'I let my husband handle my inheritance when my mum died. It was the biggest mistake of my life.'

"Love isn't meant to be this hard, Lara*," my mum would tell me over and over again as she nursed me through the aftermath of another all-out battle with my husband, Rick*.

We'd been together since we were teenagers and, if I'm honest, it was toxic from the start. We never really, truly grew out of the jealousies, insecurities and lack of emotional regulation that we established when we were young, learning how to be in a relationship.

Early on we moved in with my mum who became our default counsellor. She did a great job at remaining neutral, trying not to get too involved in the dramas that we created for ourselves. She loved Rick like a son and when we asked for her advice, Mum would try her best to get us to see things from the other's point of view.

Even so, her counsel often leaned more towards, "maybe it's time to let each other go."

We were the poster children for 'can't live with them, can't live without them', and when we announced our plans to get married in Bali, our friends and family weren't quite sure how to take it. Looking back now, they were probably weighing up the expense of forking out for a destination wedding versus the likelihood that we would split up on the honeymoon.

As a married couple, we finally moved out of my mum's home. Mum remained a vital part of our relationship, guiding Rick through the launch of his first business, supporting me as I tried to figure out the best career path and helping us both with a deposit to buy our first-ever home.

Rick and I continued to fight. Becoming parents made us pick at each other more. I thought he was too strict, he thought I was too soft, I thought he was controlling our finances, and he resented paying for everything when I stopped working. We were not kind to each other, but splitting up had never seemed like an option for us. Maybe that would have been the time to do it. It could have changed everything.

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I loved being a mum, the kids became my everything, just like my brother and I were to my own mum. She was very involved in her grandchildren's life and at times it felt like I was co-parenting with her, not Rick.

He would complain about not getting a say when it came to the kids, and I can see how he might have felt like that. More and more he stayed away from the home under the guise of work. When he'd go for "drinks with the boys" I never nagged because parenting was easier when he wasn't around.

Then my mum went to work and never came home. It was a heart attack, she was found in the staff room after taking a late lunch break. She'd been feeling off all day but had gone in to make a deadline for a client in her role as a business lender for one of the big four banks.

Rick was incredible. Through his own grief at losing the closest mother figure to him, he took care of everything, especially me.

I barely remember the days and weeks after Mum passed, the shock was too immense. I entered a deep depression, caring for my kids was the only thing that got me out of bed for the longest time.

When we received a large sum of money from Mum's estate nearly 18 months after she passed, I was still intensely grieving. I had been barely able to make decisions about day-to-day life, let alone what to do with money when I'd much rather have my mum back.

Again, Rick was incredible, suggesting we pay off the mortgage and put the rest into savings for me to decide what to do with later.

We'd been in a much better place, I had defaulted to letting him take the reins on most things since my mum passed and as a result, we had way less conflict.

In general, he was much kinder to me, and in turn, I was more loving and appreciative of him and everything he'd done for me and our family.

By the time Mum had been gone for three years, I was starting to feel more like myself. The kids were getting bigger and I found myself loving supporting them through all of their extracurricular activities. Turns out I was born to be a soccer mum.

When Rick sat me down and told me that he'd met someone else and was leaving me, I was blindsided. She was fifteen years younger than us and they'd already signed the lease on an apartment nearby.

Just like that, I was back into the hole.

It was a divorced mum from soccer who helped me through, encouraging me to engage legal counsel early on to help protect the kids and myself.

Rick didn't want a divorce, he was happy just to split, leaving custody of the kids with me. I might have gone along with that if it wasn't for my new friend insisting that I at least go and chat with her lawyer.

The lawyer reminded me a lot of my mum – kind, calm and no-nonsense. When she started talking about my entitlements to some of Rick's superannuation I told her that I didn't think I needed that.

"We paid off our home with my inheritance, and I have a large sum in savings," I explained.

But it turned out that handing over the reins to Rick when Mum died had been a huge mistake.

Through my lawyer's diligence, it was discovered that the mortgage had been paid off like he promised. But since then Rick had forged my signature several times, reborrowing against our mortgage time and time again so that we now owed more than we did before we paid it off with Mum's money.

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His business was in debt, owing creditors tens of thousands and he'd blown through my savings, spending it all on several affairs and a gambling addiction.

I was oblivious to it all. He'd been paying off my credit card so it always worked and I never checked the bank. I was so mad at myself. Mum had always nagged me about staying on top of that sort of thing and I'd messed it all up.

The divorce was intense. Rick and I hated each other with fervour.

He was furious that his girlfriend and the new boobs he bought her had split when I told her that he had no money left.

I was furious about everything.

Rick has no relationship with the children. That's the saddest part of all of this. The way he tells it is that I've kept them away from him. The truth is that he stopped all contact with them and made no effort to be a part of their lives, even if I asked him to.

We're both broken people and it didn't have to be like this. I wish I'd listened to my mum.

"Love isn't meant to be this hard, Lara."

*Names have been changed due to privacy.

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but remained anonymous for privacy purposes.

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Feature image: Getty.