The thing that got me out of a 13 year abusive marriage is that I realized my husband would never stop

This is my first post in this sub. I’m new to Chambers. <br><br>I was married to my ex-husband for 13 years. We dated for three years before we got married when I was 24 and he was 27. We had a whirlwind romance. We met, got engaged three months later, and married six months after that. Looking back, it was moving so fast. But, at the time, it felt right. He was charismatic, funny, smart, and had a great job. I thought we were soulmates. <br><br>At first, things were great. We lived in an upscale neighborhood. We had a lot of fun. We traveled, went on dates, and spent time with his friends and family. His parents were lovely. We got along well. <br><br>The problems started on our first holiday together with his family. I had thought that his mother seemed a little judgmental when I showed up in a short dress. I had never worn a skirt in front of her before and I wondered if that was it. I changed my style for the next few weeks, wearing long dresses and jeans to work every day. I thought I was doing enough. But, things just kept getting worse. <br><br>The verbal put downs started small. At first, it was just his mother. She made passive aggressive remarks when I was cooking or about my appearance. I tried to let it go. I didn’t want to cause trouble on my first holiday with my husband’s family so I ignored it at first. But, it kept getting worse. His mother called me a “whore” in front of everyone when I was sharing a story about going out with my friends the night before. My husband didn’t say anything. He just looked at the floor. This was the first time I remember feeling terrified. I knew his mother was cruel, but I had no idea it would be like that. <br><br>The next few years were awful. His mother would make backhand compliments and then tear them down. For example, if I said I got a promotion at work, she would say “I know you only got that promotion because you dress like a whore and sleep with everyone to get business”. Or if I said I lost weight, she would say “I don’t know why you’re so skinny. You look like a concentration camp victim. Do you smoke? You better not smoke. You’re ugly enough already”. <br><br>His father was passive. He would try to stick up for me but he always seemed nervous. He would say “don’t listen to your mother. She doesn’t mean it”, or “why can’t you just let her have her say? It doesn’t matter”. But, it mattered so much. I would go home and cry to my husband. I would ask him to stand up for me and he would always say “don’t worry about it. My family doesn’t know how to treat a girlfriend/wife. Just ignore it”. <br><br>It got physical the first time when we went out to eat at a nice restaurant in a another city. His mother was visiting and she didn’t like the restaurant. She started complaining about the service and my husband’s father started to argue with her. They were raising their voices and I tried to tell them to stop. His mother backhanded me in front of the whole restaurant and laughed. My husband just sat there. When we left, he said “you should have ignored her”. But, how do I ignore a punch in the face? <br><br>The push starts<br><br>Things slowly got worse and worse. There were so many incidents, big and small. Too many to count. I could write a book about it. The emotional abuse, the name calling, the put downs, the constant criticism. He would criticize me in front of his family and I would ask him to stop. He always said “don’t worry about it”. I felt like I was going crazy. I had no one to turn to. I thought I was alone in feeling this way. I didn’t know if everyone felt this way. <br><br>One time, I was visiting his family in their country home and we were all sitting in the living room playing cards. His mother was looking at me and she made a comment about how I had put on weight and I should lose some pounds. Then she said “don’t worry. I’m sure your husband will still find you hot even if you’re fat”. She laughed and everyone laughed. I started crying and my husband’s mother said “don’t be silly. I’m just joking around. Look at me. I’m fat and your husband still finds me hot”. I got up and excused myself to the bedroom and locked myself in and cried until everyone left. <br><br>I thought my husband would stand up for me but he didn’t. He just sat there. <br><br>The emotional abuse was so bad that I started to believe what his mother said about me. I thought I was ugly and worthless. I stopped wearing makeup. I stopped dressing up. I started wearing a white wedding ring and a diamond engagement ring to work every day. I spent hours in the bathroom crying at work. I was so alone and I had no one to turn to. I thought it was my fault. I thought my husband loved his mother more than me and he was okay with what she said. <br><br>The verbal abuse was so bad that I was starting to believe that I was nothing. I was a piece of shit. I had no value. I didn’t matter. His mother made me feel like garbage every chance she got. I started to hate myself. I stopped taking care of myself. I stopped bathing. I stopped doing my hair or makeup. I stopped leaving the house. I stopped having friends over. I stopped doing stuff around the house. I stopped everything. <br><br>The last straw was when I was seven months pregnant and his mother said “don’t worry. I’ll babysit for you when the baby is born. I’ll take him to the park every day so you don’t have to”. I started crying and my husband’s mother slapped me in front of my husband and said “don’t be a crybaby. I’m doing you a favor. You’re a worthless piece of shit anyway”. <br><br>Something in me snapped. I realized I was alone. My husband wouldn’t help me. I was on my own. I went home and packed my bags. I left and stayed at a friend’s house. I filed for divorce three months later. <br><br>It was the hardest thing I ever did. I was so scared and alone. My husband called me every hour on the hour for a year trying to convince me to come back. He called my friends and family and tried to make us hate me. He called my boss and tried to get me fired. But, I stood strong. <br><br>It’s been ten years since then. I have two beautiful kids and I’ve never been happier. I realized that I would never stop being abused. My husband would never stop. He would never love me. He would never stand up for me. I was alone and I had to do it on my own. I don’t regret leaving him. I don’t regret fighting for my kids and myself. I’m proud of myself.