Your sugar bowl is simply empowering. It doesn’t take much; just a little bit here, and some extra there, and at some point, hopefully you’ll have enough. Your ending made me feel at peace.
For years, I secretly sent small amounts, sometimes tiny amounts of money to my mom, who had secretly opened a separate account that only the two of us knew existed, so that one day I could leave my husband.
Thank you for telling me that ☺️. It means so much to hear it gave you that feeling of peace. That’s a beautiful thing to take from it.
It really is about those small, quiet additions, isn't it? The "little bit here and there" you noticed… that’s the whole heart of it. I’m just glad the idea could land softly, like that.
Your words actually added a little sugar to my bowl today 💛. Thank you for that.
Love this. I feel like this is so true for so many marriages. Your writing felt like a huge cathartic exhale for millions of women including me, my girlfriends, my mom ❤️ so glad you got to make your escape ❤️ 💖❤️
Oh, wow, thank you so, so much for this. ❤️ Seriously, my heart just felt so full reading your words. It means the world to me that it resonated with you, your girlfriends, and your mom. That connection… that feeling of "oh my god, you too?"… that’s everything. It’s why I had to write it. Sending you and your circle so much love and strength. We're all finding our way, aren't we? And it helps so much to know we're not walking alone. Thank you for this beautiful note. It truly made my day. 💖🌷
Oh thank you so much for being the beautiful courageous you!! Yes!! I felt such automatic connection reading your words. Such a “me too” moment in each paragraph!! I know from living like that how hard it must have been to put that all down on paper, but how awesome it must have felt to own your truth in your words and actions!!! So much love right back to you!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Such a beautiful story about resilience. I can relate. My ex husband didn't know how to save, only how to spend. Things were always financially dire because everything that came in went out. I started a separate bank account where I would keep "my" money, like you, adding a little bit here and there which added up over time. It made me feel safer, knowing that I had a backup plan.
Now, I also live in my own apartment. I no longer feel his stress over money, and am free.
Oh honey, I'm so sorry you went through that. That constant, gnawing worry about money is its own kind of exhaustion, isn't it? The feeling that the ground is always shifting beneath you because someone else can't see the cracks they're creating.
What you did—that separate account—wasn't just being frugal. It was an act of quiet rebellion. It was you building a life raft, plank by secret plank, while trying to keep the whole ship afloat. It was resilience in its most practical, tangible form. That wasn't just "your" money. That was your sanity, your security, your whispered promise to yourself that there could be a tomorrow that wasn't so terrifying.
I understand that fierce, private protectiveness you must have felt. Stashing away bits of hope, not out of greed, but out of a desperate need for some solid ground. It’s heartbreaking that it came to that, but my God, it’s also so smart. You were saving yourself, in every sense.
It’s amazing how that survival instinct kicks in. You weren't just putting away cash; you were safeguarding your spirit, your ability to breathe. That account was more than a balance—it was a boundary. It was proof, even if only you knew it, that you could still care for yourself when the world felt so wildly out of control.
Thank you for sharing that. It’s a story so many need to hear. Not just about money, but about that deep, inner knowing that says, "I have to look out for me, because no one else will." That’s not selfishness. That’s the very root of survival.
I’m so glad you had that strength. I’m so glad you had your own back. You did good. Truly.
Oh honey, I'm so sorry you went through that. That constant, gnawing worry about money is its own kind of exhaustion, isn't it? The feeling that the ground is always shifting beneath you because someone else can't see the cracks they're creating.
What you did—that separate account—wasn't just being frugal. It was an act of quiet rebellion. It was you building a life raft, plank by secret plank, while trying to keep the whole ship afloat. It was resilience in its most practical, tangible form. That wasn't just "your" money. That was your sanity, your security, your whispered promise to yourself that there could be a tomorrow that wasn't so terrifying.
I understand that fierce, private protectiveness you must have felt. Stashing away bits of hope, not out of greed, but out of a desperate need for some solid ground. It’s heartbreaking that it came to that, but my God, it’s also so smart. You were saving yourself, in every sense.
It’s amazing how that survival instinct kicks in. You weren't just putting away cash; you were safeguarding your spirit, your ability to breathe. That account was more than a balance—it was a boundary. It was proof, even if only you knew it, that you could still care for yourself when the world felt so wildly out of control.
Thank you for sharing that. It’s a story so many need to hear. Not just about money, but about that deep, inner knowing that says, "I have to look out for me, because no one else will." That’s not selfishness. That’s the very root of survival.
