The most serious mistake that many mothers and grandmothers make when raising a daughter and, accordingly, a granddaughter is programming her for a certain mandatory set of skills and qualities that she must possess. “You must be nice”, “You must be accommodating”, “You must like”, “You must learn to cook”, “You must”. There is nothing wrong with the ability to cook, but the girl develops a flawed mindset: you will have value only if you meet a set of criteria. Here, a personal example will work much more effectively and without trauma for the psyche: let's cook delicious soup together. Let's get home together. Let's choose your hairstyle together. Seeing how mom does something and enjoys it, the daughter will want to learn this. And vice versa, if a mother hates some business, then no matter how much she repeats that this needs to be learned, the girl will have a subconscious rejection of the process. But in fact, everything that is needed, the girl will still learn sooner or later. When she needs it herself.
The second mistake that is often found in the upbringing of daughters is the heavy, judgmental attitude towards men and sex, which is transmitted to her by the mother. “They all need one thing”, “Look, he will swear and leave”, “The main thing is not to bring it in the hem”, “You must be inaccessible.” As a result, the girl grows up with the feeling that men are aggressors and rapists, that sex is something dirty and bad that should be avoided. At the same time, her body will begin to send signals to her with age, hormones will begin to rage, and this internal contradiction between the prohibition coming from the mother and the desire coming from the inside is also very traumatic.
The third mistake, which surprisingly contrasts with the second, is that closer to the age of 20, the girl is told that her formula for happiness consists of “get married and give birth.” And ideally - up to 25 years, otherwise it will be too late. Think about it: at first, in childhood, she was told what she should learn (list) in order to get married and become a mother, then for several years she was broadcast the idea that men are goats, and sex is dirt, and here again: get married and give birth . It is paradoxical, but often it is precisely such contradictory attitudes that mothers voice to their daughters. The result is a fear of relationships as such. And the risk of losing yourself, losing touch with your desires and realizing what the girl really wants is seriously increasing.
The fourth mistake is overprotection. Now this is a big problem, mothers are increasingly tying their daughters to themselves and surrounded by so many prohibitions that it becomes scary. Don’t go for a walk, don’t be friends with these, call me every half an hour, where you are, why you were late for 3 minutes. Girls are not given any freedom, they are not given the right to make decisions, because these decisions may turn out to be erroneous. But it normal! At the age of 14-16, a normal teenager goes through the process of separation, he wants to decide everything himself, and (with the exception of life and health issues) he needs to be given such an opportunity. Because if a girl grows up under her mother's heel, she will establish herself in the idea that she is a second-class creature, incapable of an autonomous existence, and other people will always decide everything for her.
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The fifth mistake is the formation of a negative image of the father. It does not matter whether the father is present in the family or the mother raises the child without his participation, it is unacceptable to turn the father into a demon. You can’t tell a child that his shortcomings are bad heredity on the paternal side. It is impossible to denigrate the father, whatever he may be. If he really was a "goat", then the mother should also admit her share of responsibility for the fact that she chose this particular person as the father of her child. It was a mistake, so the parents broke up, but the responsibility for the one who took part in the conception cannot be outweighed by the girl. She's definitely not at fault here.
The sixth mistake is corporal punishment. Of course, no children should be beaten, ever, but it is worth recognizing that it hurts girls more. Psychologically, the girl quickly slides from normal self-esteem to the position of a humiliated and subordinate. And if physical punishment comes from the father, this will almost certainly lead to the fact that the girl will choose the aggressors as partners.
The seventh mistake is not praising. The daughter should grow up, constantly hearing that she is the most beautiful, the most beloved, the most capable, the most-most. This will form a healthy, normal self-esteem. This will help the girl grow up with a sense of self-satisfaction, self-acceptance, self-love. This is the key to her happy future.
The eighth mistake is a showdown with your daughter. Parents should never arrange quarrels in front of children, this is simply unacceptable. Especially when it comes to the personal qualities of the mother and father, mutual accusations. The child must not see this. And if it happened, both parents should apologize and explain that they did not cope with their feelings, quarreled and already reconciled, and most importantly, the child has nothing to do with it.
The ninth mistake is the incorrect living of the girl's puberty. There are two extremes here: allow everything, so as not to lose contact, and prohibit everything, so as not to “miss out”. As they say, both are worse. The only way to overcome this difficult period for all without sacrifice is firmness and goodwill. Firmness - in upholding the boundaries of what is permitted, goodwill - in communication. For girls at this age, it is especially important that they talk a lot, ask questions, answer idiotic questions, share their memories. And you need to react more calmly, never use these conversations against the child. If this is not done now, there will never be intimacy, and the grown-up daughter will say: “I never trusted my mother.”
