I’m 45, and my mother is 70. What’s it like living with an aging parent?
One of my subscribers shared her story with me, filled with pain and confusion, asking for advice. I decided to tell it to you, hoping you might be able to offer your thoughts. Perhaps some of you have also dealt with living under the same roof with aging parents and can understand her frustration.
“I’m 45. Retirement is still some way off, and I have to keep working to support myself while also caring for my 70-year-old mother. Surprisingly, she’s not helpless. She can wash herself, go for a walk, and prepare meals. But I feel completely drained every day I spend beside her. It’s not living; it’s a slow fading away.
Whenever I spend the evening with my mum, all I want afterwards is to retreat to my room, turn on the TV, and disconnect from everything. But she never gives me a moment’s peace. She loves dwelling on the past, picking apart my life. ‘If you’d listened to me and married Alex, not that loser, you’d have children, a career, a future! And what now? You’re no use to anyone but me. Just be grateful you have me, your close family. Cherish your mum!’ True, I don’t have kids. My husband left me—or so I feel. Because as soon as we moved in with mum, he packed his things and was gone within a month. Divorce was inevitable.
Mum thinks it’s silly to rent a place when we have three rooms in our old house in the heart of Norfolk. So, here I am, at 45, living in this three-room fortress with her. We share the living room and kitchen, but each has her own room—my little island where I try to hide. But even there, her voice reaches me like a shadow. She constantly scolds me like I’m still a child rather than an adult woman:
— Got back home too late!
— Bought unnecessary groceries again, what a waste of money!
— Didn’t do my laundry, didn’t change my bedsheets!
— Forgot to feed the cat, how irresponsible!
In all these years, I’ve never heard a kind word from her, no support, no praise. Just reprimands, endless dissatisfaction, as if I’m her greatest mistake in life. Oh, Mum, why do you treat me this way? Why do you turn my life into an endless trial? And I can’t even leave. My salary—pitiful pennies—barely covers food, let alone rent and bills. Besides, guilt gnaws at me—what if something happens to her? What if I walk out and she can’t cope alone?
Honestly, I’m at my wits’ end. Mum is driving me mad. I know you’re not supposed to speak of your mother this way, it’s a sin, it’s wrong. But I’m suffocating in this house, within these walls, under her gaze that sees only a failure in me. I feel my life slipping away, dissolving in her criticisms and demands. Each day is a struggle for a breath of air, becoming scarcer by the moment. I want to scream, to run, but where? How do I escape this trap when duty and fear have a stranglehold on me? I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I look at her and wonder: does she not see how much I’m hurting? Does she really not care?”
Here is her story—a cry from the heart, full of weariness and longing. She’s teetering between love for her mother and the need to save herself. Living with an elderly parent is a challenge that not everyone finds breaking, but it’s already broken her. How can she find an exit? How can she learn to breathe freely without betraying her mother or losing herself? I ask you, share your thoughts. Perhaps your experience or perspective can help her emerge from this darkness. What would you do in her place?
