(story by @Mir from Woulda Coulda Shoulda.com)
As soon as my daughter entered the "me do it MYSELF!" stage as a toddler, I knew I was in trouble. The apple didn't fall far from the tree, you see, as I have nearly an entire lifetime of insisting I can do it myself, thankyouverymuch, behind me. And independence is a funny thing; it's a strength, but it can also be a weakness. Just as my firstborn sometimes brought me to my knees with her toddler stubbornness, I began to look back on my life and consider the ways in which my own stubborn independent streak did and didn't work for me.
When I was gearing up for college graduation, I'd already decided to stay in my college town and work for a year while applying to grad schools. My parents—ever concerned for my safety and comfort—offered to continue "helping out" while I took this hiatus. But I was going to be a college graduate. An adult! I should be able to take care of myself. I thanked them for their concern but assured them I would be fine. I would leave my small but cozy campus apartment (where my folks had generously paid the rent) and find myself a suitable place to live, within my new budget.
As luck would have it, I had friends renting a house who needed another roommate for the summer. Perfect! I took a room with them for a few months, while visiting apartments I could consider for the fall. I found the most adorable little place not too far from where I was working, and rent was even cheaper than house-sharing. I commended myself on the great find, and assured my parents I'd already found my groove.
Well. My adorable little place was a studio apartment upstairs in a renovated house, in a questionable part of town. The "super nice" landlord turned out to be something of a slumlord; the other upstairs apartment and the downstairs space were both rented by immigrant families who didn't speak any English, and (as I came to learn) consequently, they never complained about anything. The renovation of this house had to have been done illegally, as my apartment—tiny though it was—had a single propane heater located in one corner, which meant that that corner was sometimes warm enough, but the temperature in the rest of the apartment dipped down sometimes as low as the 40s through most of the winter. The windows were so poorly sealed that I could watch the curtains blow even when the panes were shut and locked. And (you knew this one was coming, right?)… I had roaches.
I did complain about the roaches. The landlord agreed to fumigate, but apparently the other tenants protested, and told him they'd take care of it. A week later, the roaches were (magically) gone. One of the kids from downstairs (who spoke broken English) told me her mother bought something at the Vietnamese grocery story for them.
Partway through the winter I duct-taped insulation over the windows and finally bought a space heater, which promptly blew a fuse and left my entire apartment in the dark. When I called the landlord, his wife scolded me for using a heater. When I told her that there was ice on the inside of my windows, she sighed very loudly and said she'd send her husband to take care of the fuse. Another time, we had a blizzard that dumped almost three feet of snow on the city, and after trying to shovel my car out for about two hours, I called to ask that they send someone to clear the driveway. As with the fuse incident, they argued, but ultimately sent someone. And about a month before I moved out, someone was stabbed to death out on the street about a block away.
It was a klassy place, is my point.
I'm pretty sure that after my father visited and saw the place, he offered several times to contribute whatever additional money I needed to live somewhere a little… less scary. I refused; I was fine! I was a college graduate and I would manage!
As a full-grown adult making more than minimum wage, now, I think about that situation and try to picture letting one of my children live that way because they were too prideful to say, "You're right, I could use some help so that I can live somewhere with a significantly lower likelihood of being mugged in my own driveway." The thought horrifies me. But I also know that if it comes to that, I won't be able to stop them, just like my parents couldn't stop me. I had made up my mind, I was a legal adult, and (perhaps most important) I learned that yes, I could take care of myself, albeit perhaps not quite in the style I wanted.
So; the bad things about living there were abundant and obvious. But I like to remember the good things:
1) It convinced me that going to grad school was definitely the right move; I knew I needed to make more money than just my undergraduate degree would likely bring in, so that I'd never have to live like that again.
2) Despite the conditions, I gained a tremendous sense of accomplishment from living completely financially independently in the first time in my life.
3) I gained critical negotiation skills while dealing with the slimy landlord.
4) Every apartment I had after that which was clean and safe and tended by a conscientious landlord made me incredibly grateful.
