When Your Child Grows Up, But Refuses to Grow Up

I never imagined I’d still be cooking dinner for my son at 23. Or that I’d be coming home from a full day of work to find him sprawled on the couch, headset on, shouting into the void of some online game while his dirty dishes grew colonies in his room. But here we are. He’s legally an adult, old enough to vote, drive, and rent a car. But in every way that matters, he’s still fifteen.

And I’m tired.

This isn’t how I pictured my life at fifty. I thought by now, I’d have time for yoga classes, quiet weekends, maybe a date that didn’t involve explaining why my adult child lives with me and doesn’t pay rent. I thought I’d be in a different chapter of life. But I’m still stuck in the same story, same house, same dynamic, same burden. Only now, my son has facial hair and a deeper voice. That’s the only thing that’s changed.

The Soft Trap of Motherly Love

Raising him alone was never easy. His father disappeared sometime around his third birthday, physically and emotionally. I did it all. Diaper changes. Midnight fevers. First day of school. Every report card meeting. Every heartbreak. Every scraped knee. I was there. Always.

So when he started slipping into isolation after high school, I thought it was just a phase. “He just needs time,” I told myself. But that time turned into years. And the boy who once dreamed of becoming an engineer now spends his nights in a virtual world and his days asleep.

Still, how do you stop being the nurturer? How do you suddenly say, “Enough,” when you’ve spent two decades cushioning every fall?

The truth is, we single moms are often too good at surviving. We stretch ourselves thin, wear invisible capes, and mistake sacrifice for love. And somewhere along the way, we stop asking ourselves the hard questions, like what kind of adult we’re raising, or whether our endless giving is doing more harm than good.

When Helping Becomes Enabling

It started small. I let him take a gap year after high school. He was burned out, unsure, overwhelmed. I understood. I paid his phone bill. I cooked. I did the laundry. And I waited.

But one year turned into two, then three. He tried college. Dropped out. Tried a job. Quit. Now he spends up to 16 hours a day gaming or watching videos. No income. No school. No plans. No therapy. Just endless digital distraction.

I’ve offered help. I’ve begged. I’ve yelled. I’ve cried. He promises to change. And then doesn’t.

And deep down, I know, I’ve made this easy for him. I’ve kept the lights on. The fridge stocked. The Wi-Fi connected. I’ve created a world where he doesn’t have to grow up. And now I don’t know how to break it.

The Loneliness No One Talks About

You’d think having a grown kid living at home would be less lonely than being alone. It isn’t. It’s lonelier. Because there’s a person there, but no connection. No adult conversations. No shared responsibilities. Just a roommate who doesn’t look up from his screen when you walk in the door.

I miss my son. The one who used to make me laugh. The one who hugged me for no reason. The one who had dreams.

I grieve for that version of him. And some days, I grieve for myself. The woman I used to be before I became someone’s last safety net.

What Do You Do When Love Isn’t Enough?

They don’t write parenting books for this stage. Most advice stops after the teenage years. But what do you do when your child has outgrown your house, but not your help? When you’re watching your adult kid waste their life while you sacrifice yours trying to keep hope alive?

It’s a question many single moms like me silently ask while pretending everything’s fine.

I’ve heard all the advice. “Charge him rent.” “Kick him out.” “Let him fail.” But it’s not so simple. Not when you’ve spent your whole life being the one person who didn’t abandon him. Not when you see hints of depression or anxiety beneath the laziness.

But also, not when your own life feels like it’s passing you by.

And so the guilt wrestles with the resentment. The fear fights the frustration. And motherhood, once so clear in its purpose, becomes a foggy maze of impossible choices.

Reclaiming Boundaries (Even If It Hurts)

Recently, I started doing something radical: I said no. No to late-night meal requests. No to paying for new headphones. No to acting like this was normal.

I told him I expected him to contribute, financially, emotionally, practically. I offered to help him find a job, a therapist, a routine. I also said that if he refused, I’d have to reconsider our living arrangement.

He got angry. He sulked. He tried to guilt me. But I stayed firm.

Because here’s what I’m finally learning: love isn’t limitless. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. Love should not come at the cost of your sanity, your joy, your future.

I’m still figuring it out. Still wrestling with the late-night worries and what-ifs. Still unsure whether I’m doing the right thing. But I do know this: I matter too. And I’m tired of being the only adult in the house.

For the Moms Still Waiting

If you’re a single mom reading this, wondering where you went wrong or how much more you can give, please know: you’re not alone.

You’re not weak for feeling exhausted. You’re not cruel for wanting change. You’re not selfish for dreaming of a life that doesn’t revolve around rescuing someone who doesn’t want to be rescued.

We did our part. We showed up. Every day. Through the heartbreak and homework and hormone storms. But at some point, our children have to choose to show up for themselves.

And until they do, we owe it to ourselves to step back, not out of punishment, but out of love. For them. And for us.

Because sometimes, the most grown-up thing we can do for our grown-up kids is to stop saving them.

And start saving ourselves.

Read more: How to Start Dating Again After Divorce with Kids