I’m utterly worn out. And no, this isnt some vague emotional fatigueI mean I am physically, mentally, and financially drained from supporting two adult children who’ve chosen to remain in a state of eternal adolescence. Theyre well into their twenties, in perfect health, with the latest smartphones, designer clothes, ready meals in the fridge, and a home run like a five-star hotel. They roll out of bed in the afternoon, wander into the kitchen inspecting what foods on offer, and if it isnt to their liking, they pull faces. They never ask how much anything costs. Theres never a thank you. Theres no help. Only demands.
They havent studied in years. Theyd start courses, then drop out because they werent for them. Half-finished qualifications. Abandoned projects that never moved beyond talk. Every attempt ended the sameexcuses, feigned tiredness, and the assumption that someone elsemewould deal with the consequences. They refuse to find a job, insisting theres nothing suitable, but also dismiss any ordinary work as beneath them. Starting from scratch is, apparently, humiliating, but living off someone elses back doesnt seem to bother them.
They pay no bills in this house, do no shopping, not even as much as buy their own soap. Electricity, water, internet, Netflix, mobilesall on my tab. If something breaks, they call me not to come and fix it, but just to notify me its broken. Not once do they attempt a repair. If there are clean clothes, someone else has washed them. If theres a meal ready, someone else has cooked it. If theres order, someone else has tidied up after them, as if theyre just guests passing through.
Yet still, they criticise. They have something to say about my character, my schedule, my decisions, the way I speak. They complain when Im tired, in a bad mood, or dare to set boundaries. They sneer if I mention responsibility, get annoyed if I talk about independence. Im told Im overreacting if I suggest they at least tidy their rooms or take out the rubbish. I get looks of disdain when I make it clear theres no more money. As if its my duty to keep them comfortable and secure.
Whats truly painful to accept is that this has nothing to do with lack of opportunity, but everything to do with lack of will. Theyre not losttheyre comfortable. Theyve grown used to a life where nothing is valued because nothing is earned. Where their mother is a resource, not a person. Where family money is a guarantee, not the result of hard work. And me, for years, I was an enablermistaking patience for love.
But thats over now. Today, I finally realised that raising children isnt about holding on forever, and love doesnt mean letting yourself be drained. I didnt raise children just to keep supporting useless adults who believe they have endless rights. Too much comfort spoils. Silence teaches all the wrong lessons. If they insist on being idle, it wont be under my roof or at my expense anymore. Motherhood isnt a lifetime sentence, and I have a right to a break from grown-up children who refuse to grow up.
