My mother pretends to be ill so she doesnt have to work and lives off us.
Shes never wanted a job. While my father was alive, she didnt have to worry about ithe took care of everything, brought home the money, and she stayed home, enjoying her role as a housewife. Now that hes gone, she seems to think its up to my wife and me to provide for her, and we disagree.
She married very youngonly 19. My father, six years older, already had a degree, a stable job, and earned enough to support a family comfortably.
She loved to tell the story of their romance, as if it were a fairytalethe love at first sight, the look that changed everything, the sudden certainty that he was the man of her life.
I believed it until I was fifteen. Then I saw the truth: she never wanted to study or build a career. Marriage was, for her, the perfect solution, a ticket to an easy life without responsibilities.
She became pregnant quickly, gave birth to me, and declared she wanted to raise me fulltimeno daycare, no nanny, no outside help. My father, proud and protective, gladly offered that life and accepted without question.
I never set foot in a kindergarten, but I wasnt a difficult child. My mother left me to play in a sandbox on my own. She gave me toys, and I could spend hours without bothering her.
She never sought training, never learned a trade. No diploma, no skills, not a single day of work outside the home. She called herself a professional housewife with pride.
I never criticized her lifestyle. If my father accepted it, it wasnt for me to judge.
When he died, everything collapsed for her. She didnt arrange the funeral or handle the paperworkshe just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, repeating, What will I do? How will I survive?
At first I thought she was truly grieving. Gradually I realized it wasnt his loss that crushed her, but the loss of her financial comfort.
My father had left her some savings, but it was clear the money wouldnt last forever.
Six months after his death she had a brilliant idea: sell our threeroom apartment and buy two smaller onesone for herself and one for me. She wanted my unit rented out so she could live off the rent.
In her mind that was perfect. In reality it was a mirage. The sale proceeds would never buy two homes. And even if it could, why should I sacrifice my future so she could keep doing nothing?
My wife and I are already repaying a mortgage. We cant afford to fund someone elses lifestyle. So I told her plainly, Mom, youre an adult. Its time to work.
She protested, but reluctantly took a job at a neighborhood convenience store. Thats when the tragedy began.
Every phone call turned into a lament: Im exhausted! My legs hurt! I cant keep going!
Each week shed cry on the phone, begging me for help, saying she couldnt take it any longer.
Last winter she had a real accidentslid on ice, broke her leg, spent two months in a cast, unable to move. Her employer fired her. Who had to step in?
Us.
We covered her rent, groceries, medication. What else could we do?
When she finally got back on her feet, she suddenly claimed a slew of health problemsvitamins, supplements, hypertension, migraines, back pain, dizzinessany ailment you can think of, or at least thats what she said.
Doctors ran tests, found nothing serious. Yet she played the victim so well we kept giving her money, feeling guilty about leaving her to fend for herself.
Until I said enough.
This month I hit my limit. I paid her bills, gave her 1,000, and told her, This is the last time. From now on you have to manage on your own.
She broke down in tears, called me an ungrateful son, accused me of abandoning her.
Honestly? I dont care. Shes perfectly healthy. If she refuses to work, she can find a rich man to support her. At 55 she still has the looks for it.
So tell me, am I being too harsh? Or have I finally made the right decision?
