Many people even today underestimate the emotional exhaustion of a person. Physical, yes. Everyone understands that. But it's emotional?
I was away from home for eight years. That's a huge amount of time! And I have to admit that I still can't come to terms with it. It's hard, uncomfortable. Sometimes I even get a little depressed. I mean, just a bad mood. Depression is different, right? It's not easy. And then my son…
In Germany it was hard, but understandable. Cleaning rooms for guests who came to our hotel for various reasons. Sometimes they just stayed as tourists. Most of the time there were no problems with that. At most they stole something from the room, but that wasn't my concern.
Sometimes young people would gather and celebrate something in the room. They left such a mess behind that I won't tell you about it. Nevertheless, I had to live somehow and I had to help my two children. Anka and Artur. My daughter was older, but she often forgot about her brother and took care of her own things.
My sister, with whom I left them, couldn't keep up with everything. So sometimes, in addition to problems at work, I also had heavy thoughts about my children. About my son, his grades and behavior. So I understand Anka, who decided to get married while I was still in another country. She was tired of being looked after by her aunt. And she clearly didn't feel like looking after her brother all the time.
And so she left the nest. What could I do? I sent her some money, a decent amount. I congratulated her on the phone. And that was it. We still see each other in person no more than once a year, on my birthday. They live on the other side of the country, and I don't worry about my daughter. She has a strong character.
Artur, on the other hand, followed in his father's footsteps. Now that I've come home, bought him an apartment, redecorated mine, that wasn't enough for him. I thought, okay. He sees girls, but he's in no hurry to get into a serious relationship. Well, let him.
It turns out he's just the kind of guy no one can stand for more than a few weeks. Plus, he either doesn't want to work or doesn't know how. There's always some obstacle…
Every time he's short of money, he buys some cheap sweets or flowers and heads to me. He asks me for financial help and sighs so often and so hopelessly that I can't even imagine why he's so sad. “My girlfriend dumped me, and the next one too. It's probably the last one. There's nothing I can do, mom. I try and nothing comes of it…”
Of course I understand. He's my child, I missed part of his childhood and adolescence, but I'll tell you, I don't care about his whining. I don't care. Try to change your life somehow. Sign up for some courses. Find a job as a janitor and get up at 5:00 in the morning. Maybe that will help.
Because how can I give you any advice when you're already an adult and you should know something about life yourself!!! These aren't very good thoughts, I know. But I often catch myself thinking like that about my own child. Why?
Well, let's start with the fact that I'm not made of iron either. And in the years when I was in another country, I also had a few encounters and sad incidents. For example, I fell in love there. Really, with a local man. He fell in love with me too. We could probably move in with him, live together and be a great couple. But I think that only happens to lucky people.
Max wasn't some rich guy, just an ordinary citizen of his country, with his advantages and disadvantages. But I was amused by the way he got annoyed by my habit of occupying the bathroom for so long.
I didn't get mad when he could get up from the chair and turn the thermostat down. And he loved me for laughing out loud, even though for the first few days I thought he was afraid of me. Everything was fine. Until one day he got sick. I didn't have time to say goodbye to him, to be near him. I probably still can't get over it.
Wise people say it's just a phase. I need to rest and distract myself, and then I'll get back on my feet and be able to enjoy ordinary things. But it doesn't work out. And this “fun” life, and constant problems with Arthur. Where to go and what to do? I just don't know. Apparently the sadness in our family is the only thing that unites us now. And that's also really sad.
Take a look: From life. “My mother still thinks I'm a child”: She comes to my house and sets her own rules