The Lemon Life | online magazine offering a fresh perspective on post-grad life.

The Perks of Parental Financial Support When We Need It Most

Words By: Lizzy Karp
Image By: Ashley Barron

Quietly indulging in a coffee and a blueberry scone at a local café, a curly-haired woman began to talk to me as she “could feel me in the room.” This part-time yoga instructor revealed the details of her forty-something life that sunny afternoon, leaving me uncomfortable as ever and hungry to leave.

She guessed my astrological sign, spoke of her juicer and felt we had a deeply rooted connection. Finally, as I was moving towards the door in an effort to keep the lines of my palm unread, she revealed that her parents still paid her rent. “Yeah, they weren’t expecting to have an adult child” she explained, cookie crumbs surrounding her mouth. I left speechless and afraid, placing her scribbled down name in my pocket in case I wanted to meditate sometime soon.

This yoga woman, and many others like her, give parental support a terrible reputation. Those who receive financial support throughout university and beyond are often dismissed as spoiled trust fund kids or lazy thirty-five year olds forever camped in their parent’s basement. But for many Lemon Lifers, this necessary monetary support becomes an encouraging and enabling force.

From early on I was fed a steady stream of “follow your heart” and ended up studying arts in university with a cloudy employment forecast.  My parents were always supportive of my interests and invested in my path. Throughout school my books, tuition and cost of living were “taken care of”  with the understanding that when the time came, I would not put them in an old-folks home.  With this financial stability my focus remained on school (mostly), and I knew I was a member of the luckier stream.

The portrait of my post-graduate self was crafted during various daydreams in lectures and libraries. I had picked out my wardrobe, west-end loft apartment, incredible job and wonderful friends. My bank account would magically inflate and the days of choosing dinner over streetcar fare would be tossed away with my old student self. Yet with diploma in hand I marched right back into my parents home, broke and jobless. It became obvious to me then that my fantasies of self-reliance were still far away. As it happens, following my dreams and gaining experience in subjects that  aren’t quite marketable on a resume, rendered me stuck.

During the post-grad oblivion, guidance from my mom and dad has been more crucial than ever. In the same week I moved into a charming new apartment, I was laid off from my bookstore job. I used the words “ashamed”, “embarrassed” and “pathetic” in a text to my mother describing my financial conundrum. When I realized her text reply “on worshies” was “no worries” I felt comforted. Using parent’s pocketbooks as a crutch while sashaying into adulthood can feel pitiful when self-reliance is the first stamp of success. But done right (not talking to you trust-fund babies), monetary assistance is a way parents can be encouraging while making their children more accountable.

My friend Rebecca, deep into her first year of a graduate art history program, was motivated to return to school fueled by this feeling of accountability. “My parents are very successful, rational people who gave up so many things to have a family and give us everything we needed. Because of their help I feel determined to turn something I love into something I can work in.” When parental support extends beyond handouts it creates an interest of responsibility.

With each lump sum placed into my bank account I become ever more liable to my financial decisions and actions. Discussing money with my parents’ fosters an intimacy that spills into other details of my life including the blueprint for more schooling. This closeness and responsibility bring both focus and freedom that are exclusive to those being helped out by mom and pop. Any ally during these lean and meandering days of post-graduation is invaluable. And I won’t be crawling back for more on my thirty ninth birthday.

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