AITAH for cutting off my family after they adopted my ex husband
Hey guys, I’ll go ahead and apologize for the long post and lack of context in some parts since it would take a whole separate post to go through all of that, but I’ll do my best to give you all the critical info needed for this story.
So a little background: I (29f) was raised in a religion that’s very, very strict, think Mormons without the multiple wives. My mom’s side of the family has all been born and raised in this religion, so it’s all they’ve ever known and they’re very firm in what they believe in. When I came along though, I never fully bought into their beliefs, but because of the fear tactics and brainwashing methods they use, I ended up joining the church too when I was 13. Even then, I always struggled with the beliefs and questioned everything.
Now from a very young age, around 5 years old, I knew I liked girls. Obviously at that age I didn’t fully understand what that meant, but by around 12 I did. As you can imagine, that was strictly against the church’s beliefs, so I spent years fighting my feelings.
Another important detail: in this religion, girls are basically expected to start looking for husbands around 14 years old. I personally witnessed several 14 and 15 year olds get married and even back then I couldn’t stomach it. I managed to resist the pressure until I was 17 before it all became too much, and I ended up marrying a man I did not love and was not attracted to for obvious reasons. He was simply the least objectionable option I had, and I convinced myself I could make it work.
Boy was I wrong.
From day one of our engagement, his mom made it her mission to break me into submission to both her and him. Before I started dating him, I was confident, strong willed, and had a backbone. I was genuinely proud of who I was. Within six months of being with him and around his family, I became a shell of myself. I second guessed everything and was constantly made to feel like everything I did was wrong, stupid, selfish, or not good enough.
After we got married, it didn’t take long for his true nature to come out. Trigger warning here, but within a couple of months of us getting married, he started taking advantage of me while I was sleeping. He also had this dark side that would come out and would result in him nearly breaking my arm on multiple occasions.
I was miserable to say the least, but in this religion marriage is “til death do you part” and you are not allowed to leave under any circumstances, even if the spouse is abusive. You’re not even allowed to call the cops. So somehow I put on a smile and suffered through it.
Over the years I would go see my mom and hint at what was happening. She would acknowledge that she understood what I was implying, but the only advice I ever got was to “pray about it.” That was it.
As the years went on, he became more and more controlling. Eventually he started cutting me off from everyone, including my parents. I’d be on the phone with my mom and he would walk by, hit the end call button on my phone, and then yell at me for talking to her.
For some context, he is not some charming movie villain type. He’s not attractive, charismatic, or manipulative in that way. He just has one of those goofy, “helpful” personalities where everyone thinks he’s the nicest guy ever because he volunteers to help with everything. Then behind closed doors he would complain endlessly about having to do those things and somehow blame me for all of it.
Fast forward to right before our 10 year anniversary. I had just had my second heart surgery within a year. This was about two weeks before Christmas. I was on strict bed rest and only allowed to get up to go to the bathroom. I was missing my kids’ Christmas programs, missing family Christmas gatherings, and just generally struggling physically and emotionally.
This man took one day off work to drive me to the hospital and back, then went back to work the very next day and left me alone all day to take care of our 1 year old while recovering from heart surgery. Thankfully my mom stepped in and drove my older kids to school because otherwise I would’ve had to do that too.
After going through such a hard year physically, mentally, and emotionally, and then having such a rough holiday season, I guess I was hoping maybe he would put a little effort into my birthday, which is the week after Christmas.
My birthday comes around and not a single “happy birthday” all day. No acknowledgment whatsoever. But I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was busy working. Maybe he planned to say something in person.
Around 8:30 that night he finally walks in holding a Dollar General bag with a smirk on his face. He hands it to me and says, “Sorry I didn’t get to wrap it. I forgot it was your birthday until I was almost home.”
Inside the bag were One A Day vitamins and five mini 100 Grand candy bars.
Then he started laughing. Like genuinely laughing. Deep belly laughing.
And I just broke down crying. I’m not usually someone who cries over birthdays, but it had been such a hard year. Honestly it had been a hard decade being married to him. That “gift” was what finally made something click in my brain. This man genuinely did not care about me. He took what he wanted from me and did not care if I suffered in the process.
After that, I stopped protecting his image. I started telling people what he had gotten me for my birthday and let them draw their own conclusions. He would get furious every time I told someone.
Things spiraled pretty quickly after that. I decided to leave both the church and my husband and started quietly planning my escape.
Then one day after our anniversary, everything finally came to a head.