Finally, the last mistake is the wrong attitude to life. Girls should never be told that her life must include certain points. Marry, give birth, lose weight, not get fat, and so on. The girl must be tuned in to self-realization, to the ability to listen to herself, to the opportunity to do what she likes, what she succeeds in, to enjoy herself, independence from other people's assessments and public opinion. Then a happy, beautiful, self-confident woman ready for a full-fledged partnership will grow up.
Out of Egypt chapter 5
translated Sun
It hasn't been long since I started getting involved in ex-gay ministry, and I've found that virtually every conversation with women includes a discussion of "maternity." Talking about mothers causes different emotional reactions in women depending on their life experiences. In this chapter, we will be introduced to the stories of four women: Elinor, Cindy, Louis, and Alison.
Each of them had their own version of the mother-daughter relationship, although some mothers were similar to each other. You may experience mixed or painful emotions as you read these stories. Maybe you will feel a heavy heart or sadness. Perhaps a sharp pain or anger. Or you probably won't feel anything special. All these reactions are natural. Stop reading for a moment and tell God that you are willing to bring to the surface those feelings that He might want to begin healing right now.
THE INDIFFERENT MOTHER: THE STORY OF ELINOR
Neither "cold" nor "hot", Elinor's mother was indifferent to her daughter, contrary to the spiritual principle: "Will a woman forget her suckling child? .." (See Isaiah 49:15)
Eleanor was growing up, and her seeming indifference towards her mother was actually a thin veil hiding the unspoken anger that Elinor felt about their superficial and empty relationship. Instead of building a close mother-daughter relationship, they were more like boxers in the ring, dancing and trying on each other, with neither of the participants intending to eventually strike the first blow and get closer.
“I caught the sense of isolation that came from my mother very early on. I can't remember any particular event that led to this emotional distance. Rather, it was the inability to openly communicate with each other, which in turn increased the sense of separation. While I was growing up, I spent more time just watching my mom, not "connecting" with her emotionally. I know I was supposed to feel something about this woman who washed and ironed my clothes, fed me and provided me with petty money. But I didn't feel anything. Sometimes I tried to squeeze out a proper feeling, but I could not. My emotions seem to be "numb".
And yet there was this inexplicable need for connection between us. Even when I grew up and left the house "physically", I knew that emotionally I "did not leave". The distance between us accentuated emotions that I had felt before but could not properly identify.
My mother and I had an agreement that we would call each Tuesday at exactly seven o'clock in the evening. I have always been waiting for this call, dreaming that we would exchange thoughts, talk about our feelings and desires. But this never happened. When I heard her voice on the other end of the wire, it was as if I was "freezing." I wanted to say something like "I love you" but the words stuck in my throat.
And we chatted... It was the same scenario every time, only it wasn't funny to anyone. She told me about the dog, about the neighbors, about what she saw on TV - and about her father. The order has never changed. She never asked about me. The conversation was strictly one-sided. I don't think I was particularly eager to share either. Yes, I tried a couple of times, but she didn't seem to hear what I was saying. As if a part of me, everything that is not on the surface, simply did not exist.
Then, when she hung up, I started to get angry. I couldn't understand why we never had a "real" conversation. It always looked like we were "talking to" each other rather than "talking to" each other. Every time I made a promise to myself that I would not let it affect me. I'm just going to live the way I live and pretend this call never happened.
Then came another Tuesday. And everything repeated again. Today will be different, I thought to myself. “Today is going to be real.” But this never happened.
I would like my feelings towards my mother and our relationship to change. I knew that as a Christian, I could try to change that. But I felt fear and helplessness. I was afraid of losing even this insignificant relationship. If I “disturb the peace”, will I lose everything? At least those Tuesday conversations were predictable. Of course, this could not be called a full-fledged relationship, but still it was better than nothing.
In addition to fear, I was also haunted by a feeling as if I was swinging on an emotional “pendulum”. Former indifference has long since given way to a stormy stream of conflicting feelings. There were days when I felt intense love for my mother, and then there were days when I also hated her intensely. Sometimes I just could not understand what I wanted from her - or from myself. I was completely confused...
Why do I need this relationship right now? This question confused me the most. The seeming indifference I felt as a child gradually gave way to a growing need for emotional intimacy with her.
I thought that by becoming a Christian, I would get rid of these desires. I have become quite adept at suppressing my needs for care, love, acceptance, and support. After all, God promised to take care of all my needs, didn't He? and if I still have these emotional needs, then I'm not such a good Christian.
Now I understand what exactly was wrong in this way of thinking. My emotional wounds needed to be healed before I was able to accept the care, love, and protection that God offered me. I had to get rid of the walls of self-sufficiency, control and pride so that Jesus could enter. And it was scary! I had a big decision to make: Do I just want to look healed, or do I want to be healed? I chose the second.
