The story of how hard it is to find the ideal man, but how to raise your son to become one

It is not easy to survive the betrayal of a loved one, not fall into despondency and still remain the best mother for your children. Tatiana Grishina, author of the channel “Notes of the evil one” (“Notes of the evil one”) on the site “Yandex”, brings convincing evidence that this bad stage is only fleeting. In the end, life will put everything back in place for those who pass the test.

After reading this story, the awesome.club asked himself: “Who are the men of today? How to educate them from childhood?”

My relatively small, yet so familiar and cozy world fell apart when I turned 34. Before, everything was fine: he had his own house and a beautiful family. Today, however, everything has turned into lies and frustrations.

My own husband filed for divorce without notice and continued to live in the same house with me, smiling at me and the kids over dinner. We later received divorce papers in the mail, with a subpoena and date set.

— I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time — said the most important person in the world to me until that moment — it’ll be better this way. I can’t stand lying anymore.

“And what are you going to do now?” — Asked my desperate mother when she found out about our divorce. — How are you going to do now, with two children, no job and no home? Your grandfather and younger sister are living with me.

My mother’s lamentations about this bitterness in my life were directed directly at my ex-husband and me and made me feel even more guilty: “you couldn’t”, “you were weak”, “you should have fought for your family”🇧🇷

But fight for what? Against who? Everything was great between us until tonight. Until I found the letter in the mail.

“If only I had any reason to quarrel!” said my grandfather in the wheelchair. “It wasn’t a battle, beautiful! Don’t be upset, everything will be fine. My grandchildren will grow up and will not disappear.

But I still wasn’t ready to hear that things were going to be okay.

— You don’t have to work, — my husband said, 3 years before, when we were leaving the hospital with our 4 year old son, — our son needs you, stay at home taking care of and educating him. At least until school starts.

And I stayed at home. I looked after and educated our son and also took our daughter, Nika, to the music conservatory. Soon, our son had started school, our daughter was almost 15, but I I had no job and the apartment, which was in my husband’s name before we were married, would have to be vacated by the end of the week.

“You have that old country house of ours,” said my ex-husband, Kolya, “I can help carry your things and you can carry the dishes, cutlery, washing machine, refrigerator, etc.

“Wow, thank you so much, my dear husband. Of course I’ll take it. The fridge and the washing machine. In an old house that has no water pipes and no space for a refrigerator.

When I received this house, after my grandparents passed away, he refused to do any work saying that we already had a nice apartment and that this house would just be a country house for us to visit from time to time. Well, that house would be where I would have to live from then on. With my children.

“Ow, it smells damp,” Nika said as she entered the house. “I don’t want to live here, Mom. I want to go home.

Kolya left quickly so he wouldn’t have to explain to his daughter that this would be her home from then on. After a week, after coming home from school, Nika began to pack a suitcase with her things.

“I have a choice,” she cried, “I’m going to live with my father.” I don’t want to be here collecting firewood and without hot water. You couldn’t keep Daddy, so why should I have to suffer?

I didn’t hold my daughter. My little Misha, my son, clung to me like a bear and just hugged me with his still tiny hands.

How did my son and I survive our first winter in the old house? I don’t know how to tell you that I woke up at 2 am to gather firewood and keep the fire going so it wouldn’t be cold when my son woke up. After school, Misha would carefully gather wood into a pile so we could put them in the oven at night again to heat the house.

I also don’t know how to tell about the buckets we had to carry together for the day’s bath. I don’t know what to say about the alimony I wasn’t getting and how we didn’t pay the cashier at the market what we really owed. And then there were my mother’s scoldings:

“Your daughter ran away to live with her father and a strange woman, and you sit there and do nothing. What mother is this? Keep your eyes open, you’re going to lose your child too.

“Nobody’s going to take me anywhere,” my son said seriously, frowning, “I’m not leaving here. Much less to move in with HIM. And I already see Nika at school.

After a year a miracle happened! My house entered the resettlement zone because of the school built nearby. For this reason, the government provided us with a new apartment, with a huge playground and a sports center. It wasn’t very big, but it had enough space for the two of us.

— Mom, — called my daughter, — can I move in with you?

– Clear! Come my love. – I answered.

And again, my mother and friends disapproved of my too “light” attitude:

“She chose to live with her father, so let her stay with her father. What must have happened? Now mom’s apartment is new and she decides to live with you.

Nika arrived with the bags, embarrassed and with her head down. Then she started crying in the doorway. She cried and whispered incoherently:

“I thought that…he said that…but he was the traitor…why are they all like that?” They fought every day. And I was to blame. And the younger sister cried all day. That woman counted how many times we had washed the dishes. And she complained afterwards that I ate too much. And my father… what kind of man is this?

“He never stood up for me… and told me to call her Mom. What mother is this?

So I comforted my daughter, who for the first time had to deal with the betrayal of the person closest to her at that time.🇧🇷 I just stroked her hair while wiping her tears.

We sat on the floor, in the hallway, among the bags my ex-husband had brought to my door — and he didn’t even want to go in to see his own son.

“Mom,” my daughter looked up, her eyes puffy and still childlike, “are they all like this?” Is there no good?

At that time, Misha came out of the bathroom after installing a lightbulb, saying that he would talk to everyone in the building if it didn’t work and hugged us with those little 8-year-old arms of his.

“There are no good men, is that what you said?” I asked my daughter. “Well, I know at least one!”

Our only man, then, tried to pick up his sister’s heavy bag, making a noise like a strong and dangerous lion, trying to wipe the tears from our faces and win a smile:

“Let’s end the sadness here!” There’s no reason to cry, everything will be fine!