u/SlightlyBitter47

I’m going to be talking about all of this with my therapist this week, but the more I’ve been reflecting on the last 10 years, the angrier I get. I think I’ve reached the point where I don’t really care if this makes my husband look bad. If someone doesn’t want to be described as someone who did hurtful things, then they probably shouldn’t have done hurtful things.

Before we ever started dating, I made one thing very clear. I told him that I didn’t want to pursue a relationship unless he was on board with the fact that I was eventually going to move away, most likely to the opposite side of the country. At the time it was something I wanted for my future, and I made sure he knew that before we became a couple. He told me he’d always wanted that too, so I believed him.

A few years into our relationship, I started noticing that nothing was actually happening. There was no planning, no saving, no researching, no conversations about making it happen. Eventually I accepted that if I was ever going to have that future, I’d probably have to make it happen myself.

Then, at the beginning of 2023, everything changed.

For years, moving had been something I wanted. After everything that happened with my family, it became something I genuinely felt like I needed.

I have CPTSD, and a huge part of it is tied to this area because it’s where the trauma happened. The biggest turning point was when I tried to get a restraining order against my own mother after years of abuse. The court denied it because she hadn’t made direct threats against my life. Walking out of that courthouse was my breaking point. That’s when I told my boyfriend that I was done waiting and that I was going to start making plans to move away whether he came with me or not. Staying here no longer felt like an inconvenience. It felt like it was preventing me from healing.

Then COVID had already delayed things, and right as I was finalizing my plans to move, I found out I was pregnant. looking back, I think that my body, knowing that I was going to have a way out and away from here, maybe relax to the point that I got pregnant after dealing with years of infertility.

At that point we’d been together for about six years. He knew I was still planning on leaving because I’d never stopped talking about it. But because I loved his parents at the time, and their other grandchildren lived several states away, I made the decision to stay so they could have a grandchild close to them. I told him, though, that I wasn’t giving up on moving. I told him that if, after I had the baby, I still didn’t feel safe living here, then we were going to have to move. He agreed.

Then everything fell apart with his parents after our son was born.

When I was around four months postpartum, he convinced me we couldn’t afford two vehicles anymore, so we sold one and became a one-car family.

Literally days later, he admitted something that completely changed the way I looked at our entire relationship.

He told me he’d never actually intended to move away. He said he’d just been hoping that enough time would pass and I’d change my mind.

I honestly don’t think I’ve ever fully processed hearing that.

By that point, moving wasn’t just some dream I’d held onto for years. It had become something I genuinely believed I needed because of my mental health and the environment I was living in. He knew that. He knew why it mattered. Yet he admits that he was simply hoping I’d eventually stop asking for it.

Fast forward to today. I’m now two years postpartum and I honestly feel trapped.

He picked up a second job almost a year ago and told me it would eventually allow us to afford another vehicle. Earlier this year, though, he told me that the second job was basically just keeping us from going into the red. I recently found out that wasn’t true. We have almost $10,000 sitting in our checking account.

I’ve been told we can’t afford therapy. We can’t afford another vehicle. We can’t afford this or that. Yet somehow we can afford to let thousands of dollars sit in the bank while my mental health continues to deteriorate.

I’ve suggested selling our house because we’d walk away with roughly $100,000 in equity. In my mind, that’s enough to relocate, get the trauma treatment I’ve needed for years, and give our family a fresh start somewhere that isn’t tied to so much trauma. Every time I suggest it, it gets shut down.

The comment that really pushed me over the edge happened recently. I told him I was tired of putting everything about myself on the back burner, and he responded by saying that he doesn’t even have time for himself.

I honestly just stared at him.

I’ve spent almost this entire relationship waiting. Waiting because of COVID. Waiting because I got pregnant. Waiting because I wanted his parents to have a grandchild nearby. Waiting because we supposedly couldn’t afford therapy. Waiting because we supposedly couldn’t afford another vehicle. Waiting because I believed we were working toward the same future.

Now I’m sitting here realizing that maybe we never were.

I genuinely don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like my options are to stay here while my mental health continues to decline and starts affecting my physical health even more than it already has, or divorce and potentially lose half of my son’s childhood while still remaining close enough to the very environment that contributes to my CPTSD.

I know those probably aren’t my only options, and that’s why I’m talking through all of this with my therapist and plan on speaking with a family law attorney before making any major decisions.

But I think what I’m grieving isn’t just the fact that we never moved.

I think I’m grieving the realization that while I believed we were building a future together from the very beginning, he now says he was simply waiting for me to stop needing the thing I was upfront about before we ever started dating.

I know I need to pace myself and not try to get all of my ducks in a row overnight, but I wanted to give another update because something significant happened this week.

I had my first therapy appointment on Monday, and within that very first session my therapist identified what I’ve been experiencing as covert emotional neglect and financial abuse. One thing she said that really stuck with me was that intent doesn’t erase impact. Someone doesn’t have to be trying to hurt you for their actions to still be abusive.

Something kind of woke up in me after that appointment.
I realized that I’ve spent so long putting myself last that I’ve accepted not getting medical care I genuinely need because I was told we couldn’t afford it. I decided that if I have to go into a little debt to take care of my health while I figure everything else out, then so be it.

Here’s what finally pushed me over the edge. Last summer I had to start pelvic floor physical therapy after having my baby. We had to pay out of pocket and then submit the receipts to insurance for reimbursement. I asked my husband to handle submitting the claims because I was drowning postpartum and couldn’t take one more thing on my plate. He told me he would.

Fast forward to March of this year. My doctor told me I desperately needed to restart pelvic floor PT because I’d had to stop abruptly, and I was beginning to develop pelvic congestion and other issues. I asked my husband if those claims had ever been submitted. He told me yes, that they had been submitted, insurance reimbursed nothing, and that’s why I couldn’t continue treatment because we couldn’t afford it.

So I believed him.

This week I logged into our insurance portal myself. The claims were never submitted.

That lit a fire under me.

I called the pelvic floor therapist I saw last year to see if she still had my records because I wanted documentation of everything. Somewhere during the conversation I completely broke down crying. I told her I wasn’t okay. I explained that my doctor says I need treatment again, but I’d been told we couldn’t afford it, only to find out the insurance paperwork had never even been sent in. I also found out recently that we have more money than I’d been led to believe, even if it’s still not a huge amount.
Her response absolutely broke me.

She told me, “You’re going to get your pelvic floor therapy.”

She said if that meant I couldn’t pay her right now, we’d figure it out. If I could only pay a little at a time, we’d figure it out. Then she put me back on her schedule.
I cried after I got off the phone.

For so long I’ve accepted that my health had to come last. It took one therapist validating what I’ve been living through to make me realize that I deserve medical care too.

It’s a small step in the grand scheme of everything, but for the first time in a long time, I advocated for myself instead of accepting “maybe someday.”

That feels like a pretty big win.

I know some of you have been following along on this fucked up journey of mine lately, and a few people asked for an update on how my first therapy session went.

It was incredible.

I genuinely don’t think I could have been paired with a better therapist right now. I have never, and I mean NEVER, felt so validated in my entire life. She was very transparent from the start that she has facial reactions and can’t really help it, but honestly that made me feel so much more comfortable opening up to her.

I only shared maybe 5% of what I’ve been through in my life to get to the breaking point I’m at today. Just a few grains of sand from an entire beach worth of traumatic experiences. And after hearing only that small amount, she told me that my reactions, emotions, and struggles made complete sense given everything I’ve been through.

That was honestly a difficult thing to hear in its own way.

