VANISHED Ways 1950s Women Survived Abusive Husbands

[no_hypocrisy]

[no_hypocrisy]

1. My father was emotionally and psychologically abusive.

My theory is that I was selected as a family scapegoat for two reasons:

1. A warning to my mother if she stepped out of line; and
2. To train me to accept abuse if/when I ever got married.

Well, I fought my father every chance I could, even before my adolescence. And it infuriated and frustrated him.

And I never married. My mother had bachelors and masters degrees. She was more than intelligent compared to most of the wives of the Fifties. And she was more or less held hostage in a very bad marriage. She once thought of leaving, but feared her disadvantage of being given minimal alimony and perhaps losing custody of the kids.

[rampartd]

2. "mad money"

i may have been 10 the last time my father beat mom. drunk as usual. he had wrecked the car. loud argument and thumps. crying.

next day her brother and father visited for a long talk. they were both very big guys and my uncle was a cop. dad never drank again and did not, in my memory, again beat her.

[Ritabert]

3. Wow. That takes me back to the 1950s.

We had at least 3 women in the neighborhood who were probably abused but as kids we didn't know any better. They all eventually got divorced in the 1970s.

[2naSalit]

4. I remember well...

And my mom did leave, after a couple years of threats to kill her during the beatings. She finally left all 5 of us left at home, 3 in diapers. Guess who became the house slave for the next seven years until I found my mom and managed to help her kidnap us and take us away from my dad, which we did. I have many scars, some only forgotten because they are covered over with other scars.

I got married in my mid 20s, that was over in a couple years when he became physically violent while drunk. He got drunk a lot after we got married. Wasn't sticking around to watch my life become that of my parents.

Been a lot of rough road but somehow I've made it decades longer than I expected.

[slightlv]

5. In a hell of a lot of ways, I was lucky... and I recognize that fact.

My dad was one of the best men in my whole world. But he was a man in the 1950's, and that gave him certain privileges that preyed on my Mom's soul, and I felt those. It made her one of those Moms for whom I could walk on the front porch at 3pm (after school) and read the "room" before I even opened the door.

Mom was smart. She was intelligent. She was skilled; she picked up the computer like a pro once I started giving her lessons. But her life consisted of a husband and three kids. Much too small for what she wanted out of life. And I was everything coming to be that she'd wanted in life and detested seeing me becoming. We actually ended up hating each other most of my growing up years. Early adulthood we were estranged, until we took those first tentative steps back towards each other and explained it all to each other. That's when we "discovered" we were just alike, going through the same stuff, only in 5 year increments apart at times.

But I was one of those women who married and started my own secret bank account so I'd have some money to leave when it came time. And there came that time. He WAS abusive, both physically and emotionally. I stayed til my daughter was 4. The final straw for me was when he denied me the right to go to college. I was a veteran and he said I didn't have veterans benefits for college! So I went out to find out the info on my own. Bad first move on my part! Next move was to find a divorce lawyer. Bad move number 2 was finding one I could afford but was not so good acting on my behalf. But I got the divorce, and the degree, even tho it meant taking the kid to class with me. I didn't graduate with nearly the grade I could have, but I did graduate, and I was proud of that. I tried to teach my daughter everything I wished my Mom would have taught me, but she seemed to have turned out just opposite of me. She's literally little susie homemaker with an abusive husband, three times over. I'm here for when she wants to figure out the pattern, but it's got to be from her end for it work, I'm afraid. Meanwhile, her grandson lives with me because he's non-binary and that can't work in her home.

We're going backwards for women in so many ways in trump's world, and I fear for all of us regardless of our age. We have to remember that despite our differences, we are sisters of heart and soul; we have to stand together and support each other, because there are so very precious few who others who will. I want my great grand niece to grow up in a world that will let her be whatever she wants to be; and I want to her to be able to be excited at that first date, not worried about whether that guy will hurt her. And I want my other great grand niece to know she's welcomed into this world and society no matter who she feels she is... male, female, neither, both, or none. But just because she IS.

Growing up in the 50's was hard. Growing old in the 202Xs is really hard. Being a kid these days is monstrous... digital is stealing everything meaningful from them. Lord love a duck, as my grandma used to say. I wish them love and luck.

[3Hotdogs]

6. How sad. While watching this, I thought about my father. I can't recall him ever getting mad, angry. Once in a while,

a "hell" or a "Dammit." Never shit or fuck. I remember him getting drunk on three or four occasions. Two of those were on Christmas eve.
He was a happy drunk.... Singing, and. he had a reasonable voice.

He was frustrated that we never had much money. But they owned the house we lived in.

Mom had the drudgery of being a 50's housewife. She always had a job and she prepared meals when she got home.

Dad was orphaned at age 14 so he had little "house training." I recall when she came home from hospital and he wanted to make supper for us. He went into the bedroom where she was recovering.. "Julie, how long do you have to boil the Jello before it gets hard?"

Damn. I was lucky and tears are in my eyes thinking about them.