“My Son is Under Her Thumb: I Fear I’ve Failed in Raising Him Right”

It was a crisp autumn morning when my son, Brian, married Ruby. They had decided on a simple courthouse wedding, which was a surprise because Brian had always talked about a traditional church wedding. I had only met Ruby a couple of weeks prior, and my first impressions were reserved. Her bold makeup and flashy dress were not what I envisioned for my son’s partner. During our brief encounter with her parents outside the courthouse, they seemed pleasant, but everything felt rushed.

Brian had always been a gentle soul, easily swayed by those he cared about, and deeply trusting. This made him a wonderful person, but also vulnerable. When he introduced Ruby to us, he was clearly enamored. She was vivacious and confident, perhaps too confident. Her influence on Brian was immediate and all-encompassing. He started changing in small ways at first; his clothing, his interests, even his opinions seemed to echo Ruby’s.

As months passed, Ruby’s presence in Brian’s life grew stronger. They moved into an apartment in the city, and our visits became less frequent. When we did visit, I noticed that Ruby dominated most conversations. She decided everything from what they ate to how they decorated their apartment. Brian seemed to shrink beside her, his usual lively spirit dimmed.

I remember one particular visit during the holidays. We had brought gifts and were looking forward to a cozy dinner. However, the atmosphere was tense. Ruby had orchestrated the entire evening, from the elaborate meal to the precise placement of the Christmas decorations. Brian was quiet, following her cues with a mechanical precision that was unlike him.

The turning point came when Brian mentioned he was considering a job offer in another state. Ruby dismissed the idea immediately, insisting it was impractical and not worth considering. Brian looked at us, a silent plea in his eyes, but said nothing in defiance. That moment broke my heart. I saw the son I had raised, who once dreamt of adventures and new opportunities, silenced by the person he loved.

Months turned into a year, and the pattern remained. Ruby’s control seemed to tighten around Brian, and our relationship with him suffered. Calls became less frequent, and when we did speak, Brian sounded rehearsed, as if Ruby was scripting his life.

The last time we spoke, I tried to address my concerns gently. Brian defended Ruby vehemently, assuring us that he was happy and that Ruby only wanted what was best for him. The call ended abruptly, and that was the last I heard from him for a long while.

Now, as I sit by the phone, waiting for a call that never comes, I can’t help but feel a profound sadness. I wonder if I could have done something differently, if I could have taught him to stand up for himself more. The joy of his wedding day is overshadowed by the realization that I might have failed him as a parent. My son is under her thumb, and I fear that he may never find his way back to himself.

This story reflects the complexities of family dynamics and the painful realization of a parent watching their child lose their individuality in a controlling relationship.