It is the single biggest mistake I have ever made in my life – agreeing to move abroad, giving up my own opportunity to work, as well as all of the support and protection of my family and friends, so that my husband could take a job that was meant to be “a great opportunity for all of us”.
There’s no question that moving to Austria has afforded us some truly amazing opportunities: traveling across Europe, living in a different culture, getting to strengthen my own independence and self-confidence, giving the kids the fabulous experience of attending an international school and traveling to spend time with friends in different countries. But none of it can compare to the position of vulnerability I put myself in by coming here.
My husband is an abuser. It took a long time for me to realize the extent of it – if he had started off pushing me down on day 1, I obviously would have left. The analogy of frogs in a pot is incredibly apt (and I don’t even know if it’s true for frogs) – if the heat gets turned up gradually enough, they’ll stay put and get cooked. And that’s what happened to me.
I have no idea if he orchestrated this move abroad to intentionally isolate me from my support structure, but there’s no question that he took full advantage of the isolation once it existed. My husband had (apparently) always cheated – he started out seeing prostitutes when I was pregnant with our first son, and that was while we were still in the US. But I didn’t know. I knew he was withdrawn and disengaged throughout my pregnancy, but I thought he was struggling with the psychological impact of impending fatherhood, and I cut him a lot of slack. Once the kids had arrived, I was too busy and exhausted to worry too much about how he was spending his time, but his cheating escalated throughout our remaining time the US.
Once we were living here in Austria, all pretence of partnership and fidelity were off. He continued to see prostitutes, during lunch breaks and even when he would go out for errands like getting his hair cut. I eventually discovered his infidelity, but he begged his way into me letting him stay, offering abject apologies, claiming sex and alcohol addiction, entering 12 step programs, and spending tens of thousands of dollars on therapy.
Our original plan was to live here for 1-2 years, but once he had me and the kids separated from the other people who loved us, he was never going to let that degree of control go. He constantly claimed that there was no feasible work for him back in the States, and dangled an imminent promotion if we could “just stay a few more months” (flash forward 13 years, and the promised promotion has never materialized). I faced an uphill battle in trying to go back into the workforce, living in a foreign country where I don’t have an advanced command of the language. I tried for 7 years to get hired ANYWHERE and settled for piecemeal freelance work that was never going to grant me economic autonomy. Just like he wanted.
As the years progressed, he became less engaged in our family life, more distant, crueller in his interactions with me and the kids, and eventually his abuse turned physical (as it always will in cases like this). Completely unbeknownst to me, his cheating continued and worsened, with prostitutes as well as a series of sad, lonely women from his workplace, who he softened with fabricated stories about how he was the victim of a miserable life of his own creation. After discovering his third affair (and him admitting to at least two others), and being subjected to even more physical violence, he moved out.
Now I am living in a foreign country, having to start over professionally, and trying to navigate separation, child support, alimony, visitation, and (eventually) divorce in a foreign language and in a country with absurd ideas on what it costs to raise a child. He continues to exert his control through financial means and with the help of a strongly patriarchal system that has allowed hm to have the advantage at every turn. And now, of course, I *can’t* leave, because it would be in violation of our shared custody for me to do so, so he continues to have me (and the kids) exactly where he wants us – under his thumb and susceptible to his ongoing abuse.
There have been many things I have loved about living in Austria, and there are some beautiful memories and experiences that I will always treasure.
But if I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t. I truly hope you don’t, either.