My mom always controlled every part of my life. She chose my clothes, picked my friends, and even decided where I went to college. But when I finally found love and planned my wedding, she went too far. What she did to ruin my big day wasn’t just controlling—it was a betrayal I could never forget.
Jeez, it is a long story, and I don’t even know where to begin. My mom raised me alone. My dad had gone off the radar even before I was born. I never knew him, not even through a story or a photo.
Whenever I asked, my mom would say, “He wasn’t worth our time,” and that was that.
I wasn’t sure if my dad’s absence made my mom so controlling or if she had always been that way.
Either way, I grew up feeling smothered by a hyper-controlling mother hen. When I was little, it felt normal.
She picked my clothes, chose my friends, and decided my hobbies. “You’ll thank me one day,” she’d say.
But as I got older, I realized my life wasn’t like other kids’. They had freedom, sleepovers, and choices.
I wanted that too. But I wanted my mom to be happy even more. She often said, “All my happiness is in you,” and I believed it.
When I applied to college, my dream was New York University. I wanted a fresh start.
But one day, I came home, and my mom told me I hadn’t gotten in. I was crushed. She hugged me as I cried, whispering, “It’s okay. You’re still my girl.”
I ended up at the local university, living at home. But one evening, while cleaning, I found an opened letter behind the closet.
My hands shook as I read it. I had gotten into New York University. My dreams had been real, and my mom had hidden them from me.
I waited for my mom to come back from work. I stood right at the front door, gripping the letter so hard my knuckles turned white. The crumpled envelope trembled in my hand.
As soon as she walked in, I stepped forward. “What is this?!” I demanded, holding the letter up.
Her eyes widened. “Where did you find that?!” she shouted. She lunged forward, her hands reaching for the letter. I jerked back, clutching it to my chest.
“You weren’t supposed to find that!” she screamed. Her voice bounced off the walls, sharp and panicked.
“Why did you do this?!” I yelled. “I could have been at New York University! I could have been living my dream!”
Tears streamed down her face. “Because you would have left me!” she cried. “You would have abandoned me! I would have been all alone.”
I stood frozen. My anger burned inside me, but her sobs pulled at my heart.
She looked so small, so broken. I let out a shaky breath, stepped closer, and wrapped my arms around her. She clung to me, her tears soaking my shoulder.
I never left. I stayed living with my mom, burying my dreams to keep her happy.
The older I got, the harder it became to live with my mom. Her need to control everything suffocated me.
I couldn’t take a step without her approval. She needed to know where I was, who I was with, and what I was doing at every moment.
It became impossible to date anyone. My relationships never lasted more than two weeks.
At first, things would go well, but then my mom would get involved. She would call nonstop, ask endless questions, and even show up unannounced. Most guys got scared off by her behavior.
One night, I decided to push back. I stayed over at my boyfriend’s place, ignoring her calls.
At first, it felt freeing. I thought, “Maybe this is what normal feels like.” But then, the doorbell rang, and there stood the police.
My mom had reported that my boyfriend had kidnapped me. We spent hours explaining that nothing was wrong. I was humiliated.
After she ruined yet another date, I snapped. “Then find me someone who meets your standards!” I yelled. My voice echoed in the room.
And, shockingly, she did.
One evening, I came home from work and found a man sitting in our living room.
He was drinking tea with my mom, his hands wrapped around the cup as if he had been there forever. His name was Colin.
We started talking, and to my surprise, I liked him. He was kind and funny, and he wasn’t scared off by my mom. In fact, he managed to get along with her. It felt like a miracle.
After almost a year of dating, Colin planned a romantic dinner at my mom’s house.
When I walked into the kitchen, I saw candles, flowers, and…my mom standing there with a camera.
“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping into the kitchen.
Colin took a deep breath, then slowly got down on one knee. My heart skipped a beat.
“Elizabeth,” he began, his voice steady. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, despite all the difficulties,” he glanced at my mom. I couldn’t help but laugh.
Colin’s eyes met mine again. “I want to be with you and only you,” he said. “Honey, will you marry me?” His hand reached out, holding a small velvet box. Inside, a ring sparkled.
“Yes, yes!” I screamed.
But the wedding never happened.
My mom faked an illness to stop me from leaving. All our savings went to her “treatment.” Hospital bills, medications, doctor visits—everything drained us.
But something felt off. When I took her to a specialist, Dr. Green, he shook his head and said, “Your mother is completely healthy.”
My world stopped. She had lied. She had stolen my future once again.
I went home, packed my bags, and texted Colin: “Can you come and get me? I need to leave.”
Minutes later, he arrived. My mom pleaded, screamed, and begged, but I walked past her.
As the car pulled away, Colin squeezed my hand. “This is for the best,” he said.
I nodded, tears sliding down my cheeks. “I know.”
For the first time in my life, I was free.
