When Obedience Becomes Enslavement

managed huge budgets and teams of people, turning empty lots into beautiful, functional buildings. The world of steel, g

kest at the dinner table. Eleanor had taken over all the cooking, preparing heavy, traditional meals that I had no int

ravy. She placed a huge, perfectly cooked chop on Mark's plate, and another

ne more way for her to assert her dominance. I had had a brutal day a

, speared the large pork chop from the center of t

hat followed

o her plate. Her face went pa

ink you're doin

of dinner," I said calmly,

cracking. "I cook and I slave all day, and you-y

g her straight in the eye. "I'm paying for the grocerie

ge, she grabbed her bowl of gravy and hurled it against the wall.

inting a trembling finger a

d back, finally letting my own

e of potato halfway to his mouth, his eyes wide with fear.

r speak to me like this? Are you going to

, calm down," he stammered. "Mom, you calm dow

away. In that moment, any last shred of hope I had for him, for us, died. He

ir scraping loudly

eanor, my voice dripping wit

to it. I didn't bother to fold them. I just crammed everything in, my m

you doing? Don'

of gravy at the wall and screamed at me like a lunatic, and you call m

As I walked down the stairs, Eleanor was standin

e to mommy?"

ithout breaking

ness, but of anger and frustration. I drove to the one place I knew I would be safe, the o

cked. She took one look at my face, my s

, stroking my hair. "Co

face etched with concern. He

," he said, his voice gentle. "E

them everything. The wedding day prenup, Eleanor moving in, the financial c

ad slowly. "This isn't a marriage, S

er voice firm. "And she's a monster. You can

ke it work. They just offered me a safe harbor and validated my

f peace. The marriage had been a colossal mistake, but it wasn't a life sentence. I was a strong, successfu

ever I wanted for dinner and no one would scream at me. A life where my home was my sanctuary, not a batt