**Diary Entry 12th October**
My mother pretends to be ill to avoid work and lives off us. Shes never had the slightest desire to hold down a job. While my father was alive, she didnt have to worry about ithe handled everything, brought in the money, and she stayed home, relishing her role as a housewife. But now, after his passing, she seems convinced that my wife and I should support her. And we disagree.
Mum married very youngjust nineteen. Dad, six years older, was already graduated, had a steady job, and earned enough to provide comfortably for a family. She loved recounting 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 was fifteen. Then I realised the truth: Mum never wanted to study or build a career. Marriage was her perfect escape, a ticket to an easy life without responsibility.
She fell pregnant quickly, had me, and declared shed care for me full-timeno nursery, no nanny, no outside help. Dad, protective and proud to provide for her, agreed without question. I never set foot in a preschool, but I wasnt a difficult child. Shed leave me in a sandpit, and Id entertain myself for hours. Toys kept me occupied; she barely had to lift a finger.
She never bothered to learn a skill, get qualifications, 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 organise the funeral or handle paperworkshe just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, whispering, What will I do? How will I survive?
At first, I thought it was grief. Gradually, I understood: it wasnt losing Dad that crushed herit was losing his financial security.
He left her some savings, but it was obvious the money wouldnt last.
Six months after his death, she had a brilliant idea: sell our three-bedroom flat and buy two smaller onesone for her, one for me. Except she wanted mine rented out so she could live off the income.
In her mind, it was perfect. In reality, delusional. The sale wouldnt cover two properties. 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 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 down the line, begging for help, claiming she couldnt cope.
Then last winter, she had a real accidentslipped on black ice and fractured her leg. Two months in a cast, unable to move. Of course, her employer let her go. And who stepped in?
We did.
We covered her rent, groceries, medication. What else could we do?
But once recovered, she suddenly discovered a host of new ailments.
High blood pressure. Migraines. Back pain. Dizziness. Any illness you can name, she claimed to have it.
Doctors ran tests. Nothing serious. Yet she acted the part so well we kept giving her money, guilt gnawing at us if we didnt.
Until I snapped.
This month, I reached my limit. I paid her bills, handed her £800, and said, Thats it. 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?
