‘If my husband were gone, everything would be easier.’ It is the private, unsettling thought more unhappily married women may be carrying than they would ever admit aloud.
This is not about women plotting to kill their spouses. Rather, it is the fleeting fantasy of a fatal car crash, a sudden illness without suffering, or a heart attack that happens quietly in the night.
In these imagined scenarios, the problem disappears without the woman having to be seen as the one who dismantled the marriage or fractured the family.
Therapists say they regularly hear some version of this confession, especially from women who have spent years in marriages bound up with children, home loans, elderly parents and lives so entangled that walking away can feel impossible.
It is an escape fantasy that is far more common than many realise, and it reveals how women can experience deep marital unhappiness, as well as the losses they fear may follow if they choose to leave.
Experts speaking to the Daily Mail said that having a death fantasy about a partner does not automatically mean someone is unstable, dangerous or secretly planning harm, because the thought is usually not the same as an intention.
Mel Plourde, a psychiatric technician and programme case manager at Eagle Creek Recovery, says many people feel shocked to acknowledge that they have pictured life after a partner’s death. In her clinical experience, the thought itself does not necessarily mean a person wants that outcome; its significance depends on the feelings driving the fantasy.
Plourde adds that she has often seen these fantasies surface in people worn down by long-term emotional strain. The clients she has worked with were not imagining death because they wished to hurt their partners, but because they were desperate to escape constant caregiving, conflict or responsibility.
‘Rather than judging the thought, we explored what unmet needs it was pointing to and focused on restoring boundaries, asking for help and reducing burnout.’
For others, the fantasy is a way to ‘rehearse independence’.
‘They aren’t grieving a future loss,’ Mel explained. ‘They’re trying to answer the question, “Could I survive on my own?” This is especially common in relationships where one partner has become emotionally or financially dependent.
Therapists hear versions of the death fantasy confession often – particularly from women in long marriages where leaving just doesn’t seem possible
It’s an escape fantasy that’s more common than you think, says UK sex and relationships expert Tracey Cox
‘I encourage clients to build confidence through practical steps such as developing financial literacy, strengthening friendships and increasing autonomy instead of relying on imagined scenarios.’
Experts also advised that it’s important to distinguish this from death-related thoughts, which ‘become more frequent during periods of high anxiety or obsessive thinking’.
Mel adds: ‘People are often distressed by the thoughts themselves and mistakenly believe having them means they secretly want them to happen.
‘In these situations, reassurance alone isn’t enough. Learning to recognise intrusive thoughts without assigning them meaning is often far more effective than trying to suppress them.’
Elsewhere, Riky Hanaumi, clinical director at Quadrant Health Group, says it’s important ‘not to judge the thought’.
‘Ask yourself, “What would this fantasy solve?” Is it freedom from caregiving? Financial stress? Conflict? Loneliness? The fantasy is often pointing toward an unmet need that deserves attention in therapy or in the relationship itself,’ she advises.
‘Second, avoid trying to suppress the thought. The more people tell themselves “I must never think this”, the more persistent it often becomes. Instead, acknowledge it without acting on it, then shift your attention toward the underlying emotion. I’ve found that clients make the most progress when they address the resentment, exhaustion or grief beneath the fantasy rather than the fantasy itself.
‘The biggest risk isn’t usually that someone will act on these thoughts. For most people, these are intrusive or symbolic thoughts, not intentions. The greater danger is ignoring the emotional distress that produced them.
‘If the fantasies become persistent, pleasurable, are accompanied by thoughts of harming someone, or interfere with daily functioning, it’s important to seek support from a qualified mental health professional promptly.
‘In my experience, these thoughts are less a sign of being a “bad person” than a signal that something in the relationship – or within yourself – needs compassionate attention.’
‘Divorce would be like me pulling the pin on a grenade. If he died, I wouldn’t be the villain’
Hannah, 53, has been married for 33 years and is longing to leave.
If one more person tells me how lucky I am to have my husband, I’ll explode. I know how ‘lucky’ I am on paper. Chris is decent-looking, has a job in finance, earns good money and makes people laugh. He’s a good father and both my little girls adore him. The problem is that I don’t.
I can see what everyone else sees, but they don’t have to live with him. Chris is intensely irritating on so many levels. I hate the way he eats; I hate the stupid jokes he makes and the way he fusses over tiny details that don’t matter.
He’s two faced. He has all the patience in the world with our daughters – I’m always the ‘baddie’ who disciplines them – but the minute it’s just us, he nitpicks. Why did I buy that muesli and not the one he likes? Why did I plan the dinner that weekend and not another one? Nothing is ever good enough.
He has a very high opinion of himself which isn’t helped by my single girlfriends fawning over him. They’re always sighing and saying, ‘Why can’t I meet someone like Chris?’ If I could wrap him up and gift him to them, I would. But then, where would that leave me?
I fantasise about him dying rather than us splitting up because I know what would happen if I instigated it. He’s not a bad man. I can’t point the finger and say he cheated or is abusive or a bad father. I’ve just fallen out of love with him and want to be on my own. If we divorce, I’ll lose my lifestyle, the girls will never forgive me, half our friends will probably choose him over me and my family, and his family will hate me.
If he died, I wouldn’t be the villain. I don’t really want him dead – I honestly don’t wish him ill at all. But I can’t see a way out of my situation without me looking bad. If he died, I’d be the brave widow, starting over. I’d get the life insurance, keep the house and keep my friends. The girls would grieve, but they’d still respect me.
People think leaving is easy but if you’ve shared a life together for decades, divorce isn’t simple at all. It would be like pulling the pin on a grenade. Our whole lives would blow up, and it would all be my fault.
‘I picture him having an accident on the motorway and just never coming home.’
Maeve is 40 and has three children under ten. She’s been married for 13 years.
I work part-time and I depend on my husband financially. I know leaving would mean a brutal custody battle and a dramatic drop in income. More importantly, I’d probably have to move my kids out of their school. I love my children more than anything and that’s exactly why I feel so trapped. Leaving would mean punishing them.
I can’t remember when I started fantasising about ‘what if’s’ but it’s been a while. What if he fell in love with someone else and felt guilty, so left me with everything? Unlikely – and say my kids preferred the new wife? So, I started fantasising about him dying instead. I felt incredibly guilty thinking this to begin with but now I don’t. I confessed to my best friend a while back and she said, ‘God, me too.’
I was shocked: I thought she had the perfect marriage. She certainly has a life all of us envy. Lots of money, the kids in private schools and expensive holidays. Which is exactly why she has the ‘death over divorce’ fantasy. If she gets divorced, she loses the lifestyle. If he dies, she’ll be sitting pretty.
My marriage isn’t awful. If your husband is cruel or unfaithful, leaving feels justified. My reasons are less dramatic. He might be a decent father but he’s a mediocre husband. There’s no sex: we haven’t had sex for more than five years. He’s not affectionate and he’s uninterested in any type of emotional intimacy. He looks through me rather than at me but none of those reasons seem good enough to justify upending our lives.
I don’t want to be the selfish woman who walked away from a perfectly good marriage because she was bored and lonely and wanted more from life.
You’ll find Tracey’s latest book, Great Sex Starts at 50, at all good booksellers.
