When Red Flags are Waving

Our breaking points arrive when we are ready

Hindsight is always 20-20, right?

When I look back at what I should-or-shouldn’t have done during my marriage to a con man, it’s hard not to sail back down that stormy memory lane and second-guess.

“You tell that story and people will be all over you about why you didn’t leave sooner,” my sister once cautioned.

“He did [insert situation] and that wasn’t enough for you?” one of my Beta readers intoned in a way that totally felt judge-y.

“One red flag from a guy like that and I would have been so out of there,” another person advised, with a stinging double whammy of a comment.

In any abusive relationship, there are many factors why people stay or go. There’s a time investment. There may be children. There may be shame or embarrassment. There might be fear. The list goes on and on.

I remember that awful feeling. The one when my con man (ex) husband transferred ownership of our house to himself, forged my signature (and spelled my last name wrong), and stripped every penny of equity out of the house.

Betrayal creates a complex web of feelings. Mine were a mix of shock and shame, disbelief and depression. I wanted to cry. I wanted to hide. I just wanted this to go away.

What I didn’t want to do was tell anyone. After confronting him and kicking him out of the house, there was time and space to process what had happened. But I remained ashamed enough to keep it to myself….until I could develop a better plan.

Was this red flag enough to call it quits? It was flaming, fire-engine red after all.

It wasn’t.

Because I wasn’t ready.

There were many reasons for this. He begged my forgiveness. He promised to pay back every penny. He said it would never happen again. He just had cancer surgery and was about to begin a course of radiation therapy.

Beyond all this, there were two important failings of mine. First, I believed him and thought I could fix the situation. Second, because I didn’t tell anyone, I did not have a meaningful support system.

I tested the waters of telling once. It did not go well.

His brother’s longtime partner had an annual ladies’ holiday cookie party. Sampling cookies, sipping wine, and catching up was usually a joyous affair. His cancer cast a pall over the party. At some point in the evening, a small group sat at the kitchen table, including the partner, his cousin, and two of their close friends.

“How are you doing?” they asked sympathetically.

“It’s a lot,” I replied, thinking of his cancer and his deception. They offered knowing nods.

“It’s more complicated than you think,” I offered, unsure if I could trust the group. They waited.

“Um, he, um, well, the truth is I learned he forged my name on a $75,000 loan.”

My eyes welled with tears.

The partner and cousin glanced at each other.

The cousin put her hand on my shoulder.

“I know you two will find a way to work this out,” she said.

One by one, they left the table.

I’d picked the wrong people. I felt embarrassed for even mentioning what happened.

It was a long time before I learned how enablers work.

Enablers are people whose behavior allows a loved one to continue self-destructive patterns of behavior. Many people who enable others don’t do so intentionally. They may not even realize what they’re doing.

Enabling usually refers to patterns that appear in the context of drug or alcohol misuse and addiction. But according to the American Psychological Association, it can refer to patterns within close relationships that support any harmful or problematic behavior and make it easier for that behavior to continue.

My husband’s addiction was money, or rather, its misuse. His family knew about it for a very long time. It wasn’t discussed.

Red flags waving wildly, that holiday cookie party was the moment I knew I was on the journey alone.