How did my decision to "let" God into my life affect my relationship with my mother? First, I realized that I needed to set some boundaries in my own life and also take the lead in our relationship. My next step was to make a list of everything I wanted to say to my mother, and then I had to call her myself. It gave me the freedom to say what I wanted and to express my own feelings rather than waiting for her to acknowledge their existence.
By 5 p.m. the following Tuesday, my list was ready. I decided it was time to tell her the names of those with whom I live, describe my house and neighbors. I also wanted to tell you a little more about my work and how happy I am with it. I also wanted to talk about how important Christianity is to me. And I also wanted to talk about how I feel now that my best friend has moved to another city. Our first conversation was not very successful, but I still managed to talk about one of the items on the list. I realized that my expectations were somewhat overstated. But I felt the satisfaction of allowing God to give me the courage to make that call myself.
My relationship with my mother is still far from ideal. She still doesn't know my feelings towards her. But I listen to God much more than before. I know that He will continue to work in my relationship with my mother.
THE MANIPULATING MOTHER: CINDY'S STORY
Cindy's anger at her mother until the moment of her death was hidden from prying eyes. However, she condemned her mother and acted accordingly. Their relationship was based on mutual distrust, which made the hopes for rapprochement very illusory.
One day - I was only four years old - my grandfather's endless teasing deeply hurt my feelings, and I burst into tears. My father, not knowing what to do in such a situation, took me to the bedroom and told me to stay there until I calmed down.
I felt resentment and misunderstanding - as if I was being punished for doing something wrong. My mother fully supported the act of my father. She said nothing to me when I went downstairs again, and only nodded in approval, noticing that I had obeyed my father.
For my mother, this was a typical reaction. She never protected me from my father, from his insensitivity towards me. Rather, she preferred to warn me or teach me how to act to please him. And since that incident, I've learned to protect my feelings. I vowed never to show my emotional self to my mom and dad again, and this decision, of course, created a wall between us. Thus began a long road to mutual distrust between me and my parents.
When I became a teenager, this distrust began to bear fruit. By that time, my attitude towards my mother could be described something like this: She does not have her own opinion. She is terribly afraid of her father and obeys him in everything. She would rather lie and try to manipulate him than go into open confrontation. Some of this was true. The father could leave the house for a few days if the quarrel was too noisy. And I'm sure my mother was afraid that he might not return.
Direct, open communication with my parents was not for me. I lived a double life, playing several roles at once: one at home, being insincerely accommodating, another at school - an "over" successful student, another in my spare time, trying to find meaning in life, love and acceptance. Gradually, I hid my feelings more and more, sometimes even drowning them out with alcohol, just to somehow survive in this world. And then, in my third year of college, I met a woman who seemed to give me unconditional love. It was exactly what I had been looking for for years. Not so much time passed, and our relationship ceased to be platonic. We lived together for about five years.
I never told my mother about my homosexual affection, and did not even suspect that she knew about my secret. But a few years ago, my sister and I were talking, and she said that one day my mother warned her to stay away from me, because I live with my roommate “like a man with a woman.” I was stunned by this discovery.
My mother died a few years after I became a Christian. Although I left the old way of life, I never worked out the “mother issue”. I was too busy trying to figure out how to live like a "Christian". When my mother died, I still blamed my father—not my mother—for the way my life had turned out. The first analysis of the “mother question” took place only a few years later.
After my mother died, I mentally and emotionally placed her under reliable protection - I could no longer blame her for my problems, and no matter what she did, the issue was settled. Besides, I thought it would be wrong to blame the dead - after all, she wouldn't even be able to defend herself.
A few years after my mother's death, I turned to the services of a Christian psychotherapist. In the process of treatment, I realized that I put my mother on a pedestal. To my consultant, I drew an image of a perfect mother and described our relationship as perfect, but somewhat restrained. When the consultant pointed this out to me, I realized that I was just fooling myself. And from that moment on, I began to look more honestly at my relationship with my mother.
Gradually, the emotions that I had suppressed for a long time began to surface, and I was finally able to express my anger. I was angry with my mother because of my father. I resented that she protected him at my expense. I distinctly remember how she lied to me to avoid a confrontation with her father. In a sense, I took on her "brokenness", which she passed on to me. I saw her extreme dependence (on her father) hidden under the mask of manipulation, and I was indignant that she did not put my feelings in anything, just to "keep the peace." She was most afraid of losing her father, and therefore made any sacrifices to keep him.
Since I couldn't yell at a woman who had already died, I got behind the wheel and drove out of town, muttering to myself and complaining to nowhere along the way. When I returned, I flung myself furiously on the pillow, screaming in anger and frustration.
The turning point came when I gradually began to understand her own brokenness and brokenness and the problems in the family that she faced. This new perspective helped me understand some of her actions, which in turn led to feelings of compassion. To forgive her and bring healing to my relationship with my mother, I resorted to prayer.
