Get out of my house! I snapped at my motherinlaw as soon as she started hurling insults again.
The one thing Id always dreaded was the fury of my motherinlaw, a woman who had once been in my life as a relative by marriage. In that respect I suppose Id been lucky. My first husband, Tom, had grown up in a childrens home and had never known a family. Our marriage collapsed after five years, and I filed for divorce. When we wed, I was still a student at university. A year later Tom began drinking heavily, racked up debts of about £7,000 and his obligations spilled over onto me. I was forced to abandon my studies, take a job and start paying off the loans.
My marriage had brought a heap of problems. When the divorce was final I breathed a sigh of relief; at last the trouble seemed over.
For two years I lived alone, nursed my wounds and, bit by bit, pulled myself back together. Then I met James. He was single, had never been in a serious relationship, and things moved quickly. He proposed, I said yes, and we went to meet his mother.
The moment we stepped through the front door, I could see the displeasure etched on Mrs. Whitfields face. She tossed a curt Hello at me and retreated to another room. At first I thought perhaps something was wrong with my dress or my hair, but I was modestly dressed. When we sat at the kitchen table she stared at me in silence. The look made my cheeks burn, and she broke the quiet with a sharp tone.
So, youre the one with no qualifications? she said, a thin smile of contempt playing on her lips. I paused, then answered calmly while sipping my tea. Yes, I didnt finish my degree. Life got in the way, but I intend to go back and complete it.
Mrs. Whitfield snorted. You plan to finish your studies? And when you become a wife, what then? When will you raise the children, cook for your husband, keep the house spotless? Youre a proper princess, arent you? She laughed again, took another sip, and set her cup down. Let me tell you something, my son doesnt need a virgin like you.
She went on, Youre ordinary in looks and figure, and youve got no sense. The words cut deep. I rose abruptly, fled to the bathroom and broke down in tears. A stranger was insulting me for no reason, and my husband sat there silent. It was a relief when we left the house as quickly as we could.
I vowed never to step foot there again, yet Mrs. Whitfield kept turning up at our home, always trying to wound me with a fresh barb. I even consulted a psychologist to find a way out. After a few sessions it became clear that my motherinlaw was a classic manipulator and I had been a victim because Id let her treat me that way. The moment she began her tirade again, I told her to leave my house for good.
We no longer see each other, and Im at peace with that. James has kept his head down, and Ive learned that setting firm boundaries is the only way to protect your own wellbeing.