I’m so glad you had that strength. I’m so glad you had your own back. You did good. Truly.
Thanks Argelia. It was a quiet rebellion, trying to feel a semblance of control when I didn't feel I had any. You and I both stood up for ourselves when no one else would. 🤘
What a lovely story. The various forms of financial abuse that happen within marriage are not discussed enough and your story is so important in bringing these dynamics to light. The powerful image of the object associated with financial freedom is also wonderful, especially since it's part of a female inheritance.
Reading your words, I just sat here for a minute, feeling deeply seen. You’ve picked up on the very heart of what I was hoping to convey—the quiet, corrosive dynamics that so often stay hidden, and that specific, fragile hope of freedom passed from one woman to another. It means more than I can say that that resonated with you.
It’s a tough thing to talk about, but you’re so right that it needs to be brought into the light. Comments like yours, that really see the story, are what make sharing these things feel worthwhile. You’ve given me a real sense of connection today.
Thank you again, for your kindness and your understanding. It really does matter.
My ex was the same as yours. Anything extra was his fishing trip. I’d scrounge and work the numbers over and over . When I finally left I asked mutual friends of ours, the female friend, if she could tuck away some money for me. She refused . The lines were drawn . She was siding with my ex. Years later I realized how much money he was robbing us of. Now when I hear a friend is planning on leaving I will suggest they start putting aside some cash they can access. Nothing makes a woman feel so trapped as not being able to access funds. I never had enough . I’m okay now and in a happy marriage with none of this nonsense. Thanks for writing . I’m glad you are in a better place. Jennifer
Oh, honey. I'm so sorry. That cuts deep—not just the struggle, but the betrayal when you finally reached out. 😤 To finally get the courage to ask for help, only to have someone draw a line like that… it's a whole other layer of hurt. It says everything about her and nothing about you. That took so much strength to even ask. I'm just so, so glad you got out. To carry that weight alone, scrounging and calculating… you deserved so much better. And you still do. Sending you the biggest hug. Your escape is your victory, no matter who failed to show up for you in the fight. ❤️🔥💪
Your sugar bowl is simply empowering. It doesn’t take much; just a little bit here, and some extra there, and at some point, hopefully you’ll have enough. Your ending made me feel at peace.
For years, I secretly sent small amounts, sometimes tiny amounts of money to my mom, who had secretly opened a separate account that only the two of us knew existed, so that one day I could leave my husband.
Thank you for telling me that ☺️. It means so much to hear it gave you that feeling of peace. That’s a beautiful thing to take from it.
It really is about those small, quiet additions, isn't it? The "little bit here and there" you noticed… that’s the whole heart of it. I’m just glad the idea could land softly, like that.
Your words actually added a little sugar to my bowl today 💛. Thank you for that.
Love this. I feel like this is so true for so many marriages. Your writing felt like a huge cathartic exhale for millions of women including me, my girlfriends, my mom ❤️ so glad you got to make your escape ❤️ 💖❤️
Oh, wow, thank you so, so much for this. ❤️ Seriously, my heart just felt so full reading your words. It means the world to me that it resonated with you, your girlfriends, and your mom. That connection… that feeling of "oh my god, you too?"… that’s everything. It’s why I had to write it. Sending you and your circle so much love and strength. We're all finding our way, aren't we? And it helps so much to know we're not walking alone. Thank you for this beautiful note. It truly made my day. 💖🌷
Oh thank you so much for being the beautiful courageous you!! Yes!! I felt such automatic connection reading your words. Such a “me too” moment in each paragraph!! I know from living like that how hard it must have been to put that all down on paper, but how awesome it must have felt to own your truth in your words and actions!!! So much love right back to you!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Such a beautiful story about resilience. I can relate. My ex husband didn't know how to save, only how to spend. Things were always financially dire because everything that came in went out. I started a separate bank account where I would keep "my" money, like you, adding a little bit here and there which added up over time. It made me feel safer, knowing that I had a backup plan.
Now, I also live in my own apartment. I no longer feel his stress over money, and am free.
Oh honey, I'm so sorry you went through that. That constant, gnawing worry about money is its own kind of exhaustion, isn't it? The feeling that the ground is always shifting beneath you because someone else can't see the cracks they're creating.
