How do I know if it's done?

Okay, I know this is the worst place in the world for advice, but anyway.

No tits, that's why I'm here instead of /b/, duh.

So. I have been in a very intense relationship for the past 9 years. Crazy ups and downs, kid, etc. I am in love. I have put everything that I have into this relationship to make it work. i have been super forgiving, and accommodating and etc. I work, he doesn't. I still come home and clean and cook and etc. And I don't mind it, because I AM in love. And I really want to be with him.

BUT, every while, my dude blows up and just fucking takes my head off. Crushes me, really. More lately... And I just fold 'cause... what's the point. I don't want to fight.
And right now... I really want to take an honest look at everything and decide: am I the only one in love here? Not what I want. If I really bother him THAT much: I don't need the hassle. Am I fighting for something that doesn't exist?
I'm really scared to even think this way, because I don't want it to be true. But I don't want to be lying to myself either.

tl;dr: How do I know if the man I love actually loves me too?

Malefag, NOT samefag, here to say I empathize.

I put everything into a year with this girl, and along the way she lied to me on big issues, took & took & didn't do anything to salve the toll the relationship took on me.  All of which I did, like an utterly devoted donkey, for a solid year which now rests contentedly, a pancake made of shit, atop a hot stack of 35 difficult-but-fuckit, bootstrapping years.

I went to her hoping I could learn to love wholly & absolutely again, without reservation, and what happened instead is I got herpes (my First Ever STD, by the way, thankew, thankewverrymush), had my devotion & determination repeatedly, stupidly questioned (how many people have I proposed to in my life, do you think?  A: 2) and am now paying all the rent & bloody bills (only one of which wasn't my responsibility to begin with, to be fair)...

After a thirteen-hour workday during which I don't get any art done and am basically slinging kegs & racks of glasses all day & night for thankless asstards, and I come home to her being mad at me because, what, we broke up three months ago and I posted on some horrible porn dungeon how the relationship ended?  Something I haven't even told my own mother, or my best friend, that I anonymously threw up on fucking Craigslist, and because she's in the mood to ego-surf I catch shit for it?

I don't even want to be friends with this person anymore.  I sincerely don't.  And I'm not the sort of guy who makes friends easily, so having to shuck somebody I truly, honestly loved because they shivved me and shivved me and asked if I wanted to come back for another shivving next Tuesday...  I'm bitter toward the whole fucking human race.  This isn't about gender.  It's beyond it.  It's the fact that we can't bloody talk to one another any more, that everyone's own ass is more precious than than gold so, would-be friends or lovers, hope you like recycled Rocky Road deposited in your stupid, gaping mouths--

low-caste, desperate little coprophagics we seekers of love are.