My Son Asked This About the Millions His Dad Hid from Me
What happens when spouses hide money in divorce.

“Why do you care?” asks my son. “You’re the one who taught us what’s important.”
I listen to his words and glance at my friend who is sitting with us.
He’s right.
I am the one who taught him about priorities.
“Most of the time I don’t,” I say. “Instead, I write about it to prevent this from happening to other women and children. The other day one of my best friends said it’s remarkable the joy I live with despite the situation I’ve been left in.”
“It’s true,” my friend chimes in. “Every day she’s happy.”
“I know,” says my son. “But who cares? Let him have it. You raised us. You taught us what was important. You told us money is not the most important thing in life.”
But today I am mad.
It’s hard not to be.
I can feel my son’s worries. I can feel his stress. My boys are in their 20s and building their careers. Their dad’s divorce abuse severely impacted them. My ex-husband hurt our children to hurt me and leave me with nothing.
He canceled their health insurance multiple times.
All these years later, they battle to rebuild their credit and don’t qualify for typical credit cards or credit limits. And in other ways, they just got spit out into the world carrying unnecessary burdens because their mother left their father.
Despite this, my son is correct.
I taught them what’s important.
I taught my children God and family are the most important things in this life.
“He hid millions of dollars,” I say. “Money that was not entirely his. It was illegal and abusive. That was the life I built too. That was my savings, security, and work. Lately, watching him arrogantly spending it all after destroying me financially is salt in the wound.”
“I think what’s more frustrating in my opinion,” says my son. “Is that there are still some people who don’t recognize or believe what he did to you and to us and that in some ways feels worse.”
“Very few people don’t see our truth,” I say. “Pretty much everyone including his old friends know exactly who he is and what he’s done.”
My son is right.
I am aggravated on this day.
It can still happen.
I’m just grateful it doesn’t happen often.
I know why. I want to help my kids. I want to fix the damage that’s been done. But I’m barely able to help myself five years out of being completely financially ruined by an angry and abusive man.
And the injustice of divorce is massive.
Illegal, abusive, and manipulative behavior is rewarded.
If a stranger stole millions from me…
The world would be outraged.
But a man I attached myself to by marriage is rewarded for it. The man who threatened me, “If you leave me I will make sure there’s no money and you work for the rest of your life.”
A bully threatened and intimidated me.
And divorce simply aided the bully.
A man going after a woman.
Why? Because she left him.
I mean, seriously. When you say it like that, it’s simply absurd. It illustrates the appalling process of divorce. Insecure and immature people lie, manipulate, steal, and are abusive because they're angry.
“Boo hoo,” someone left me.
Grow up, get over it.
Own your part in the failing marriage.
It’s over. That means there’s a consequence. You can’t have everything. You have to make adult choices and decisions. You have to equitably split parenting and finances.
Again, you have to grow up.
Not act out.
“It’s not about millions of dollars,” I say. “It’s about the constant stress I now live under.”
“I don’t know why you worry,” says my son. “We are going to take care of you one day.”
These are the moments when it’s hard to fight back tears.
I’ve raised incredible boys who are good men.
And I don’t want to be a burden to them.
“No,” I say. “I’m going to take care of myself. I am going to figure this out. I don’t want you all to take care of me. I am not your burden to carry.”
On this day, my son’s question opens my eyes.
I am getting more stressed by my financial situation.
I believe I can figure it out.
At the same time, five years later it’s beginning to overwhelm me that I haven’t figured out more of it. I don’t need a little bit of money and income, I need a massive amount.
Because my ex-husband didn’t just hide millions of our savings and retirement.
He ruined my credit which leaves me no ability to meet any emergency expenses. Every time I rebuild my credit he does something else. He recently hasn’t paid the student loan for our son that he forged in my name.
He haunts me in these ways.
I also have lots of medical bills. I am the one who worries about the vet he didn’t pay, the hardworking landscaper he still owes thousands to, and all the other bills he abandoned during our divorce.
I am the one who wants to make those things right.
No matter how many years it takes me.
I am the one who owes post-divorce legal expenses. As well as, loans for the initial divorce expenses. I don’t have money and I owe a great deal of money.
But this was what he wanted.
Again, it’s why I write about divorce financial abuse, the vulnerability of stay-at-home mothers, the inequities of how society and divorce view stay-at-home mothers, the tactics men and women use to hide money from their spouses, and more.
He told me when he forged my name on our son’s student loan, “You didn’t carry your weight in our marriage as a stay-at-home mother so I’m going to leave you with debt.”
He lives in an altered reality.
Which is logical for a diagnosed narcissist on the severe end of the spectrum.
I built the business with him, the investment properties were my idea, I managed and paid the bills for the home, business, and rental properties, and yes, I raised our children.
My great mistake?
Besides marrying this man.
Was handing him over the finances once I said I was unhappy.
I’m glad I raised my children to understand what’s important and what’s not important. I’m glad they understand and recognize abuse.
I’m over the sadness that they say, “We love our father but we don’t want to be anything like him.”
What I’m not entirely over isn’t the millions my ex-husband hid.
It’s the stress he’s induced in my life.
By financially destroying me.