Because here I am telling a complete stranger a tiny fraction of my story, and within one session she was able to recognize that what I’m experiencing is consistent with CPTSD and chronic trauma. She made me feel seen, understood, and validated in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before.

It also brought up a lot of grief. Grief for how long I’ve been carrying this by myself. Grief for all the times I was told that moving away from the environment that is making me very terribly sick would be just me running from my problems.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt like I wasn’t crazy. I felt like someone was looking at the whole picture and saying, “Yeah, of course you’re struggling. Look at everything you’ve had to carry.”

I cannot wait for my next session.

In other news…… (what he said to me was AFTER I had my therapy appointment that he doesn’t know that I had)

Last night really drove all of this home for me too. I had a full-blown panic attack, the kind I haven’t had in months. And after things finally settled, my husband told me one of the main reasons he doesn’t want to move away is because he has wanted to introduce our son to his family…..the same family that completely ignored the fact that I gave birth (haven’t heard a single word from them since I got pregnant), and the same people who made my postpartum a living hell.

He also said that I need to understand he hasn’t even had time for himself to do what he wants, like going to see his “other” family (he said he hates referring to them as “other” family and I think he has a hard time distinction THEM for the family he created. We are not and will never be “one big happy family”). Then he had the nerve to say he can’t even go see them because that would mean leaving me and our son at home and dealing with awkward questions about why we don’t come around.

I told him that’s not my responsibility. It’s his responsibility to set boundaries. He can either be honest with them or tell them he’s not there to discuss it, but avoiding them and then blaming me for that is far from okay. I also told him that if he can’t hold a boundary with his family, he needs to talk to a therapist to figure out why he can’t do that, because that’s also not my responsibility, and it’s not fair for him to put all of that on me when I’m not the one who created the problem.

I just genuinely want to thank the people in this group who encouraged me to seek therapy and helped me realize that things are not okay and haven’t been okay for a long time. Taking that first step was terrifying, but I finally feel like I’m heading in the right direction.

ETA: I messaged my therapist last night more context to our financial situation and how my physical and mental health has been dismissed and she immediately clocked it as abuse. I am so angry. I am so mad that I have been led on to feel like I am just too much. I’m in…shock??? It’s one thing to have suspicions but to hear it said by a professional just really sends it home for me.

——-

I know some of you have been following along on this fucked up journey of mine lately, and a few people asked for an update on how my first therapy session went.

It was incredible.

I genuinely don’t think I could have been paired with a better therapist right now. I have never, and I mean NEVER, felt so validated in my entire life. She was very transparent from the start that she has facial reactions and can’t really help it, but honestly that made me feel so much more comfortable opening up to her.

I only shared maybe 5% of what I’ve been through in my life to get to the breaking point I’m at today. Just a few grains of sand from an entire beach worth of traumatic experiences. And after hearing only that small amount, she told me that my reactions, emotions, and struggles made complete sense given everything I’ve been through.

That was honestly a difficult thing to hear in its own way.

Because here I am telling a complete stranger a tiny fraction of my story, and within one session she was able to recognize that what I’m experiencing is consistent with CPTSD and chronic trauma. She made me feel seen, understood, and validated in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before.

It also brought up a lot of grief. Grief for how long I’ve been carrying this by myself. Grief for all the times I was told that moving away from the environment that is making me very terribly sick would be just me running from my problems.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt like I wasn’t crazy. I felt like someone was looking at the whole picture and saying, “Yeah, of course you’re struggling. Look at everything you’ve had to carry.”

I cannot wait for my next session.

In other news…… (what he said to me was AFTER I had my therapy appointment that he doesn’t know that I had)

Last night really drove all of this home for me too. I had a full-blown panic attack, the kind I haven’t had in months. And after things finally settled, my husband told me one of the main reasons he doesn’t want to move away is because he has wanted to introduce our son to his family…..the same family that completely ignored the fact that I gave birth (haven’t heard a single word from them since I got pregnant), and the same people who made my postpartum a living hell.

He also said that I need to understand he hasn’t even had time for himself to do what he wants, like going to see his “other” family (he said he hates referring to them as “other” family and I think he has a hard time distinction THEM for the family he created. We are not and will never be “one big happy family”). Then he had the nerve to say he can’t even go see them because that would mean leaving me and our son at home and dealing with awkward questions about why we don’t come around.

I told him that’s not my responsibility. It’s his responsibility to set boundaries. He can either be honest with them or tell them he’s not there to discuss it, but avoiding them and then blaming me for that is far from okay. I also told him that if he can’t hold a boundary with his family, he needs to talk to a therapist to figure out why he can’t do that, because that’s also not my responsibility, and it’s not fair for him to put all of that on me when I’m not the one who created the problem.

I just genuinely want to thank the people in this group who encouraged me to seek therapy and helped me realize that things are not okay and haven’t been okay for a long time. Taking that first step was terrifying, but I finally feel like I’m heading in the right direction.

ETA: it wasn’t just seeing that there happened to be an extra several thousand in his account, I checked the last year’s worth of statements and he has consistently had about $7,000 extra in his account. Main fact being that I have been told that everything that I NEED is too expensive, when we have had that extra money all along. It’s the fact that he lied to my face how much money we had.

——-

I’m counting down the days until my first therapy appointment, so please bear with me while I rant. I’m trying to process a lot of things that I think I’ve been minimizing for a very long time.

For context, I’m a SAHM to a toddler. If I need money, I have to ask for it. Not just ask for it, but explain exactly what I need, why I need it, and how much it costs. Then I get that amount. No more. I’ve told my husband before that it makes me feel like a child asking for an allowance instead of an equal partner in a marriage.

I’ve also repeatedly been told that therapy is too expensive. I was told we were basically living paycheck to paycheck. I was told when our baby was only a few months old that we couldn’t afford two vehicles on one income and would have to temporarily go down to one vehicle until he picked up extra work.

That was almost two years ago.

We still have one vehicle.

Why? Because apparently we still “can’t afford” a second one, but he also refuses to buy a used vehicle and will only consider buying something new for reasons that honestly make no sense to me.

Last summer I stopped pelvic floor PT even though it was helping because we were paying out of pocket while waiting for insurance reimbursement. The paperwork was never submitted like he was supposed to do, so instead of continuing treatment less frequently, I just stopped going altogether.

Now here’s where I am absolutely losing my mind.
A few weeks ago I asked my husband how much money we actually had in checking because I needed to finish birthday shopping for our toddler.

I asked a very simple question. “How much money do we have?” He never answered it. Instead, he told me we had about $3,000 that he considered extra. Okay. Fine.
Keep in mind that this entire time I have been led to believe we are basically paycheck to paycheck. Maybe not literally down to our last dollar, but certainly not comfortable enough to afford a $50 therapy session here and there. Certainly not in a position where therapy, medical care, or another vehicle were realistic options.
Well. After he went to bed something in my gut told me to jist see if I could maybe guess the password to his banking app. I guessed it right.

The checking account had about $7,000 in it. Not $3,000.

And then I discovered there is also a savings/money market account that I didn’t even know existed.
I am sorry, but telling your wife that you have “about $3,000 extra” and telling your wife that there is actually around $7,000 sitting in checking are two completely different conversations.

And before anyone says, “Well some of that is probably for bills.” ALL OF OUR BILLS ARE PAID. The only thing left is next month’s mortgage payment.

That’s it. And even after that we will be left with an additional “extra” $3,000 on top of the supposed $3,000 that is considered extra!

And what makes me even angrier is that a few months ago I hit an absolute breaking point mentally. I told him I was considering putting therapy on a credit card because I desperately needed help.

His response? He didn’t want us taking on debt.

