When I first saw my mom’s text message, which said she had given me “everything I needed” for decades, I was very angry and upset. It didn’t feel real at all. Because of all the bills piling up, the constant anxiety about paying rent, the car payments, the food, and the never-ending stream of unexpected charges, I was so stressed out. My mom was also traveling the world and posting images of beautiful beaches, old ruins, and cute cafes. She was living the kind of life I wanted but thought I couldn’t have. The difference ached. It made me feel alone, like she put her own happiness before mine.
I wanted to hit back. I wanted to tell her how unfair it was, how hard my life was, and how unhappy I was that she wasn’t giving me money. But I decided to call her instead of sending her a harsh message. When she answered, I was really angry. “Mom, I’m having a hard time, but you’re having a great time.” How can you do this when I need help?
The other person didn’t say anything for a long time. After that, she added in a calm but strong voice, “This is my time now.” I gave up a lot for you throughout the years. I helped you grow up, stood by you, and put my life on hold. But giving you money won’t do any good. You should think about how you got to this point.
It felt like a cold splash of water at that moment. She wasn’t being rude; she was just being honest. I knew that she wasn’t being impolite or thoughtless. She was making a point. It wasn’t about punishing me; it was about helping me become an adult and take care of my own life. I thought she would give me money to help me, but instead she gave me something much harder and more useful: the skills and support I needed to help myself.
At first, I was hurt. How did she believe I could fix everything? But as I was thinking about it, I learned something important. For years, I had been putting off really looking at my money. I would disregard my bank statements, wait until the last minute to pay my bills, and hope that things would get better on their own without me having to do anything. I thought that my mom’s past sacrifices would always be there to catch me if I fell, so I was banking on them. But that wasn’t fair to her, and it wasn’t fair to me either.
After that chat, she didn’t just leave me to figure things out on my own. She stated she would help me set up a budget and a plan. We went over all of our costs together, such as rent, utilities, food, subscriptions, coffee excursions that mounted up, and impulse buys that didn’t make us happy. She helped me keep track of where my money went, and for the first time, I could see where it was going. It made me feel small. It wasn’t cozy. But it had to be done.
She also urged me to seek a second job to make more money. I started modestly by doing freelance work, selling things I didn’t need anymore, and helping friends and neighbors with their problems. It wasn’t easy or pleasant, but it made me feel in command and gave me hope. I slowly but surely started to pay off my bills, save aside some money for emergencies, and not feel so stressed out by the numbers on my statements.
During this period, my sentiments toward my mom altered. I didn’t think of her as someone who was selfish or didn’t care anymore. That’s not how I saw her. I thought of her as someone who had done her best to raise me and now wanted me to be independent and confident. Even though I didn’t believe in myself yet, she thought I could do it on my own. She wasn’t turning him down; she was getting back the life she had put on hold for so long. I learnt that she wasn’t leaving me behind while she chased her dreams. For both of us, it was a new start.
I don’t get jealous or irritated when she sends me pictures of her trips to Greece or Italy or talks about a new adventure. I’m proud of her for living life to the fullest, and I’m proud of myself for taking responsibility and becoming my own person. I’ve learnt that love isn’t about always saving someone. It’s about being truthful, knowing when to say no, and sometimes learning the hard way.
The most essential thing I’ve learned from all of this is that no one, not even your parents, needs to give you money. Real help can often mean stepping back and letting you learn how to swim on your own. It’s hard to own your mistakes and issues, but doing so offers you a lot of power. I discovered a strength I didn’t know I had when I stopped relying on others to solve my problems.
I’m still learning and making mistakes, but I’m doing it on my own terms now. And that affects everything.
