Financial Abuse

I came across a redit post about a guy who found out his wife had opened a credit card in his name, and was using it. He had no idea. I won’t go into the whole thing, but it made me realize I had a problem I didn’t know about.

Partner and I have a common account. I never use it, I usually just buy stuff using my personal account. I haven’t gotten a replacement card in years. Like over 10 years. I didn’t think about it because I never used it. But the bank would have been sending me a new card every time it expired. But I’ve never gotten one. Now, either I’ve been taken off the account, or my partner is withholding the card when they arrive. I’m thinking back over all the times he’s said ‘just log into the common account and do what you need to’. Knowing full well I couldn’t, making sure I couldn’t.

Our agreement was, I made the grocery shop, and was reimbursed via the common account. But it got to the point I’d have to remind him two or three times I was owed such-and-such back. So I stopped asking him for the money back. You would think he’s just say something like ‘how much do I need to pay you,’ but nope. At week 6 of not getting paid, I stopped buying the items specifically his. Things that only he eats. After a couple of weeks of this, he asks why. I tell him it’s because I’ve not been reimbursed for the last 6 weeks. That the total owed was 250.

He looks me in the eye and says ‘i don’t belive you. you’re lying.’

So the next order, I literally send him recipes. I forwarded the grocery order. He says ‘why you doing this? I don’t understand.’ I explained he didn’t belive me when I told him how much, so here was proof of how much I spent. I don’t remember exactly what he said to this, because it got weird after this.

He was saying words but when put into sentences made no sense. I told him he was making no sense. After a few more words, he tells me ‘why are we talking, you’re making no sense.’ At the time, I thought he was just parroting back what I said (which he does) but later, I think what I was actually saying wasn’t matching up with the conversation he was having in his head.

I think, he was expecting me to get upset over his changing of the goal post. I used to do that. Yell at him, wave my hands, get really upset, stomp off. I did that quite a few times – until the day he couldn’t hide his smerk and I realized what was happening. (we were ordering a bathroom storage unit. he insisted ‘it had to be white’, ‘it had to be black’, ‘it had to have wheels’, it couldn’t have wheels’, this went on for two days. I got very frustrated. it was more fun for him than he’d had for years).

But I didn’t get upset. I shrugged and told him he could make the grocery orders. He hasn’t done one yet.

whatever. I just order things I want that I have no intention of sharing.

The Lies are Fresh

Partner goes in waves, like a sine curve, in nasty or nice behavior. The nice behavior is to sooth me, set me up for the wham that comes ‘unexpectedly’. It’s always so much sweeter for him to see me crushed unexpectedly. I don’t think it’s occurred to him yet that it is never unexpected.

I was recently reevaluated for my disability payments. It was almost two years in the making (due to covid) and I was given the higher payment. So almost two years of back payment as well as a substantial monthly increase. I did make the mistake of telling him I was getting back payment, but I did manage not to tell him how much. His disability payment went down. No idea why, as his disability isn’t growing back. But I think his payment going down and mine going up, wound him up.

A few times a year we give to charity. It is usually 1-3% of our net worth. It’s not a huge amount, we’re not rich, but it makes us feel we’re helping. He comes in this time, looks me in the eye, and says ‘You need to give 40%, like normal’. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t let my face say anything. I didn’t call him out. How in hell did he think I would buy this? 40% would be everything disability gave me and a good chunk more.

The last couple of days, his response to anything I say, ask or suggest is ‘no’, without pause or thought. “can we -” “no.” “we need to -” “no.” Emphatically, coldly. It makes no difference what I’m going or trying to say, just the fact I’m saying it, it’s ‘no’.

Sometimes, this is when I’ve cooked something and offer him some. “no, —” insert some reason he thinks of quickly. ‘I just ate’, ‘I have to eat xyz’, ‘I’m good’, whatever. Until one day I mention he’s not eaten anything I made in 3 years. (factual) He was horrified. Not because he doesn’t eat anything I cook, but I think because I’d called him out on it.

The next day he comes up to me with some bread-like thing swimming in grease, and offers me some. I look at it and try not to gag. I say ‘no, thanks’. He says ‘you haven’t eaten anything I made in 3 years.’ My brain just froze. I should have laughed, because in the previous week, I’d eaten two dinner he made (spaghetti). Instead I just said ‘fuck you’.