5) When life was difficult in subsequent years—and there were a number of traumas I would've chosen to skip, given the choice—I could remember that I'd once lived with roaches and duct tape on the windows. And it worked out okay.
6) I realized, in retrospect, that there's no shame in accepting help.
I think that last one might be most critical. I'm not sorry I chose to forge ahead that year on my own, but it was just awful enough to make me think twice in the future, any time my pride threatened to outrun my common sense. To me, the lesson from that apartment was that I certainly COULD make it on my own, no matter what, but I really didn't HAVE to, if there was help available.
You'd be surprised how often that lesson has paid off in my life, subsequently.
Are you too independent? Not independent enough? Do you have a hard-won survival lesson like my terrible apartment experience that's still teaching you something today? Spill!
(read more Mir. Why wouldn't you??? Do it here.)
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be more independent, I went from my parent’s house to college to parents to married to divorced to remarried. My time living on my own was about 3 months. I’ve had to learn I am capable in other ways such as raising two children with autism (now 16 and 13), moving across country from my family with my husband’s job transfer, and getting my first grown-up job at 28. I love my life but I must say independence isn’t something I have experienced much of.
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I was 30 before I got off my parents’ dime. I grew up very fortunate, and never had to work until after I’d graduated from college, and even then I went to work for my family.
From the time I was 18 – 30, my family gave me a large monthly allowance, and paid for most of my substantive expenses, while I began my career. I remember my father saying as I moved from their city to New York City to find a job, that I might as well take his money when I needed it, and that they were happy to elevate my quality of living.
Never did I feel like my independence was being curtailed or stifled. I just felt grateful and advantaged. I really do think it was just past my 30th birthday, when I had a successful career underway, that I first paid all my bills on my own income.
No hard-won survival story for me. Quite the contrary. Maybe winning hard isn’t the only way. I wouldn’t change a thing, and hope to be able to do for my children exactly the same as my parents did for me.
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MCS, do you think your parents did anything in particular to make sure you didn’t end up just plain spoiled? Because I think a lot of kids/young adults in that situation would just grow up feeling entitled, so I’m curious.
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When I was in college I paid for all my living expenses on my own. My dad paid tuition and books but I never asked for anything more. Years later he told me he wished he had known just how tight things were at times because he would have helped but I explained that I needed to know I could do it on my own. I have never regretted being stubborn during that time because I came out of it confident that I had the skills to take care of myself. Now I accept help more openly but I think it’s important to have those moments, though I shudder to think about my daughter doing it in the future. Like my dad, I think ignorance will be a blessing.
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My first year out of college was similar in that I lived in a rat hole. Albeit a larger warmer rat hole. It was a 1 bdrm that cost ALMOST all of one of my paychecks. Neither the front nor the back door locks worked (to the building, not my apartment) which meant that anyone could come in whenever. The people across the hall from me were constantly smoking up (which is, I swear, why my cat is so dumb to this day). I could hear the people in the NEXT BUILDING fighting THROUGH my walls.
The cops were a constant presence in our complex – which you would think was because we were located next to police headquarters – I assure you that’s not the reason. I can’t tell you how many people I saw arrested for one reason or another. As far as I’m aware, there were no murders.
There were some months where I’d be lucky to have $5 left at the end of the month. Other months I might be eating canned green beans for dinner (and that was it) because pay day was 2 days away and I ran out of cash to buy groceries. But I never asked my parents for cash and I always made sure my bills were paid and my cat had food (I wondered why my cat was always SO hungry…).
Sometimes we really should just suck it up and accept the help that’s offered…
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I graduated from college in 1981, the last great jobless recession, and as a result lived at home for a number of years afterward. It was the most miserable experience of my life. Nothing I did was ever “right” – and I’m the quintessential responsible, good kid.
“Cussedly independent” is the best way to describe me as a result. I’ve no spouse to depend on – it’s just me and doggone it, I’m more than capable (so I think). When I do finally let someone do something for me, I’m likely to dissolve into tears, as I’m astonished that anyone would ever do something nice for me.