While praying with a female prayer counselor, I imagined my mother sitting in the living room. Although she was already seriously ill, she called me over to sit with her. She just wanted me to be there, to have her hand in mine. She said "I love you dear" and I said "I love you mom". For a while, I just enjoyed this moment, but I knew it was time to tell her all the things I was always afraid to say. I started with good news. Even though I used to be a lesbian, I'm done with it now. From her reaction, one could tell that she had already known about this for some time. I said that Christ had changed me so much that I would never have this kind of relationship with a woman again in my life. She said she knew and that she was proud of me. She confirmed that she would love me no matter which path I took, but she was glad that I had changed.
Encouraged by the beginning, I told her that she had hurt me and recalled times when I felt betrayed or abandoned. She replied "My dear, I'm sorry, please forgive me." We both burst into tears, my head lay on her chest, and I gave vent to tears. (In reality, at that moment I hugged the woman with whom we prayed together).
After a while, the tears subsided, and I said that I knew that I did not give her enough chances to reconcile. I rejected her too soon, and I apologize for that. There were tears and hugs again... At the end of this meeting, my mother said that it was time for her to go and that I should let her go. I really didn't want to, but I said "okay".
When we finished praying, I found that I had used up a whole box of tissues… But for the first time in my life, I had the feeling that Jesus really had power over my relationship with my mother. I no longer possessed anger towards my mother. It was as if I handed it over to Jesus… And at the same time, I very much felt His presence next to me, bringing consolation. And there was also a feeling of closeness between me and my mom that had never been there before.
MOTHER IS "MY BEST FRIEND": THE STORY OF LOUIS
Louis, my roommate at one of the conferences, made a shocking statement: "You know, Janet, now I understand that I was my mother's best friend." It came as a complete surprise to me - I've never heard that before! But since I got involved in the ministry of ex-lesbian girls, I have met other women who were best friends with their mothers.
However, Louis's relationship with his mother led to one significant problem. Gradually, Louis became a "fix" for her mother - she allowed her mother's needs to control their relationship. Thus, Luis protected and cared for just the one who should have protected and cared for Luis herself. This reversal of roles resulted in a delay in emotional growth for both Luis and her mother.
I often came to home group meetings, but it was difficult for me to get along with all these women who seemed to associate all the most negative things with their own mothers. It seemed to me that this is a somewhat simplified and unfair view of things.
They laughed at me when I said that I had no "problems with my mother." But I really meant it. And where should they be from? Mom and I were best friends.
People often took us for sisters. She kept no secrets from me. I first gained her trust when she and my father separated. She quietly sneaked into my bedroom in the evening and poured out her heart to me. I don’t know how a ten-year-old girl can help in such a situation, but it was nice to be able to somehow help her mother. She needed me, and I really appreciated this special time that we spent together.
So my lesbian attraction puzzled me. My case did not fit into the "classical" model of the "negative" mother-daughter relationship.
Then I asked God to let me know if this special friendship had any effect on the formation of attraction, and if so, to bring healing. God is faithful. He showed me what my "mothering question" was, leading me to make a list of my former mistresses. And then I saw something that I had not noticed before - all five were at least fifteen years older than me. They all belonged to the same generation as my mother!
After that, about a week after making the list, I prayed one night. And while I was praying, God reminded me of an incident that happened when I was 11 years old.
My friends came for me to go rollerblading. I had already kissed my mother goodbye when she leaned back on the couch and groaned softly. "Don't go, dear," she whispered. "Mommy needs you."
I glanced at my friends, who were hovering impatiently near the door. “But Mom…” I started, trying to free my hand. Useless. She looked at me with her sad eyes, and I realized that there would be no commercials today.
Following this, God reminded me of other incidents from my childhood: a birthday that I couldn't go to; disappointment from missed summer camp; a cocktail party I had to attend when I was twelve; and the few times I had to console my mother after finding her crying in the bathroom.
And then I felt everything inside me tensed from the flood of memories. I clenched my fists and froze… For the first time in my life, I felt anger towards my mother. “My childhood ended with her divorce. I lost all my friends because of her. Where was she when I needed her? I needed a mother, not a girlfriend!”
Sixteen years of anger and resentment suddenly came to light that night as I finally realized the position I was in. I cried for a child who suddenly had to grow up. I wept for a twelve-year-old girl who was gradually abandoned by her friends until she was finally alone. In the course of further counseling, I realized how much I lacked the care and security that my mother should have given me. Not only was I neglected, I also took on the role of protector and “breadwinner” for my mom when my parents divorced.
After that, it was not difficult to explain the trend in choosing my partners. It was not only age that mattered - I also expected them to care and feel protected. And, of course, I assumed the role of "child" in our relationship. Perhaps in this way, I tried to catch up as a child. Luckily, I was able to convey this sense of loss in a frank conversation with my mother. She was terribly ashamed at first, but God really helped her accept it. I forgave her for imposing on me the role of "caring parent" and asked her forgiveness for not letting her out of the role of "child".
