“My Son Moved Back In After His Divorce: Now My House Feels Like a Mess”

I raised my son Jason on my own after his father walked out on us when Jason was just a baby. We lived in a modest two-bedroom house in a quiet neighborhood. Despite the challenges, I made sure Jason never lacked anything. He was a good kid, always promising that when he grew up, he would do everything to make my life easier.

Jason eventually got married to a lovely woman named Emily. They seemed happy, and I was thrilled for him. He even helped me financially, though he never mentioned it to Emily. I appreciated his support, but I always felt a bit guilty about it.

Then, out of nowhere, Jason’s marriage fell apart. He and Emily divorced, and he moved back in with me. At first, I was glad to have him back. It felt like old times, and I thought we could support each other through this tough period.

But things quickly took a turn for the worse. Jason was a mess. He was depressed and angry, and he started drinking heavily. My once tidy house began to look like a disaster zone. Empty beer cans and takeout containers littered the living room. His clothes were strewn everywhere, and he rarely cleaned up after himself.

I tried to talk to him about it, but he would just get defensive and shut down. “I’m going through a lot right now, Mom,” he’d say. “I just need some time to get back on my feet.”

I understood that he was hurting, but it was hard to live in such chaos. I felt like I was walking on eggshells around him, afraid to say anything that might set him off. My once peaceful home had become a place of tension and stress.

I hoped that Jason would eventually pull himself together and move out. He was only 30 years old; he had his whole life ahead of him. But as the months went by, it became clear that he wasn’t making any progress. He wasn’t looking for a job or trying to get back on his feet. He seemed content to wallow in his misery.

I started to feel resentful. I had spent so many years taking care of him, and now it felt like he was taking advantage of me. I missed the days when my house was clean and quiet, when I could relax without worrying about what state I’d find it in.

One day, I came home from work to find Jason passed out on the couch, surrounded by empty beer cans. The TV was blaring, and the living room was a mess. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Jason, we need to talk,” I said, shaking him awake.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “What is it, Mom?”

“I can’t keep living like this,” I said. “You need to get your act together and find a place of your own.”

He looked at me with a mixture of anger and hurt. “I thought you wanted me here,” he said.

“I do,” I said, my voice trembling. “But not like this. You need to take responsibility for your life.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at me with those sad eyes. I felt a pang of guilt, but I knew I had to be firm.

The next few weeks were tense. Jason started looking for a job, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it. He still drank too much and left the house in disarray. I tried to be patient, but it was hard.

Eventually, Jason found a job at a local warehouse and moved into a small apartment nearby. It wasn’t the happy ending I had hoped for, but at least my house was clean again.

I still worry about him every day. I hope that one day he’ll find happiness and stability, but for now, all I can do is take care of myself and hope for the best.