At the time, our tax refund had just hit and pushed the account balance to around $11,000. I never saw a DIME of that money.

My therapy would cost around $150 a month after insurance.

Meanwhile I have taken on debt myself to pay for things that I genuinely needed because I was under the impression that we simply did not have money.

I am beyond angry. I feel lied to. I feel manipulated.

I feel like I have spent my postpartum years making myself smaller, going without things, delaying medical care, convincing myself that we were struggling financially, only to find out that the financial picture was apparently very different from what I was being told.

Maybe I am overreacting. Maybe I’m too angry to see this clearly right now.

But if your spouse repeatedly told you that money was tight, that therapy was too expensive, that you couldn’t afford another vehicle, and then you discovered thousands more sitting in accounts than you were led to believe existed, would you be pissed too?

I know that $7,000 is not a lot of money, but it surely isn’t “a few hundred bucks” like he used to make me believe we had left over at the end of every month.

ETA: it wasn’t just seeing that there happened to be an extra several thousand in his account, I checked the last year’s worth of statements and he has consistently had about $7,000 extra in his account. Main fact being that I have been told that everything that I NEED is too expensive, when we have had that extra money all along. It’s the fact that he lied to my face how much money we had.

——-

I’m counting down the days until my first therapy appointment, so please bear with me while I rant. I’m trying to process a lot of things that I think I’ve been minimizing for a very long time.

For context, I’m a SAHM to a toddler. If I need money, I have to ask for it. Not just ask for it, but explain exactly what I need, why I need it, and how much it costs. Then I get that amount. No more. I’ve told my husband before that it makes me feel like a child asking for an allowance instead of an equal partner in a marriage.

I’ve also repeatedly been told that therapy is too expensive. I was told we were basically living paycheck to paycheck. I was told when our baby was only a few months old that we couldn’t afford two vehicles on one income and would have to temporarily go down to one vehicle until he picked up extra work.

That was almost two years ago.

We still have one vehicle.

Why? Because apparently we still “can’t afford” a second one, but he also refuses to buy a used vehicle and will only consider buying something new for reasons that honestly make no sense to me.

Last summer I stopped pelvic floor PT even though it was helping because we were paying out of pocket while waiting for insurance reimbursement. The paperwork was never submitted like he was supposed to do, so instead of continuing treatment less frequently, I just stopped going altogether.

Now here’s where I am absolutely losing my mind.
A few weeks ago I asked my husband how much money we actually had in checking because I needed to finish birthday shopping for our toddler.

I asked a very simple question. “How much money do we have?” He never answered it. Instead, he told me we had about $3,000 that he considered extra. Okay. Fine.
Keep in mind that this entire time I have been led to believe we are basically paycheck to paycheck. Maybe not literally down to our last dollar, but certainly not comfortable enough to afford a $50 therapy session here and there. Certainly not in a position where therapy, medical care, or another vehicle were realistic options.
Well. After he went to bed something in my gut told me to jist see if I could maybe guess the password to his banking app. I guessed it right.

The checking account had about $7,000 in it. Not $3,000.

And then I discovered there is also a savings/money market account that I didn’t even know existed.

I am sorry, but telling your wife that you have “about $3,000 extra” and telling your wife that there is actually around $7,000 sitting in checking are two completely different conversations.

And before anyone says, “Well some of that is probably for bills.” ALL OF OUR BILLS ARE PAID. The only thing left is next month’s mortgage payment.

That’s it. And even after that we will be left with an additional “extra” $3,000 on top of the supposed $3,000 that is considered extra!

And what makes me even angrier is that a few months ago I hit an absolute breaking point mentally. I told him I was considering putting therapy on a credit card because I desperately needed help.

His response? He didn’t want us taking on debt.
At the time, our tax refund had just hit and pushed the account balance to around $11,000. I never saw a DIME of that money.

My therapy would cost around $150 a month after insurance.

Meanwhile I have taken on debt myself to pay for things that I genuinely needed because I was under the impression that we simply did not have money.

I am beyond angry. I feel lied to. I feel manipulated.
I feel like I have spent my postpartum years making myself smaller, going without things, delaying medical care, convincing myself that we were struggling financially, only to find out that the financial picture was apparently very different from what I was being told.

Maybe I am overreacting. Maybe I’m too angry to see this clearly right now.

But if your spouse repeatedly told you that money was tight, that therapy was too expensive, that you couldn’t afford another vehicle, and then you discovered thousands more sitting in accounts than you were led to believe existed, would you be pissed too?

I know that $7,000 is not a lot of money, but it surely isn’t “a few hundred bucks” like he used to make me believe we had left over at the end of every month.

First of all, I’m sorry this is so long. I honestly don’t have anyone in my real life that I can talk to about this, and this group has helped me more than you probably realize. The support, advice, reality checks, and encouragement I’ve received here have helped me figure out next steps when I’ve felt completely lost. So thank you for being here and helping me feel a little less alone.

I wanted to give an update because a lot has happened since my last post.

A few months ago, my doctor told me that I needed trauma-focused therapy for my CPTSD. My husband was present for that conversation. Since then, nothing has happened because every time I’ve brought up therapy, I’ve been told that it’s too expensive and that we can’t afford it.

Fast forward to this week. My husband recently told me that he never told me I couldn’t get therapy and that he actually thinks therapy would be a good idea. He seems to believe that therapy is the main thing that will help my CPTSD, but what I don’t think he understands is that while therapy is important, you can go to as much therapy as you want and still struggle to improve if you are constantly being exposed to visual location triggers that keep reminding you of the trauma. The problem is that every conversation we’ve had about therapy has ended with him telling me it’s too expensive. Even when I looked into lower-cost options, I was still given reasons why it wasn’t realistic.

Then I found out that we actually have several thousand dollars sitting in his checking account that he has saved for emergencies. I understand wanting an emergency fund. I truly do. What I don’t understand is why I’ve spent months being led to believe that we were basically paycheck to paycheck while my mental health continued to deteriorate and I was repeatedly told that we couldn’t afford the help that my doctor said I needed.

At that point, I decided I was done waiting for someone else to prioritize my health.

I scheduled an appointment with a trauma-informed therapist and put it on my credit card. My first appointment is next week.

I also scheduled an appointment with my doctor because my stress has gotten to the point where I’m experiencing physical symptoms. I’ve been having heart palpitations, constant hypervigilance, anxiety, muscle tension, appetite issues, and I feel like I’m stuck in survival mode 24/7.

Months ago, I told my husband that continuing to live this way was eventually going to start affecting my physical health too.

Another thing that’s really weighing on me is that my husband is now pushing back on moving as far away as we originally discussed years ago.

Before we had our child, he told me that he could be happy anywhere and that I could choose where we moved. Now that I’m desperately trying to get myself into a healthier environment so I can heal, suddenly there are reasons why that plan no longer works.

I recently asked him if he would be willing to take a short trip with me to the area we had originally discussed moving to.

I wasn’t asking him to pack up the house and move tomorrow. I wasn’t asking him to sign a lease. I wasn’t even asking him to commit to relocating.

I simply asked if we could fly out there together for a few days so that he could see it for himself, look at apartments, explore the area, and maybe witness firsthand how different I am when I’m away from the environment that keeps me stuck in survival mode.
I even suggested that we could put the trip on a credit card and pay it off once the house sells since we’ll likely have close to $100,000 in equity from the sale.
But even that seems to be too much.

What I struggle with the most is that he sees me every single day. He sees the anxiety. He sees the hypervigilance. He sees me planning errands around avoiding people. He sees me constantly on edge. He sees me getting worse instead of better.