Messed up, I know.
But the bottom line is that I’m getting better at accepting (non-family) help with things I can’t do, like hauling a load of miscellaeous junk to the dump. The key to remember is that not only are they helping you, but being able to help you is a blessing to them, if that makes sense. You aren’t the only one on the receiving end in the transaction.
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Excellent point about letting people help you, Diane!
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This is oh-so-good to read right now as I struggle with being okay with my kids’s independence. I need to trust them, I WANT to trust them… but… but… my (very large, quite mature) BAYBEES!
As for stubbornly independent? Who me? Never…
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Go reread that apple/tree comment, Megan.
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My dad died when I was 14, so I was working to pay the household bills at 14. I never had anyone else to rely on at all. My husband lived a blessed existence with parents who paid for anything and everything. It was an interesting first couple of years!
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Oh WOW Heidi, I’ll bet!
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I went straight to grad school from undergrad for fear of the alternative–moving back in with my parents. I did okay, graduated, got a job, and then decided to move to a big city (Chicago). I still stayed employed but lived WAY beyond my means. My parents were frequently floating me money which, in retrospect, I still regret. Sure I was living independently in the big city, but still frequently on their dime. Ten years later, though, I make almost more than my Dad was making when he retired. I have offered to pay them back repeatedly and they’ll have none of it. Although my Mom HAS said more than once I could buy them a pool…hmmm…
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The potato years I call them. I could buy a 10lb bag of those things and eat for two weeks. A bag of onions and tub of margarine were the splurge. Not a big fan of potatoes these years later. But, independence has been passed down to the next generation. College girl too stubborn and too tough to accept any halp. Damn – I didn’t mean to do that!
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Sounds like she’ll be okay, though. She learned from the best, right?
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I am on the independent slant. The amount of cash I took from my parents since I graduated from highschool was…$1700. They gave me $1000 during 2nd year university because I couldn’t earn enough, then rent (in a crappy basement room) for 2 months after I graduated and unemployed. Otherwise they paid through non-financial means by helping me move from city to city between school and coop. I don’t like to take money from them…I went to grad school this past year, and I had mentioned that money might be tight near the end, and they practically shoved money at me. I haven’t used it, and I plan to pay them back when I get my first pay check.
On the other hand, I am quite dependent on my SO. Thankfully I feel like I can do so. Isn’t that was mutual trust and openness looks like? A little?
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I have never had a problem asking for help, in fact I probably do it too often since having kids and becoming a stay at home Mom. I feel awkward that I don’t contribute financially to our home and asking my parents to help with the extras is my ridiculous way to feel like I am doing something.
I do like to think that my husband and I do take care of everything we need by ourselves, but my parents make some of the fun possible, and I am really grateful I am OK talking to them about that.
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You sound incredible level-headed and balanced. Seriously. I love that!
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My parents couldn’t afford to help. I was employed at a Pizza Hut at 14yrs old so I could buy school clothes etc.
Years later my mom passes away and leaves a sizable inheritance and my dad now makes a lot of dough overseas. I still feel weird asking him for money, in fact I rarely do, but these days he gives out large amounts of cash for Christmas to make up for not being able to help when I was truly struggling.
And all that to say? I am fiercely independent and will never ask for help. I have learned to accept offers of it somewhat gracefully and gratefully though!
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You and I, my dear, cut from the same cloth. When I graduated from college I decided I was staying in that town because, (being 1991,) I had resources there. I knew other college aged friends who could be room mates & such. My family lives in the SF Bay Area, if I moved back there, I would HAVE to move back in w/them. After 4 yrs of independence, I knew I couldn’t go back. At the same time, boyfriend-du-jour and I broke up. I had a waitress job, which is how I’d been paying for school & supporting myself, so while there was a recession & no one was hiring for “real jobs” I could support my “real job” while waitressing. My mom was less than pleased. I had “no-reason to stay and how could I not WANT to come back?” Which pretty much answered her right there, huh? She showed me! She wouldn’t speak to me for 3 months. Not that effective when you’re only contact is via the phone. I knew she was pissed & there was some guilt, but mostly I laughed about her not speaking to me.
