**Diary Entry – A Mother’s Burden**
It breaks my heart that my son wants nothing more to do with me. My daughter-in-law shattered what little remained of our relationship.
The pain of admitting this cuts deep—my only child has turned away from me. I devoted my life to him, sacrificing so much, only to end up alone. Where did I go wrong? Perhaps I was too harsh, too forgiving, or loved him to the point of self-destruction.
I raised him alone. Men came and went—some seeking advantage, others escape, a few just after my wages. I carried every burden myself. The ’90s were brutal; I worked myself ragged so he could eat decently and study. I went without, skipping meals, wearing the same worn shoes year after year—all for him.
Then fate brought a married man into my life. Judge me if you will, but he was the one who helped my son. He worked in oil refining and got him a job there. The pay was modest, but it came when we needed it most. It wasn’t about the money—it was the support.
My son finished technical college, then university, but no one hired him without experience. He toiled in a factory, frustrated—he wanted to earn, not just labour. I backed him, believing one day he’d build something of his own. I spent my last pennies to keep him on track.
Then he brought *her* home. Pretty, but shallow. Spoiled and childish. But if it made him happy, I accepted it. Pregnancy, marriage, hopes—I dreamed of being his children’s grandmother. I planned their wedding, giddy as a schoolgirl. A friend lent me money for their rings. I told my daughter-in-law, “Stay within budget—this amount is for both.” Yet she picked a ring three times the cost, leaving none for him. From that moment, I was her enemy. Just for setting boundaries.
I stayed silent. Bought them a car so he could work extra shifts. Thought I’d made their lives easier. Then everything unravelled. Their child was difficult, restless. My son worked day and night; her parents criticised him: “What kind of father is he?” They sold the car. Income dropped. Divorce came. He started drinking. Lost his licence. Everything collapsed.
I pulled him up. Made him stand again. He rebuilt, even started his own business—but it’s all in my name. Debts, bailiffs, loans. And yes, he gambled—tried to win it all back. Failed. Again, I stepped in: paid wages, kept the business afloat. Just so he’d succeed.
When money returned, *she* came back. Now he avoids me. Everything’s in my name, yet I feel like a stranger. They rent a flat, live apart. She never calls. My granddaughter is spoiled, indifferent to her lessons. My son says, “Grandmothers should help.” I don’t refuse when they ask—but they only ask when they need something.
Then he demanded, “Quit your job; I need you.” Now I sit without wages, waiting for him to spare a few quid for groceries. Often, he doesn’t. He gave me a car—but won’t cover the insurance. Takes it back, returns it. When I drove it myself, the engine failed—faulty from the start. I’m terrified.
I took out a loan for his car. At first, he paid. Now? Silence. My calls go unanswered. The house we shared is split with his ex-wife. He doesn’t invite me for Christmas or birthdays—only when they need a babysitter for their café outings.
Last week, I visited him at work. He shouted at me, said I embarrassed him. Why? I don’t drink. Was in the Writers’ Guild. Gave him everything. I just wanted to see my son.
Now they’ve blocked me. I can’t even call. I cry at night, lost. After all I’ve done—this is my reward. I still apologise: “If I’ve ever offended you, forgive me.” They say nothing.
I keep wondering: Where did I fail? Why does my son want nothing to do with me? That question—it’s worse than any pain.
**Lesson learned:** Love shouldn’t mean erasing yourself. Sometimes, the more you give, the less you’re valued.
