We are NOT taught to be happy Bashny.Net

When I enter the house with the shopping, all this anticipating the rustling wrappers, the scrutiny and primerjanje, Asya immediately grabs the bags from my hands, throws everything out, starts eating, if it's food, and measure if it is a new thing. I don't have time to remove shoes, and she's already tearing packaging, chewing and lying on the bed in his new jeans. Maybe even in my new jeans instantly masters new arrivals, introduces them into circulation.

I was wondering why it annoys me such swiftness?

 





Then decided that it was the greetings from the Soviet childhood, when new things in the wardrobe of the children were a rarity – as well as gastronomic delights. And wanted to prolong the moment of Dating with them and stretch and enjoy the joy of owning.

So, from the Christmas bag of candy first eaten raisins in the sugar, then Fudge, then caramel "Crow's feet", "Snow" and then – chocolate "Belochka" and "Mishka". And who remembers how mom kept in the closet a box of chocolates "holiday" or a jar of mayonnaise with a little pojavlenii cover for Olivier for the New year?

But all of these at present zhlobskie quirks – not the rotten, we got out of there. From the Soviet Union. Dad my school friend was a surgeon, and even the high blue-eyed blonde with a long "surgical" with your fingers. He read a lot of books ("dad's" office is where all four sides to ceiling bookshelves), and sometimes played the guitar, traveled to foreign countries (then it was rare), he had brought his daughter to the orange cases and sometimes took her out of school in my fancy new car "Zhiguli". More for any of us came dad.

When she passed the first session in the med for the reasons that failed at that time, personal life, squabbles and all due to the father-the surgeon stopped to talk to her. As it turns out now – when we are over forty or have ceased forever. And immediately punched the lock that the door to the office. The daughter was no more progress – neither in his room nor in his life. Because he is in her faith, and she, like, betrayed.

In one family the dad is still considered a genius – a poet, an artist, an intellectual, an excellent education, a phenomenal memory. Plus the relentless self-development, personal growth. People are drawn to him, how interesting! Spent the evening with that person – and seemed to SIP from the fountain of knowledge, enlightened and brightened...When the genius found out that his daughter is pregnant and going to marry – said, as cut, he's no longer my daughter. Did not approve of the choice, and the fact the pregnancy caused him injury... Their relationship was over. Her mother sends something in secret from her husband, some money, some news, but the father she lost.

Another father and himself rich creative nature, and his daughter was raised in the same spirit. Noticing poetry abilities, demanded that "no day without a line" so every day she brought him to the analysis of a new poem. And she brought, tried, and studied, worked, married, gave birth to a child...

And at some point it turned out that poetry is, say, well, not so important that the time for poetry remains, it is necessary to run a household, and the husband is not one of those who will say: sit down, dear, write sonnets, and I'll do the rest. And when the father realized that the publication of poetry collection of daughters it will have to wait, he didn't break up with her completely, no, but at every opportunity, suggests, as disappointed as she should not have buried your abilities, what she's actually lazy, just not write new works...

Her apartment it is necessary to give money, with a child homework, lunch for the family cook, and dad to her: "Why not write? Everyone is waiting for inspiration? What nonsense you chose to do in life..."

And more recently, Andrei Loshak wrote on Facebook: "the metro "University" came the old man with a cane, beard, worn Jean jacket – class instinct sensed in his appearance something familiar. Could easily be a friend of the Pope. He hesitantly looked at me and said, "Excuse me, you art galleries are not interested?" All from the same class solidarity said Yes, interested."

And many people replied, people of my age remember their parents...

We also house were art albums, records, poetry, prose – the roots are still before my eyes – literally and figuratively. And my dad is also from the generation of the sixties, born just before, during or immediately after the war. Sought, read, listened to radio "Liberty", thought, debated, wore bell bottoms, turtlenecks and shirts with sharp collars...

They seriously thought about the meaning of life, they wanted to find him. And found, lost, found again, arguing about poetry, were physicists and lyricists at the same time, fighting with friends, if you disagreed with them on an abstract, speculative questions... All of it commands respect, admiration, pride for them. BUT.

It's not about happiness.

No, not about happiness.

Our fathers did not know that he is happy to be well, well in principle and it is the goal of desire – your own happiness. And unconditional love is not very understand. Understood demanding and demanding and merciless to themselves and their children (and their wives).

For all their advancement, they lived in a state where in all seriousness, it was believed that public higher personal and General happiness in work and the meaning of life should be measured by the benefit that you brought to the country. And most importantly, your life today has no value ... increase productivity and build a bright future unknown to anyone. With some reservations, but our fathers believed... And still believe that their share has dropped a lot of freedom. Thaw.

But what's the point of their education, intellect, broad interests, knowledge of painting, literature, professional success, if they were not happy and failed to make happy their children and then abandoned them with the phrase "I raised you not to do this"?

And for what?

It just seems that the world has changed, with gadgets of his life went that personal freedom and the interests of the individual now takes into account at least the personality. No. We, like our fathers, "the children of Russia's terrible years" and bear the fears and complexes of the Soviet parents. I, at least, a burden.

All this is very recently – my dad worked in the newspaper "socialist industry", and my mother in the Communist party. But in grade 6 the teacher of Russian and literature, the old Communist Nadezhda, noticing my nail Polish (transparent nail Polish), said, "I'll tell you in the Communist party organization than do the children of employees of the Communist – nails painted". I was so scared that she cut off the entire nail with a blade, right in the classroom. Never figured out how.

It is there, very close, chronologically and physically, all this ideology of walking in formation and in step, all the local Committee, the party committees, the Komsomol organization, meetings, where he worked on husbands, leaving the family girls who "run to the dance" instead of standing at the machine, where the condemned over makeup, skirt length, an affair with a married... it was All a matter of vigil the public and the reason for censure.

And from there it is an eternal guilt for the well-being, "live for yourself" or even "hour for myself" for personal happiness. There fear is that if today you laugh, tomorrow I'm going to cry, and thought: "something I lie, it is necessary to wash floors and in the hallway and on the landing". And all these "in front of people uncomfortable", "what the neighbors will say", "rainy day," "and if tomorrow war?" and the picture on the public under the title "Psychology for every day" with the advice: "If happy – keep it..." "Scoop" unkillable "scoop" in our heads there, along with conventions, lack of freedom, disrespect and dislike for yourself...

And when the psychologist says: "Love yourself, accept yourself in any form and condition – of success and failure in the process of advance and retreat, activity and inactivity" -I don't know how to do it! But I read a parent library, go to museums and theaters, I am familiar with all kinds of empathy and in General I am a good person. But happy not be able. Don't know how. Science and art, literature and painting do not teach. How can I teach this to their children? Or is time most to learn from them?





One day, when youth is long over, oshalev of neurosis and self-pity, I decided to learn myself. Decided not to postpone, not to save for later, not to be afraid, not to save. From eating chocolates and caramels!

And the meaning of life decided not to look. To score on the high goal, to give up ambitions that are not healthy. Only read for pleasure, for him to look at the painting and home good architects. To love children without conditions. And to read more great articles and thick books on philosophy and psychology, but just a little to help yourself be happy. For a start, to afford it. And for the beginning – to understand that if you don't heal today, now, the future will never come. It will retreat and retreat, and I'll follow him to death, like a donkey after a carrot.

Is it me or was that from ambition, information, and feelings of guilt tired of the whole world? What is the trend: people are looking for ways and reasons for joy. And happiness. I'm going to share. And I'll wait for the stories about your. published

Author: Polina Sanayeva

P. S. And remember, only by changing their consumption — together we change the world! ©

Source: newsvo.ru/blogovo/103552