I'm 40ish husband is 50ish, been together 20 something years, we have 2 kids early 20s/late teens.
He's always been quite controlling (IMO-he begs to differ) I've never had any access to money at all (SAHM and even child benefit was signed over to him, there was paperwork, not sure if this is still possible but it was years ago) Never been "allowed" out for girly nights out on the town etc. If a mate phoned and asked if I wanted to pop over for a bottle of wine I'd always have to say "Hang on, I'll just ask him if I'm allowed". He'd almost always say yes to that (she's in her PJs, kids upstairs in bed, no strangers in her house- was fine by him, as long as I smiled sweetly, asked nicely)
I'm bit of a homebody anyway, I never really minded not going anywhere, never felt like I was missing out on my youth or anything. I liked being a Mum, was house-proud, liked "pottering" and thought that when the kids were older and needed us less me and him would do stuff together. Days out, maybe the cinema, bag of chips at the seaside, I'm a simple lass not a one for clubbing and fancy holidays or anything anyway.
I had a few girl pals I could call in for a coffee during the day as long as I told him where I was going, when I'd be back, who'd be there (I do recognise this is controlling too but tbh again I didn't really mind, I'm really bloody boring) They often did stuff together, girls weekends to Blackpool, concerts etc, now and again one would say "You know you're always welcome, we'd love to have you there but we know there's no point asking" They'd be diplomatic, never slag my husband off or anything but I'd get the occasional "Oh for once won't you just bloody TELL him you're coming with us!"...after years they just stopped asking.
There were minor instances of violence in those days but they were very few and far between. I know I sound like a complete effin' doormat but I knew what was what and I was genuinely happy. All I ever wanted in life was happy kids, a cozy home, odd trip to the park or whatever and I had it. I did part-time classes to get my GSCEs and other qualifications so I'd have a better chance of getting a job (misspent early youth unfortunately) The kids were getting older, I started doing volunteer work alongside college which coincided with a house move (at his insistence, the old house was "depressing" him, he hated it for still unspecified reasons, that's what was making him snappy/angry so he said, still no idea why) The new house was a dump so I was scrubbing, writing essays, working, painting walls, unpacking etc etc...and my health (never the best, I've always been physically weak) took a nose-dive. No one could figure out what was wrong with me so there were phsyio appointments, hospitals, tests, more tests on top of everything else. I was permanently knackered, in agony and feeling like a complete failure. Other women run homes, have kids, work full time and there was me crying and wailing after 2 days volunteer work per week. Felt so guilty and the odd snidey "Hmmph, some of us have to work full time" comments from mates and family made me feel like shit. My husband's never really worked and I know we were judged as "scroungers"...I really wanted to get a career, finally have a little money, be able to treat the kids, hold my head up...but my sodding health.
Somehow we ended up drinking at home a few nights a week "It'll help you sleep, you're in so much pain" (no meds forthcoming then as no one knew what was wrong)..."You've had such a busy week sweetheart, you deserve a treat"...and then life went to shit. His violence, moods, anger just exploded. I've no idea what was up with him in those years but he just changed so much. The drinking didn't help matters (understatement) and it got to be every night. Then life just went to utter crap and misery for years. I got rapidly worse, started losing my mobility, completed (and passed) my courses but was too ill to start looking for work. I was unable to keep up with the housework so the house started looking shabby and untidy, we were completely skint, money wasted on booze. He got more controlling, I wasn't even allowed to go and do the supermarket shops with him any more. I hated money being spent on drink but I was so weak I thought "Well he's bought it anyway, it's sitting there, I can't sleep for pain I may as well drink with him"...I'm so ashamed of myself. I think I became an alcoholic for a few years.
Back then he blacked my eyes, throttled me, held a kitchen knife to my throat (for throwing stale bread away) kicked me, threw me, broke my specs hitting me in the face (then refused to give me money to get them repaired) so then I couldn't leave the house for MONTHS and months (who's going to go out in public balancing one armed glasses on their face!) Wouldn't let me have money to get my hair cut, so I looked like a tramp. Every small request turned into a battle, weeks or months of negotiations for things like a supermarket hair dye that would eventually turn into "Tell me what you want, I'll get it for you when I do the shopping"...he couldn't or wouldn't understand why I might just want to browse the shelves myself. There was always an excuse, always a PLAUSIBLE excuse "I couldn't get it last week like I said I would, there was an unexpected bill". "I know I said you could come with me last time, it's not my fault you were ill that day". He would scream at me if I answered the house-phone in case it was debt collection. I've now got a bit of phone phobia, calls to my friend got less and less, I don't blame her for not ringing me these days, as far as she knows I never bothered ringing her.
