As I prepared to send my son, whom I’ll call “Jake,” to college in the spring of 2009, I was determined to fulfill my promise of covering his tuition. I envisioned him focusing fully on his studies without the need for a part-time job. This commitment was a heartfelt vow I had made since he was a little boy—what I thought would be the greatest gift I could offer him.
Miraculously, I had managed to save up all the tuition money in a state-sponsored college fund. I say “miraculously” because I had a notorious track record of spending beyond my means. So, I felt a swell of pride in having kept my promise, despite my previous financial habits.
However, as we began the school selection process, I quickly learned that in-state tuition only scratched the surface of college expenses. I needed to find an additional $7,200 annually for housing, food, textbooks, and other essentials. That was my wake-up call. Guilt and shame washed over me as I realized how much money I could have saved if I hadn’t treated credit cards like they were free cash. I had convinced myself that somehow the funds would magically appear when I needed them. Spoiler alert: they didn’t.
Instead, my debt was climbing while my income stayed stagnant. I felt utterly lost about where to find that extra cash. It was then I decided to join a support group for compulsive debtors. On April 24, 2009, I put an end to my financial recklessness. I cut up my credit cards and canceled the accounts. With the group’s help, I learned to live within my means and finally tackle my credit card debt. Luckily, I was able to secure some extra funds through wise spending choices and my ex-husband’s reluctant agreement to contribute a few thousand dollars for the first year. Hallelujah!
I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking Jake would be all set for college. But then, mid-sophomore year, I was hit with a disability that drastically slashed my income and skyrocketed my healthcare costs. While his tuition was covered, I found myself grappling with how to manage Jake’s living expenses. I was in denial, convinced that he deserved a fully funded college experience and any alternative was simply unacceptable.
Thankfully, I leaned on my support network this time instead of trying to solve it alone. I expected my friends to back me up in my quest to cut my living expenses to fund Jake’s. Instead, they kindly but firmly pointed out that I was living in a dream world. They emphasized that I needed to prioritize my own financial health; I would be of no help to Jake if I ended up broke and in debt trying to uphold a promise.
Still, I resisted, convinced my friends were mistaken. So, I talked to more people, and to my astonishment, every single person—including Jake’s girlfriend—had financed part or all of their college education themselves. It became clear that I was the one with the misguided perspective.
Eventually, I mustered the courage to explain to Jake that I could no longer cover his living expenses. He would need to find a job and take out student loans if he wanted to continue his education. I felt sick to my stomach. When I told him, he merely shrugged and replied, “Okay, I’ll get a job and a loan.” That summer, he landed his first job as a waiter and took out $15,000 in student loans. Surprisingly, he became more focused on his studies and never once asked me for financial help.
Reflecting on this experience, I realized how wrong I had been to underestimate Jake. Despite my financial mismanagement, he turned out just fine, thanks in part to my current husband, Tom, who modeled responsible financial behavior. Tom and I kept our finances separate, and Jake observed him living simply, buying cars outright, and using credit cards wisely. Other mentors, like Jake’s marching band coach, instilled in him the values of discipline and teamwork.
I learned that I had underestimated Jake’s resilience. All he needed was a push to take charge of his own financial future. When he felt the weight of his loan repayments six months after graduation, he understood the reality of debt—and he didn’t like it one bit. Remarkably, within five years post-graduation, he paid off all but $1,800 of his student loans. Even when I offered to help him with a windfall, he declined, preferring to tackle it himself.
Now 26, Jake lives simply, uses credit cards sparingly, pays off his balance each month, and seeks out the best options for cash back and rewards. Thankfully, he seems to have dodged the compulsive spending gene.
It took time for me to let go of my guilt about not providing what I had promised. For some parents, covering all college costs is the right path. But I now see that my inability to continue funding Jake’s college life turned out to be one of the best gifts I could give him. Had I ignored my support network, the outcome could have been disastrous for both of us. This experience was a pivotal moment in Jake’s transition to adulthood, and I couldn’t be prouder of the man he has become.
For more insightful stories on parenting and financial decisions, check out this resource on female infertility. Also, if you’re interested in home insemination, we have a fantastic article on at-home insemination kits that may be helpful. And for more tips on family life, don’t miss our post on financial strategies!
Summary:
The author shares her journey of promising to pay for her son’s college education but ultimately realizing that financial independence is crucial. Despite her initial guilt over not fulfilling her promise, she learns that allowing her son to take responsibility for his expenses leads to personal growth for both of them. This experience illustrates the importance of prioritizing one’s financial health and the value of resilience in young adults.