My Cultural Awakening: Thelma and Louise Made Me Realize I’m Stuck in an Unhappy Marriage | culture

IIt was 1991, and I was in my early forties, living in the south of England, trapped in a marriage that had long since degenerated into something quietly stifling. My husband has become controlling, first with money, then with almost everything else: what I wear, who I see, what I say. It crept up so slowly that I didn’t quite realize what was happening.

We met as students in the early 1970s, both from working class and northern families, feeling somewhat outsiders in a university full of public school accents. We shared politics, music, and the feeling of being strangers together. For years, life seemed full of promise. When our first child was born, I gave up my job in local government to stay at home. That’s when the balance shifted between us.

Because he had money, he began to see himself as the decision maker. By the time we had our second son, what started as discussions had turned into decrees. I remember I once said that one of the boys needed new shoes and he replied that we couldn’t afford them, only for him to spend the same amount on something for himself. Those little insults have undermined my self-confidence until I barely recognize myself. I felt isolated, but I told myself it would be worse for the kids if I left.

One evening, about 15 years into our relationship, a friend suggested we go to the movies. It felt like a rare escape. The movie was Thelma & Louise, which everyone was talking about. Once it gets going, she gets to know Thelma’s husband – a braggart, a bully who treats her like property. When Louise turned to Thelma and said, “You get what you want,” it felt like a punch to my chest.

This line stuck in my head. For months afterward, it echoed in my thoughts as I practiced the movements at home. I told myself I would stay for the boys, but it dawned on me that if I made myself sick and depressed out of unhappiness, as I had been doing, I wouldn’t be of any use to them anyway.

A year or so later, just before Christmas, I was shopping with a neighbor when her car broke down. We were late getting home. I phoned to explain, but when I walked in the door he launched into an angry tirade. I remember standing there, still holding my coat, and that line came screaming back. Suddenly I heard someone say: “That’s it, I’m leaving.” It took me a moment to realize that the voice was mine.

By the end of the following week, I had found a basement apartment through a small ad in the local newspaper. I left with just a suitcase and my youngest son – my husband had emotionally blackmailed our eldest son into staying with him, which is still painful to remember. I had no money, no family nearby, and no real plan beyond survival.

However, within days of leaving, I felt a lightness I had not known in years. I remember running into a friend I hadn’t seen in a while, and he said, “What happened? You look great.” I was literally suffering, but for the first time in decades, I could breathe. I started seeing my friends a lot more, and poured my love into those relationships — something my husband wouldn’t let me do.

A few years later, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. By then, the boys were older and were wonderfully supportive. It was a difficult time, but I remember thinking: “Thank God I’m not married yet.” This thought was justified.

After 20 years on my own, in my mid-60s, I moved back north, closer to my roots. I got involved in community art work, and met a widower who also loved art. I wasn’t looking for love – after my first marriage, I was very wary of meeting someone else – but something about him felt different. It was beautiful and safe. We got married three years ago, in a small, happy ceremony surrounded by friends and family.

Looking back, I sometimes think of that night at the movies as the hinge on which my life turned. I will always be grateful to Thelma and Louise and the friend who took me to see it. That one line — “You get what you settle for” — changed everything.

In the UK, call the National Domestic Abuse Helpline on 0808 2000 247, or visit Women’s Aid. In the United States, the domestic violence hotline is 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). In Australia, the National Domestic Violence Counseling Service is available on 1800 737 732. Other international helplines can be found at befrienders.org