"Life savings” has never been more literal: The arduous journey from financial abuse to financial feminism

The high price of escaping abuse

I was trapped in an abusive relationship for five years, largely because I didn’t have the resources or support to get away. The actions of one violent, selfish narcissist completely devastated my finances, leaving me in mountains of debt. His financial manipulation and aggressive bullying left me trapped and financially floundering.

I fought tooth and nail to break free, using any hard-earned savings he hadn’t managed to drink his way through to flee across the country.

Three years later, I’m still barely keeping my head above water, and I know I’m not the only person stuck on this sinking ship. This is the reality for so many survivors, as nearly all forms of domestic abuse come with a financial component.

C.R.E.A.M.: Financial Feminism with Tori Dunlap

The following writing exercise was suggested in the book Financial Feminist: Overcome the Patriarchy’s Bullsh*t to Master Your Money and Build a Life You Love by Tori Dunlap, an empowering read I enthusiastically recommend to anyone who has experienced abuse or otherwise struggles with the shame of financial instability.

Dunlap dares readers to imagine a life without money worries, then provides helpful tips and tools to start making that a reality. She breaks down systemic barriers to wealth and teaches women accessible ways to invest toward their future, something we’re so often told is too complicated or not our place to understand.

I initially listened to the Financial Feminist audiobook, then immediately rented a copy from the library so I could reread and take more notes. It’s that good.

So come along on this fantasy with me and learn how you can start working toward financial freedom!

Affording my love language: What would your “rich life” look like?

First things first: if money were no object, I’d buy any book I wanted. Indie bookstores in my area would find themselves 🎶 flush with cash 🎶.

After I read them, I’d donate them to libraries or local schools.

I would also give to advocacy groups focused on outdoor recreation, women, literacy, queer communities, and anything else I cared about.

I’d be free to invest more in the future of my community and the people I love. Maybe I’d finally finish my MSW (maybe a doctorate, too, why the heck not?) and start my own foundation to that end.

I’d do more outdoor rock climbing and camping, traveling and exploring the world without the burden of being shackled to a desk all day.

I’d be able to afford to fly home to visit my family more myself, easing the yearning homesickness that arises whenever I think about having to flee my hometown for my own safety.

My parents would be able to get counseling, or even finally separate if that’s what they want to do, without worrying about the financial repercussions. Maybe reducing their financial stress would even alleviate some of the strain on their relationship, who knows?

I’d be able to set them up with a safe and caring staff to assist them as they get older, ensuring they don’t experience the loneliness or lack of care that’s so epidemic among aging populations.

As a matter of fact, no one in my family would have to worry about the cost of medicine or healthcare ever again.

My nieces and nephews would each have investment accounts set up in their names. They’d have enough funds to chase their own dreams, whatever those may turn out to be (once they’re at least 25).

They would, of course, receive a robust financial education that they could pass down to their own families, building a legacy of generational wealth and security never before seen in my family.

I’d be able to afford to actually take my steroid inhaler twice a day, rather than having to ration it out! Having money would, quite literally, allow me to breathe easier. That thought is so beautiful and unattainable I could cry.

Maybe I could even afford to get an actual custom mouthguard, rather than the cheap-ass disposable ones that I gnaw through in my nightmare-fueled sleep.

I’d have a well-paid personal masseuse and a physical therapist who could help me recover from injuries sustained during my abuse.

Oh damn.

Full disclosure, I’m currently writing this article as a voice-memo on a hike, something I often do to get the creative juices flowing.

I just tripped and almost tumbled off of this mountain when it hit me that with enough money, I may actually have the resources to feel safe about reporting my abuser. That’s always been so impossibly out of reach that I hadn’t even considered it.

I’d get the best treatments and training on CPTSD, learning to soothe the trauma wounds in myself and others. I’d publish books about my experiences with abuse and coping in its aftermath.

I’d see every musical that came to town, invest in local theatre and arts programs in schools, and volunteer with students who want to learn about all of the roles available backstage (my expertise, as I’ve never been one for the spotlight).

I could even sponsor an annual trip to Chicago or New York. Students could have the opportunity to see shows, explore the arts, and be worry-free kids.

I’d visit my gorgeous, supportive angel of a best friend at least once a month. She’d be showered in fancy bottles of wine and local snacks from my most recent travels. Many of those adventures we’d take together.

We’d go to Jazz Fest in New Orleans every year, spreading joy at our favorite all-night jazz bars until they started looking forward to our visits. Tips would overfloweth for all the hardworking employees.

Is it obvious yet that gift-giving and acts of service are my love languages? If only I could afford them.

I’d get my dogs professionally trained to ease the reactivity instilled in them by the years of abuse we all endured. They’d have an even better life than they have now, which is really saying something since basically everything I do is out of love for them.

I’d have a big-ass, luxurious rain shower and a naturally-lit, well-stocked kitchen.

My yard would have a beautiful community garden, overflowing with herbs and wildflowers.

No one I saw struggling would walk away without resources.

I’d buy the best vibrators money could buy and probably never speak to another man again.

But at what cost?: Stigma and shame of financial exploitation

It’s overwhelmingly common for domestic abuse victims to suffer financial abuse in some form, yet our societal mindset around money causes us to feel ashamed of our position. This causes undue stress and barriers to both escaping from abuse and recovering in its aftermath.

Victims are made to feel responsible for their position when in reality our savings are bullied from us bit by bit by schoolyard jerks who feel entitled to our lunch money.

I’m so tired of that stigma and shame; tired of feeling like I can’t afford a decent place to live or basic necessities due to circumstances out of my control. I’m sick of still feeling stuck under the thumb of my abuser years later just because I can’t get out of this crushing debt.

We’re taught that women are irresponsible with money; that we shop and spend frivolously. Men, on the other hand, are typically taught how to invest and build wealth.

The fact that women aren’t taught about these resources is a huge disservice that leaves us vulnerable. This is all to the benefit of outdated, patriarchal ideals that result in ever more power for men. Women are left ashamed, silenced, and without resources to leave their abusers’ dusty asses when they mistreat us.

I’m thrilled to recommend Financial Feminist because it breaks down the toxic patriarchal narratives gatekeeping financial resources and knowledge. It does a great job of calling out the systemic reasons women and other vulnerable populations find themselves financially insecure.

Through her writing, Tori Dunlap has gifted women with the tools to finally begin taking control of our finances and working toward financial freedom, one dollar at a time.

So what would your “rich life” look like? I’d absolutely love to hear your responses to this inspiring exercise in the comments!