Then there was a time of joint regrets about what should have been. But through frank communication, we were gradually able to build a new strong relationship that delights both of us.
A MOTHER ABSORBED IN HERSELF: ALISON'S STORY
Many women who become mothers are still very young physically and/or emotionally, and in one way or another they themselves need a lot. Thus, they are not able to fully care for their children - they themselves need to be looked after.
Alison grew up with needs that her alcoholic mother could not meet. Later, by herself "slamming the door" on everything that her mother still had to offer her, Alison closed the path to the development of further relationships.
Coming home from an intensive inner healing workshop, I was reminded of what Leanne Payne had said in her talk. “If you are unable to recall any of the events from your childhood that you asked Jesus to remind you for further healing, it is possible that the memories are not returning due to some deep grief or resentment. The root cause of this grief must be dealt with before the healing process can continue.”
During the seminar I did not see any pictures from my childhood. At first I thought that it was pride that kept them from showing up, but now I wondered if grief or resentment was the reason for this. I parked at the curb and turned off the engine. Then I took a deep breath and said aloud, “God, I don’t want this sadness to keep sinking me to the ground. I can't believe it's sadness, but it's very similar to the way You usually lead me, so please help me understand."
Immediately I felt a deep sadness towards my father. Although I thought I had completely forgiven him, I began to remember specific cases from the past that had not yet been touched by the healing process. I repented of my unforgiveness towards him. I also asked the Lord to heal my old reactions to old hurts. However, in spirit I felt only a slight relief. There must be something else, I thought.
Then I started thinking about my mom. To my surprise, the feeling of pain and grief intensified. I really wanted to end it all and return to a safe, comfortable state, but I continued. The more I confessed forgiveness to my mother (and myself), the more I cried until the crying turned into sobs. I prayed to God to help me regain control of my emotions. But some deep-seated feelings were awakening, and there was no hope that control over emotions would soon be restored.
Through tears, I continued: “Mom, I forgive you for the fact that you were never the way I would like you to be. I forgive you for the fact that alcohol consumed your whole life and you hardly noticed anything else around you. I forgive you for… for never hugging me lovingly.”
I was struck by the words that had just come out of my mouth. I sat silently until the meaning of what was said came to my mind. Then the tears came again. So what is this, Jesus? That is the reason for sadness. My mother never hugged me.
Yes, she never cared about me - at least that's how I saw it. Now everything is finally clear! That's why I ended up becoming a lesbian. I constantly looked to other women for an opportunity to satisfy my need for motherly love.
Another thought hit me again. I myself rejected any concern that my mother may have tried to express, because I was afraid that rejection would follow. Yes, she tried, but I did not accept anything, because I had already rebelled against her. No wonder lesbianism turned out to be a frustratingly hopeless lifestyle, I thought. It was built on rejection and resistance.
I continued to sit in silence as the Lord surrounded my soul with His peace, comfort, and love. What an amazing relief I experienced! I carried this burden of sadness for so long that I almost stopped noticing it. It filled me with joy that I had finally really forgiven my mother for my lack of love for me and forgave myself for moving away from her and for resisting all her attempts to take care of me. And the Lord seemed to be telling me, "This is just the beginning, Alison." Finally, I understood what was at the heart of our strained relationship with my mother. And I knew that He would show me what the next step should be to make things right. His answer was simple: "Pray." God knew I couldn't just run home and tell her everything that happened today - she wouldn't understand. So I prayed and asked Him to create an opportunity so that the healing of our relationship could begin.
Over the course of our several subsequent meetings with my mother, I noticed that my feelings towards her changed. I felt that this was the beginning of a renewal of our relationship, but nothing much happened. Every time I went to see her, I asked the Lord to use me to show His love in His own way. And I also asked for His help in breaking down the barriers I was building in relationships, as well as in getting rid of the unnecessary expectations that I placed on my mother.
About a month after that day in the car, I got a call - my mom and dad invited me to watch the movie Jesus of Nazareth together, which was shown on TV. They teased me that I might be able to explain the story to them, but they also said that it would be great to have the whole family together for Easter. I agreed.
We sat quietly waiting for the final episodes of the film. Jesus was about to die on the cross. And then, for no reason on my part, my mother looked at me and said: “Alison, why don’t you come and sit next to me?” I couldn't believe my ears! After recovering from a moment of amazement, I immediately took advantage of the opportunity. I curled up on the sofa and laid my head in her lap like a child, and my mother gently stroked my hair, and we watched as Jesus, the Healer, was crucified.
I looked at her and said, “Yes, we haven’t done this in a long time,” although I thought to myself, “We have never done this before.” “I know,” she whispered. “But it’s so great… we should do it more often.”
