My son asked me to pay his mortgage, but I refused and used that money to buy myself a fur coat: this is why at 52 I stopped being a “convenient” mom 😲😨

I am 52 years old. I’m an ordinary woman — I work as an accountant, live modestly, and am used to counting every penny. Not because I’m stingy, but because my whole life I thought about others, not myself.

I have a son, Mark. He is 32. And his wife Emma, she is 28. Young, modern, with a mortgage, a car, and a constant lack of money.

That evening was completely ordinary. Friday. I came home from work tired, my legs aching. And then the phone rang. On the screen it said: “Son”.

I immediately understood: he doesn’t call for no reason.

— Mom, hi… — his voice was cautious, as always when money was involved. — There’s a situation… This month we’re short on the mortgage. Emma didn’t get her bonus, my car broke down. Could you help us? It’s not much, just a hundred thousand.

I sat down right in the hallway, without even taking off my boots. I had the money. I had been saving it for six months. Putting a little aside, denying myself everything. But suddenly I felt very bad.

Not because of the amount. But because it wasn’t the first time.

— Mom? Can you hear me? — his voice became impatient. — We need it by Monday.

And suddenly I said something I didn’t expect from myself.

— No.

There was a pause.

— What do you mean “no”? — Mark was confused. — You have money. You yourself said you got a bonus.

— I do, — I replied calmly. — But I spent it.

I lied. The money was on my card. But at that moment I realized: if I give it now, I will sacrifice myself again. And it will always be like that.

For many years I lived with the thought: I’ll help the children now, and then I’ll take care of myself. That “then” was always postponed.

I didn’t go to a spa — my son needed a laptop. I wore an old jacket for several winters — my daughter needed money.
I bought things for everyone except myself.

I became convenient. A mom who always helps. A mom-bank. And the worst thing was that I trained them to expect it.

The next day I woke up anxious. I was afraid my son would call again and start pressuring me. Afraid I wouldn’t hold out and would send the money.

I went out just to take a walk. And my feet carried me on their own to a shopping mall. I walked past the store windows and suddenly saw the fur coat of my dreams. I stood there staring at it, as if it were something forbidden.

— Would you like to try it on? — the saleswoman asked.

I wanted to say, “No, I’m just looking.” But I said something else:

— Yes. Let’s do it.

When I put it on, I didn’t recognize myself. In the mirror there was not a tired woman, but the one I used to be.

The price was 80,000. My hands were shaking as I paid. I walked out of the store with the bag and suddenly caught myself smiling.

For the first time in many years, I bought something for myself.

A few days later we were invited to dinner at my son’s place. I arrived wearing my new fur coat.

Emma opened the door, looked at me… and immediately at the coat.

— Wow… — she said with a smile that had no warmth. — And Mark said you didn’t have money.

Mark came out of the kitchen, saw me — and understood everything.

— Mom… did you buy a fur coat? — his voice was shaking. — Are you serious? We asked you for help!

— Yes, I did, — I said calmly. — It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

— Beautiful? — he was almost shouting. — We have a mortgage, the bank, interest! And you’re spending money on clothes?!

And then I couldn’t hold back anymore. 😲😢 I’m telling you what I did, and you tell me whether I acted right or whether my children deserved this. Continuation in the first comment 👇👇

And suddenly I felt like laughing. Sadly, but laughing.

— Mark, — I said quietly. — You’re 32 years old. You have a car that costs more than my apartment. Why should I pay your loans?

— Because we’re family! — Emma interrupted.

I looked at them and said what I had been carrying inside for a long time:

— Family means taking care of each other. But when you drain someone of money down to the last penny, it means you’re using them.

I didn’t stay for dinner. I put on my fur coat and left. At home, I cried. Yes. It hurt, there was guilt.

But then I looked at my coat, ran my hand over the fur, and understood: I did the right thing.

My son didn’t call for a month. Then he dryly wished me a happy birthday. He didn’t ask for money anymore. They managed. The world didn’t collapse.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt that I was living for myself.

And if that makes me a “bad mother” — so be it. But at least I finally became a living woman again.