Married to the Money
This post first appeared on Medium
This is an equal situation for both men and women, although women may be more vulnerable to it, men are equally compelled to stay in marriages — because of the money.
Many times throughout my marriage, I was the breadwinner. I paid off the loans, paid rent, bought groceries, petrol. I supported my husband. In return I expected the same when we had children. Three weeks after getting home from hospital after delivering our first, and still bleeding, I was back at work because he just couldn’t deal.
All of my dad’s money was tied up in our house, a deal which was struck before marriage, that I would use it to build our dream home if I could stay home with the babies once we had them. He denied ever making that deal.
Retrospect taught me about my husband but at the time my love was snow blind. I was so busy just trying to feed myself and my children (yes I was THAT snow blind) that I didn’t see it. I had been brought up in trauma and my whole view of the world was skewed and for a talented manipulator, I was easy pickings.
But years go by. Assets build. You have cars, loans, investments. Yes I had steered them all because as I said, I am an IDIOT, but nonetheless, I had built up a portfolio of assets for us.
So when you wake up and realise that hang on, I am in actual danger here, it is hard to walk away from those assets.
Until one day, after being kept awake for 72 hours and trying to be convinced that it is better that we all die, you realise the time is now to get the hell out. He goes to work to leave you to think about it, but he really believes that tonight would be the best time to do it.
You check your secret bank account — $80.00 because he has taken the rest. Your car has quarter of a tank of petrol but it can get you to safety.
You sit the three kids down and tell them, ‘Your life is about to change’ and put them in the car and get the hell out of there, not knowing where or how or who but you drive.
As you look back at all your worldly possessions and the heirlooms handed down two generations, you imagine them all broken, smashed and burned. You look at the house you are paying for and imagine it too, burned to the ground and say to yourself ‘if this is what it takes then this is what it takes’ and leave all worldly possessions behind except the clothes on your back and your car.
Then the hunt begins. He rings your only two friends because he has scared everyone else off, and you find out later that he had been speaking to your only two friends for months, telling them that you were losing your mind. He was setting the stage in case I left.
He parks outside your friend’s house where you are hiding in the basement with the kids. The police come demanding to see the children for a welfare check. Until you have a court order both parents have equal rights to take the children so my lawyer (who saw me for free because angels do arrive when you need them) told me that ‘sometimes you have to take the law into your own hands’ and you hide. You tell the police officer that the children are fine and they can see them if they want, but that we are only staying the night until we go to refuge tomorrow in another suburb. You beg the police officer to not say anything to your husband. He understands. He tells my husband we are not there.
Once I made the decision to go and leave all my ‘wealth’ behind I was free. I knew how to survive. I knew how to be frugal. I knew when, how and who to ask for help. People came from nowhere to help me. All of the agencies I approached helped me. I found housing that I could afford. The court helped me. The police helped me.
Slowly, slowly I bought my children more clothes, a second hand game console to keep them distracted, and put three meals in front of them everyday. I provided a stability for them because the worst was yet to come.
My husband killed himself, just like he promised he would, if I ever left.
That was what had kept me there, along with the money. I did not want blood on my hands.
Until it came to our blood as well.
When I looked at all my worldly possessions, I also imagined him dead and had to make the decision, ‘it’s us or you’ and I choose us.
Money can keep you silent, bruised, battered, bewildered, broken and betrayed.
It’s just money.
It’s just a house.
It’s just things.
All are replacable.
You are not.
Your children are not.
Man or woman — get the hell out while you can. I promise you, there are people there waiting to help you — all you have to do is act and ask.
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