I ended up in a wheelchair, mystery illness was diagnosed (incurable, very painful, now on serious painkillers and cocktail of meds + causes multiple other health probs, lungs, GI issues, major fatigue and more) I could no longer do any housework, home got FILTHY, I got more ashamed, made excuses to not have visitors. My world got very small, just me and the laptop and a few online mates.
He begged for us to move again, the house was "sending him mad" If we moved everything would change, he'd take me out (I was housebound by this point, for no good reason other than "I thought you'd be too tired" or "It doesn't occur to me to take you out, you need to ask more/be firmer with me") He said he was going to step up and take care of me, bathe me more often, help me get dressed more often (living in my dressing gown, unwashed, sometimes unfed coz I can do very little for myself) He'd do more housework, I could apply for DLA and it would be my money to get whatever I needed to help me live a more normal life.
We moved miles away to a tiny village where I don't know anyone, I got DLA (Except I didn't. He took control of that, I never saw it) he miraculously did stop hitting me, just suddenly (no violence at all for 5 years now) I get more baths, I get fed...I still don't get out of the house but he's great at taking care of me when I'm ill, he's always buying me little treats, make up, socks, chocs. I stopped drinking totally, he didn't but even drunk he's never ever violent now.
Last year, for the first time ever (despite everything he always seemed devoted to me) I suspected him of having an emotional affair with a neighbours relative. He says I'm mad, I'm crazy, I'm a bitch for suspecting. The violence has stopped so why aren't I happy now? He says he physically takes care of me so why do I moan about being trapped in the house when I'm ill anyway, why should he be forced to go to places he doesn't want to? It's selfish of me to want the house tidy and clean when he does so much for me (cooking, bathing, sorting meds, collecting prescriptions, GP appointments) I'm never happy, he tries so hard, he's always buying me stuff (true) But I'd rather not live in a hovel and do without the clothes he buys me (that I never get the chance to wear anyway) Cleaning the bomb-site of a kitchen would be a better gift to me than a box of chocolates. Clearing piles of rubbish from the floor so the house is SAFE for me would be a better gift than body lotion...but then I feel like an ungrateful bitch. The kids hate me, they think I moan at Dad too much, it's my own fault coz I don't ask to go outside, I should stop moaning about the house (I am so dreadfully ashamed of it though, it often makes me feel suicidal) but they don't see all the times I plead and get promises that are forgotten about the next day. They don't understand why I want access to money "Tell Dad what to get when he's out, you know he'll buy you whatever you want!"...They think I'm bitter (I try not to be, but maybe I am) about being disabled, there's not a week that goes by without someone screaming at me that I'm an evil cow, but they've no idea what he's like when they aren't here. The promises that never materialise.
He's already made the effort to stop the violence, to calm his temper right down, made sure I was looked after more, so how hard would it be to tidy up and take me outside? I know he does so much for me, am I expecting too much? We had a lovely Xmas, I feel like such a horrible bitch for moaning but this pigsty got me so down, despite how sweet he was. I don't know if how much it effects me is normal. It's SO disgusting though and just looking around makes me want to scream and cry.
The switch from DLA to PIP means I've lost it and I'm fighting with the DWP to get it reinstated, there's no one able to help me get out more, family have their own lives (and think I'm happy with a wonderful husband who takes good care of me physically, I'm fed, I'm clean, he clears up my puke, I'm "lucky") I have nowhere to go, not a penny to my name, no driving license, no passport, no ID. No bank account (DLA was paid at post office-cash only and I don't know the PIN) no credit/debit cards of any kind. No friends anymore (lost touch with everyone) no mobile phone, a phobia of the landline. I'm never alone to even think or breathe (apart from now-he goes to bed a few hours before me, late into the night is the only time I get to myself otherwise there is always someone with me) I can't get myself dressed. I can't even mobilise my own wheelchair so unless someone offers to push me I am completely stuck. I just can't go on. I beg and beg and beg for change I get promises but nothing changes. I want to be the old me, the person my kids loved, who looked smart, read books, had a clean and tidy house, went outside and got fresh air, saw the sky, birds and the trees. I hate who I am it's not "me" it's someone I'm forced to be...I just want to live before I die.