I Knew My Family Member Was Unlikely to Pay Me Back When I Lent Them a Large Sum. But I Didn’t Expect This.

Pay Dirt Photo illustration by Slate. Photo by RightOne/Getty Images Plus. Pay Dirt is Slate’s money advice column. Have a question? Send it to Kristin and Ilyce here. (It’s anonymous!) Dear Pay Dirt, Several years ago, I ended up giving a family member a lot of money. I didn’t intend to; it just sort of happened. There was a crisis, and they needed help. Then the crisis, fueled by all sorts of struggles, turned into a continuous state, and I found myself supporting them financially longer term. Despite their promises, I knew it was completely unlikely they would ever pay me back. So I told myself I always needed to think of it as a gift, not a loan. While I don’t have much “extra” money, I didn’t feel comfortable putting whatever I had in savings, knowing that family couldn’t meet their basic needs. I didn’t say anything to anyone at the time. I knew that they were ashamed and that it would create problems for them if others found out. It wasn’t always easy, especially in settings where I knew that my discretion perpetuated certain dynamics. But I stayed quiet, and it sort of became our secret. What I did not anticipate was the shame, rage, and resentment that could accompany this kind of support. Over time, it started to feel like they hated and resented me for helping. So, we fell into a pattern where I would receive a quiet and humiliated request for money, always for the most basic of needs and always accompanied by a promise of repayment, and I would always say “yes”. Then, after some time, something would happen that would result in explosive rage and accusations directed at me. The tiniest perceived transgression would set it off and it often felt like my existence alone would be so aggravating and infuriating that I would find myself on the receiving end of overwhelming contempt and anger. Eventually, some time would pass, and communication would reopen. There would be praise and appreciation, and the whole cycle would start again. This pattern destroyed me. It left me a nervous, isolated wreck. And yet, I stayed and continued giving money. I felt bad and knew they were ashamed and desperate. I also didn’t know how to get out of it or how to cut it off. Then, a couple of years ago, something happened. A legal situation resulted in everyone coming into some money. And all those promises of repayment? Not a word. It was as if their debt was erased when we all received this money. Now, to be clear, I didn’t necessarily want repayment. I would never have asked for it and probably would not have accepted it if offered. At the time, I really hoped that the money would provide them with some stability. But the complete lack of acknowledgment or mention of what I did for them, quietly, for years, is driving me crazy. It’s like everyone has gone back to “normal”. There has been no mention of all those “promises” made and no acknowledgment of just how abusive they were to me during that time. I honestly wonder if they have just forgotten. But now I just can’t seem to get over it. I feel angry, stuck, resentful, and gaslit. I have no idea how to move forward with the relationship. I fear that addressing it will only result in rage and accusations, so I try to remain cordial and pretend that everything is fine. But, it isn’t. So how can I move forward and process this on my own? In the end, this is family, and I don’t want money to be the thing that destroys us. —Money Will Tear Us Apart Dear Money Will Tear Us Apart, I can understand why you’d have a hard time getting over this. It’s hard to move forward when someone who treated you so poorly is now acting like none of it ever happened. What makes it even more painful is that you extended such care and empathy, and not only are they not showing you the same compassion—their behavior sounds emotionally abusive. The question now is: What do you want from this situation? Is it an acknowledgment? A conversation? Some distance from the relationship? If I were in your position, I think I’d at least want to hear them take responsibility for how they treated you. But if they’ve treated you poorly in the past, there’s a slim chance that you’ll get that kind of acknowledgement from them now. So you might need to heal from this without it. That might mean talking it through with a therapist or sharing the story with a friend you trust to help you work through it. You want to process what happened, understand how it affected you, and then find a way to close that chapter of your life on your own terms. This might look like minimizing their role in your life. It might look like accepting that they’ll never take responsibility for their actions and deciding not to let it define your life going forward. Or it might look like confronting them. If you do, think about what you want them to know. Maybe it’s something like, “I helped you out when you needed it because I care about you. I don’t expect anything in return, but I want you to know that I was very hurt by the things you’ve said to me over the years.” Don’t have high expectations about how they respond—if anything, they might get even more defensive and angry—but think of it as giving yourself the chance to say what you need to say so that you can work toward closure. I think anyone could understand why you feel hurt, angry, stuck. But you might have to heal from this even if the person who caused the harm doesn’t acknowledge it. It might also be worth reflecting on why you felt unable to say no to them for so long. Which is not to put the blame on yourself, but so you don’t end up in a similar situation again. It will likely take some time to process this, but you can move forward. And you can decide what kind of relationship with them, if any, feels safe. —Kristin Please keep questions short (<150 words), and don‘t submit the same question to multiple columns. We are unable to edit or remove questions after publication. Use pseudonyms to maintain anonymity. Your submission may be used in other Slate advice columns and may be edited for publication. Classic Prudie Over the past couple of years I’ve gotten to know my husband’s friend Alan. Alan is nice, smart, and a loving father and husband. His little ones played with my little ones before he and his wife recently moved. He’s also the only Black member of my husband’s college friend group (the college was rural and in a part of the South I used to avoid). I’m also a Black woman. Just last week my husband and a few friends got together to see another college friend named Amy who was in town for a few days. As I was getting ready to meet her, my husband mentioned that a little after college Amy told my husband something shocking about her and Alan. Never miss new Slate Advice columns Get the latest from Prudie and our columnists in your inbox each weekday, plus special bonus letters on Saturdays. Advice Family Personal Finance