I spent a lot of that first year eating the garnish fruit on the bar & raman noddles. A big splurge was .50 hot dogs at AM/PM. But I knew I needed to prove to myself, that I could do it on my own. They might have given me $$ to help out, but there was a price tag attached to it and I would be paying w/my self-worth.
My youngest is my mini-me in looks & personality. I hope for better for her, but I”m also realistic enough to know it’s likely that there will be a version of this scenario in her future as well. I hope there’s a way I can help her so that she won’t have to live in a sketchy place, but still feel that she’s doing what she needs to do.
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Independent to a fault. I usually rail against accepting help until the bitter end, when everything is in shambles around me and I have no choice.
As I get older, I’m trying to learn to accept help sooner, but it’s a long struggle. I still feel like I’m failing somehow for needing help at all.
I bet you can’t tell I was the first born child of a fiercely independent single mom can you? Nope, not at all.
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Completely independent because I have to be. Mom died when I was 17 after several years of chemo during which I was the “lady of the house.” Married but was the sole income for many of those years. Divorced and had a slacker alcoholic boyfriend, again, sole income. I know my Dad feels bad that he helps my sister out and not me, but also proud because I don’t need help. He and I bought a condo together recently for his retirement and eventually mine. Sometimes I resent that I am so independent (which feels like alone) but then I remember the alternatives and am very happy that I now own 2 condos (my regular home and the retirement home in Florida,) two cars, and take fun vacations with friends or by myself. Yes, I can travel to Europe by myself and be happy. Could not have done that if I weren’t so independent. K
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I had a similar experience when moving out on my own for the first time, and I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything. Your list of positive outcomes are actually very important; you developed maturity and character. I’m glad my parents didn’t try to shelter me and let me have my independence.
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Exactly.
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I wish I was more independent. I have never lived on my own. One of my Big regrets in life (so far) is that I didn’t live away from home during college or at least try to live on my own afterwards. Now I am envious of other women that I hear pack a car with luggage and their kids and drive to a vacation.
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I lived in comparable circumstances and never regretted it. I don’t think I should have accepted more help. Nor will I ever offer my kids more help. You need those years to understand what it is to support yourself and not to take things for granted.
Independency is a good thing.
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This is the way the system should work.
Parents help to whatever extent is possible without even hinting that it could in anyway affect the independence of the helpee.
They should do that because they can and because it feels really good. The quid pro quo for the helpee is that buy into the principle that they are to do the same thing for those that they love when that time comes around.
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It’s awfully nice to know you have my back.
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I’m w/Emmie and Lynn. I regret not going away for college (stayed local for undergrad and grad). I’ve lived on my own (immediately after high school), but never alone. I went straight from home to living w/my boyfriend, to getting married to him. I still sometimes have to ask my dad to help out financially. It’s embarrassing. My MIL gave me $ towards my daughter’s back to school clothing and I could have cried. I hate having to ask. I like to THINK I can handle it all myself. At 38, why have I not made better choices to maintain our financial independence? Why haven’t WE? My husband stays at home (result of a lay off) and I work full time. It is a constant struggle to stay afloat. Since I’m the only employed party I tend to take on more responsiblity at home (how does that make sense, self?). I feel I’m more responsible for how things should be/run since I’m the person paying for them. I don’t dare negate all that my husband does at home, BUT…before I ask him to do extra, I tend to take on more myself. Mine is borne from trying to please my mother, I’m sure. I get the “I can do it” in my head and that’s it. I was responsible for taking care of our home after she divorced and it was just us (my sisters had both left). So, I am fiercely independent at home sometimes as far as schedules and how things are done. Hmmm, wait…this wasn’t exactly what you’d asked, huh? Sorry. But, I feel better!
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