The Monster Behind the Mask: Surviving Mr. Hyde

There’s something particularly cruel about a man who walks away from responsibility but still expects to keep control. He doesn’t parent. He doesn’t provide. But the moment I take one more step out of the wreckage he created, he has the nerve to throw stones at the woman who crawled through the fire. Recently, I had oral surgery, something I’ve needed for a while. I didn’t broadcast it, didn’t ask for help, didn’t even make it anyone else’s problem. But he found out. And in person, he offered that snide smile and a jab that cut deeper than the stitches: “Good for you. Glad the other guy could do it.” Later, the texts came. Unfiltered. Unhinged. “You’re a four-name woman.” “You’ve got more personalities than last names.” Let’s get something clear. What I have is a name I chose. A name that represents freedom, stability, and a life built from the ashes. What I have is a husband, a real man, who shows up for all eight of our kids, including the ones my ex abandoned emotionally and fi...

There’s a particular kind of heartbreak that comes after you leave abuse. It’s the realization that the control doesn’t stop with separation—it simply finds a new shape. It shows up in texts, parenting exchanges, or weaponized “concern.” Sometimes, it even arrives wrapped in a thumbs-up emoji. Below is a real exchange with my ex-husband. I asked if he could take the kids for the weekend. His response? A bitter mix of deflection, blame, sarcasm, and a personal jab. Let’s break this down. “I don’t have any money.” This is a classic deflection. It implies that providing care for your own children is somehow optional unless financially convenient. Co-parenting isn’t pay-to-play. It’s a commitment of time, effort, and presence. “Didn’t matter then and it sure doesn’t matter now…” This isn’t just passive-aggression, it’s historical revisionism. It reframes years of instability or absence as someone else’s fault, ignoring the real damage caused. “Sadly it just wasn’t for my kids.” Th...