That's all I needed. Tears were quietly streaming down my face as I thought about how good my Lord is. Then I turned back to the screen and watched the scene where Jesus dies. What an amazing moment it was for the birth of a mother-daughter relationship of love, a relationship that God created for this.
Mom looked at me. “Are you crying because Jesus was crucified?”
“Yes,” I replied. “And also because I love you, Mom.”
She smiled softly. "And I love you too".
I couldn't find anything similar on the internet so I had to figure it out myself. Read below the original. Please do NOT drink too much!
15-year-old daughter was not at home. Mom went into the room and saw the letter.
"Dear mommy! I went to live with my boyfriend. He is gorgeous with his tattoos and piercings. But that's not the main thing - the fact that I'm pregnant. Ahmed said that we would be very happy in his trailer. The trailer is in the forest. Ahmed wants to have many children, that's my dream too. I learned a lot from Ahmed. By the way, marijuana is a completely harmless herb. We will grow it in the yard for us and our friends, and they will treat us to cocaine and ecstasy. In the meantime, pray so that they can find a cure for AIDS faster so that Ahmed can feel better.He deserves it.Mommy!Don't worry!I'm 15 years old and I can take care of myself.
Someday I will come to you so that you can see your grandchildren. Your loving daughter.
P.S. Mom! Actually, I'm next door. I just want to tell you that much more unpleasant things can happen in life than the report card with my grades, which lies in the top drawer of the table.
The daughter returns home and sees that her mother is not there, her report card and the following note are on the table.
“Dear daughter, I didn’t want to tell you all this, but I read your note and I see that you are already quite an adult, and therefore you will not be shocked by the coming changes.
I myself am attracted to tattoos, so your father and I decided to make joint ones, on the body and face, so to speak, he has roses, and I have thorns! I think it will look especially good at your graduation this year. I understand that in your privileged school, friends and teachers will look askance at this, but the main thing is that you have no problems with this!
Your optimism about the trailer makes me even more happy, because just the other day I was talking with your aunt, and we agreed that her daughters would live with us. They will share your room and there will be, I think, even more space than in the trailer. Thank you for letting me know how much you know how and love to share your living space with loved ones. I wouldn't be able to!
But I completely agree with you that children are cool! Your dad and I were just talking the other day, deciding to have 2x-3x more. I think this will be just an invaluable experience for you, especially since neither my dad nor I have much time to babysit them and never will. And considering your report card, college can be safely postponed.
There will be frank problems with cocaine and ecstasy. And not at all because they can be imprisoned for up to 20 years, but simply because our family genetics suggests a quick overdose. That is why my grandmother and I tried not to let you in on all the details of your grandfather's death. But now you are an adult and able to survive the truth!
Overall, I'm happy and proud to have such a bright, smart daughter who can take care of herself. In the top drawer of your desk, you'll find the Michigan Penal Code. Please pay special attention to the chapters on the personal responsibility of teenagers before the law and that parents have every legal right to do with them whatever they see fit before the age of 19.5. So we still have 4.5 happy years ahead of us! Well, or until you fix your grades and go to college!
In the meantime, this terrible time for me has NOT come, kindly, clean up the house while my dad and I have dinner at a restaurant.
Kiss, my love!
Your mother"
Katya was a strange girl. Not completely abnormal, but there was definitely something strange about her. Katya loved walking around the cemetery, at night she did not sleep, but opened the window and looked there for a very long time, during the day she did not play with the girls from the yard, but with her favorite toy - a small doll "Brother". She was 14. I forgot to say - Katya was a foster child. The foster parents were not evil, but on the contrary - they loved Katya, but among them she felt lonely. She did not know her mother at all, and her stepmother said that when she and her stepfather walked around the cemetery, near one of the graves they found a newborn child with a Brats doll.
The doll itself was very strange. I don't think you've ever seen it in stores. She was 2 times larger than a simple doll, from clothes she only had a white dress with long wide sleeves, without a collar, it itself was long and spacious. Her hair was light golden long and flowing. The lips are almost white, the eyes are green. Katya looked very much like a doll, only her lips were pink. Parents took Katya to psychologists, but everyone said that the girl was absolutely normal.
Katya did not play in the yard, not only because of her “oddities”. The children thought that she was a witch or a living dead and were afraid of her, and if there were daredevils, they drove Katya away. One day, strange things began to happen. One boy in the yard saw that Katya was sitting on a bench and playing with a doll. He decided that she was summoning some kind of spirit to destroy the city and started throwing stones at her. As a result, he hit the girl in the temple and blood began to flow from there, and the boy ran up to Katya and began to beat her with a huge stone in the stomach. Katya would have died if her mother had not looked out the window to call her daughter for dinner.
- He beat Katya! How dare he?! - the ghost hovered back and forth in the cemetery, - How dare he touch her ?! But he will pay! - the ghost stopped abruptly and his eyes lit up, - He will pay! - it was night over the cemetery and the ghost flew out of there and flew through the night streets.
