I cut ties with my mother because she took my ex-husband’s side and blamed me for our divorce.
My mother made her priorities clear long before I finally left my first husband. She treated him like a saint while painting me as the cause of every argument and misunderstanding. After the divorce, she kept in touch with him and never missed a chance to tell my current husband how “perfect” her first son-in-law had been.
Naturally, these conversations only poisoned my relationships with both my husband and my mother. Eventually, I made a decision: if Mum was so fond of my ex, she could keep him. As for me—I was stepping out of this drama.
Steven and I married right after university. We had a whirlwind romance—everything happened so fast, and within months, we had a lavish wedding. Mum adored her son-in-law, practically carrying him around on a pedestal. At first, it seemed sweet, but then it became unbearable.
The first six months were bliss—full of care, love, and tenderness. But then something broke. My husband grew aggressive, irritable, and cruel. Regular arguments began. I went to stay with Mum several times, hoping for support, but all I got were accusations. She always took his side.
When she visited, she’d start the moment she walked in—the house wasn’t clean enough, dinner wasn’t cooked right, the ironing was sloppy. No matter how much I explained that I was exhausted from work or unwell, she didn’t care. “A woman should keep the home in order! If you don’t like it, let your husband complain! He’s handsome, and you—well, you’re nothing special, and your temper’s awful!” she’d chant like a mantra.
I tried reminding her that she’d been married twice and divorced both times, but that only brought more insults. Steven and I lasted just over two years. It ended the day he hit me. I packed my things in silence and left. The next morning, I filed for divorce.
Mum was furious. She claimed if a man raised his hand, I must have pushed him to it. Then Steven came begging—apologising, threatening suicide. Mum piled on the pressure. But I stood my ground. A few months later, I moved out—I couldn’t bear hearing how worthless I was for losing “such a husband.” It took me a whole year to recover.
Then Max came into my life. Gentle, caring, understanding. We dated for a long time before marrying a year and a half later. I hid the relationship from Mum, knowing how she’d react. And just as I feared, at our first meeting, she started comparing Max to Steven—always in Steven’s favour.
She didn’t hold back, not even at her own birthday party. She invited my ex-husband and spent the evening sneering, praising him, and belittling Max. We couldn’t take it and left. After that, Mum doubled down—calling to rant about how I’d married a penniless man who wasn’t good enough. No matter how much I begged her to stop, her answer was always more insults.
One day, I woke up and realised—my mother was destroying me, my marriage, and my sanity. I grew afraid for the future. For my husband, whom I loved. For the children we might have, who’d face her cruelty too. I didn’t want anyone telling my kids they weren’t “good enough”—just like she’d told me.
So I made a choice: no more contact. I wanted to live my life. I wouldn’t let my marriage end like the first one—ruined by her poison. If she cared so much about my ex, she could have him. I wanted to be with someone who truly loved and valued me.
And you know what? For the first time in years… I finally felt free.
