For years, I have been the primary financier of my adult son’s life. Even after he finished school, he continued to rely on me for everything—tuition, housing, and an endless stream of “emergency” expenses. I thought I was helping him get on his feet, but I eventually realized I was just preventing him from ever learning how to walk.
The breaking point came when he casually announced that he wanted his girlfriend to move into our house. I stood my ground and told him no. I realized that as long as I kept bankrolling his life, he would never grow up. I told him clearly, “I’m done funding your life. You’re an adult—it’s time to figure it out yourself.”
He didn’t argue or plead. He just stared at me with a cold, unsettling look and said, “You’re going to be sorry.”
I didn’t think much of it until the very next day. I walked into the kitchen and found him sitting at the table with a stranger. It turned out to be an attorney. My own son had filed a legal claim against me for “emotional distress” because I chose to stop paying his bills.
I am completely blindsided. I spent decades providing for him, and the moment I set a boundary for my own peace and his personal growth, he tried to sue me. It’s a level of entitlement and betrayal I never thought possible from my own child. I wanted to teach him responsibility; instead, he’s trying to use the legal system to force me back into being his “never-ending wallet.”
I’m left wondering if I went too far, but deep down, I know that love isn’t measured in bank transfers. If a lawsuit is the price I have to pay for my freedom and his potential to finally grow up, then so be it.