Here is his house. She flew into the window. Here he is, lying on the bed. She had a thought. Then she flew out into the yard and collected stones. Back in his apartment. It won't be good if he screams. She tore off a piece from her long dress and tied the boy's mouth. The ghostly girl (well, or a little older) flew a few meters away and threw the first stone. She hit him in the stomach - he woke up. She smiled and continued throwing rocks at him. He writhed and moaned. What a pleasure! Finally, his whole body was covered in bruises and bruises. Finally she threw a large stone at his head. He punched her. He didn't move anymore. She smiled and swam back to the cemetery. "He won't touch Katenka again," she thought, sitting down on her grave.
Katya woke up. She stared out the window much longer than usual last night. The body ached, and the head was simply torn from pain. She left the room, took the doll out of the little bed, and went into the kitchen.
“Remember that bad boy?
- The one that offended Katya? Damn take him!
- But he took it.
- What are you talking about, dear?
“He was found dead in bed today.
— Really?
- Yes. They threw stones at him. No evidence. Only one.
— What is it?
His mouth was tied with a piece of white cloth. The Katya doll has the same dress. Well, it happened, you have no idea!
- And what happened?
That fabric was unusual. Light, viscous, almost transparent. When the policeman took this fabric, it turned into smoke!
- Yes I know.
Then Katya entered the kitchen, the parents fell silent at once. Katya had breakfast and went out into the yard. All the children shied away from her. The thing is, they thought it was Katya who killed that boy. And there was one girl in that company - Dasha. She was very close friends with that boy and was even rumored to be in love with him. And she gathered 2-3 girls around her and they decided to take revenge on Katya together.
In the evening, the stepmother asked Katya to take out the trash. Katya took the package and went to the garbage dump. And between the garbage dump and the house in which Katya lived there was another small abandoned shed. Katya walked past him, threw out the garbage and came back home. Meanwhile at the barn...
Dasha and her friends decided that it would be better to attack Katya at night. They met near the shed and hid behind it. The company took with them matches, rope, needles and adhesive tape. They decided to drag Katya inside and mock her there. Here she is. Katya threw out the garbage and was just passing by the shed. They already wanted to pounce on her, but then a ghost blocked their way! ..
She sat on the grave and recalled how she dealt with that boy. Then she felt something! Fear! "Katya" - this name exploded in the ghost's head. Then she flew out of the cemetery like a bullet! She didn't know what was leading her, but she knew it was the right path. Yes, she was right. There's a bunch of girls out there. And the objects in their hands do not bode well for Katya. And here is Katya! She has almost reached the barn! The ghost rushed down. They won't dare to do it! She had already almost descended to the ground and blocked the girls' path. Everyone collapsed into a swoon. Then she dragged them into the basement. She looked outside for a moment. Katya entered the house. That's good. Then she dived back. First she tied the captives, then sealed her mouth with tape. Then she started sticking needles into them. They woke up, tried to scream, but to no avail. They were in pain, they moaned. Then the ghost lit matches and threw them at the girls. They burned so beautifully! Just lovely. Finally, they are dead. They will know! It leaked through the wall of the barn and flew back to the cemetery.
Nobody offended Katya. Everyone was afraid. And Kate was all right. She understood that someone was protecting her, someone dear, and her heart felt lighter. And she noticed something else. It seemed to her that her doll began to come to life! Often, when even Katya had cold hands, the doll was warm, sometimes the doll slightly shook or shook her head, and her eyes were alive. One day something happened.
I miss Kate so much. the ghost said to itself. I feel so lonely without her. She is alive and I am dead. But she will be with me! The idea seeped into the ghost's head. - She will die. Fast and painless. She won't even notice when she dies. And she will be with me. - The ghost flew out of the cemetery.
Here is the window into Katya's room. And the doll sleeps in the crib. A smile crossed his transparent face. She still keeps my gift, she thought, and smiled again. She flew in through the window and walked over to the doll's bed. She leaned over and whispered something to the doll. She barely nodded. The ghost flew back.
Katya had a dream, as if she woke up. Everything in the room is as usual, but her favorite doll is not in the crib. Kate looked around the room. And I saw that her doll was sitting on the table. Then her mouth opened and she said:
“Your mom will pick you up soon. Do you want your real mother?
- Certainly! I want it so much! Katya exclaimed.
“Your mother will come and pick you up soon. Do you know how she will do it?
- Are you afraid of death?
- Then wait ... - after that Katya woke up.
Grebneva began to worry about her adopted daughter. She became somewhat pale and taciturn and smiled strangely all the time. She began to carry that strange doll with her more often than usual.
The next day things got worse. Now Katya not only carried this “strange doll” everywhere, but also whispered with her! Her parents took her to a psychiatrist, but this did not work.