We lived out in the country on a long driveway. Once spring hit, I started walking the driveway for exercise and honestly just to get out of the house. There are some dead spots with phone service on the driveway, so calls don’t always come through reliably.
One day I was outside walking while he was at work. I got one phone call from him, but I was already on the phone with a friend, so I declined it and figured I’d call him back afterward. If it was important, surely he would text or call again.
About ten minutes later, he comes flying up the driveway in his truck. I stepped off to the side so he could pass me, but instead he swerved off the driveway and hit me with the truck.
Thankfully I reacted quickly enough to jump backward, so he only clipped my leg and left it bruised and sore for a few days. If I hadn’t moved, I genuinely think I would’ve gone under the truck.
My friend was still on the phone and heard everything happening. I immediately yelled, “Are you trying to kill me? You just hit me with your truck!”
No apology. No “are you okay?” Nothing. Just demands for my phone.
I refused and asked him what his problem was. He shoved his phone in my face showing his call log. This man had called me 98 times in ten minutes.
I showed him my phone where I had only received one call and asked what was so wrong that he was acting like this.
Nothing was wrong.
He just wanted to ask if I wanted to go out to dinner that night.
I was completely speechless. I almost got run over because my phone wasn’t receiving calls properly. I couldn’t even process it. I just walked away from him, which made him even angrier, so he gassed the truck and spit gravel at me as he drove off.
I was terrified. I had never seen him go that dark before.
I called my friend back afterward to let her know I was okay, then I went straight to my parents’ house because they lived right behind us. I found them sitting on the porch watching the entire thing happen.
I explained everything and asked if I could stay there because I genuinely did not feel safe going home.
Their answer?
“No. Go home to your husband.”
I was floored. I am a parent myself, and church or not, if my daughter came to me and said her husband hit her with a truck, there would be zero hesitation. Either me or him would probably be in jail within the hour.
But my parents watched it happen and did nothing.
I went back home and endured a few more months before finally escaping and moving about two and a half hours away. During that time I officially came out of the closet. Obviously that news did not go over well either, but I was done hiding who I was.
I tried to give my family time and grace to process everything. They claimed they had “no idea” how bad things were between me and my husband, which is just flat out untrue. Every time I reminded them that he literally hit me with a truck, my mom would excuse it by saying things like, “We all do things when we’re angry.”
It’s now been about a year and a half. I figured six months or so would’ve been enough time for emotions to settle so we could maybe start rebuilding relationships. But then Thanksgiving came around.
My family invited my ex husband before they invited me. Then they informed me that he had already said he was “fine” with me attending.
Absolutely not.
I told them I would not attend if he was there. I said it was disrespectful to both me and my new relationship to expect me to sit there pretending everything was normal. I told them since they invited him first, it was obvious who they preferred there, and I wouldn’t interfere with their family time.
Immediately I got bombarded with calls from my parents and grandparents telling me I was being unreasonable and there was “no reason” I couldn’t be in the same room as him. I pointed out that if this had happened to my sister and her non church husband, they would never invite him around and expect her to tolerate it. Suddenly everyone got very quiet.
Then came Christmas.
I was still trying to maintain some sort of relationship with them because I understood the religious conditioning and mindset they were dealing with. Plus my ex still lived basically in their front yard and remained part of the church community. But once again, they invited him first and then informed me afterward that he would be there, but that I was “still welcome.”
That one hurt badly because my grandparents are elderly and their health and memory have declined rapidly this past year. I genuinely feared it might be my last Christmas with them where they still recognized me fully.
But ultimately I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t continue allowing them to disrespect me and prioritize the comfort of my abuser over me. They had already taken enough from me.
Not much has changed since then. I’ve repeatedly explained that he is their ex son in law and I am their daughter, yet they continue prioritizing his feelings over mine by consulting him about whether I can attend family events.
At this point, it’s been about a year and a half and I’m now in a relationship with a wonderful woman who has helped me finally feel alive again instead of feeling like the empty shell of a person I was when we met. She supports whatever decision I make, but she worries maybe I haven’t given my family enough time or enough chances to come around. My therapist worries about that too.
But honestly? I just feel like if they wanted to change, they would have at least tried by now.
A few months ago I finally told my mom that because she has repeatedly prioritized my ex husband’s wants and comfort over her own daughter’s safety and wellbeing, congratulations: she gained a son and lost a daughter.
So… AITA? Should I keep trying to maintain some kind of relationship with my parents?