"It was 1991, I was in my early 40s, living in the south of England and trapped in a marriage that had long since curdled into something quietly suffocating. My husband had become controlling, first with money, then with almost everything else: what I wore, who I saw, what I said. It crept up so slowly that I didn't quite realise what was happening."
"We had met as students in the early 1970s, both from working-class, northern families and feeling slightly out of place at a university full of public school accents. We shared politics, music and a sense of being outsiders together. For years, life felt full of promise. When our first child arrived, I gave up my local government job to stay at home. That's when the balance between us shifted."
"Because he earned the money, he began to see himself as the decision-maker. By the time we had our second son, what began as discussions turned into edicts. I remember once saying that one of the boys needed new shoes and him replying that we couldn't afford them, only for him to spend the same amount on something for himself. Those small humiliations chipped away at my confidence until I barely recognised myself."
She met her husband at university in the early 1970s; both came from working-class northern families and bonded over politics, music and outsider status. After their first child, she gave up a local government job to stay home, which shifted power as he became the primary earner. His control grew from money to clothing, social life and speech, transforming discussions into edicts and eroding her confidence through small humiliations. Isolation and fear of harming the children kept her staying. A cinema visit to see Thelma & Louise triggered recognition with the line 'You get what you settle for', prompting reassessment and eventual decision to leave.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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