At 58, I Made a Decision That Cost Me More Than Most People Can Imagine: I Stopped Financially Supporting My Daughter—Not Because I Don’t Love Her or Because I’ve Become ‘Tight’ My Daughter Married a Man Who Never Liked to Work; While She Worked Hard but Struggled to Make Ends Meet, He Jumped from Job to Job, Always Finding Excuses. Month After Month, They Came to Me for Money for Rent, Food, Debts, and the Children’s School—And I Always Helped, Hoping Things Would Change. But the Years Passed, and Nothing Got Better; He Slept Late, Hung Out with Friends, and Never Took Responsibility, Because He Knew I’d Bail Them Out—Even Covering His Drinking. My Daughter Never Confronted Him; It Was Easier to Ask Me for Money Than to Stand Up to Him. I Bore the Burden of a Marriage That Wasn’t Mine, Paying Bills That Weren’t Mine. The Day I Stopped Was When My Daughter Asked for Money for an “Emergency”—Only to Reveal It Was for a Debt Her Husband Racked Up Playing Pool with Friends. When I Asked Why He Doesn’t Work, She Said, “I Don’t Want to Pressure Him.” I Told Her I’d Always Support Her and My Grandchildren Emotionally, But I’d Never Give Money Again While She Stayed with a Man Who Does Nothing and Takes No Responsibility. She Cried and Accused Me of Abandonment—One of the Hardest Moments I’ve Ever Faced as a Mother. Tell Me… Did I Do the Right Thing?

Im 58 years old, and recently I made a decision that cost me more than most people could possibly imagine: I stopped financially supporting my daughter. And no, it wasnt because I suddenly turned into Scrooge McDuck or stopped loving her.

My daughter, Emily, married a man who, right from day one, seemed to have a terrible allergy to anything resembling a 9-to-5 job. He bounced from one position to another, always armed with a new excuseThe boss was a nightmare, or I cant bear the early mornings, or It just wasnt challenging enough. There was always something.

Meanwhile, Emily worked her socks off, but the money never seemed to stretch far enough. Month after month, her husband would appear at my door with the same old tale: rent, groceries, debts, school shoes for the kids. And every single time, Id cave in and help.

At first, I thought, This must be a rough patch. Hell get his act together. Surely hell decide he wants to be a grown-up one day. But the years slipped by, nothing changed, and Peterlets call him Peternot so much as lifted a finger.

Hed lie in bed until noon, pop down to the local pub with his mates, and routinely assured us that he was on the verge of landing something. The reality was, every pound I handed over to Emily was covering expenses he shouldve sorted out himselfor, more infuriatingly, disappearing into his pint at The Dog & Duck.

He never even pretended to look for work because, lets face it, he knew Id always bail them out. Emily, in her turn, didnt challenge him. It was simpler to ask her mum for help than have an argument at home.

So I covered bills that werent mine, and dragged around the burden of a marriage that, frankly, wasnt mine either.

The day I finally drew the line was when Emily came to me with an urgent request for cash and let slip, without thinking, that it was actually to pay off a debt Peter racked up while playing snooker with his pals.

I asked her, Emily, why isnt he working?

She replied, I dont want to pressure him.

And thats when I spelled it out: I would absolutely be there for her and my grandkids, alwaysa shoulder to cry on, a hand to holdjust not a bottomless bank account. Not while she continued to tie herself to a man who contributed nothing and shirked every ounce of responsibility.

She cried. She was furious. Told me I was abandoning her.

It was, hands down, one of the hardest things Ive ever had to do as a mother.

So, tell me was I wrong?