I’m fifty-eight years old, and recently I made a decision that has cost me more than most people can truly understand: I stopped giving my daughter financial support. Its not because I dont love her, nor because Ive turned tight-fisted.
My daughter married a man who, from the start, made it clear he wasnt keen on working. He would bounce from one job to another every few monthsalways with a new excuse: the manager, the hours, the wages, the atmosphere… there was always something.
She worked, she did her best, but it was never quite enough.
And every month, like clockwork, hed come to me with the same list of woes: the rent, groceries, debts, school for the children. Every time, I would end up helping.
At first, I told myself it was just a phase. Hed pull himself together, take responsibility, become the man she needed. But the years dragged on, and nothing changed.
He lounged about at home, slept in every morning, went out with his mates, and constantly insisted he was just about to land something. The money I handed over to my daughter went to cover costs that really, he ought to have taken care ofor worse, it ended up fuelling his drinking habit.
He never bothered to find a steady job, too comfortable knowing that, whatever happened, Id always step in to sort them out.
My daughter never stood up to him either. It was simpler for her to turn to me for help than to confront him.
So I paid bills that werent mine. I bore the burden of a marriage that wasnt mine.
The day I finally decided to put a stop to it was when my daughter asked for money for an emergency. She let slip, without meaning to, that the money was to cover a debt her husband had run up playing snooker with his friends.
I asked her, Why isnt he working?
She answered quietly, I dont want to pressure him.
Thats when I said it, plain as anything:
I will always support her emotionally, and Ill always be there for my grandchildren. Always. But I wont give any more money so long as she keeps a man by her side who does nothing and wont take responsibility.
She cried. She was furious. She accused me of abandoning her.
It was, hands down, one of the hardest moments Ive ever faced as a mother.
Tell me did I do the wrong thing?
