**Diary Entry 12th June**
My mother feigns illness to avoid work and lives off us. She never had the slightest desire to earn a living. When my father was alive, she didnt need tohe took care of everything, brought home the money, while she stayed home, content as a housewife. Now that hes gone, she seems to think my wife and I should foot the bill. We dont agree.
Mum married youngjust nineteen. Dad, six years older, was already settled with a steady job, earning enough to keep the household comfortable. She loved spinning their love story like a fairy talelove at first sight, a glance that changed everything, the sudden certainty he was her soulmate.
I believed it until I turned fifteen. Then I saw the truth: Mum never wanted to study or build a career. Marriage was her golden ticketno responsibilities, no effort.
She got pregnant quickly, had me, and declared shed care for me full-timeno nursery, no babysitters, no outside help. Dad, proud to provide, agreed without question.
I never stepped into a nursery, but I wasnt a difficult child. Shed leave me in the sandpit, and Id play alone for hours, content with my toys. She never bothered with education or skillsno diplomas, no training, not a single day of work outside the home. A “professional housewife,” as she called it, with pride.
I never judged her. If Dad accepted it, who was I to argue?
But when he died, her world collapsed. She didnt arrange the funeral or handle the paperworkjust lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, repeating, How will I manage? How will I survive?
At first, I thought it was grief. Then I realisedit wasnt Dad she mourned, but her financial safety net.
He left her some savings, but it wouldnt last forever.
Six months later, she had a “brilliant idea”sell our three-bed flat and buy two smaller onesone for her, one for me. Mine would be rented out so she could live off the income. In her mind, it was perfect. In reality, pure fantasy. The sale wouldnt cover two flats, and even if it didwhy should I sacrifice my future so she could keep doing nothing?
My wife and I are already paying off a mortgage. We cant fund someone elses life. So I told her plainly: Mum, youre an adult. Its time to work.
Reluctantly, she took a job at a corner shop. Then the drama began.
Every phone call was a lament: Im exhausted! My legs ache! I cant go on like this!
Weekly tears, begging for help, claiming she couldnt cope.
Then last winter, she slipped on black ice and broke her legtwo months in plaster, unable to work. Naturally, she was let go. And who stepped in?
Us.
We covered her rent, groceries, medication. What else could we do?
But once she recovered, suddenly, a litany of new ailments appearedhigh blood pressure, migraines, back pain, dizziness. Every illness imaginableor so she claimed.
Doctors ran tests. Nothing serious. Still, she played the part so well, we kept paying, guilt gnawing at us.
Until I put my foot down.
This month, I hit my limit. I paid her bills, gave her £800, and said, Thats it. Youre on your own now.
She sobbed, called me a disgrace, accused me of abandoning her.
But honestly? I dont care. Shes perfectly healthy. If she wont work, she can find some wealthy bloke to take her in. At fifty-five, shes still got the looks for it.
So tell meam I too harsh? Or did I finally do the right thing?
