I was devastated when my mother took my ex-husband’s side in our divorce – and even carried on seeing him behind my back. I should have seen the signs after the horrifying thing she did to me as a child

When my marriage ended, there was one person whose love, trust, and safe arms I missed: my mother. I was 39 at the time, but it felt natural to want my mother’s comfort during such a dark time. Even though we never had a warm and loving relationship, I hoped that this would bring us closer and finally show me the support I always wanted.

But his reaction was as cold as ever: ‘I don’t understand why you can’t get over this; Your father will be very disappointed.’

This was especially devastating because my father had died three years earlier and I had spent my entire childhood seeking, not seeking, his approval.

She accused me of emasculating my husband, Michael, by earning more than him because I had a successful career in global finance, earning tens of thousands more than his job in manufacturing. And I haven’t let myself go since having kids — which really bothered me, given my lifelong struggles with body image.

Worse, he claimed that ending the marriage would “hurt” my sons.

I left in tears, feeling completely heartbroken.

After that, my mother went one step further. Even though I walked out of our 15-year marriage due to Michael’s gaslighting and mounting debts, which had accumulated into six figures over the years, he sided with Michael. He insisted on taking her out for secret dinners with our twin seven-year-olds, long after I asked him not to.

At its lowest, parental rejection was devastating. This meant that within three years I lost my father, my husband, and then my mother.

We have had no contact for three years, which is both painful and liberating.

This ‘mother wound’ required more therapy than the divorce itself. After all, a husband can be replaced, but a mother cannot be replaced.

Growing up near Liverpool, my parents were never affectionate towards my younger brother and I, giving us the silent treatment if we bothered them.

When I told her I didn’t want to move on to Girl Guides after finishing Brownies, my mom didn’t talk to me for days. I wrote him cards to apologize and made him coffee in hopes of winning him over. But he ignored all of this, and his rejection left me feeling unlovable and invisible.

Food was another battleground. My family followed the ‘eat it or wear it’ rule. If we didn’t finish our plates, the food would be smeared on our faces – literally. I remember my dad rubbing the rest of the jelly bean on my face. I was then asked to wash myself in a cold shower while fully clothed.

I felt humiliated, powerless, and completely overwhelmed with shame and fear.

I also received constant comments from my mother that my breasts were too big, that I would never lose my puppy fat, that I should do double chin exercises, and that I should join WeightWatchers. He was maybe a size smaller than me at the time. My friends and family could never understand why I always thought I was fat.

During my teenage years, I developed bulimia, rooted in shame, fear, and a desperate attempt to be good enough for my mother.

Even so-called acts of generosity were just other ways to control and diminish me. When I learned to drive, my parents (my mother was a midwife and my father was a team leader in a factory) bought me a car, but this car was used almost as a blackmail tool. If I came home later than expected or questioned something my mother said, my car keys would be confiscated for weeks.

As for my father, he would either shout or follow my mother’s lead and give us the silent treatment. I didn’t know this wasn’t normal until I had children of my own.

Maybe the lack of paternal support was why I fell so quickly in love with Michael when we met at 19. I was studying Law at the University of Liverpool and he was already working in manufacturing. There was an instant attraction and deep friendship between us. He told me he loved me and for the first time I felt chosen and loved.

We got engaged within six months. The biggest surprise was that my family actually approved of our relationship. Michael had always felt distant from his own parents and would ironically say that my mother was like the mother he never had.

Looking back, I think they loved him because our stable relationship represented stability and dignity, and they also enjoyed his admiration for them.

We got married in June 2004 in a church with 150 guests. If it were up to me, we’d get married somewhere on the beach with our closest friends and family around, but my parents paid for the wedding; This was a generous act that seemed all about control. I didn’t even know half the people they invited.

Even when they gave us a house deposit in our 20s, there was an ulterior motive. Even though the location was not where we wanted to live, they insisted that we buy a house belonging to a friend of theirs. Of course they went their separate ways.

I was about to start my graduate law studies, and we agreed that Michael would pay the mortgage on his manufacturing business until I earned money. Within a few months, letters arrived from the lender informing us that our mortgage payments were behind.

This was the first sign that Michael was irresponsible with money and forced me to swap my dreams of becoming a barrister for a place on a postgraduate finance program that was earning around £10,000 more than him even in those early days.

This was the beginning of a pattern that would define our marriage. Over the years, his debts grew to tens of thousands of pounds through overdrafts and credit cards. Most of the time I would only find out when creditors contacted us directly.