Katya went to bed. The doll quietly whispered to her, "Tonight." Katya was looking forward to this night with impatience and fear. But then, finally, the night came. At 03.03 a wind blew through the open window. Cool and mysterious. And with it, what is transparent and light! Katya peered and realized that this was a ghostly girl of about 20 years old.
She smiled and said:
- Hi, Katya.
- Yes it's me. I missed you so much! The ghost flew closer
“I missed you too, Mom!”
Today you will be just like me. A knife flashed in the ghost's hand.
- Good. Katya took a knife and stuck it in her chest.
Grebneva heard some conversation from Katya's room. "Who can Katya talk to?" Grebneva thought and went to her adopted daughter's room. Oh God! Katya was lying on the bed, and there was a knife in her chest! "Mom" fainted.
The next day, Katya was buried with a blissful smile on her face. No one understood this smile, except for the ghosts of Katya and her mother, who stood nearby and were glad that they were finally together.
Hello! Children's grievances remain with us for a long time, if not forever ... A child can be offended by a word. You can look, your act, inattention, indifference. Today I will tell you a real story that happened in front of my eyes.
One case does not come out of my head. We were traveling with our youngest son in the bus. At the next stop, a woman with a girl of 8-9 years old entered. The woman looked tired, her hair disheveled, her face reddened. In her hand she held a huge bundle that looked like a packed chandelier.
The girl looked normal. Only her eyes were very sad.
So they sat down in their seats, a few seats away from us, facing us. The woman immediately began to say something to her daughter, trying to say more quietly. She gesticulated vigorously with her hands.
As her monologue (and it was just a monologue, because the girl was silent and only briefly answered some questions), the woman became more and more inflamed. She could no longer control the volume of her speech, could no longer control herself...
Within 5 minutes I understood their situation. The woman had to pick up her daughter from school because her stomach hurt.
The situation in Moscow schools is as follows: if a child complains of being unwell, he is taken to the school doctor. The doctor examines (at the level of his professionalism) and either sends to the hospital, or offers to go home. But the child cannot leave the school by himself. They call his parents to come and pick him up. They won't let him go alone.
This is exactly what happened to our characters.
The woman, apparently, was extremely unhappy with this circumstance. She reprimanded the girl that she was tired of picking her up from school, that she was tired of her sores, she was tired of her lies that supposedly something was hurting her.
Periodically, the lady glanced at me and her son and tried to speak more quietly, but she did not succeed well. She kept pushing herself. At the same time, mother was not shy in expressions. The most innocuous word applied to daughter is the word for the female domestic dog.
The girl sat silently and sadly looked out the window. She didn't argue, she didn't make excuses, she didn't cry. She just kept silent.
Then her mother threatened her that now she would come home and do her homework, and not lie down to rest after school. She will not eat, play, but will “fly from corner to corner”. However, she never offered the child to go to the doctor, to be examined. It didn't even cross her mind.
In general, we drove for about 10 minutes. And during these long minutes, my own mother poured so much dirt on her daughter, accused her of all crimes, promised a bunch of punishments.
She ended her tirade with the words: “You will regret it, p. ka that was born into the world!
My God! This is your child, who was once born, smiled at you for the first time, said the first word (and this word was MOM), took the first step!
I invite my readers to visit the webinar of child and family psychologist Ekaterina Kes On the same wavelength with the child .
At the webinar you:
- Learn to bond with your baby
- Learn to listen and hear it;
- Find out what mistakes parents make every day when communicating with their child;
- Learn to answer questions in such a way that children want to tell you even more.
What should I have done? Go up to my aunt and tell me what I think about this? I wanted to, yes. But then I thought that since she is not shy about anyone, including her daughter, what can she tell me? Yes, whatever! Send obscenities, scold, something else ...
And my child will see and hear all this??? This can result in psychological trauma. And I abandoned my intention. Maybe I'm wrong, I'm not arguing.
In all this history the child suffers. What is it like to hear such words from the closest and dearest person? And if a mother does not hesitate to humiliate her daughter in front of everyone, then what does she allow herself to be alone with her? How to stop it?
How to protect children from domestic violence? Perhaps she also beats the girl. What happens next when she grows up? Is this “mother” now sure that her adult daughter will not send her through the forest in the same way? Are you sure that she will not throw her, the old one, into the street? You say yes, it will happen.
But the child suffers now and now continues to LOVE his unlucky mother. Yes, the most interesting thing is that no matter what the mother is, the child loves her. He loves and hopes for a reciprocal feeling!
Watch the video of the pop vocal school "Indigo" - song "MAMA":
Don't hurt your children. Love them! Do not betray children's love! After all, there is nothing more faithful in the world than the smile of your child. And childhood grievances received in childhood can pass into the adult life of the baby.
And finally look Show of the Ural dumplings "Angles":
