I moved back in with my parents at 35 a couple years ago after personal financial ruin.

CW: Suicide

I was so depressed at the time that I told them they should let me die because I didn't want to be a financial burden on them.

That's how seriously money was weighing on my mind at the time.

All I knew about my parents finances before yesterday was that they had multiple high-interest credit cards nearly maxed out. I knew this because my mom has shared the account login credentials with me.

All I could think about was getting a job ASAP to help the family stay of the streets, but I was too depressed to function.

Yesterday after a long conversation, my mom shows me her Merrill Lynch account on her iPad. It has a balance of over $128k. All stocks.

My mom has been squirreling every dollar she can into it for the past thirty years.

I clicked "max" on the balance history. The balance used to be over $600k but she makes a lot of trades.

I'm going through a lot of emotions rn.

  • DickFuckarelli [he/him]
    ·
    6 hours ago

    Out and out: that sucks. I'm really sorry. You deserve better.

    I have a couple thoughts, some of which are probably conflicting but I'm also just reading this from the sidelines.

    1. To some degree I empathize with your parents: they were born into this death cult and they probably believe in it. It's fucked up but most of us (I assume) come from Western-loving households who think hard work, grit, and eating stew makes you a better person.
    2. I struggled hard in my 20s and my divorced parents were unable to help me. I ended up doing a bunch of shit that I absolutely hated (which later led me to despise myself), including joining gangs and engaging in street violence, and then eventually joining the military (thank god I never saw combat), and then bouncing around doing the most inane shit to make ends meet. Had there been some nest egg either of my parents were sitting on, I would be beyond pissed.
    3. However... My dad eventually moved in with me for his latter years leading up to his death. Something I never planned on since I really didn't care for him, and quite frankly I didn't care if he lived or died (until I was actually faced with that decision). His moving in is probably the singular event that pushed me from SocDem-status to "bring on the revolution." So thinking about that, if there was ever a time in my life I would have fallen to my knees and accepted Jesus into my soul, it would have been to find out there was some sort of nest egg his broke-dick ass was sitting on that could have helped me, and him, in our darkest hour.

    I know that's probably not very helpful in your current circumstances. My best advice is to do your best to have a good circle of friends who share in your frustration and struggle, and who genuinely care about you. Your mom is probably doing what's best given the environment she comes from.