Unfuck My Money

I moved out of my parents’ home when I was 25 into The Ex’s home that was technically owned by his mother. From what I understood, she lived upstairs and he lived downstairs. He had owned the house at one time before tragic circumstances occurred. His mom bought the house from The Ex afterwards and then spent the proceeds of the sale on material things and trips. That should have been a huge red flag but hindsight is 20/20. Everyone has a story and this is mine.

When things went to shit after his mental breakdown, I found myself packing my stuff into my tiny hatchback and driving 1.5 hours home; home to my parents where I was always welcome with loving arms. Although I knew my parents disapproved of my relationship, they let me live my life. When things went to shit, they were there to pick up the pieces. They were my parents after all. It’s not like I was expecting them to fix me but it was an unspoken pact that we had.

The thing with Asian families is that we don’t show our emotions. I don’t hug my parents regularly (only on their birthdays) and we never say I love you. All of this is implied, just like the fact that I was welcomed back after leaving The Ex. There was no judgment; only love.

The Ex was jealous of this fact. He told me he had told his friends that I had run home to mommy and daddy. Yes, I did. So what? I was a grown ass woman who had been emotionally abused and manipulated. I was raised in a loving home. What else were my parents and I supposed to do? He threw it in my face so many times but I had failed to remember that his own mother had bailed him out of the mortgage he’d be saddled with after his wife was murdered.  He refused to hold a full-time job since the tragedy so it’s a good thing his mother saved his house. Why was he taking out his frustrations on me?

I lived in my old room, sleeping on a foam mattress on the floor for about four months before I moved back into my condo that I owned. My tenants had moved out. I lived in my condo for about 3 months before a devastating fire forced me to move back into my parents’ home… again. And there was The Ex yammering away about me running home to mommy and daddy. Let me put it in perspective for you. I live two minutes by car from my parents. I had my dog and my purse when I walked out of the fire. Where else was I supposed to go if not my parents’? I walked to my parents’ home and I’m grateful for that. I put all the insurance cheques from the fire towards my debt. It helped put a dent in my debt.

Do I regret moving back to my parents’ home? No, I don’t. My parents don’t either. They loved having me home just like the old times. I even snuck home a couple times after some late nights out. Haha! I feel no shame in doing moving home and I’m so grateful that my parents welcomed me back.

There’s a negative stigma surrounding boomerang kids. Yes, some of them do take advantage of their parents but many of them, myself included, just wanted to get back on their feet again and our parents were willing to help. If/when I have kids, I plan to do the same for them should they need a helping hand.