I genuinely don’t understand how someone can watch their spouse live in emotional turmoil day after day and not feel a sense of urgency to help change the situation.
At the same time, I keep getting reminded that he’s the financial provider and that he has to think about money. And I understand that. I truly do.

What I don’t feel is understood in return.

I’ve explained over and over that I don’t expect him to carry the entire financial burden forever. I’ve explained that right now I’m operating in survival mode and that most of my energy goes toward simply making it through the day. I’ve explained that I genuinely believe that if I can get into a healthier environment, get proper therapy, and finally get out of fight-or-flight mode, I’ll be able to think clearly again and contribute financially.

Instead, I feel like he’s looking at the version of me that’s drowning and assuming that’s all I’ll ever be.

At this point, I don’t even know what else to say to him. I feel like I’m screaming that I’m not okay, and instead of responding to the fact that I’m not okay, the conversation always comes back to why therapy, moving, or change isn’t practical.

I guess I’m looking for support, advice, or even just perspective from people who have been through something similar. Has anyone else reached a point where they realized they had to stop waiting for their spouse to take action and start taking care of themselves? How did you handle it?

First of all, I know this post is more SO-focused than MIL-focused, but I felt like this was still the most appropriate place to post it because so many of you have followed my story over the last couple of years and have helped me feel less alone through some of the darkest periods of my life. The support, advice, reality checks, and encouragement I’ve received here have meant more than I can adequately express, and I wanted to give an update on what’s been going on lately.

In some ways, this still relates to this sub because a significant part of my CPTSD stems from the years of abuse, boundary violations, stalking behavior, and instability I’ve experienced from both my own family and my in-laws. More recently, my symptoms have been significantly worsened by a public incident where my MIL attempted to ambush me, as well as a recent near-encounter with my estranged mother that left me shaken for days afterward. Both incidents reinforced just how trapped I feel living in an area where I’m constantly at risk of running into people who have caused tremendous damage to my mental health.

I wanted to give an update because a lot has happened since my last post.

A few months ago, my doctor told me that I needed trauma-focused therapy for my CPTSD. My husband was present for that conversation. Since then, nothing has happened because every time I’ve brought up therapy, I’ve been told that it’s too expensive and that we can’t afford it.

Fast forward to this week. My husband recently told me that he never told me I couldn’t get therapy and that he actually thinks therapy would be a good idea. He seems to believe that therapy is the main thing that will help my CPTSD, but what I don’t think he understands is that while therapy is important, you can go to as much therapy as you want and still struggle to improve if you are constantly being exposed to visual location triggers that keep reminding you of the trauma.

The problem is that every conversation we’ve had about therapy has ended with him telling me it’s too expensive. Even when I looked into lower-cost options, I was still given reasons why it wasn’t realistic.

Then I found out that we actually have several thousand dollars sitting in his checking account that he has saved for emergencies. I understand wanting an emergency fund. I truly do. What I don’t understand is why I’ve spent months being led to believe that we were basically paycheck to paycheck while my mental health continued to deteriorate and I was repeatedly told that we couldn’t afford the help that my doctor said I needed.

At that point, I decided I was done waiting for someone else to prioritize my health.

I scheduled an appointment with a trauma-informed therapist and put it on my credit card. My first appointment is next week.

I also scheduled an appointment with my doctor because my stress has gotten to the point where I’m experiencing physical symptoms. I’ve been having heart palpitations, constant hypervigilance, anxiety, muscle tension, appetite issues, and I feel like I’m stuck in survival mode 24/7. Months ago, I told my husband that continuing to live this way was eventually going to start affecting my physical health too.

Another thing that’s really weighing on me is that my husband is now pushing back on moving as far away as we originally discussed years ago.

Before we had our child, he told me that he could be happy anywhere and that I could choose where we moved. Now that I’m desperately trying to get myself into a healthier environment so I can heal, suddenly there are reasons why that plan no longer works.

I recently asked him if he would be willing to take a short trip with me to the area we had originally discussed moving to.

I wasn’t asking him to pack up the house and move tomorrow. I wasn’t asking him to sign a lease. I wasn’t even asking him to commit to relocating.

I simply asked if we could fly out there together for a few days so that he could see it for himself, look at apartments, explore the area, and maybe witness firsthand how different I am when I’m away from the environment that keeps me stuck in survival mode.
I even suggested that we could put the trip on a credit card and pay it off once the house sells since we’ll likely have close to $100,000 in equity from the sale.
But even that seems to be too much.

What I struggle with the most is that he sees me every single day. He sees the anxiety. He sees the hypervigilance. He sees me planning errands around avoiding people. He sees me constantly on edge. He sees me getting worse instead of better.

I genuinely don’t understand how someone can watch their spouse live in emotional turmoil day after day and not feel a sense of urgency to help change the situation.
At the same time, I keep getting reminded that he’s the financial provider and that he has to think about money. And I understand that. I truly do.

What I don’t feel is understood in return.

I’ve explained over and over that I don’t expect him to carry the entire financial burden forever. I’ve explained that right now I’m operating in survival mode and that most of my energy goes toward simply making it through the day. I’ve explained that I genuinely believe that if I can get into a healthier environment, get proper therapy, and finally get out of fight-or-flight mode, I’ll be able to think clearly again and contribute financially.

Instead, I feel like he’s looking at the version of me that’s drowning and assuming that’s all I’ll ever be.

At this point, I don’t even know what else to say to him. I feel like I’m screaming that I’m not okay, and instead of responding to the fact that I’m not okay, the conversation always comes back to why therapy, moving, or change isn’t practical.

I guess I’m looking for support, advice, or even just perspective from people who have been through something similar. Has anyone else reached a point where they realized they had to stop waiting for their spouse to take action and start taking care of themselves? How did you handle it?

First of all, I’m sorry this is so long. I honestly don’t have anyone in my real life that I can talk to about this, and this group has helped me more than you probably realize. The support, advice, reality checks, and encouragement I’ve received here have helped me figure out next steps when I’ve felt completely lost. So thank you for being here and helping me feel a little less alone.

I wanted to give an update because a lot has happened since my last post.

A few months ago, my doctor told me that I needed trauma-focused therapy for my CPTSD. My husband was present for that conversation. Since then, nothing has happened because every time I’ve brought up therapy, I’ve been told that it’s too expensive and that we can’t afford it.

Fast forward to this week. My husband recently told me that he never told me I couldn’t get therapy and that he actually thinks therapy would be a good idea. He seems to believe that therapy is the main thing that will help my CPTSD, but what I don’t think he understands is that while therapy is important, you can go to as much therapy as you want and still struggle to improve if you are constantly being exposed to visual location triggers that keep reminding you of the trauma. The problem is that every conversation we’ve had about therapy has ended with him telling me it’s too expensive. Even when I looked into lower-cost options, I was still given reasons why it wasn’t realistic.

Then I found out that we actually have several thousand dollars sitting in his checking account that he has saved for emergencies. I understand wanting an emergency fund. I truly do. What I don’t understand is why I’ve spent months being led to believe that we were basically paycheck to paycheck while my mental health continued to deteriorate and I was repeatedly told that we couldn’t afford the help that my doctor said I needed.

At that point, I decided I was done waiting for someone else to prioritize my health.

I scheduled an appointment with a trauma-informed therapist and put it on my credit card. My first appointment is next week.

I also scheduled an appointment with my doctor because my stress has gotten to the point where I’m experiencing physical symptoms. I’ve been having heart palpitations, constant hypervigilance, anxiety, muscle tension, appetite issues, and I feel like I’m stuck in survival mode 24/7.

Months ago, I told my husband that continuing to live this way was eventually going to start affecting my physical health too.

