**Diary Entry 12th October**
My mother pretends to be ill to avoid working and lives off us. Shes never had the slightest desire to work. While my father was alive, she didnt need to worryhe took care of everything, bringing in the money while she stayed home, enjoying her role as a housewife. Now, after his passing, she seems to believe its my wifes and my duty to support her. And we disagree.
Mum married youngjust nineteen. My father, six years older, had already graduated, secured a stable job, and earned enough to comfortably provide for a family.
She loved telling their love story as if it were a fairy talelove at first sight, that one glance that changed everything, the sudden certainty he was the man for her.
I believed it until I turned fifteen. Then I saw the truth: Mum never wanted to study or build a career. Marriage was her perfect ticket to an easy life, free of responsibility.
She fell pregnant quickly, had me, and declared shed care for me full-timeno nursery, no nanny, no outside help. My father, protective and proud to provide that life, agreed without question.
I never set foot in a nursery, but I wasnt a difficult child. Shed leave me in a sandpit, and Id entertain myself for hours with toys, never bothering her.
She never bothered to learn a skill, earn a qualification, or work a single day outside the home. A professional housewife, as she proudly called herself.
I never criticised her choices. If Dad accepted it, who was I to judge?
But when he died, her world collapsed. She didnt arrange the funeral or handle paperworkjust lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, repeating, What will I do? How will I survive?
At first, I thought she was grieving. But gradually, I realisedit wasnt losing Dad that crushed her, but losing her financial safety net.
He left her some savings, but it wouldnt last forever.
Six months after his death, she had a brilliant idea: sell our three-bed flat and buy two smaller onesone for her, one for me. But she wanted mine rented out so she could live off the income.
In her mind, it was perfect. In reality, a fantasy. The sale wouldnt cover two properties. And even if it couldwhy should I sacrifice my future so she could keep doing nothing?
My wife and I are already paying off a mortgage. We cant afford to fund someone elses life. So I told her plainly, Mum, youre an adult. Its time to work.
She protested but reluctantly took a job at a local corner shop. And thats when the drama began.
Every phone call was a lament: Im exhausted! My legs ache! I cant go on like this!
Weekly, shed sob, begging for help, claiming she couldnt cope.
Then last winter, she had a real accidentslipped on black ice and broke her leg. Two months in a cast, unable to move. Of course, her employer let her go. And who stepped in?
We did.
We paid her rent, groceries, medicine. What else could we do?
But once recovered, she suddenly discovered new health issueshigh blood pressure, migraines, back pain, dizziness. Any ailment you can name, she claimed to have it.
Doctors ran tests. Nothing serious. Yet she played the part so well, we kept giving her money, guilt-ridden at the thought of abandoning her.
Until I finally said enough.
This month, I reached my limit. I paid her bills, handed her £800, and said, Thats the last time. From now on, youre on your own.
She burst into tears, 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 man to take her in. At fifty-five, shes still got the looks for it.
So tell meam I being too harsh? Or have I finally done the right thing?
