Emily and I married just over ten years ago. We were both in our mid thirties thenmy husband, Mark, was a director at a large London firm, and I ran a small beauty salon in Camden. We soon had two children, I took maternity leave and then stopped working altogether. We lived comfortably because Mark earned a solid salary.
Mark was a careerdriven man, often away on business trips, and in his spare time he spent a great deal of it with his mother, Mrs. Thompson. Mrs. Thompson, a former stage actress, could put on a convincing display of illness or a sudden outburst whenever she wanted to draw her sons attention.
At a family gathering she once turned to me and said, Mark belongs to me, and it doesnt matter that youre his wife. To him, the family is only me! You should understand, because youre a mother yourself. No matter what happens, you must always help your husband!
I never forgot those words. The next morning I asked Mark to explain what his mother meant. He tried to brush it off as a cruel joke, trying to justify his mothers behaviour.
But every good thing eventually runs its course. Last year Mark was made redundant and fell into drinking to numb his sorrow. I went back to work at the beauty salon to bring in some income.
I held on to the hope that Mark would eventually see sense and return to the man I once knew. Nothing miraculous happened, though; his situation only worsened. I filed for divorce and Mark moved in with my own mother.
I felt a strange relief, thinking I now had one fewer mouth to feed. A month later, however, Mrs. Thompson called me. Have you forgotten what I always told you? You must always help your spouse! My pension isnt enough, so I expect you to send £200 each month to support Mark.
I was taken aback by the audacity. I told her I would seek childmaintenance, insisting that it was the fathers duty to support his children. She snapped back, accusing me of being the one who had driven her son into this mess.
Her words left me uneasy, and I hung up. Strangely enough, I still love my exhusband, yet I no longer know how to live alongside him. The experience has taught me that loyalty to others should never come at the cost of ones own wellbeing, and that setting healthy boundaries is the first step toward a life of peace.