Another thing that’s really weighing on me is that my husband is now pushing back on moving as far away as we originally discussed years ago.

Before we had our child, he told me that he could be happy anywhere and that I could choose where we moved. Now that I’m desperately trying to get myself into a healthier environment so I can heal, suddenly there are reasons why that plan no longer works.

I recently asked him if he would be willing to take a short trip with me to the area we had originally discussed moving to.

I wasn’t asking him to pack up the house and move tomorrow. I wasn’t asking him to sign a lease. I wasn’t even asking him to commit to relocating.

I simply asked if we could fly out there together for a few days so that he could see it for himself, look at apartments, explore the area, and maybe witness firsthand how different I am when I’m away from the environment that keeps me stuck in survival mode.
I even suggested that we could put the trip on a credit card and pay it off once the house sells since we’ll likely have close to $100,000 in equity from the sale.
But even that seems to be too much.

What I struggle with the most is that he sees me every single day. He sees the anxiety. He sees the hypervigilance. He sees me planning errands around avoiding people. He sees me constantly on edge. He sees me getting worse instead of better.

I genuinely don’t understand how someone can watch their spouse live in emotional turmoil day after day and not feel a sense of urgency to help change the situation.
At the same time, I keep getting reminded that he’s the financial provider and that he has to think about money. And I understand that. I truly do.

What I don’t feel is understood in return.

I’ve explained over and over that I don’t expect him to carry the entire financial burden forever. I’ve explained that right now I’m operating in survival mode and that most of my energy goes toward simply making it through the day. I’ve explained that I genuinely believe that if I can get into a healthier environment, get proper therapy, and finally get out of fight-or-flight mode, I’ll be able to think clearly again and contribute financially.

Instead, I feel like he’s looking at the version of me that’s drowning and assuming that’s all I’ll ever be.

At this point, I don’t even know what else to say to him. I feel like I’m screaming that I’m not okay, and instead of responding to the fact that I’m not okay, the conversation always comes back to why therapy, moving, or change isn’t practical.

I guess I’m looking for support, advice, or even just perspective from people who have been through something similar. Has anyone else reached a point where they realized they had to stop waiting for their spouse to take action and start taking care of themselves? How did you handle it?

ETA: One of my concerns is that if my husband becomes upset about me taking this trip, he may decide to take our toddler on a separate trip without me. I am the child’s primary caregiver and handle the vast majority of day-to-day care, appointments, meals, bedtime, wake-ups, etc., so the idea of my toddler being away from me for an extended period is stressful.

Does the fact that I am the primary caregiver have any legal significance in a situation like this when there is no custody order in place, or do both parents generally have equal authority regarding temporary domestic travel?

——-

I live in Virginia and am married to my child’s father. We have a toddler together and there is no custody order, separation agreement, or pending custody case.

I am a stay-at-home mom and the primary caregiver for our toddler.

I am considering taking my toddler on a one-week vacation within the United States. The destination is several states away and would require about a 5-hour flight. The trip would be temporary with round-trip tickets and a planned return date.

My concern is that my husband may object to the trip. I would prefer to tell him shortly before we leave because I anticipate arguments and pressure not to go.

From a legal standpoint, if there is no custody order in place, is there anything I need to be concerned about if I take my child on a temporary domestic vacation without my husband’s agreement? Could this create any legal issues for me, or be considered parental kidnapping, even though the trip is entirely within the United States and I would be returning home after about a week?

I am not attempting to relocate, keep my child from his father, or leave the marriage. This would simply be a temporary vacation.

I realize this may not sound financially responsible, but I think I have reached a point where I desperately need a break from my environment.

For context, I have CPTSD related to family abuse and stalking behaviors from my estranged mother. I still live in the same area where all of it happened. Every trip into town feels like a risk assessment. I have to think about where I go, when I go, who I might run into, and whether someone will approach me. I feel like I am constantly in fight-or-flight mode.

I have been telling my husband for years that I genuinely believe I need to relocate in order to heal. Not because moving would magically fix everything, but because I need distance from the environment that is constantly triggering me. He has never been willing to seriously consider it.

Lately, I’ve been considering booking a round-trip flight for myself and my toddler and spending about a week in the area I’ve been trying to move to. The trip would be entirely temporary. My goal isn’t to disappear or keep my child from his father. My goal is to finally have some breathing room and enough mental clarity to evaluate my life and my options without feeling like my nervous system is on fire 24/7.

Part of me feels guilty because I would likely be putting the trip on a credit card and figuring out the financial side later. But another part of me feels like my mental health is deteriorating to the point where I need to do something before I completely burn out.

The other issue is that I honestly don’t even want to tell my husband until the trip is very close because I know he’ll either argue with me about it or try to insert himself into it. I want this time to be just me and my toddler.

I am also actively researching therapy options because I know I still have healing to do. The problem is that my anxiety is so overwhelming right now that I can’t seem to focus long enough to make decisions, compare providers, fill out paperwork, or follow through with the process. Every day feels like I’m just trying to survive.

That’s part of why this trip keeps coming back into my mind. I don’t see it as a replacement for therapy. If anything, I see it as a way to calm my nervous system enough that I can actually focus on getting the help I need. Right now I feel so overwhelmed that even taking the next steps toward treatment feels impossible.

My question is: has anyone ever reached a point where they needed to physically leave their environment for a short time just to gain enough perspective to make decisions about their future? And for anyone familiar with this type of situation, am I overthinking the legal aspect of taking my own child on a temporary vacation within the U.S. when there is no custody order in place?

I feel like I’m grasping for oxygen at this point, and a week away sounds less like a vacation and more like a chance to finally breathe.

Yesterday I posted about feeling like I had reached my breaking point.

Today my husband and I continued the conversation, and honestly, I am even more frustrated.

One of the things he said was that he has never denied me therapy. Technically, that’s true. He never outright said “no.” But every single time I have brought up therapy, EMDR, or the specialist my doctor referred me to, the conversation immediately turns into how expensive it is. After hearing that over and over again for years, it doesn’t feel like support. It feels like another reason why nothing ever happens.

He also said that couples counseling would be difficult if we moved because if he got a new job, he might not be able to take time off for appointments.

What frustrates me is that he has the ability to pursue couples counseling now, and it still hasn’t happened.

For nearly two years, I have been the one researching therapists, researching EMDR, researching relocation options, researching jobs, researching housing, researching literally everything. I am drowning mentally, and somehow the responsibility for finding all the solutions still ends up on my shoulders.

I feel like every conversation follows the same pattern. I explain that I am struggling. He explains why a solution might be difficult. Then nothing changes.

At some point, “later” starts feeling exactly the same as “never.”

Today I reached a point I never thought I would reach. I made a GoFundMe page.

I honestly haven’t even shared it anywhere yet because I don’t know how. I just know I have become desperate enough that asking complete strangers for help feels more realistic than waiting for meaningful change to happen in my own life.

I know some people will say I should just leave.

The problem is that leaving isn’t as simple as people make it sound.

I am a stay-at-home mom. I have no income of my own. We have one vehicle. I am estranged from my entire family due to abuse, and I am also estranged from my husband’s family because of issues that have happened over the last couple of years. I have virtually no support system.

People say “just leave” as though there is a safe place waiting on the other side. For some people, there is. For me, there isn’t.

Tomorrow is my toddler’s birthday. I should be focused on celebrating him.

Instead, I spent today in fight-or-flight, running last-minute errands while terrified of running into people connected to my past trauma, arguing about the same issues I’ve been begging for help with for years, and wondering why I seem to be the only person treating this situation like an emergency.

I am exhausted.