There was another lie just recently. Oh, something about my computer. Once he’d finished telling me it wasn’t possible, and walked away, I did a google search to find not only was it possible, it was default included in my computers basic set up. Now, he could have just not known about this (even though he’s the one that bought my computer) but as it’s so close to the ‘no’ phase, I’m more inclined to believe it was just part of that.

I continue to wonder if he has a key logger on my computer. Found a dongle, once, that he was monitoring my computer with. I should have crushed it before returning it to him.

Nice is off the table.

Today, I asked my partner to put me on the lease. He refused, angrily. He said, I’ve not brought it up, but I will now. While I was in hospital this home was a hell hole. His brother told him all about it.

I told him, the reason I’ve not brought it up is because he loves his brother and anything I said wouldn’t be believed. This hell hole was much deeper than he knew. He started to tell me what his brother had told him, but I stopped him. I don’t care what the jack ass said. I know how that family works. They tell the truth but with a tiny twist. Giving it a full on different meaning.

fuck that shit. It truly doesn’t matter.

He was totally happy with me being homeless if – when – he died. Giving me the ol’ reem post posthumously.

Looking at options now.

The idiot doesn’t realize I know where the ‘bodies’ are buried at. And I got receipts. And I got no reason to be nice.

No Defence

In the way back machine, my MIL used to live with us. She was abusive and my partner took his cue from her. That was the start of it. She slammed my hand in drawers, closed doors in my face, and slugged me in the face if I answered the phone. She told me I was a waste of water. She went out of her way to frighten my cat. I would tell my partner what she’d done and he flat out refused to believe it. He called me a liar (you’re lying). He supported her in everything. She was a saint and I was evil to say such ugly things.

Now, his brother is here. He also takes his mother’s cue. He is saying nasty little things. Things that make my partner feel like he’s being taken advantage of. Partner calls his brother a ‘father figure’. His brother is a saint, and can do nothing wrong.

Now, I mean this following statement literally. My BIL could kill me, in front of my partner, and my partner would be totally okay with it.

I can’t fight back. There’s nothing to hit. There is no physical abuse – at least, he doesn’t hit me. It’s purely emotional. It’s financial. It’s manipulative. If I try to defend myself to my partner, he would call me a liar or just shrug. His brother is a saint and can do no wrong.

I don’t know how I could leave. My state supplied income is minuscule and I don’t believe it’s enough to live on. I have no place to go – although that’s the one thing I think I could get, via a women’s shelter thing. I don’t want to leave all my stuff – my computer, my clothes, my art supplies. But I have no idea how I could leave and still be able to keep it. I would never have enough money to replace it.

It’s bleak.

Looking at Options

BIL: I understand you’ve stopped smoking.

Me: I’m down to 5 cigare–

BIL: No. You must stop cold turkey. Otherwise, you’re not actually stopping. I’m just giving you a goal, you understand. Something to strive for.

Me: (unvoiced) I’ve seen this before. If I achieved his goal, he would just move the goalpost. He would never be happy or satisfied, no matter what I did. Been there, done that, got the scars.

three days later…

Partner: you’re still smoking.

Me: confused. I’m down to 5 a day. From 30 a day. You knew this.

Partner: No, you shouldn’t be smoking at all.

Me: You’ve been talking to your brother. Because up until now, you were happy with my decrease.

Partner: It’s expensive – and the common account. I’m the only one putting into it.

Me: Yessss? It pays for utilities, food, and medical needs. We agreed to this decades ago. Before I had any income at all.

Partner: You should be putting in as much as I do.

Me: How much are you putting in?

Partner: 350.

Me: So, you want me to put in my entire monthly income?

Partner: What? You get aid.

Me: Yes. It’s 354 a month. So, you are putting in 1/3rd your monthly income and you want me to put in 100% of my income and that’s fair and equal?

Partner: oh.

Me: yeah, oh. Maybe your brother wasn’t aware of this. Because you were.

Partner: cigarettes are expensive.

Me: And I’ve been paying for them. I’ve not taken a penny from the common account. Since you’ve been sick, I’ve paid for everything.

His brother has been ‘helping’ my partner in how to run his household. And his conniving, mooching, hoe of a wife.

