At the start of my marriage, the control seemed small—almost unnoticeable. Our first Christmas as a married couple, I wanted to buy my parents a meaningful gift to thank them for all they had done for our wedding. My mother had been wanting a specific name-brand item, and I knew it would be perfect for them. But my husband said it was too expensive and convinced me to buy a cheaper version from Walmart instead. Before marriage, I had been generous with gift-giving, but once we were together, I found myself adopting his miserly mindset. Looking back, I think money was the first way he controlled me.
Forced Dependence
His control didn’t stop with money. He convinced me to put aside my degrees and become a full-time stay-at-home mom. I loved being home with my children, but he became a constant critic.
Years later, he began accusing me of mooching off him, saying I wasn’t contributing to our family—even though I took care of everything in the household, including homeschooling our kids.
When I finally sought employment outside the home, he turned that against me too, calling my job selfish and accusing me of neglecting my family. Because he repeatedly called me a mooch, I made a point to spend only the money I earned—not his. But even that wasn’t good enough. He said my refusal to spend his money was stubborn and prideful.
Escalating Abuse and Fear
When I resisted his financial control, his manipulation escalated. He would lecture me for hours, telling me we needed to divorce, but if I ever hinted that I might agree, he would suddenly flip—screaming at me for not fighting for our marriage. But these were not the worst parts.
There were the death threats. The nights of drunken, high-speed, erratic driving with our entire family in the car. The hours-long screaming sessions filled with every cuss word imaginable. The accusations, the spitting in my face, the threats with his words, with his body, with his gun.
He chased me through the house, down the driveway, pounded on the glass as I tried to leave. He ripped down the shower curtain mid-shower just to scream at me while I stood there, naked and shivering.
He violated my body, forcing himself on me even when I resisted, ignoring my clear refusals as if my consent didn’t matter.
He threatened to hurt or kill our pets. He threatened to kill himself. He threatened to kill all of us. He stalked me, making it impossible to ever feel truly free.
The Long Road to Healing
I hate what became of our marriage. I hate that I tolerated his abuse for so long without even recognizing what it was. I hate that my children had to witness their father hurting their mother over and over again. I hate how hard it was to leave. I hate that I am still afraid to divorce him. I hate that I gave the best parts of myself to someone who only ever saw me as a possession. I hate that he still tries to control me through spiritual guilt, money, and our children.
But I also love what has come after. I love that God opened my eyes and helped me recognize that my marriage was unhealthy. I love that He gave me the strength to escape and sent me supportive friends along the way. I love that I have a counselor who has helped me recognize truth and set boundaries for my safety. I love that I am healing. I love that I am stronger than I used to be. I love the peace I feel. And I love my fellow survivors, and I pray for healing, peace, and safety for each of you.
Featured image: This is the journey of a survivor. Source: primipil / Adobe Stock.
By Journey Of A Survivor (Bluesky: @persevere-after.bsky.social)