I don’t know what the answer is anymore.

I just know I cannot keep living like this indefinitely.

ETA: He knew how upset I was. Again. After getting our LO to sleep. What does he do? He goes to bed and goes to sleep. I am so sick of having no emotional support or connection from this man. This is the last night he makes me feel like this. I am going to work on setting up my GoFundMe tonight. I deserve better. My kid deserves to not grow up thinking this behavior is appropriate.

I’m done.

——-

I wanted to give an update because something happened this week that has really forced me to confront where I am mentally and emotionally.

A few days ago, I had to make a grocery run with my toddler. As we were walking into the store, I saw my estranged mother, who is the source of a significant amount of my trauma, coming through the opposite entrance with her husband.

I immediately turned around, took my toddler out of the cart, got him back into the car, and left before she saw me. In the past, she has cornered and confronted me in public, and I was not willing to risk that happening with my child present.

At the time, I was running on pure adrenaline.

What has hit me much harder is what happened afterward.

My son was confused. He didn’t understand why we suddenly left. He was upset, crying, and inconsolable in the car. He had no idea what was happening. He just knew that something was wrong.

Watching my trauma affect my child absolutely broke me.

I am disgusted that my life has reached a point where simply trying to buy groceries can turn into something like that. I hate that my son is now being impacted by circumstances he should never have to carry.

The incident reinforced something I have been saying for years. I am not functioning well in this environment.

I plan errands around the possibility of running into people I am afraid of. Saturdays are particularly difficult because I never know where my estranged family members might be. I spend an enormous amount of energy being hypervigilant and trying to avoid situations that most people never have to think about.

The recommendations have not changed.

Months ago, my doctor expressed serious concern about my mental health and strongly recommended therapy and a different environment. My husband was present for that conversation. I have also been asking for couples therapy for nearly two years.

Nothing has happened.

No therapy.

No couples counseling.

No relocation plan.

No meaningful movement in any direction.

Today I had to go out again, and it took me hours to work up the courage to do it.

I told my husband how I was feeling. I was visibly upset. I explained how much the encounter from the other day had affected me and how overwhelmed I was feeling.

His response was to get up from the table, walk away, and start doing chores around the house without saying a word.

Not one word.

That interaction affected me more than I expected.

I think I have finally reached the point where resentment has overtaken hope.

For years, I have tried to explain what is happening to me. I have tried to communicate what I need. I have tried therapy. I have worked on myself. I have tried to be patient. I have tried to heal with the resources available to me.

At this point, I feel emotionally detached from the marriage in a way that is difficult to describe.

Not because I wanted to get here, but because after years of feeling unheard, something in me has simply gone quiet.

I am honestly at a point where I spend more time thinking about how to leave than how to stay.

I have no income of my own. I am a stay-at-home mom. We have one vehicle. I have virtually no support system. I feel trapped in every sense of the word.

What scares me is how desperate I have become.

I have reached a point where I am seriously contemplating creating a GoFundMe or asking complete strangers for financial help so that I can afford therapy, get myself and my child somewhere healthier, and start rebuilding our lives.

I never imagined I would be in a position where asking strangers for help would feel more realistic than receiving meaningful support from the person who promised to stand beside me.

I know that sounds extreme.

But that is genuinely where I am mentally right now.

For the first time, I feel like I am accepting the possibility that my husband may never share the same sense of urgency that I do.

And that realization has been devastating.

I don’t have all the answers right now.

I just know that I cannot continue living exactly like this forever.

I would really appreciate perspectives from husbands or devoted long-term partners.

What would you do if your spouse was struggling mentally for years and had repeatedly told you exactly what they needed to get better?

My husband and I have been together for about 10 years. When we first got together, one of the most important conversations we had was that I did not intend to live in our hometown forever. I have a significant history of trauma, family dysfunction, and religious abuse. I always knew that eventually I needed distance from this area in order to fully heal.

He knew that from the beginning and told me he was on board.

For years, I tried to make things work. I went to therapy, worked on myself, processed trauma, and waited for my husband to be ready to make the move. At one point I had fully decided that I was going to leave the area whether he came with me or not because I knew staying here was harming my mental health.

Then I got pregnant.

I chose to stay because I didn’t want to take the grandparent experience away from my husband’s parents. Unfortunately, that situation ended up becoming a major source of stress and trauma in its own right, and now I find myself with essentially no support system outside of my husband.

I’m now a stay-at-home mom to a toddler. I pour everything I have into being the best mother I can be because I am determined to break cycles of abuse and dysfunction. By the end of the day, I have very little left for myself.

My mental health has continued to decline, and it is now affecting my physical health as well.

What makes this even harder is that after I gave birth, my husband admitted something that completely blindsided me. He told me that he never actually wanted to move. He said he thought I would eventually change my mind.

I don’t think I’ve ever fully gotten over that conversation because this wasn’t some minor preference. It was one of the most important things we discussed when we started our relationship. I made major life decisions based on the belief that we were working toward the same future.

I’ve been very direct with him. I’ve told him that I believe we need to leave this area. I’ve told him that I need therapy. I’ve told him that I need a different environment. He has heard my doctor express concern and recommend therapy. He sees firsthand how much I struggle.

The problem is that he is comfortable here.

Because he is comfortable, there never seems to be any urgency. Years go by and nothing changes. No concrete relocation plans. No meaningful movement toward a different future.

If he had a lifelong career here, close friendships, or relationships that he couldn’t imagine leaving behind, I think I would have an easier time understanding his position. But that’s not really the case. He works in a field where he could find opportunities almost anywhere, which makes it difficult for me to understand why staying here seems more important than addressing a problem that has been affecting my mental health for years.

I genuinely don’t understand it.

If the roles were reversed and my spouse was struggling this badly, I feel like I would move mountains to help them. I wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably knowing they were suffering.

So my question is this:

If you knew your spouse was genuinely struggling and had been telling you for years what they needed, what would you do?

And if you were in my position, how long would you continue waiting for action before accepting that your partner may never share the same sense of urgency?

I would really appreciate perspectives from husbands or devoted long-term partners.

What would you do if your spouse was struggling mentally for years and had repeatedly told you exactly what they needed to get better?

My husband and I have been together for about 10 years. When we first got together, one of the most important conversations we had was that I did not intend to live in our hometown forever. I have a significant history of trauma, family dysfunction, and religious abuse. I always knew that eventually I needed distance from this area in order to fully heal.

He knew that from the beginning and told me he was on board.

For years, I tried to make things work. I went to therapy, worked on myself, processed trauma, and waited for my husband to be ready to make the move. At one point I had fully decided that I was going to leave the area whether he came with me or not because I knew staying here was harming my mental health.

Then I got pregnant.

I chose to stay because I didn’t want to take the grandparent experience away from my husband’s parents. Unfortunately, that situation ended up becoming a major source of stress and trauma in its own right, and now I find myself with essentially no support system outside of my husband.

I’m now a stay-at-home mom to a toddler. I pour everything I have into being the best mother I can be because I am determined to break cycles of abuse and dysfunction. By the end of the day, I have very little left for myself.

My mental health has continued to decline, and it is now affecting my physical health as well.

What makes this even harder is that after I gave birth, my husband admitted something that completely blindsided me. He told me that he never actually wanted to move. He said he thought I would eventually change my mind.

I don’t think I’ve ever fully gotten over that conversation because this wasn’t some minor preference. It was one of the most important things we discussed when we started our relationship. I made major life decisions based on the belief that we were working toward the same future.

I’ve been very direct with him. I’ve told him that I believe we need to leave this area. I’ve told him that I need therapy. I’ve told him that I need a different environment. He has heard my doctor express concern and recommend therapy. He sees firsthand how much I struggle.

