For seven months, I have been giving my parents half of my salary, and I live in de facto poverty.

Is it possible to call a normal situation in which childcare? Not sick old people with meager pensions. Not disabled people who need help and care. Ordinary adults who seem to take care of themselves. But if mom and dad demand something, how can they be denied?



Every family has its own rules, and we have no moral right to criticize other people’s views on life. Another thing is that we can even discuss some moments between us. The reader asked us to do this herself. Let’s help her solve her ethical dilemma together.

As the only child in the family, I can confidently say that I know what hyperprotection is. From an early age, my parents used to treat me like a written torpedo. My mother was constantly nervous and conveyed her emotions to her father. And Dad was easy to lift, so there was a lot of trouble with that. My childhood and youth were very special.

In kindergarten, like everyone else, I just started to develop social skills. I was bigger than the rest of the kids, so it's no wonder they used to bully me. Yes, I remember those times, and yes, young children can be extremely angry. Do not write me in the comments that I just invented something, it really is.



There. One day my father came to pick me up from kindergarten, but it turned out that he arrived early. And I happened to see a girl in my band throw a toy at me. I was sitting somewhere away from the other kids. Then Dad got angry, shouted at the girl and quickly took me home. A week later, I went to another kindergarten.

At school, too, there were problems when my mother came and wheezed in her throat arguing with teachers about my academic performance. I knew I had an average level of knowledge. I told my mom about it. But no, it was as if a red veil appeared before her eyes, and her manner and sense of tact seemed to evaporate. I was ashamed and the teachers only whispered slyly when they saw me the next day.

On normal days, my mom and dad were very warm to me. Heeded every request I made. Sometimes I realized that as a girl I was asking too much. But it was as if my parents didn’t want to see it and supported me in everything. So I spent two months in Latin dance class. I went to modeling classes for a week until I admitted that I looked funny in front of the other girls. I spent a month on the Kremlin diet.



Every time my parents supported me, they didn’t ask for an explanation. “You are our daughter, so we will assist you. Don't worry. I tried my best not to cross the line because I knew my parents were not millionaires or wizards. So I must not forget and I must restrain myself.

I'm 28 years old now and I'm not married. I work as a manager in an office, tend to be full and, of course, I have a cat. It’s not that I complain, there are prospects, but this life is not what I dreamed of as a child. I live separately from my parents and have enough money to rent an apartment. But to start saving for personal housing, out of the question.



Meanwhile, mom and dad in their 60s decided to move from town to country. They sold our apartment and bought a nice brick house. Well, that's good. The box itself, no doubt, is qualitatively made. But there was no work done inside. In short, there is no repair or even furniture. So my parents decided at the last minute to go to my uncle to stay with him.

My uncle lives in a nearby village and has plenty of room. But you have to do something with the house you bought, and the parents have no money. So they hooked me up to their idea. Remind me I'm their daughter. That all their lives they kept me safe like the apple of an eye and did not refuse anything. So now it's my turn. Namely, a "small" financial assistance until the situation with their property is resolved.



Despite the fact that my dad is still working, and my mom has a higher pension, I have to give half of my salary to repair this damn house just did not stand still. Workers need to pay something, buy materials, I even come in person sometimes to insert my five cents. I do this only for moral satisfaction. I do not understand the subject of repairs at all.

What I have left over from the payments, I live. Enough to feed the cat, yourself and rent. Young and beautiful millionaires around me for some reason do not curl, so no one spoils me with gifts for a long time. And after seven months of this regime, I realized that I could soon break down mentally. I'm a girl. I want to buy new things, go out with friends, go on dates.

Instead, I transfer money every month to expensive parental whims. And just so you know, there's not even half the work done. My nerves are on the line. I understand that my mom and dad gave me a happy childhood and youth. I owe them a lot. But at the moment, I'm on the verge of giving up everything, changing my phone card and living like I did before all this unnecessary undertaking. What is all this nonsense, why did urban residents in old age generally pull to the ground? What makes tomatoes in the supermarket worse?



Since I have few friends, rather acquaintances and colleagues at work, I simply have no one to turn to for advice. Maybe people on the Internet will be interested in my story. And whatever the hell, they'll help me figure this out. Should I keep pulling this strap no matter what? Or I have the right to say that I am already an adult and I also have my own life, which I do not want to spend on my parents’ “wants”. Will I become a traitor after that?