“My Daughter’s in Her Thirties and Still Lives Like a Teenager”: A Mother’s Cry for Her Grown Child’s Maturity
Sometimes I drop by my old accounting office—not for work, just for a cuppa and a chat with former colleagues. The other day, I stopped by again, and as usual, the conversation turned to what weighed on our hearts. Eleanor, an old workmate, let out a sigh the moment she saw me:
“I’m at my wit’s end with Emily. She’s thirty-two now, but she still acts eighteen—no job, no family, no plans for the future. Her phone is her best friend, and her evenings are reserved for nights out with the girls. I’ve stopped giving her ‘going-out money,’ but of course, I still buy the groceries and pay the rent—what else can I do?”
As I listened, I could feel this woman’s pain deepening. Eleanor’s nearly sixty. She’s worked hard her whole life—both in her youth and now, when she ought to be enjoying retirement. Instead, she’s supporting not just herself but a grown daughter who refuses to grow up.
“I tell her, ‘At least find some part-time work!’ But she just shoots back, ‘I watched you grind away at three jobs for pennies—I don’t want that kind of life.’ The most she does is babysit the neighbor’s kid twice a week. That’s the extent of her ‘career.’ She insists she won’t settle for more.”
Emily had every opportunity—a first-class degree, a brilliant university record. More than enough brains. And in her younger years, lads were always circling. By all accounts, she should be thriving. But when it came time to build a career, she decided starting at the bottom was beneath her. She wanted a high position and a hefty salary right away. But those don’t just fall from the sky—especially without experience.
“I’ve stopped asking her to be some high-flyer,” Eleanor went on. “Just be a normal, functioning adult! But she acts like she’s waiting for a knight in a shiny car to whisk her off to a fairy tale—some wealthy bloke, a mansion, holidays in the Maldives. That’s her plan. Reality doesn’t interest her. When I try to set her up with decent men, she scoffs. ‘Too poor,’ ‘not smart enough.’ But what has she got to offer?”
I could see the weight in her words—not just complaints, but desperation. She didn’t know how to reach a grown woman stuck in a teenager’s mindset. Dreams are fine. But when they become excuses to avoid responsibility, that’s trouble.
“You know,” Eleanor said quietly, “she’s kind. Good-hearted. But her mind… it’s like she’s stuck. Afraid to step into real life. And I won’t be around forever. What happens when I’m gone?”
I nodded silently, my mind racing. Where do these stories come from? Eleanor gave Emily everything—education, support, a home. Yet something went wrong. Was she too sheltered? Maybe Emily’s afraid of responsibility. Or perhaps she’s waiting for a perfect life and rejecting anything less.
“I’ve started wondering,” Eleanor murmured, “was it me? Did I spoil her, make all her decisions? Is it too late to fix it?”
I couldn’t tell her it was her fault. Stories like this aren’t rare. I’ve known successful people who rose from nothing and others, like Emily—bright, capable, but adrift. Sometimes parents’ expectations break their children. Sometimes fear of failure paralyzes. Or sometimes it’s just laziness, disguised as ‘finding oneself.’
But one thing was clear: Eleanor didn’t deserve this. She did all she could. Now she just wants to see her daughter stand on her own two feet—grown, independent, and grateful.
Sadly, our children don’t always become who we dream they’ll be. But maybe this story can still change—if Emily finally learns that time isn’t endless, that mothers don’t last forever, and that life passes by those who wait for miracles without lifting a finger.
