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The Guardian - AU
The Guardian - AU
Lifestyle
Eleanor Gordon-Smith

My adult son has moved back home and is behaving like a teenager – and I’m deeply unhappy

19th century painting of a woman looking tired and downcast, and putting her head in her hands, sitting on a bed.
‘I think you get to do whatever you damn well please with your days,’ writes Eleanor Gordon-Smith. Painting: Madeleine by Christian Krohg (1883). Photograph: Alamy

My adult son moved back home several months ago, ostensibly to support me as I went through immunotherapy (after chemo and radiotherapy for cancer). However, my life feels like hell. I was quite content before. I felt OK about the cancer, and was running my home well. Now, I’m beyond exhausted.

I’m doing so much extra housework (he rarely contributes because when not working he’s “too tired and needs downtime”) and he’s reverted to the teenage behaviour of leaving plates of food in his room, coffee dripped on the floor, toothpaste-splattered surfaces, and so on. He comes home late from work, then keeps me awake until 2am or 3am with doors slamming, cooking and gaming. We’ve discussed how much I’m struggling, how hard I’m finding returning to the role of active parenting and how my mood is degenerating. I’m really unhappy.

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