I haven't been home for eight years, things have changed so much, I won't recognize my children anymore.

Many people underestimate even today. emotional exhaustion human. Physical, yes. It's clear to everyone. But emotional? "Are you a slut? Go to the bathhouse, to the bar, find a girl, even for one night and forward, continue to live as you lived! As a result, a person with such a problem can accumulate negativity and fatigue, burnout and even anger for a long time. And then you can't take it. And the results will be shown in the evening news.



Mental health, even mental hygiene, is very important. And you can't put it in a long box. In youth, it is still fine: sleep for a couple of hours a day, unstable emotional state, depression and melancholy, like, is considered the norm. But that's not really the case. But already at a more mature age, even some of the above things can leave behind deep mental scars and a damaged liver. So it's up to you to watch things like that or to let things go. And there, let's hope for the best.

Many already know that to work in another country, not the most honorable work - it is, consider, torn out of life years. And I can confirm that. I haven't been home for eight years. A huge amount of time! And I admit, I still can’t get away from that fact. Difficult, unusual. Even some kind of depression sometimes attacks. Or rather, just a bad mood. Depression is different, isn't it? It's not easy. And then there's the son.

It was difficult in Germany, but it was clear. Clean the rooms for guests who came to our hotel for a variety of reasons. Sometimes they just stopped as tourists. There were usually no such problems. Maximum - steal something from the room, but it was not my worries. And it happened that the young people gathered and celebrated something in the room. There was such a pigsty after them that I won’t tell you.



However, it was necessary to live somehow, and even help two children. Vick and Arthur. The daughter was older, but she often forgot about her brother and went about her business. And my sister, who I left them with, couldn't keep an eye on everything. So sometimes, I also had heavy thoughts about my kids. About his son, his grades and his behavior. Well, about the daughter, although there were almost no difficulties with her.

So I understand Vic, who decided to get married when I was in another country. She's sick of her aunt's custody. And to constantly watch my brother, too, apparently, there was no desire. That's how she "screwed" from her native nest. Well, what could I do? Sent her money, a normal amount. And congratulations on the phone. That's it. We don’t see each other more than once a year on my birthday. They live on the other side of the country and I'm not worried about my daughter. She has a punchy temper.



But Arthur, in turn, became his father. Now that I got home, bought him an apartment, renovated my own, it was not enough for him. I thought, okay. Some girls go to him, but he does not have a serious relationship. Well, let him. Maybe he's a womanizer. And it turned out that no one can stand it for more than a couple of weeks. Plus, he either does not want to work, or does not know how to work. There are always obstacles... Maybe they will outgrow it all!

Yeah, that one. No, every time he's short of money, he buys some cheap candy or flowers and heads over to me. Asks him to help financially and sighs so often and hopelessly that I cannot even imagine why he might have such a sad mood. “The girl left, another one. This is probably the last one. I can't do anything, Mom. I'm trying, but there's no return.



Of course I understand. He's my kid, I missed part of his childhood and his youth, but I confess to you, I don't care about his groans. I don't care at all. Try to change your life somehow. Sign up for some class. Get a janitor and get up at 5 a.m. It might help. Well, how can I advise you if you are already an adult forehead and should at least understand something in life?!

That's not a good idea, I know. But I often find myself thinking about my own child. Why not? Well, to start with, I'm not iron, either. Over the years that I have been in another country, I have also had some meetings and sad occasions. For example, I fell in love there. For real, one local man. And he loved me. We could probably live with him and be a great couple. But that seems to only happen to the lucky ones.



Lars was not some rich man, an ordinary resident of his country, with its pros and cons. But I was amused by how nervous he was about my habit of taking up the bathroom for a long time. I wasn't angry if he could suddenly get out of his chair and straighten his thermostat arrow, making the temperature lower. And he loved me for laughing loudly, even though for the first few days I thought he was afraid of me. It was okay. Until one day he got sick.

Covid just ate it, burned it. I didn't even have time to say good-bye to him, to be around him. His parents came to the hospital. They showed me that I was not the best option for their son. We had no dialogue and I had to leave. And then I found out it was too late. The saddest time of my life. I probably still can't recover after that.



That's how I became callous. My friends, my only son. Everyone. Maybe this is emotional exhaustion? Smart people say that this is just such a stage. I need a break and a distraction. And then I'll get back on my feet and be able to generate the joy of ordinary things. It's not working. And this life is "fun", and constant problems with Arthur. Where to go and what to do? I just don't know. Sadness in our family is the only thing that unites us. And that's actually very sad.