The knowledge struck me like a physical blow as I stood in the midst of the grocery store aisle. The receipt was not with me. Even before I checked my purse, my hands began to shake. The piece of paper for the one dollar and twenty-nine cent set of pens for our oldest son’s school project was just gone, but I still looked through everything, hurriedly looking past old grocery lists, a broken hair tie, and a few loose coins.
I was unable to move on with my day, although most people would have simply let it go. My ex-husband Bryan would remove the amount from the meager two hundred dollars he provided each month to raise our six children if I didn’t have tangible proof.
Every time money was involved, his voice would play in my mind like a never-ending threat. “I give you two hundred dollars a month for six kids,” he would say. It’s a fortune. I anticipate evidence of prudent spending. Every single penny.
Even though I knew the missing page would not miraculously emerge, I clenched my lips and moved aside to look again. Anyone would assume Bryan was having difficulties based on my behavior, but it was untrue. He had a six-bedroom home, genuine money, and a collection of vintage automobiles that were considerably more valuable than all of my possessions together.
But when it came to his family, none of that mattered. It was all about control with him, never about helping.
I left my ex-husband because I could no longer put up with the psychological abuse. It was oppressive, the late evenings, the never-ending falsehoods, the way he made everything and everyone around him seem insignificant.
Most significantly, though, it was his numerous extramarital encounters that ultimately caused me to leave the marriage. Bryan managed to maintain his hold on our lives even after the divorce. In an effort to minimize his child support payments, he even concealed the fact that he was holding a second job.
To put food on the table and a roof over our heads, I was working three jobs.