He mostly dealt with credit card and cash transactions, and explanations ranged from ‘these aren’t my debts’, as if he didn’t know anything about them, to ‘I let my friend use my name to get a credit card’, and even the debts were settled when they weren’t.

To this day I have no idea what he spent his money on. I wondered if he was gambling or having an affair. When I asked, he shouted that he was completely loyal; He also refused to gamble.

We agreed to separate after Christmas and Michael cried and promised he would change, but after 15 years of making the same promises I knew he wouldn’t.

As I climbed further up the career ladder in global corporate financial services, I was soon earning twice what Michael was making. My mother would publicly congratulate me on promotions, but privately she would ask: ‘How do you think Michael will feel? Will this make him happy?’

At that time, my mother and I were seeing each other every two weeks; Even though he constantly undermined me, it never crossed my mind that there might be another alternative. Even when I felt like Michael was blaming me for his financial incompetence.

Since I was already financing the mortgage, bills, and living expenses, I could only do so much to help pay off their debt. My family stepped in to save him more than once but that didn’t seem to dissuade them from him.

On the contrary, they said that I should teach him how to manage his finances, given my career. They refused to accept that no matter what I said, I couldn’t change him.

Even after giving birth to our twin boys in 2012, it wiped out what we had saved for maternity insurance, meaning I had no choice but to return to work when the boys were just nine months old.

The turning point was the day I discovered that Michael had been taking money from our young sons’ piggy banks, replacing the banknotes they had received as birthday and Christmas gifts with folded pieces of paper.

It wasn’t about money; I’m sure people go through their kids’ piggy banks when they need milk and don’t have change at home. This was the level of deception and not saying ‘I just borrowed £20…’

In the months that followed, Michael and I went to couples therapy, organized and paid for by me, as a last resort to save our marriage – but it made no difference. In November 2018 I told him it was over and we agreed to separate after Christmas. He cried and promised he would change, but after 15 years of making the same promises, I knew he wouldn’t change.

When he moved out in February 2019, I went to my mom’s house and told her I couldn’t live with the cheating anymore. A small part of me hoped that maybe he would finally give me the love I so desperately wanted.

Not only did he say that my father would be disappointed in me, but he also implied that things might have been different if I had had a less successful career. Even if I hadn’t given up on myself after having a child.

My first impression that she was taking Michael’s side was a few weeks later when she secretly took him out to dinner with the kids. My sons said there was an extra chair at the table that they thought was for me, but my mom had told them I wouldn’t be coming.

When I confronted her later she said: ‘Oh, right, I’m a terrible mother.’ I told him, ‘It sounds like you’re not being supportive right now.’

Afterwards, I took him to lunch and calmly asked him to support me as if he were supporting Michael. He said I was overreacting and that he was just helping someone he considered his son. He continued to meet with her.

The last straw came on Easter 2024 when he came to my house with chocolates for the kids. I asked her why my sons told me she was still seeing Michael five years after we broke up. She angrily yelled at my oldest son that he was a ‘liar’ and ‘confused’.

He was so upset that he was visibly shaking. His brother ran and hid because he thought he might hit him.

It was like looking at me as a child, doubting myself because of my mother. That’s when I realized that protecting my children’s emotional safety had to come first. I wanted him to go.

Neither of us have tried to communicate since then. No birthday cards, no Christmas gifts from him, and I stopped sending them.

I was still questioning whether my mother taking her side was something all mothers would do when one of my colleagues told me: ‘Emily, my mother loves my husband, but if we divorced, I would be her priority, even if she supported us both.’

Now life feels freer without my mother. There is sadness about what could have been, but the only way for me and the boys to live in peace is to move away.

Eighteen months ago we moved from the North West to Buckinghamshire to be closer to my brother, who no longer spoke to him. Our new home is filled with laughter, warm hugs and love like I’ve never received from my family. No one walks on eggshells and the kids tell me it feels like home.

I learned that shame, silence, and conditional love can shape a child’s nervous system for life, affecting who you marry, what you can tolerate, and for how long.

The hardest part of the divorce wasn’t losing my husband. It was a painful recognition that my mother could not give me the unconditional love I had spent a lifetime trying to earn.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is accept the truth and walk away. I am proof that there is peace on the other side of divorce from a husband or mother.

• Emily Robinson is a pseudonym. Names and identification information have been changed.