I am absolutely worn out. And no, Im not just talking about some vague emotional tiredness. I mean sheer physical, mental, and financial exhaustion from supporting two grown adults who seem intent on reliving their teenage years forever. They’re both in their twenties, perfectly healthy, with the latest smartphones, designer clothes, takeaways whenever they please, and a home run more like a five-star hotel than an ordinary house. They dont emerge until the afternoon, wander into the kitchen to see whats for lunch, and if it doesnt take their fancy, they pull faces. They never ask how much things cost. They never say thank you. They never lend a hand. They only demand.
They havent studied for years. They started degrees only to drop out, deciding it wasnt for them. Signed up for courses, quit halfway through. Dreamed up projects that never saw daylight. Every attempt ended the same: half-baked excuses, made-up weariness, and the firm expectation that someone elsemewould deal with the fallout. They wont get a job because nothing suits them, but they’re above doing anything considered lowly. Starting from scratch is beneath them, but there’s no shame in living off someone else.
They dont pay a penny towards bills, never help with the shopping, not even for soap. Electricity, water, broadband, mobile phones, streaming servicesit all comes out of my pocket. If something breaks, I get a call but never to fix it, only to be informed that its broken. Never a finger lifted to make things right. If clothes are clean, someone else mustve washed them. If theres dinner, someone else mustve cooked. If the place is tidy, its because someone else tidied upalways acting like temporary guests rather than family.
And despite all this, they always criticise. My character. My schedule. My decisions. My way of speaking. They have a go at me if Im tired, cranky, or if I dare to set boundaries. They mock me when I talk about responsibility. Roll their eyes when I mention independence. Tell me Im being dramatic if I suggest they at least tidy their rooms or take the bins out. Give me looks of utter disdain when I say theres no more money. As if Im somehow obliged to keep their lives comfortable and stress-free.
The toughest reality is realising its not about a lack of opportunity, but a complete lack of willpower. Theyre not lost at alltheyre just settled in. Theyre used to a life where everything is handed to them and nothing truly valued. Where a mother is seen as a resource, not a person. Where family money is a given, not the fruit of hard work. And for years, I was a silent accomplicemistaking patience and kindness for love.
Not anymore. Today, I finally understood that being a parent isnt about holding on forever, and love doesnt mean letting yourself be drained dry. I didnt raise children just to care for useless adults who think theyre owed the world. Comfort spoils, and silence leaves all the wrong lessons. If they want to remain lazy, they can do so far from my work, my home, and my peace. Because being a parent isnt a sentence for life, and its about time I get a break from children who refuse to grow up.