The problem is that he is comfortable here.

Because he is comfortable, there never seems to be any urgency. Years go by and nothing changes. No concrete relocation plans. No meaningful movement toward a different future.

If he had a lifelong career here, close friendships, or relationships that he couldn’t imagine leaving behind, I think I would have an easier time understanding his position. But that’s not really the case. He works in a field where he could find opportunities almost anywhere, which makes it difficult for me to understand why staying here seems more important than addressing a problem that has been affecting my mental health for years.

I genuinely don’t understand it.

If the roles were reversed and my spouse was struggling this badly, I feel like I would move mountains to help them. I wouldn’t be able to sit comfortably knowing they were suffering.

So my question is this:

If you knew your spouse was genuinely struggling and had been telling you for years what they needed, what would you do?

And if you were in my position, how long would you continue waiting for action before accepting that your partner may never share the same sense of urgency?

Hello everyone,

This may be a long shot, but I figured if anyone would know of unique opportunities, it would be Reddit.

My family and I have been seriously considering relocating to Utah for a variety of reasons, including mental health, quality of life, and wanting a fresh start in a place that feels like a better fit for our family.

I currently have a two-year-old and have primarily been a stay-at-home mom since he was born. Prior to pregnancy, I worked as a school bus driver. At the time, I was told that when my child turned two, I would be able to return part-time and bring him with me on my route. Unfortunately, the policy has since changed, and that is no longer an option.

I’m now trying to think outside the box and wondering if there are any jobs, companies, industries, or opportunities in Utah that would allow me to bring my toddler with me while working.

I’m not necessarily looking for a high-paying career right away. I’m more interested in finding something that would allow me to contribute financially while still spending time with my son and avoiding the cost of full-time childcare.

I already know about options like DoorDash, Uber Eats, grocery delivery, etc., so I’m especially interested in hearing about less obvious opportunities.

Has anyone worked somewhere in Utah that allowed employees to bring their young children? Or do you know of any industries, small businesses, farms, family-owned companies, community programs, or other unique situations where this might be possible?

I’d appreciate any ideas, even if they’re unconventional. Thank you!

Hello everyone,

This may be a long shot, but I figured if anyone would know of unique opportunities, it would be Reddit.

My family and I have been seriously considering relocating to Utah for a variety of reasons, including mental health, quality of life, and wanting a fresh start in a place that feels like a better fit for our family.

I currently have a two-year-old and have primarily been a stay-at-home mom since he was born. Prior to pregnancy, I worked as a school bus driver. At the time, I was told that when my child turned two, I would be able to return part-time and bring him with me on my route. Unfortunately, the policy has since changed, and that is no longer an option.

I’m now trying to think outside the box and wondering if there are any jobs, companies, industries, or opportunities in Utah that would allow me to bring my toddler with me while working.

I’m not necessarily looking for a high-paying career right away. I’m more interested in finding something that would allow me to contribute financially while still spending time with my son and avoiding the cost of full-time childcare.

I already know about options like DoorDash, Uber Eats, grocery delivery, etc., so I’m especially interested in hearing about less obvious opportunities.

Has anyone worked somewhere in Utah that allowed employees to bring their young children? Or do you know of any industries, small businesses, farms, family-owned companies, community programs, or other unique situations where this might be possible?

I’d appreciate any ideas, even if they’re unconventional. Thank you!

Hello everyone,

This may be a long shot, but I figured if anyone would know of unique opportunities, it would be Reddit.

My family and I have been seriously considering relocating to Utah for a variety of reasons, including mental health, quality of life, and wanting a fresh start in a place that feels like a better fit for our family.

I currently have a two-year-old and have primarily been a stay-at-home mom since he was born. Prior to pregnancy, I worked as a school bus driver. At the time, I was told that when my child turned two, I would be able to return part-time and bring him with me on my route. Unfortunately, the policy has since changed, and that is no longer an option.

I’m now trying to think outside the box and wondering if there are any jobs, companies, industries, or opportunities in Utah that would allow me to bring my toddler with me while working.

I’m not necessarily looking for a high-paying career right away. I’m more interested in finding something that would allow me to contribute financially while still spending time with my son and avoiding the cost of full-time childcare.

I already know about options like DoorDash, Uber Eats, grocery delivery, etc., so I’m especially interested in hearing about less obvious opportunities.

Has anyone worked somewhere in Utah that allowed employees to bring their young children? Or do you know of any industries, small businesses, farms, family-owned companies, community programs, or other unique situations where this might be possible?

I’d appreciate any ideas, even if they’re unconventional. Thank you!

ETA: if I can, by some miracle in this economy, have a decent enough of a sole income, I plan on making the plans for myself and my LO to head out and give him the heads up that it's happening AFTER plans are made. If he chooses to come, so be it. If he chooses to stay behind, then we will have one very heartbroken child. But maybe that's what he needs to be able to see how serious of a situation this is for myself and for our child. Right now I am just putting all of my faith into the idea that there will be a way for me to bring in an income alongside with still taking care of my baby.

——-

For some background, before I got pregnant, my husband and I had plans to move out of state. A huge reason for that was because I have CPTSD from years of abuse from my emotionally unwell mother and the fallout that came from finally speaking out about it. About five years ago, l went no contact with my mother, and the entirety of my family chose her over me. Since then, I've had no relationship with any of them.

Living in the same area has always been difficult because I'm constantly surrounded by reminders of that trauma.
I've been approached by estranged family members in public before, and it leaves me feeling like I can never fully relax or let my guard down.

Before I got pregnant, we had gotten serious enough about moving that I had essentially decided I was going one way or another, with or without my husband. I was at a point where I knew I couldn't continue living like that torever.

Then I got pregnant.

At the time, I was very close with my husband's family.
Looking back, there were already signs that my MIL's behavior surrounding my pregnancy was becoming unhealthy, but I didn't fully recognize them yet. Since their other grandchildren live across the country, I wanted them to have a relationship with our child. More importantly, after losing my own family, I genuinely believed I had found a support system.

I think that's a big part of why I chose to stay.
I had spent years grieving the loss of my own family and had finally reached a place where I felt somewhat at peace with my decision. I thought I was gaining something in return. I imagined grandparents who loved and supported us, family gatherings, and the village that everyone talks about having after a baby. I thought I was choosing stability for myself and my future child.

As some of you know from my previous posts, everything fell apart after my son was born.

Going no contact with my in-laws became necessary, but it came at a cost. It didn't just damage my relationship with them. It reopened wounds that I had spent years trying to heal. Suddenly it felt like I wasn't grieving the loss of one family anymore. It felt like I had lost two.
Now I find myself in a position where I have no support system at all. I have no relationship with my own family. I have no relationship with my husband's parents. Most days it's just me and LO.

What makes it even harder is that I'm still living in the exact environment we originally planned to leave.
Recently my MIL unexpectedly showed up while my son and I were picking my husband up from work. It reinforced something I've been feeling for a long time: I don't feel emotionally safe here anymore.

I don't know if what I'm experiencing would technically be considered agoraphobia, but I'm constantly on edge in public. It's not that I don't want to go places. I do. I desperately want to live a normal life. The problem is that I never know when I'm going to run into someone I'm estranged from. Several of them have approached me before, and because many of them don't have predictable schedules, I never know where they'll be. It feels like I'm always waiting for the next unwanted interaction.

Part of why I feel so stuck is because when our son was a few months old, my husband convinced me that if we wanted me to stay home with our baby, we would need to become a one-vehicle household. Financially, it made sense at the time, and I agreed.

