My Son Abandoned Me for Years, But Now He’s Back to Ask for Money, “Can’t You Just Get Over It? I Need This Money, Mom.”

 
I never thought at 50 years of age, I'd have to fight for my husband to put his phone down. Should I consider a divorce? 

I thought by now husband and I would have more time—time to laugh, to talk, to sit without night shifts. The house is quieter these days. Our daughter’s moved out, the dog’s going gray.

But lately, I feel like I’m living next to a ghost. He’s there, sure. He sits across the table, sleeps beside me, walks the dog with me. But his attention? That belongs to a screen.

I didn’t vow ‘til death do us part’ just to compete with someone’s scrolling thumb.

GLENN: “Hey… you notice anything different in here tonight?”

HUSBAND: (scrolling) “Mmm hmm.”

GLENN: (dryly) “Wow. Such enthusiasm.”

HUSBAND: “Sorry, yeah. Looks nice.”

GLENN: “I cooked your favourite. Even used that garlic you like—the good one from the deli.”

HUSBAND: (still scrolling) “Mmm hmm.”

GLENN: (pauses, watching him) “You didn’t even ask how my day was.”

HUSBAND: “I was getting to it. Just had a long one.”

GLENN: (softly, trying again) “I walked the dog. Cleaned the porch. Folded two loads of laundry. And you know what’s funny? He—our dog—looked me in the eye more than you have all week.”

HUSBAND: (half-listening) “Mmm…”

GLENN: (voice sharper now) “Do you even know you’re doing it? I’m here, trying to connect, and you’re five layers deep into your phone. Instagram? News? Group chats?”

HUSBAND: “I said I’m listening.”

GLENN: “Then what did I just say?” 

(He looks up, caught. Can’t answer.)

GLENN: “That’s what I thought.”

(A long pause. She puts the dish towel down slowly. The moment hangs heavy.)

GLENN: “Do you even hear yourself? You say you’re listening, but you haven’t looked up from your phone in ten minutes.”

HUSBAND: (barely glancing up) “I am listening. Just checking something real quick.”

GLENN: “That’s what you said fifteen minutes ago. You’ve ‘just checked’ the news, your emails, your work group chat, the football scores—oh, and scrolled through someone’s holiday photos. I know because I watched you do it. You make more eye contact with the dog than you do with me.”

HUSBAND: (shrugs) “Babe, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. Everyone’s on their phones these days.”

GLENN: “Don’t ‘babe’ me. I’m not upset because of the phone. I’m upset because I’m talking and you act like I’m background noise. Do you know how humiliating that feels?”

HUSBAND: (sighs, defensive) “Okay, so now I’m the bad guy for checking my messages? I didn’t realize I had to give a performance of full attention every time you wanted to talk.”

GLENN: “No. You don’t have to perform. I just want you to be here. With me. Not with your notifications. Not halfway. Just present. I never thought I’d have to fight this hard to be seen by the man I married.”

HUSBAND: “You’re acting like I don’t care—”

GLENN: “I’m acting like I’m tired. Tired of being made to feel guilty for needing something so basic. I won’t keep shrinking myself just so you don’t have to take responsibility.”

(Silence. His phone buzzes again. He looks at it instinctively. Glenn watches.)

GLENN: (quietly) “That’s the moment I realized—I’m not overreacting. I’ve just spent too long explaining why I deserve to be seen.”

HUSBAND: (finally puts the phone face down, his voice softer but uncertain) “Glenn… I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I didn’t know it got this bad.”

GLENN: “That’s the problem. You didn’t know. You weren’t paying attention long enough to notice.”

HUSBAND: “I guess I just thought… we were fine. I didn’t think scrolling for a few minutes would make you feel like I don’t care.”

GLENN: (holding back the sting in her throat) “You thought we were fine because you weren’t looking. You were always looking down—at your phone, at your notifications, at everything else but me.”

HUSBAND: (rubs his hands together, anxious) “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just… sometimes it’s easier to zone out than deal with the day.”

GLENN: “I get that. But I’m not the day you need to escape from. I’m your wife. And I’m done begging to be acknowledged like one.”

(She looks toward the sink—piled with dishes he never noticed. The dog bowl she refilled. The clean laundry still folded on the couch. Her heart races because it’s not just about chores. It’s about being invisible in her own home.)

GLENN: (quieter now) “Do you know how humiliating it is to come into a room, hoping you’ll ask how my day was, only to hear you laugh at some reel? To watch you give more emotion to a stranger’s cooking video than you’ve given to me all week?”

HUSBAND: (glancing at the phone again without thinking) “I didn’t even realize—”

GLENN: (bitter smile) “Exactly. You didn’t. You never do.”

(The phone buzzes again. An Instagram notification. He instinctively flips it up, thumb hovering.)

GLENN: (coldly) “Go on. Let’s see what’s so urgent. Another dad joke? A thirty-second clip about how to season a steak? Or maybe one of those ‘funny’ skits about how clueless husbands are?”

(He doesn’t answer. He just slowly puts the phone down, finally hearing it.)

GLENN: “I never thought I’d have to fight this hard just to be seen at fifty. I thought maybe… I’d earned that by now. But I see now—love doesn’t grow through time. It grows through presence. And you haven’t been here.”

(Later that night. Glenn sits alone in the spare room with a cup of tea, wrapped in a blanket. She doesn’t feel angry anymore. Just clear.)

GLENN to herself: “It’s strange… the moment you stop begging to be seen, you finally start seeing yourself. I used to think walking on eggshells made me graceful. It didn’t. It made me smaller.”

If you’re surrounded by people who make you feel guilty for needing accountability… that’s not love. That’s survival. 

"And I’m done surviving my own marriage.” said Glenn.

If you’ve struggled with family members—who won’t miss a chance to make you feel guilty for their misfortune—then you need to define specific behaviours that you’d no longer entertain from them. 

Repeating specific affirmations is the first step to help you set boundaries:

1. “I’m allowed to take up space without guilt or apology.”
2. “My peace matters more than pleasing everyone around me.”
3. “I do not have to earn love. They are mine by right.”

Download this list of boundaries to assist you, avoid being taken advantage of, and feeling overwhelmed. 

Additional resources:  My bad-day support kit; When overthinking won’t stop; or if you’re questioning what matters most. 

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This story reflects one perspective and is shared to spark discussion and connection. While inspired by real situations, some details may have been altered for privacy and clarity.