BEL MOONEY: Can I stop my nasty wife ruling every part of my life?

Dear Bel,

I am in a position where there are only bad options. I am 72 and my wife of 22 years controls every aspect of my life.

I am still working but my salary (I'm a high earner) has always been paid into my wife's sole account.

I have no access to it and if I want to purchase anything, I really do have to justify it.

But she spends about £700 a month on clothes, shoes, hair, nails (until the lockdown), beauty accessories, jewellery and anything else she wants to buy.

She has completely alienated me from my sons. I'm no longer allowed to visit them, nor do I have any relationship with my grandchildren. She has forbidden any contact with my brother — so I feel underhand and miserable doing it.

She wants us to move but won't allow me to let my sons know the new address.

I have no friends left as, over the years, she has slowly but surely ensured I no longer contact them. The only 'friends' I have are her friends. If she is talking to me, I have to face her — or else I get shouted at.

If I try to say anything, she cuts me off dead and talks as though I had never even spoken. There is no aspect of my life that isn't controlled.

I have recently been seriously contemplating ending my life, because, in reality, I don't have one anyway.

I have tried to talk about retiring and about my family, but the rows are terrible.

Because of my childhood, I would do anything to avoid conflict, so I just go along with it. As I said, there are only bad options. I can try to leave but where would I go?

I could end my life but she would still have won because she marched me to our local solicitor and made me specifically exclude my sons, by name, from inheriting any of my estate.

It will go to her and then her sons, one of whom hates me. I have nobody to turn to and write in desperation.

JAMES

This sad, infuriating letter has left me reeling — and countless readers will be wondering (with me) just how you, an able, professional man, allowed such a terrible situation to develop. How did it ever start?

You were 50 when you married this woman — not exactly a vulnerable youngster.

I cannot understand how any normal person could possibly allow a dominant partner to forbid contact with their own family. What happened in your childhood to render you so passive, so vulnerable?

The way your wife treats you is cruel and unreasonable.

Thought of the day 

O unworn world enrapture me, encapture me in a web

Of fabulous grass and eternal voices by a beech,

Feed the gaping need of my senses, give me ad lib

To pray unselfconsciously with overf lowing speech

For this soul needs to be honoured with a new dress woven

From green and blue things and arguments that cannot be proven.

Canal Bank Walk by Patrick Kavanagh (Irish poet, 1904-1967)

Many years ago, I knew a woman treated in a similar way by her husband, and (I'm rather ashamed to confess) I asked impatiently: 'Why not just stand up to him?'

At the time, I had no idea how a controlling person can completely break a partner's spirit.

Back then (in the Eighties) there was no name for this form of abuse. Of course, we all knew about centuries-old domestic violence, but what about the kind of destructive bullying which leaves no bruises, except those on the mind?

At last, in 2015, this was recognised and enshrined in law. After a Home Office consultation, a new offence of 'controlling or coercive behaviour in intimate or familial relationships' was introduced — carrying a maximum sentence of five years' imprisonment.

I've read your distressing email several times and believe your wife is guilty — having ruthlessly separated you from your family in order to control your money and your life.

This is an offence. Do you really see no way out? You're a little younger than I am, yet have capitulated to the misery this woman has inflicted.

No! Why not go to the solicitor and make another will? While there, talk about coercive control. You certainly need to make urgent contact with your sons and your brother, explain what is going on and ask for help.

Please set in place ways to escape your prison. I am seriously worried she will manipulate you into feeling so worthless that you'll see suicide as the only way out.

This will never be the case. If ever you do feel that, please call the Samaritans on 116 123.

And remember, The Men's Advice Line gives support to men experiencing domestic violence and abuse.

To seek help, call 0808 801 0327 or email info@mensadviceline.org.uk.

I beg you to believe you can start a new life.

Dear Bel,

I am 52 and happily married with a nine-year-old daughter. I'm in good health apart from being menopausal and suffering the occasional panic attack triggered by claustrophobia.

I have a warm and loving family, a social life, a job I enjoy, no financial worries. I know I'm fortunate compared to so many others, especially in these times.

However, I worry about my family and friends dying; most days I awake thinking, 'Is this the day someone close to me will die?' Or 'Will I die today?'

Covid-19 has exacerbated my anxiety. Other than my grandparents, who died many years ago, I haven't experienced significant loss.

I feel overwhelming grief at the prospect of losing my parents (both of whom are in their mid-70s and healthy) and those closest to me. As an older parent, I worry I might die before my only daughter reaches independence.

I know this obsession is unhealthy. It extends to worrying about the risk of travelling and taking part in activities. My anxiety is pervasive and relentless; as I grow older, I'm more preoccupied by morbid thoughts I can't share. My outward face is always positive and smiling.

