My Husband Emptied My Bank Account Before I Left Him

One gloomy day in California, I had finally had enough. My marriage was not only over, it was completely dead. Beyond dead. I could not stay in the relationship a moment longer.

The relationship wasn't working on an intellectual and emotional level anymore and it had become dangerous to my physical well-being. I had to leave before something really bad happened to me. I did not feel safe.

We had just engaged in yet another argument verging on violence. In the heat of the moment, we both agreed that we should part ways.

As I packed up my car with as many of my precious items as I could fit, my husband came up to me and asked for my bank card. He said he had no money and he needed to take some out.

I should explain that I was the primary breadwinner in this relationship at the time. I was the one who went to work every day and I was the one who had a bank account. My husband was constantly out of work and did not even have a bank account of his own. It sounds crazy, looking back.

Not only was this man 12 years my senior but he had much more life experience than me. He should have known better and he was old enough to be supporting himself instead of allowing a young girl to be the main breadwinner.

I gave him my debit card. I did this mostly out of fear. He took off with the card and came back 20 minutes later, handing it to me with a blank expression.

He said, "There are three dollars left on the card."

Wow. Really? Three dollars?

He had emptied the entire account which meant I had to wait until my next payday to have money in my account. I was about to get in my car and drive a significant distance with nowhere to stay and three dollars in my account.

In the end, I called my parents and telling them about the situation. They were able to send me some money which I later used to get a motel room close to where I worked. Luckily I had a full tank of gas before I left.

I drove up to the California mountain community where I worked and got a cheap room at the local motel, where all the truckers usually stayed.

It was the best thing I ever did. That first night, I slept like a baby. I got some food to take back to my room, ate, and the weight of the world washed over me and then fell away.

I was safe.

Looking back, I'm absolutely stunned at my now ex-husband's behavior. However, I also knew that I was safer getting away from him as quickly as possible. At the time that I left him, I was in a heightened sense of fear and money was not a priority to me. Getting away was.

In the end, I still had a vehicle and a job so I was able to stay in the motel and keep going to work until I had enough money to put a security deposit down on an apartment for myself. I was safe and I had the means to survive.

It was never worth fighting over the bank card no matter how unfair the situation was. If all it took was money for me to be able to drive away from that marriage, then I'm happy about that. Life got better after I left that day. Much better.

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