My partner was sick. Very sick. Deaths door, sick. Family came to help while he was in hospital. My partner needed this help. And for that, I’m glad. But one day, I got sick. I couldn’t breath. I asked for help. My BIL concluded I was just looking for attention. Trying to take attention away from the one who was actually sick.

From that day forward, I was invisible. I spoke, he didn’t hear me. Closed doors in my face. Never offered water, food, or attention. He literally ate in front of me and never offered to share. I could barely get out of bed. ‘food’ was a bag of chips. He has done what he can to destroy our marriage. Which, honest to god, is a joke. My husband has already tried to kill me 8 times – that I know of. But now?

I’m sick of it. I could handle partners abuse, it was just daily life. It wasn’t fun, sometimes I got very angry. But his meddling has made me depressed. I don’t want to do anything I used to enjoy. I don’t want to live. Death is an option.

But so is leaving. I could just walk out. I would lose everything I have. Clothing. Art supplies. My computer.

There are options.

I Screwed Up Again

Damn it all. I think I know what I did wrong. See, I’ve always caved in when told something is too hard to do. After 20 years living here, I am STILL not on the lease. I signed the lease at the start, but his mother wasn’t there. I had to go out of the country for a couple of months. When I got back, they had signed a new lease – him and his mother. (My clothes were packed in boxes, too lol.) And ever since then, when I’ve asked to be put on, it’s been ‘too hard’, to get all of us together at the same time. I said, okay. And the next time, and the next time, I asked, same thing, too hard. Last time I asked, his mother no longer lives with us, but it’s still ‘too hard’. Caved, it’s just not worth the stress of pushing for it.

I had the perfect opportunity to ask for ‘my’ money, that he holds in a family account. So I did. Gave a perfectly valid reason for it. He’s told me, just ask for it, I’ll give it to you. I asked. The next day, he comes in and says, really, it’s too hard. Have to travel, questions asked, bank transfer might cause problems. All truthful and valid reasons. But I held firm. It’s my money. I want it, in my hand. We had a long-winded ‘discussion’ about it. I ended up saying I’d think about it, cause he just wasn’t budging. I’ve got to think of a valid way of sticking to my guns.

The next day, he comes in and says; there’s no good way of asking this, but are you planning on leaving me? And I know why he came to that conclusion. Because I didn’t cave. I always cave.

I said; No. Just that. He acted like he believed it. I don’t know if he actually did.

I had also had a conversation with a psychiatrist who offered me a way out. I had partners phone, and I spoke quietly, but he still may have heard a word or two. I told her I wanted a way out. He might have heard, I don’t think so, but maybe.

I want that money. I need that money. I can’t start all over again in a country not my own, with zero family or friends or funds for support. If I don’t get that money, I don’t go.

I had this whole fantasy of venting on him. His sociopathic tendency. His attempted murder attempts. His constant lying. It felt good – but I also know it would be the stupidist thing I could possibly do.

No money, no go.

I’m a woman of means!

I was once advised there were two subjects that would have the most negative impact on your marriage. Sex and money. And boy, ain’t that the truth.

Up until now, I felt fairly confident I couldn’t lay the charge of financial abuse at his feet. Sure, there were a couple of times where he was on shaky grounds. Like when he sold the family car to a friend of his. He didn’t volunteer how much he sold it for – and I didn’t ask. I didn’t ask because I knew very well he basically gave it away. I never saw a dime of it – he didn’t even just give me a couple of bucks. It went into a drawer and was handed out over the weeks, you guessed it, to his friends.

Or the time he was given an envelope of cash, which he kept in my desk drawer. I didn’t count how much was in it, I really didn’t care. But a few months down the line, I happen to see the envelope and wonder how much it was. I opened it to find 120 USD in there. When we got it, it was a good 1 inch thick. He refused to say what he’d done with it, except when I said, What did you do with it? he said: I can’t do anything with dollars! Which is, you notice, not an answer. He gave it to ‘friends’, I’m sure. For me not to notice him taking it, he had to have come sneaking in while I slept, and take out a few bills, here and there. He really can’t be trusted with large sums of money. He gives it away to ‘friends’. And I’m sure his ‘friends’ would dry up if he suddenly didn’t have cash to give away.

So, now we are caught up.

