once.

But I’m still here. And now? I’m stronger. Wiser. And I’ve got a story that no one can twist. Because I lived it. And now i am speaking out.

 
Watching Them Through a Screen—The Moment It Hit Me

While I was crammed into Mike’s house, I never saw them live on video. Back then, all I got were photos of my newborn daughter and voice notes from my partner—tiny glimpses I clung to in the chaos. The baby was brand new, barely more than a week old, making little sounds beyond soft whimpers. Those scraps of connection kept me sane, but they didn’t prepare me for what came next.

 
The First Video Call

As soon as I scraped together enough money and moved into my own place, everything changed. My daughter was old enough for proper video calls, and one evening, as my partner dialed in, I saw the full picture: my baby reaching out with outstretched fingers, her first hiccup, the way she settled against her mum’s shoulder. It hit me in an instant—how much I’d missed, and exactly how much Mike’s sabotage had cost us.

Watching them together through a phone became its own kind of torture. I still remember my partner’s relieved smile as she held our daughter up to the screen, and my heart broke all over again knowing I wasn’t there. Every little milestone—tiny yawns, her first coo, the way she searched for me in the camera—reminded me of how far away I really was. The guilt was crushing: watching their bond flourish while I lived under the shadow of the man who’d driven us apart.

 
The Weight of Betrayal

In that moment, the full weight of Mike’s betrayal settled in my chest. It wasn’t just lost money or broken contracts—it was family moments I’d never get back. And from that day on, I vowed I’d do whatever it took to rebuild, not for pride or revenge, but so I’d never have to watch my loved ones grow up through a screen again.

So here I am—Hull’s Handyman—telling you my personal story on my own website. If you think I’m not willing to commit myself to quality work, then you must be crazy. I’ve weathered sabotage, separation, and setbacks that would break most people. I’ve rebuilt my business from scratch three times, borrowed money to keep my family afloat, and stared down the kind of personal pain most never experience.

But every ounce of struggle has sharpened my skills and strengthened my resolve. I know what it takes to deliver craftsmanship you can trust, right first time, every time. My promise to you is simple: I’ll treat your home as if it were my own, I’ll show up when I say I will, and I’ll finish every job to the highest standard.

Thank you for reading my story. Now let’s get to work.