I'm agnostic but wish I had a faith that might provide comfort. I want to believe we are spiritual beings, but my logical mind overrides any hope of an afterlife.

As we get older and more aware of our mortality, how do we stay positive and find continued strength to enjoy life, knowing those we love are going to die; that we are all going to die?

SUZANNE

Had you not implied that your anxiety was a problem before the virus ruined lives and livelihoods all over the world, I might have had a mini-rant here.

Because I share the concern expressed by Dr Max Pemberton last week, that ‘coronachondria’ is afflicting the nation, and people have succumbed to terror in a way that’s reduced their natural resilience, energy and independence of spirit to the dimensions of a field mouse cowering in a corner.

But you say you have always been this way; Covid-19 has just made it worse. Your fear of death evokes a common theme of medieval literature — the timor mortis that was understandable in an age of plague, poverty, disease and early mortality.

But now? Yes, of course we must all die. We start the process the moment the midwife snips the umbilical cord. The human quest is (or ought to be) to pack as much experience, education and living, laughing and loving into the precious (if often painful) space between cradle and grave.

I was once terrified (with very good reason) that my teenage daughter would die during major surgery. But me (approaching your parents’ age)? No, never in my life have I wasted my time on this earth with futile fear.

I’m not saying that to put you down. But you do need a bit of a yank out of this sticky morass — for your child’s sake, as much as your own. If this neurosis continues, you will never let the poor girl spread her wings.

You also run the risk of succumbing to illness as you grow older, because you treat every ache, every snuffle, every wrinkle on your face as a prophet of doom. You wouldn’t have written if you weren’t worried that this obsession might ruin your life.

I’m really glad your ‘outward face is always happy and smiling’ — because, no matter what you’re feeling inside, that’s a very good start.

One way to develop inner strength is to read (yes, on religion and the soul — why not?), as well as make sure you exercise as much as possible.

But I also think you should consider seeking help. When the lockdown is over, it would do you good to research CBT treatments available in your area. Cognitive behavioural therapy is a ‘talking cure’ which aims gradually to change the way your mind works — hopefully giving the jolt (or ‘yank’ in my word!) you need. Look it up online, and note that online help is also available.

What can I say? At the moment my beloved parents (98 and 96) are both sorely afflicted with ailments (normal at their age) and pretty tired. But we live in the present and never talk about death.

Last Sunday, they were able to watch members of our close family (yes, at a safe distance — but please don’t write to me about rules, for pity’s sake) chat/play outside. It gave them so much joy. Dad phoned me later to say ‘thank you’. Honestly, life is so hard for him right now (in ways I won’t detail for the sake of his privacy), but he ended the call with the simple statement: ‘I’m a lucky bloke.’

You know, you are a lucky woman. Your life is richly blessed. So I beg you to do something about your pointless fears, because even though the guy with the scythe is always lurking, you are still in charge of your own life.

Teach your daughter to be brave, to take chances and realise that she might fail, to reach high towards the stars which confound us with their beauty and strangeness, to believe in herself and also in things beyond herself, to be playful, to create — and to jump for joy at the miracle of being alive.

And finally... Be focused to sort your old photos 

It was fascinating that so many of you responded to last week’s dilemma about the disposal of old, unwanted photographs.

‘Jane’ thought her problem not suitable for this page, but it clearly was.

My final suggestion of burning or burial of the least-interesting pictures (in a respectful little ritual) provoked mini-outrage in thoughtful emails.

Some suggested they might be useful to local history groups or that the best thing to do would be for Jane to scan all the photographs digitally, to keep in that form for future generations. Actually that’s a good idea — if possible.

But I deal in realities not ideals — and the notion that an elderly woman living alone in a small bungalow (with two faraway sons who’ve said they’re not interested) is going to have the knowledge and energy to embark on such a lengthy and tedious process . . . well, it’s just not going to fly.

Contact Bel 

Bel answers readers' questions on emotional and relationship problems each week.

Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 2 Derry Street, London W8 5TT, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk.

A pseudonym will be used if you wish.

Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.

I wouldn’t know where to start. Local history groups are only interested in specific places, so that’s a long shot.

Some of you said Jane should research family history and annotate the snaps — which is precisely what I suggested! My idea was to sort out the best ones, make notes and put the lot in an album — doing the same for her father’s war history. But what about the rest?

In our own home we have boxes of old pictures (mostly, though not exclusively, mine) and the vast archive weighs my photographer-husband down.

Each year, I vow to sort out the good ones and stick them in some albums I bought years ago . . . Then the months pass. You know how it is.

Yes, the best old photos are interesting. But how many unfocused snaps of unknown people and empty views exist in cupboards? Where does all this stuff go?

The point is this: We cannot hold on to everything. At some stage our loved ones will have to deal with the detritus of our lives. I reckon it’s kind to save them some work.