His brother recently gave him some money. Ah, let us tell it like it happened. He comes in, and says, while I was visiting brother, he told me he’s giving away some money to all his brothers and their wives. He gave me Eleventy-Thousand dollars!* in this breathless, over the top voice, that tells me he’s lying. This voice is one I recognize when he’s trying to either get a rise out of me or when he doesn’t want me to look too closely at it, but at whatever he says next. He says: He gave me Eleventy-Thousand dollars and I’m giving you half! You’re going to get Sixity-Hundred dollars! You are a woman of means! You’re rich! You can do anything you want with it, it’s yours! The money arrived last week, you’re rich!

At this point, it’d been almost 6 weeks since he got back from his family trip. I said: so it took you a month before you got around to telling me, and another week since you’ve actually had the cash?

He looks at me blankly. I don’t think this was part of his pre-planned conversation. He continues: now that you’re rich, you can help pay for any appliances that need to be replaced. ahh. There it is. The take back. Every single thing he has given me, he has taken something back. There is no free gift. New paint on the bedroom walls? Get rid of the hundreds of book. New carpet? Give away the dvds. Trip to Egypt? Stop smoking. New monitor? Oo-aw, so pretty, I think I’ll keep it.

Then the next day; you’re a woman of means, now! You can pay for your own charity. Me: you’ve always paid for both of us. Are you saying you refuse to pay mine now? Him: you’re a woman of means now! …nickel, dime, nickel, dime. And he’s clawed back a good portion of the money.

Due to some circumstances beyond our control, he has the money in an account of his other brother. Technically, it’s not ours. But we have access to it. Or rather, he has access to it, I do not. But all I need to do is ask him for any of it that I want, and he’ll get it to me. In my world, that’s called a gatekeeper.

Now I was already suspicious over the way he presented this wonderful opportunity to be a woman of means. And the take-backs. I’m suspecting something is off. So I asked him to show me the money in the account. He pulls it up, but does not open the full monthly account. The total shows not Eleventy-Thousand bucks – it shows Twentity-Two Thousand… and change. It showed, in other words, double the amount he told me.

My heart died just a little bit.

And I’m not sure why, but I didn’t press him to open it fully. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Why the hell I did that, I don’t know. I’m a coward? I couldn’t face that he would do that to me.

Now I sit here and wonder what I should do. I can;

Take the money, literally, have him pull the amount given to me, in cash, and stuff my pillow with it. It can be bolt money – used if I need to run.
Leave the money in the account and use as wished, because hello, even the fraction he’s willing to give me is more than I’ll ever see in my life.
Refuse the money, because my sense of moral outrage wants to one-upmanship him.

I could also ask him to again open the account. After all, he’s told me I can have access to the money any time. So that account holds ‘my’ money. Then, open the account fully and make sure there was only Twentity-Two Thousand in there, and that there hadn’t been One-Hundredity-Thousand at first, before it being moved along.

He’s starting to sound like a drug lord. But no, he’s not smart enough to be a drug lord. I will take his reason his brother was giving away his money before he died, so it doesn’t get tied up in taxes and lawyers. His brother would have to give away money to everyone, so no one contested they didn’t get what they should have.

The thing is, this whole thing has really stressed me out. What do I do? I’m such a damn coward. My heart is having a rough time of it. And by that I mean, it’s beating arhythmicity. I’m hyperventilating, breathing on the top of my lungs. I’m dizzy. My hands shake. I’m actually afraid I won’t make it through the night. I could die in my sleep.

And he gets all the money to himself, gets rid of me, and he’s innocent as hell. Fuck that. If I go, I want to take him with me.

No, I’m not going to kill him. I’d have to clean up the blood. No. I … seriously. The only thing I’ve ever, ever wanted, is for his family to know what a fucking dick he is. They all think he’s this kind, generous, caring, sweet guy. don’t you just love him to bits? But he’s not.

And his ganking me out of a lot of money (and making sure I have to go through him to get at it) means I can add financial abuse to his list.

*Eleventy-Thousand dollars exaggerated for comedic effect.

EDIT: all kidding aside. I realize I need to make something clear. The amount of money gifted to my partner is peanuts. I am poor – I’ve been poor all my life. Any amount of money that pays at least my monthly rent is a lot of money. Most people would consider it their coffee money for the month.