This evening I'm sitting on my bed, in the house that he lied and cheated me into buying - it's worth £170K but I have a mortgage of £100K - this is my current position after 27 years of marriage where every single week I brought a wage in, mostly a full time wage and over the last few years earning more money than he did. Not that I had any money throughout that 27 years - John took just about every penny I earned and used it as he saw fit. By the way, the house he lives in has a £60K mortgage and is worth £400K.
My little house is in darkness apart from the light of my laptop while I type this blog post. I'm not listening to the TV or radio - I need to be aware of all the sounds happening outside the house.
Today was the day John received the letter from my solicitor. Today was the day he harassed me all day long, calling me at work making threats and putting me in a vulnerable position. Today was the day he called my solicitor back stating he wouldn't be agreeing to what the letter asked, and that I wasn't entitled to anything from the house I had left a year ago in order to get away from him.
I left work at 5.30pm. As I made my way to the car park - a 10 minute walk- my eyes were on the lookout and my ears were burning. Was he somewhere near, following me? My mobile phone bleeped, a new message. Guess who from. 'You had better get that notice of interest off my house by Friday, or there won't be a house left for you to have an interest in'. This didn't frighten me - anyone who has been in a relationship with a controlling person knows they are mostly full of empty threats. Bleep. 'If you don't stop doing what you're doing...' (i.e. using a solicitor to file for divorce) '...you're following a dangerous path.' No, I told myself, I am leaving the dangerous path and making a new life.
Suddenly I felt so alone. Of course all 'our' - now his - 'friends' think the world of him. Nice, charming, do anything for anybody John. Anybody except his wife and daughter that is. Of course they don't know the real John, the John who walks up the path each evening on his return from work while his daughter and wife cower and wonder what kind of mood he will be in. The John who walks into the living room while we are in the middle of watching a TV programme, picks up the remote and flicks on to another channel, then walks back out of the room. The John who does not allow laughter in his house - except at the expense of his wife or daughter or when his friends are around. The John who throws countless cups of hot tea at his wife (only a couple ever hit me - I became very good at dodging). The John who is capable of trying to strangle his own daughter yet making such a fuss of everyone else's daughters. The John who has never shown even an ounce of love towards his own daughter. No, his 'friends' appear to have decided how poorly done to he is, left alone by his wife to fend for himself. Along they come, helping him out in his big house with his not so big mortgage, bringing him food and helping him with household chores. Poor lonely John.
