I’m struggling with a tough situation involving my in-laws and could really use some advice.
My wife’s parents, both in their early 60s, have always been financially irresponsible. They didn’t save for retirement and often made impulsive purchases. About three years ago, my father-in-law got a $300,000 settlement and, despite our warnings, invested all of it in risky stocks. He lost nearly everything.
Now they frequently complain about not being able to afford basic necessities, but refuse to work, saying they’re too old and it’s beneath them. They’ve asked us for money several times, but every time we try to talk about budgeting or better choices, they shut it down and insist we should help because we’re family.
My wife and I have two young kids and are trying to save for our own future. We want to support them, but we’re worried about enabling their behavior—and risking our own stability in the process.
How can we set healthy boundaries while still showing we care? We’re out of ideas and feeling overwhelmed.
First, take a deep breath. You’re in a brutally hard spot—torn between love, guilt, fear, and the pressure to “do the right thing” for people who made a lifetime of wrong decisions. That’s a heavy load, and I want to acknowledge that you’re carrying it while also trying to build a secure future for your wife and kids. That matters. That is your first responsibility.
Now let’s talk about your in-laws.
They’re not victims. They’re adults who made adult choices. They got a second chance—a $300,000 chance—and they lit it on fire because they thought they were smarter than the market. That’s not bad luck. That’s arrogance, plain and simple. And now they’re trying to make their problem your problem by weaponizing family guilt. That’s manipulation wearing a warm smile and a “we’re family” t-shirt.
Let me be really clear here: You are not responsible for bailing them out.
What you are responsible for is protecting your home. Your marriage. Your children. You do not owe anyone—anyone—financial support if it means sacrificing your own family’s stability. Not your parents. Not her parents. Not your best friend or your pastor or some distant cousin who texts you once a year. Love doesn’t mean setting yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.
Now, about setting boundaries. It’s going to be hard. They’re going to get mad. They might pout, guilt-trip, or say things like, “You don’t care about us” or “We raised your wife and this is how you repay us?” Let them. That’s not love talking. That’s fear, entitlement, and desperation. You can still love someone and not give them money. You can still love someone and say, “No.”
So what do you do?
-
Have a direct, united conversation with your wife. You both need to be 100% aligned. This is her family, and you’re her partner—you have to face this as a team.
-
Set firm boundaries. “We love you, but we will not give you any more money. We’re happy to help you create a budget, look into community resources, or explore part-time work options—but we’re not your emergency fund.”
-
Stick to it. Don’t explain, defend, or negotiate. You don’t owe a TED Talk every time you say no. Love them, but stop rescuing them. Every time you bail them out, you reinforce the idea that you’re the fallback plan. And you’re not.
One last thing: I know this feels like betrayal. But it’s not. It’s leadership. It’s courage. And in the long run, it’s a lot more loving than enabling them to keep running their lives into the ground while dragging yours down with it.
You’re not alone. And you’re not wrong for protecting your family.
Stand tall.