З життя
Мне 42 года, и я не хочу жить с родителями
Мне сорок два. И я категорически не хочу, чтобы мои родители переезжали ко мне.
Меня зовут Алевтина. Мне сорок два года, у меня семья — муж и двое чудесных детей. Живём мы далеко от родины, в Германии, куда уехали пятнадцать лет назад. Это был наш осознанный шаг — начать всё с нуля: вырваться из нищеты, построить нормальную жизнь, чтобы дети росли счастливыми.
Родом мы из маленькой деревни в Тверской области. Сначала после свадьбы жили то у моих родителей, то у его. Через три года стало понятно: если хотим тишины и гармонии — надо уезжать. И мы уехали.
Первое время было тяжело. Работали за копейки, экономили каждую рубль. Я подрабатывала сиделкой, муж мыл витрины. Снимали крохотную комнату в пригороде Берлина. Но всё делали вместе. Вместе копили, вместе пробивались. Через пару лет родился наш сын, потом — дочка. У нас уже был вид на жительство, своя квартира в ипотеку и работа, которая позволяла не просто выживать, а жить.
Дети ходят в школу, занимаются в секциях, растут в любви и заботе. Мы не олигархи, но нам хватает. Ни у кого не просим помощи. Всё, что есть, — заработали сами.
И на фоне этого — звонки от моих родителей. Они остались в деревне. За все эти годы ни разу не приехали, не прислали ни подарка детям, ни доброго слова. Я высылала деньги, когда могла. Оплачивала лекарства, отправляла посылки. В ответ — только упрёки: «Вы там, в Германии, купаетесь в золоте, а мы тут в грязи!»
А недавно прозвучало то, что добило окончательно. Мама заявила: «Мы решили переехать к вам. Тут делать нечего. У вас тепло, еда, внуки рядом». И добавила, что переезжать, разумеется, будем за наш счёт — и жить вместе.
Я остолбенела. Это не просьба была, а приказ.
Они даже не спросили: удобно ли нам? Потянем ли мы это? Есть ли у нас место? Нет. Просто: «Теперь ваша очередь о нас заботиться». Но кто-нибудь спросил, заботился ли кто-то обо мне?
Когда я болела — мама не приехала. Когда мы с мужем голодали первые месяцы в Германии — она не прислала даже пачки чая. Когда рожали детей — ни распашонки, ни игрушки от бабушки. А теперь я должна отказаться от покоя, от уюта в доме, от своей семьи — ради тех, кто в своё время от меня отказался?
Я не бессердечная. Я не отказываюсь помогать. Уже помогаю — и деньгами, и морально. Но я не хочу, чтобы мои дети росли в напряжении, слушали вечные нотации. Не хочу, чтобы муж сбегал из дома, лишь бы не слышать, как тёща читает нотации.
Почему дети должны ютиться в одной комнате, потому что бабушке «тесно»? Почему муж должен жить там, где его считают обязанным «водить, кормить, убирать»?
Почему мы все должны стать прислугой только потому, что кто-то решил устроить себе комфортную старость?
Знаю, найдутся те, кто скажет: «Они же тебе жизнь дали!» Но разве родительство — это только биология?
В детстве мне не дарили подарков. На день рождения не было ни торта, ни праздника. Одежду покупали с рук, обувь — раз в два года. Не помню ни одного семейного отпуска. Меня не любили — меня терпели.
Да, они меня вырастили. Но я выросла не благодаря, а вопреки.
Теперь мне говорят, что я обязана. Обязана «обеспечить им достойную старость». Но разве я отняла у них молодость? Я не хочу лишать своих детей спокойствия. Не хочу платить за чужие ошибки.
Пусть это прозвучит эгоистично — но я выбираю своих детей. Выбираю мужа. Выбираю наш дом, где есть свет, тепло и любовь. Где нет страха, упрёков и груза прошлого.
Я не отказываюсь помогать родителям. Но не позволю разрушить свою жизнь. Ни под предлогом долга, ни под маской «семейных уз». Моим детям ещё жить. И их жизнь не станет жертвой чужих решений.
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Weve sold you the house. Were entitled to stay for a week, declared the former owners. It was 1975, and...
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So, listen, for about a year now my sons been living with this girl, Emily, but wed never met her...
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Needless to say, this is all my fault! my mates sister sobbed. I could never have imagined things would turn...
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