At 20, I married the girlfriend I had loved since 15. She was all I wanted, and we were totally content with one another - which is why I allowed her systematically to cut me off from my friends, through her refusing to socialise either with them or with their new wives. Within a year, she was getting her own way in everything by taking to her bed, and refusing to wash or to eat until I gave in. I always did, because I was young, I loved her, and I hated to see her unhappy. After 11 years, our son was born. This offered her the opportunity to put more pressure on me. Returning from shifts which kept me away from home for 1-2 days, (which - simply to be manipulative - she had wanted me not to do) I would find the baby screaming and starving, in a filthy nappy, and my wife in her bed with her face to the wall. With no family, friends, or acquaintances, nobody ever knew, and I simply had to work around it. It wasn't easy, and, looking at it now, I don't know how we survived. We had two more children, both girls - the first, because I was persuaded that our son should not have to be an "only", and the second - a "wee mistake" - but nonetheless loved for that. (If this seems odd, you need to know that I was very much in love with my wife. I wanted a "normal" life, and, and for most of the time, things were OK). However, her ability to blackmail me was now extended, and, eventually, I had to give up the job I loved so that I could work nearer to home and be available to my children. (This turned out to be fortune in disguise; I got a job with the ambulance service, and have been doing it now for 17 years.) Our son left home as soon as he could (though I spent a lot of time and money making sure he was never "stuck"). Our daughters and their mother became ever closer, and I - as are many fathers of girls - was marginalised. (Don't get me wrong, I had - and still do have - an excellent relationship with my daughters). However, the three of them monopolised the room that had been our bedroom, but, because the house was very large, I was able to do some re-modelling and establish myself a "pad" downstairs. I also used my time to pursue my own interests, and, as a consequence, acquired new friends. When my younger daughter eventually left for university, my wife wanted me back as the compliant, subservient being I had been before. Unfortunately, I had been living a different life for about 4 years, and I wasn't about to give it up. The only blackmail weapon my wife still had was suicide. In less than a year, she: tipped a gallon of petrol over herself - soaking the lighter in the process; twice attempted to gas herself in a car (the second time phoning our elder daughter because she couldn't contact me); overdosed seriously on prescription medication 4 times; and twice attempted hanging. She was sectioned , in total, three times. She also indulged in bizarre acts typified by her cutting the telephone lines inside the house into 3inch lengths, smashing the telephones, and throwing them into the bin, - because I had been talking to my friends on them. After she attacked me with a daisy grub (have a look at one in your garden centre), I took to locking myself in my room, and - on really bad nights - sleeping in the garage. During the second hanging, I stood looking at her, dangling unconscious 5ft off the ground, and seriously thought about walking. But I saved her life again - and THEN I walked. She divorced me for desertion. I argued about nothing. I gave her the house, the cars, and everything we owned, except for two changes of clothing and my uniform. When I had somewhere of my own, I took the cats and the bees. Freedom is worth every penny. We were married for nearly 37 years; it took a year or two to adjust to leaving, and I've been on my own now for nearly four years. I don't think that I've been so happy since I was a kid. The woman who would have been my mother-in-law (she died 6 months before I married her daughter) once said to me "You'll never be happy, because you're not the marrying kind". Well, 37 years is giving it one hell of a shot, but, how I wish I had listened to that wise, wise woman! My ex-wife is an intelligent, attractive woman; she is a Theatre/Recovery nurse with 25 years' experience, as well as an accomplished church organist. The line between tantrum and mental illness is very blurred, and drama queens do sometimes die. If you're in tow with an emotional blackmailer, hearken to the voice of experience - LEAVE NOW!