I grew up in a small town in Ohio. My mother, Eleanor, raised me alone. My father left before I was even old enough to remember him. Mom never spoke badly about him, never filled my head with bitterness. But I could see the weight of loneliness in her eyes, the exhaustion in her movements. She worked long hours—sometimes two, even three jobs at a time—to put food on the table, to make sure I had warm clothes in winter, and to pay the never-ending bills.
She was my rock. And even though she never asked for it, I knew deep inside that I owed her everything.
The moment I got my first real job, I started giving her money. At first, it was just a small percentage, but as I got better jobs and earned more, I increased the amount. Eventually, I settled into a routine—half of my paycheck went to Mom. The rest was mine to use as I pleased. It never felt like a sacrifice. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Back then, no one cared what I did with my money. I lived alone, had no major responsibilities beyond myself, and if I wanted to support the woman who had given everything for me, no one had the right to question it. But then, everything changed.
The Love That Changed Everything
When I met Olivia, it felt like fate. She was bright, independent, and full of life. She had a five-year-old daughter, Emma, from a previous relationship and a modest apartment in downtown Chicago. We fell in love fast, and within six months, we were engaged.
We never really discussed finances in detail before the wedding. She knew I helped my mother, but I assumed she was okay with it. After all, it wasn’t like I was spending money recklessly—this was my mother, the woman who had given me everything.
But the moment we said “I do,” the arguments started.
The First Conflicts Over Money
It all began one evening when Olivia sat down at the kitchen table with a notebook and a calculator.
“We need to talk about our budget,” she said.
I agreed. It made sense—married life came with responsibilities. But as she listed our expenses, I noticed something missing.
“What about the money I send to Mom?” I asked.
She blinked at me, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I send my mom half my paycheck every month. I’ve always done that.”
Her face changed. The warmth in her eyes faded, replaced by something colder.
“You can’t be serious,” she said. “That’s not going to work anymore. We have our own family now. Emma is starting school soon, and we need to think about our future. We can’t afford to throw money away like that.”
“Throw money away?” I repeated, stunned. “I’m supporting my mother! She lives alone in a three-bedroom house, barely making ends meet with her pension. She struggles to pay for heat in the winter, and you’re telling me I should just cut her off?”
Olivia crossed her arms. “She should move to a smaller place. Or get a job. My mother could offer her a cleaning position at her office.”
I felt my hands clench into fists. Was this really the woman I married? How could she be so cold? My mother worked her entire life, broke her back to give me a future, and now she was supposed to scrub floors just to survive?
My Mother-in-Law Makes Things Worse
As if things weren’t bad enough, Olivia’s mother, Linda, decided to get involved. She had always been a strong-willed woman, opinionated and never shy about expressing her views. But now, she acted as if she had the right to dictate my responsibilities.
“You need to prioritize your wife and stepdaughter,” she told me one day over dinner. “Your mother had her time. If she’s struggling, that’s her own fault for not planning ahead. You have a family now, and they come first.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. Was this really how people thought? That parents should be discarded once they’ve outlived their usefulness? That the sacrifices my mother made for me should now be ignored because I had a new family?
I tried to explain. I told them about the bills, about the heating costs, about how my mother was too old and frail to work anymore. But they didn’t care.
To them, my mother was nothing more than a financial burden I was expected to shed.
The Decision That Almost Ended My Marriage
Despite their protests, I refused to abandon my mother. I made a decision—I would cover her utility bills myself. It wasn’t even that much—around $300 a month.
When Olivia found out, she was livid.
“This is betrayal,” she shouted. “You’re taking money away from our family to support a woman who should have planned better for her future!”
“She is my family!” I shouted back. “She sacrificed everything for me! How can you be so heartless?”
She shook her head in disbelief. “She’s not my responsibility.”
That sentence hit me like a slap to the face.
Not her responsibility.
I had always believed that family meant standing by each other, no matter what. That love wasn’t conditional, that it didn’t come with an expiration date. But here was my wife, the woman I had chosen to build a life with, telling me that my mother—the woman who had given up everything for me—was no longer my problem.
What Now?
Our marriage has never been the same since. Every month, we have the same arguments, the same accusations, the same resentment. I feel like I’m being pulled apart—one side by my wife and stepdaughter, the other by my mother.
I’ve started looking for a second job to help ease the strain. I don’t want to choose between them. I don’t want to be in this position at all.
But deep down, I fear it’s only a matter of time before Olivia gives me an ultimatum—her or my mother.
And if that day comes, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do.
What would you do in my situation?