What you did—that separate account—wasn't just being frugal. It was an act of quiet rebellion. It was you building a life raft, plank by secret plank, while trying to keep the whole ship afloat. It was resilience in its most practical, tangible form. That wasn't just "your" money. That was your sanity, your security, your whispered promise to yourself that there could be a tomorrow that wasn't so terrifying.
I understand that fierce, private protectiveness you must have felt. Stashing away bits of hope, not out of greed, but out of a desperate need for some solid ground. It’s heartbreaking that it came to that, but my God, it’s also so smart. You were saving yourself, in every sense.
It’s amazing how that survival instinct kicks in. You weren't just putting away cash; you were safeguarding your spirit, your ability to breathe. That account was more than a balance—it was a boundary. It was proof, even if only you knew it, that you could still care for yourself when the world felt so wildly out of control.
Thank you for sharing that. It’s a story so many need to hear. Not just about money, but about that deep, inner knowing that says, "I have to look out for me, because no one else will." That’s not selfishness. That’s the very root of survival.
I’m so glad you had that strength. I’m so glad you had your own back. You did good. Truly.
Oh honey, I'm so sorry you went through that. That constant, gnawing worry about money is its own kind of exhaustion, isn't it? The feeling that the ground is always shifting beneath you because someone else can't see the cracks they're creating.
What you did—that separate account—wasn't just being frugal. It was an act of quiet rebellion. It was you building a life raft, plank by secret plank, while trying to keep the whole ship afloat. It was resilience in its most practical, tangible form. That wasn't just "your" money. That was your sanity, your security, your whispered promise to yourself that there could be a tomorrow that wasn't so terrifying.
I understand that fierce, private protectiveness you must have felt. Stashing away bits of hope, not out of greed, but out of a desperate need for some solid ground. It’s heartbreaking that it came to that, but my God, it’s also so smart. You were saving yourself, in every sense.
It’s amazing how that survival instinct kicks in. You weren't just putting away cash; you were safeguarding your spirit, your ability to breathe. That account was more than a balance—it was a boundary. It was proof, even if only you knew it, that you could still care for yourself when the world felt so wildly out of control.
Thank you for sharing that. It’s a story so many need to hear. Not just about money, but about that deep, inner knowing that says, "I have to look out for me, because no one else will." That’s not selfishness. That’s the very root of survival.
I’m so glad you had that strength. I’m so glad you had your own back. You did good. Truly.
Thanks Argelia. It was a quiet rebellion, trying to feel a semblance of control when I didn't feel I had any. You and I both stood up for ourselves when no one else would. 🤘
What a lovely story. The various forms of financial abuse that happen within marriage are not discussed enough and your story is so important in bringing these dynamics to light. The powerful image of the object associated with financial freedom is also wonderful, especially since it's part of a female inheritance.
Allison, thank you so much for this. Truly.
Reading your words, I just sat here for a minute, feeling deeply seen. You’ve picked up on the very heart of what I was hoping to convey—the quiet, corrosive dynamics that so often stay hidden, and that specific, fragile hope of freedom passed from one woman to another. It means more than I can say that that resonated with you.
It’s a tough thing to talk about, but you’re so right that it needs to be brought into the light. Comments like yours, that really see the story, are what make sharing these things feel worthwhile. You’ve given me a real sense of connection today.
Thank you again, for your kindness and your understanding. It really does matter.
Warmly,
A Fellow Writer
My ex was the same as yours. Anything extra was his fishing trip. I’d scrounge and work the numbers over and over . When I finally left I asked mutual friends of ours, the female friend, if she could tuck away some money for me. She refused . The lines were drawn . She was siding with my ex. Years later I realized how much money he was robbing us of. Now when I hear a friend is planning on leaving I will suggest they start putting aside some cash they can access. Nothing makes a woman feel so trapped as not being able to access funds. I never had enough . I’m okay now and in a happy marriage with none of this nonsense. Thanks for writing . I’m glad you are in a better place. Jennifer
Oh, honey. I'm so sorry. That cuts deep—not just the struggle, but the betrayal when you finally reached out. 😤 To finally get the courage to ask for help, only to have someone draw a line like that… it's a whole other layer of hurt. It says everything about her and nothing about you. That took so much strength to even ask. I'm just so, so glad you got out. To carry that weight alone, scrounging and calculating… you deserved so much better. And you still do. Sending you the biggest hug. Your escape is your victory, no matter who failed to show up for you in the fight. ❤️🔥💪
A perfect story.
Thanks! 😊 Means a lot.
Have a beautiful day 🌻✨