I Refused to Let My Mother Move into Our Flat and Now I Feel Guilty

25March

Today I found myself wrestling with a dilemma that seemed to have materialised out of thin air, and I finally decided to put it in writing before the frustration completely overwhelms me.

My wife, Emily, begged me to let her mother, Martha, crash on our modest twobedroom council flat in the outskirts of Leeds for a week while the house they were staying in was being refurbished. You cant turn your own mother away, she said, her voice sharp as a winter wind. Its only a few square metres, love, not a palace.

Martha had called three times that morning, each time with a little more urgency. I tried to interject, Emily, were already as packed as a tin of sardines. Harrys sleeping on the couch because Lucy and his boyfriend, Tom, need a separate room. Where would we put your mum? On the balcony?

I wasnt exaggerating when I said my household was a juggling act: two teenage children, a husbandtobe (well, Im the husband) whod been out of work for half a year, and a tiny flat that barely fit a washing machine. On top of that, there was my own mother in Manchester and my younger sister, Lucy, who had always been Moms favourite.

Martha, however, turned on the honeyed tone shed used since I was a lad. Emily, youre always so resourceful. Im sure youll find a spot for me. It reminded me of the old song she sang when I was ten: Emily, youre such a grownup, youll watch Lucy while I pop off to the café, right?

Back then I was ten, Lucy was two, and instead of doing my homework or playing with dolls I truly sat with my little sister, keeping her company.

I cant talk now, I pretended, my milks gone cold. I hung up, poured a mug of tea, and steeled myself for the inevitable second call.

An hour later Martha rang again, this time with a new angle. Emily, darling, you know Lucys getting married, dont you? Tom is a splendid lad from a respectable familyhis parents run a dental practice! Of course theyll need their own place, you understand. I cant hover over them forever.

Ah, thats the point! I thought. The renovation has nothing to do with it. So they plan to live with us? I asked. Thats what youre saying? The words slipped out before I could bite my tongue.

Martha! she gasped. How can you speak to me like that? Im your mother! Ive raised you, lost sleep for you!

Shed certainly raised me, especially when I turned fifteen and she sent usEmily and Lucyoff to our grandmothers farm while she pursued a new fling. Grandma, shaking her head, would mutter, Oh, the girls, theyre not lucky with their mother.

Mother, I tried to stay calm, why not let Lucy and Tom rent a flat? Their parents own a dental practice, after all.

But why would they waste money on rent when theres a beautiful threebedroom house available? Martha replied. They need to save for a car and children! And youyoure selfish, Ive always known that!

At that moment something inside me snapped. Id held my tongue for far too long.

Selfish? I shouted. Me? Mother, are you serious? When I was sixteen I worked in a café to help you. When I gave up my graduation dress to buy Lucy a computer for her studies. When I handed over all our wedding money to you and my stepfather for an urgent operation that turned out to be a holiday abroad?

Enough! Martha roared. You always exaggerate and play the victim!

Im not playing the victim, I said dryly. Ive simply decided Im done being one. A heavy pause settled over the line as she weighed my words.

What are you on about? she finally snapped. Emily, think!

I wont house you, I sighed. Not for a week, not for a day. Live with Lucy or find a flat yourself, or ask Toms parents for help. I have my own family, my own problems, and Im no longer going to solve everyone elses for free.

Youll regret this, she warned, voice cracking. When Im gone youll be crying at my grave, begging forgiveness, but itll be too late! Remember my words!

As a child those threats had wounded me deeply; Id wept, felt guilty, and once again obeyed. But Im no longer a little girl. I hung up, said a brief, polite goodbye, and let the line go dead.

A week passed. Martha didnt call again and I almost convinced myself the storm had passed. How naïve I was.

Saturday morning the phone rang. The caller ID showed Lucys number, and I instantly felt a dread settle in my stomach. The tears began as soon as she spoke.

Emily! What have you done? Tom left! He walked out because of you! she sobbed. Martha said you refused to let her stay, that shes unwanted, so shell move in with us! Tom stayed three days and fled, saying he cant live like this, that shes suffocating him with advice and control! Emily, its all your fault!

Hold on, I managed, my head spinning. Martha wanted to give you and Tom her flat, right?

Yes! We thought wed stay there until we could save for our own place. Then Martha was supposed to move in with you. And now Lucy broke down again.

Now youre saying because you didnt help us, we have to care for her in her old age, and Tom chose either her or him! And you chose mum?

What could I have done? Shes my mother! Lucy wailed. Now hes gone, and its all because you wouldnt take her in!

I let a small, wry smile flicker. What a drama, isnt it?

Emily, I said firmly, your relationships didnt crumble because of me, nor because of your mother. Your choices did. You could have found a solutionyoure an adult. You could have rented a room, or asked Tom to share a flat like many do when they have nowhere of their own. You could have spoken to Tom and reached a compromise. Instead you chose the easy routeblaming me.

Youre heartless! Lucy shrieked. Youve always been cold and calculating!

No, Lucy. Ive simply learned to protect myself, and thats perfectly alright. Its a shame you havent grasped that yet.

I hung up, put the handset down, and heard the soft clink of a fresh mug as James slipped into the living room with a fresh pot of coffee.

Another family call? he asked, eyes gentle.

Yeah, Lucy again. Some family drama, I replied. He said nothing, just gave me a knowing look.

Its become clear to me, I said, that I dont have to be convenient for anyonemother, sister, anyone. I have a right to my own life.

James wrapped his arm around me, warm and steady. Welcome to the club of the selfish, love. Weve got good seats here.

The phone rang once more, and unsurprisingly it was Martha. Her voice trembled with anguish.

Well then, she sobbed, youve driven Lucy to rent a place! Shes leaving me alone! Just like you! Everyones abandoned me! Selfish, ungrateful lot!

I stared at the screen, took a deep breath, and wrote down the lesson Id finally learned: you can love your family without sacrificing your own wellbeing; setting boundaries isnt betrayal, its selfpreservation.