My mom always controlled every part of my life. She picked my clothes, chose 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, this is a long story, and I don’t even know where to begin. My mom raised me alone. My dad had disappeared 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 the end of it.
I never knew if my dad’s absence made my mom so controlling or if she had always been that way. Either way, I grew up feeling suffocated by a mother who wanted to dictate every part of my life. When I was little, it felt normal. She picked my clothes, my hobbies, my friends.
“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 more than anything, I wanted my mom to be happy. She often said, “All my happiness is in you,” and I believed it.
When I applied to college, I dreamed of going to New York University. A fresh start, a new life. 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 stuffed behind the closet. My hands shook as I read it.
I had gotten into New York University.
I waited for my mom to come home. As soon as she walked in, I stepped forward, gripping the letter so hard my knuckles turned white.
“What is this?!” I demanded, holding up the letter.
Her eyes widened. “Where did you find that?!” she shouted, lunging forward to snatch it. I jerked back, holding it to my chest.
“You weren’t supposed to find that!” she screamed, her voice sharp and panicked.
“Why did you do this?!” I yelled. “I could have been at New York University! 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 and wrapped my arms around her. She clung to me, her tears soaking my shoulder.
And so, I stayed. I buried my dreams to keep her happy.
As the years passed, the walls of my life felt like they were closing in. My mom needed to know where I was, who I was with, and what I was doing every second of the day. Dating was impossible. If a relationship lasted more than two weeks, she found a way to ruin it.
One night, I ignored her calls and stayed over at my boyfriend’s place. For the first time, I felt free. But then, the doorbell rang. The police stood outside.
“Ma’am, your mother reported you missing. She says you were kidnapped.”
My stomach dropped. We spent hours explaining that nothing was wrong. I was humiliated.
After that disaster, I snapped. “Then find me someone who meets your standards!” I yelled.
To my surprise, she did.
One evening, I came home and found a man sitting in our living room, drinking tea with my mom as if he’d been there forever. His name was Colin.
To my surprise, I liked him. He was kind, funny, and—somehow—not scared off by my mom. In fact, he got along with her. It felt like a miracle.
After nearly a year of dating, Colin planned a romantic dinner at my mom’s house. When I walked in, the table was covered in candles and flowers. My mom stood there, grinning with a camera in hand.
“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping forward.
Colin took a deep breath and got down on one knee. My heart skipped a beat.
“Elizabeth,” he said. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He glanced at my mom, then smirked. “Despite all the difficulties.”
I laughed.
Colin’s eyes locked onto mine. “I want to be with you forever,” he said. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes, yes!” I screamed.
Colin slipped the ring onto my finger, and I went to hug him—but my mom rushed in first. She squeezed him tight, then turned to me with a wink.
“In honor of this, you can even stay over tonight,” she teased.
Colin and I burst into laughter. To her, intimacy only happened at night.
The wedding planning began—and my mom took over everything. She chose the venue, the priest, the cake, and even my wedding dress. I felt like a guest at my own wedding.
Then, one evening, as we worked on the guest list, my mom said, “After the wedding, we can turn my room into a nursery. I’ll live in the living room.”
Colin and I exchanged a look.
“We actually planned to live at my place,” Colin said.
My mom’s smile faded. “Oh, I’m not sure about that.”
“It seems you don’t understand,” Colin said. “Only Elizabeth will move.”
Her face turned red. “You’re going to leave me alone?! After everything I’ve done for you?!”
“I’ll visit, Mom. We’re not moving far,” I said gently.
She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. “You raise a daughter, and this is the thanks you get!” She stormed off, slamming her bedroom door.
Then, suddenly, my mom got sick.
Her face paled, her eyes darkened, and she coughed constantly. We canceled the wedding, using all our savings for her treatment.
But something felt off.
I found a new doctor—Dr. Green. He ran tests and then stepped into the waiting room.
“I don’t know which doctor you saw before, but your mom is completely healthy,” he said. “Healthier than I am.”
On the way home, my mom clutched her chest, groaning. As soon as we got inside, I confronted her.
“Why are you pretending to be sick?” I asked.
Her face twisted. “I’m not pretending!”
“Liar. I saw the test results,” I said. “Where did all the money go?”
“It’s in my account, okay?! All your money is saved!” she yelled.
“Why did you do this?” I shouted.
“Because you would have left me!” she screamed. “And I’d be all alone!”
I stared at her. Then, finally, I said, “I can’t do this anymore.”
I went to my room, locked the door, and texted Colin. Can you come get me? I need to leave.
Minutes later, I walked past my mom, suitcase in hand. She pleaded, then screamed, but I kept walking. Colin held my hand as we drove away.
“This is for the best,” he said.
“Yes, I know,” I whispered.
I wasn’t sure if I’d cut ties forever. But I knew one thing—I was finally free.