The downside is that it significantly limits my options. Any job that requires reliable transportation is essentially off the table for me. Trying to build an income from home while caring for a toddler and managing constant fight-or-flight is easier said than done. By the end of each day I am just mentally tapped out and exhausted.

l've told my husband for months that I think we need to revisit our original plan to move. At this point, it isn't even about wanting a fresh start anymore. It feels necessary for my mental health, my marriage, and honestly my physical health too. Living in a constant state of hypervigilance is exhausting.

The frustrating part is that he knows all of this, but l haven't seen any meaningful action toward making a move happen.

What makes it even more frustrating is that when I picture relocating, I don't just see mental freedom. I see financial freedom too. We have substantial equity in our home.
Selling it would likely give us enough breathing room to afford things that feel impossible right now, like therapy, a second vehicle, and a chance to rebuild our lives somewhere that doesn't feel so emotionally loaded.

I know moving won't magically solve every problem. I know I'll still have CPTSD no matter where I live.
In fact, several months ago my doctor specifically recommended that I begin EMDR therapy. My husband was present for that conversation. I've talked to him about it multiple times since then and even sent him the information for the therapist I was referred to.

Unfortunately, we simply don't have the extra money in our budget for me to pursue it right now.

That's another reason I find myself thinking about selling our home and relocating. The equity in our home wouldn't just help us move. It would potentially allow me to finally access the treatment that has already been recommended to me, along with other resources that could improve our quality of life overall.

I don't expect moving to cure my trauma. What I do think is that it would give me access to tools and opportunities that I currently don't have. Right now, I feel stuck in an environment that constantly triggers my symptoms while also lacking the financial ability to pursue the treatment I've been told could help me heal.

At some point, it becomes difficult not to wonder how much progress I could make if I actually had the chance to access the support l've been told I need.

More than anything, I just want the chance to experience some sense of normalcy as a mother and as a person.
Right now, that feels completely out of reach.

So 1 guess my question is this:
Has anyone else stayed somewhere because of family support, only for that support system to completely fall apart?

And if your spouse wasn't taking action on a major life change that you felt was necessary for your wellbeing, what finally helped move things forward?

ETA: if I can, by some miracle in this economy, have a decent enough of a sole income, I plan on making the plans for myself and my LO to head out and give him the heads up that it's happening AFTER plans are made. If he chooses to come, so be it. If he chooses to stay behind, then we will have one very heartbroken child. But maybe that's what he needs to be able to see how serious of a situation this is for myself and for our child. Right now I am just putting all of my faith into the idea that there will be a way for me to bring in an income alongside with still taking care of my baby.

——-

Before I get into this, I know this is partly an SO issue. I fully recognize that. The reason I'm posting here instead of a relationship-focused subreddit is because so much of this situation stems from everything that happened with my MIL and the aftermath of losing that relationship.
Many of you have followed my story from the beginning and understand the context better than anyone else.
Right now, I'm desperately searching for advice from people who understand how complicated the loss of an entire family support system can be.

For some background, before I got pregnant, my husband and I had plans to move out of state. A huge reason for that was because I have CPTSD from years of abuse from my emotionally unwell mother and the fallout that came from finally speaking out about it. About five years ago, l went no contact with my mother, and the entirety of my family chose her over me. Since then, I've had no relationship with any of them.

Living in the same area has always been difficult because I'm constantly surrounded by reminders of that trauma.
I've been approached by estranged family members in public before, and it leaves me feeling like I can never fully relax or let my guard down.
Before I got pregnant, we had gotten serious enough about moving that I had essentially decided I was going one way or another, with or without my husband. I was at a point where I knew I couldn't continue living like that torever.

Then I got pregnant.

At the time, I was very close with my husband's family.
Looking back, there were already signs that my MIL's behavior surrounding my pregnancy was becoming unhealthy, but I didn't fully recognize them yet. Since their other grandchildren live across the country, I wanted them to have a relationship with our child. More importantly, after losing my own family, I genuinely believed I had found a support system.

I think that's a big part of why I chose to stay.
I had spent years grieving the loss of my own family and had finally reached a place where I felt somewhat at peace with my decision. I thought I was gaining something in return. I imagined grandparents who loved and supported us, family gatherings, and the village that everyone talks about having after a baby. I thought I was choosing stability for myself and my future child.

As some of you know from my previous posts, everything fell apart after my son was born.

Going no contact with my in-laws became necessary, but it came at a cost. It didn't just damage my relationship with them. It reopened wounds that I had spent years trying to heal. Suddenly it felt like I wasn't grieving the loss of one family anymore. It felt like I had lost two.

Now I find myself in a position where I have no support system at all. I have no relationship with my own family. I have no relationship with my husband's parents. Most days it's just me and LO.

What makes it even harder is that I'm still living in the exact environment we originally planned to leave.

Recently my MIL unexpectedly showed up while my son and I were picking my husband up from work. It reinforced something I've been feeling for a long time: I don't feel emotionally safe here anymore.

I don't know if what I'm experiencing would technically be considered agoraphobia, but I'm constantly on edge in public. It's not that I don't want to go places. I do. I desperately want to live a normal life. The problem is that I never know when I'm going to run into someone I'm estranged from. Several of them have approached me before, and because many of them don't have predictable schedules, I never know where they'll be. It feels like I'm always waiting for the next unwanted interaction.

Part of why I feel so stuck is because when our son was a few months old, my husband convinced me that if we wanted me to stay home with our baby, we would need to become a one-vehicle household. Financially, it made sense at the time, and I agreed.

The downside is that it significantly limits my options. Any job that requires reliable transportation is essentially off the table for me. Trying to build an income from home while caring for a toddler and managing constant fight-or-flight is easier said than done. By the end of each day I am just mentally tapped out and exhausted.

l've told my husband for months that I think we need to revisit our original plan to move. At this point, it isn't even about wanting a fresh start anymore. It feels necessary for my mental health, my marriage, and honestly my physical health too. Living in a constant state of hypervigilance is exhausting.

The frustrating part is that he knows all of this, but l haven't seen any meaningful action toward making a move happen.

What makes it even more frustrating is that when I picture relocating, I don't just see mental freedom. I see financial freedom too. We have substantial equity in our home.
Selling it would likely give us enough breathing room to afford things that feel impossible right now, like therapy, a second vehicle, and a chance to rebuild our lives somewhere that doesn't feel so emotionally loaded.

I know moving won't magically solve every problem. I know I'll still have CPTSD no matter where I live.
In fact, several months ago my doctor specifically recommended that I begin EMDR therapy. My husband was present for that conversation. I've talked to him about it multiple times since then and even sent him the information for the therapist I was referred to.

Unfortunately, we simply don't have the extra money in our budget for me to pursue it right now.

That's another reason I find myself thinking about selling our home and relocating. The equity in our home wouldn't just help us move. It would potentially allow me to finally access the treatment that has already been recommended to me, along with other resources that could improve our quality of life overall.

I don't expect moving to cure my trauma. What I do think is that it would give me access to tools and opportunities that I currently don't have. Right now, I feel stuck in an environment that constantly triggers my symptoms while also lacking the financial ability to pursue the treatment I've been told could help me heal.

At some point, it becomes difficult not to wonder how much progress I could make if I actually had the chance to access the support l've been told I need.

More than anything, I just want the chance to experience some sense of normalcy as a mother and as a person.
Right now, that feels completely out of reach.
So 1 guess my question is this:

Has anyone else stayed somewhere because of family support, only for that support system to completely fall apart?

And if your spouse wasn't taking action on a major life change that you felt was necessary for your wellbeing, what finally helped move things forward?