There are few people who know this, but I was married once. My then husband was a total asshole, but I was also a total sucker.

First, we had been dating for six weeks when I became pregnant. I'd like to say it was because the condom broke, but it was because he told me that he had never met anyone like me before. He was so in love, he wanted to marry me and start a family right then and there. I came from a super screwed up house, where I was abused, so I was pretty excited that someone wanted to love me forever.

After I was pregnant, he told me I didn't need to work anymore. A couple months after that, we were too poor to live in our neighborhood, so he moved us out to a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, took the insurance off of his truck, and began using my car to commute to and from work. If I ever had an appointment, he would book the time off of work like a nice husband and take me himself, then drop me back at home. But if there was anywhere I wanted to go, like to be with friends or family, the answer was no.

When my son was born things got seriously worse. He didn't show up for the labour, and when my son was born at 8 pm, he went home to "grab a change of clothes" and didn't come back for two days. I developed post partum depression, moreso anxiety that would suddenly strike 45 minutes before he was due to arrive home from work every day. He developed a temper. He wouldn't give me any privacy, he had set up a camera that he could watch from his phone, to watch me at home in the living room. (It was meant to be a baby camera) He somehow had access to every text message, website visited, photo taken on my phone, I don't know how. If I wanted to shower he would wait until he heard me close the shower door, and then pick the lock and open the bathroom door. He would tell me to hurry up because our son was crying.
This made me more anxious and more depressed.

So I took matters into my own hands and sought out antidepressants. Got a prescription for cipralex and ativan. Because he controlled the money so tightly, and gave me an allowance of sorts, when he gave me the money for the prescription I took the antidepressants, but didn't fill the ativan, then pocketed the money. I pocketed enough to take a cab to the nearest bus stop, and then take a bus to the nearest courthouse.

I asked a lawyer what I could do, she told me nothing if I was still living in the same house. No custody no nothing, I'd have to find a way to get on my own two feet.

He found out I had visited the courthouse because he noticed I wasn't on the "baby cams". Then, he checked my history on the Internet and saw that I had visited the courthouse website, for information about custody. Up until then I didn't know that he was tracking my Internet usage. I admitted I wanted to leave, and I planned to take my son. He then tried to throw me out of our house, slamming me against the door frame, and I kneed him in the groin because he was holding my arms back. He called the police and told them I had assaulted him, the police found that I had his nail marks dug into the back of my arms, and told us that they couldn't determine who the aggressor was, mostly because when they tried to talk to me I just cried and cried.

He called child protective services, and told them I was suicidal, and tried to overdose on my at Ivan prescription (the one I thankfully never filled). Even though I proved that this never happened, they determined that I was the higher risk parent, because I had sought out antidepressants for my post partum depression. They told me that I could only have supervised visitation with my son, and that I'd have to find somewhere else to live in the meantime. I could only see my son once a full psychiatric assessment was completed, and I was deemed not suicidal. I was never suicidal, I just wanted to leave, and the marriage was so bad that I was constantly anxious.

So, everyone under the moon now was being told by him that I was crazy, went off of the deep end and lost custody of my newborn.

Six weeks later, the psychiatric evaluation was in, with proof that the prescription was never even filled, drug tests to prove that I had never taken ativan or any other substance. The psychiatrist even counted my antidepressant medications for me and submitted legal evidence stating I hadn't tried to overdose on any drugs that I had.

Because he wanted custody of our child, he lied about my mental health, and turned an innocent anxiety due to me hating him, into me being absolutely psychotic. People still think I'm a suicidal maniac, when it simply never happened. I now have custody of my son, due to his dumb ass lies being proved in court later on when his "she's crazy!" Didn't work.

So, yeah, I'm totally not crazy, and he now has three children from three different mothers.