Real Life. “My Daughter Thinks I Should Just Be a Grandma”: What About My Dreams

These words hurt me more than I could have imagined.

For as long as I can remember, my life has revolved around my family. First my children – Ania and Marek – then home, work, and now my grandchildren. I was always the one who cooked, cleaned, took care of everyone. I was a mother, a wife, and later a grandmother. And although I love my grandchildren with all my heart, lately I started to feel like something was missing. That somewhere along the way I had lost myself.

One day, during one of my conversations with Ania, I mentioned that I had signed up for painting classes. It was something I had always dreamed of but never had time for.

– I would finally like to do something for myself– I said with a smile. – Maybe I'll even paint something I can show you.

Ania looked at me in surprise, almost indignantly.

– Mom, really? Why do you need that? You have grandchildren who need you. Take care of them instead of wasting time on things like that.

Those words hurt me more than I could have imagined. Did she really think that my life should be reduced to just being a grandmother? Or were my own dreams so unimportant to her?

– Ania, I love my grandchildren, but that doesn't mean I can't have my own passions– I replied calmly, although deep inside I felt anger growing inside me.

– Mom, don't get me wrong– she said, sighing. – But you're getting on in years. You should be resting, not looking for new hobbies.

I couldn't sleep for a long time that night. I kept hearing her words in my head: “You're already getting on in years.” Did she really think I was too old to fulfill my dreams? That my life should revolve solely around her children? For years I had done everything for my family, but now for the first time I wanted to do something for myself.

The next day, instead of picking up my grandchildren from school as usual, I went to my painting class. I was nervous because I knew Ania wouldn't be happy. But when I picked up a brush and started painting, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time – joy. It was mine, only mine.

In the evening, Ania called. Irritation was evident in her voice.

– Mom, why didn't you pick up the kids? I had to postpone everything.

– Ania, I was at class – I replied calmly.

– Mom, but I was counting on you! – she said reproachfully. – Grandchildren are more important than some painting.

These words were the straw that broke the camel's back.

– Ania, I've been there for you my whole life – I said, not hiding my emotions. – I love you, but I can't give up on myself. I have the right to have dreams, even if you don't understand them.
Silence fell. Ania didn't know what to say.

For the next few days, it was cold between us. But I didn't give up on my classes. Painting became an escape for me, a place where I could be myself. After a few weeks, Ania unexpectedly came to my class.

– Mom, can I see what you painted? – she asked quietly, as if trying to understand my choices.

I showed her my paintings – flowers, landscapes, a portrait of my grandsons. Her eyes filled with glassiness.

– I’m sorry, Mom – she said. – I didn't know it was so important to you.

That day I felt like I had taken a step towards understanding. Understanding that being a mother and grandmother is just a part of my life. I have the right to be myself too – a woman with dreams and passions. And although the path to this understanding was difficult, I knew that it was worth fighting for my place in the world, even if I had to fight for it with my own children.

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