I rebelled against my parents a year ago, and today I’m happy!
Too often, we delay demanding what we rightfully deserve from life. At times, I feel like a mighty river charging through vast landscapes—sometimes flowing smoothly, other times meeting obstacles that force it to find alternative routes. Cities are scattered along its banks—some shine with beauty and joy, while others are grim, full of anger, and seem to reek of malice.
All the emotions from these contrasting places seem to pour into its waters. Yet, it must keep flowing, bringing joy to people and reviving the land. Eventually, it carries everything into a vast ocean—a bottomless reservoir of emotions and stories.
But you know what? I don’t want things to remain this way any longer! Why can’t the river rebel? Why can’t it flood its banks, turn into a downpour, a hurricane, and raise waves to the sky? I want that right—to break free from my course!
Enough with the nature imagery, enough with despair and empty dreams. That is all behind me now.
Here’s my story.
Life in Six Figures
I was nine when my parents announced I must learn the violin. I didn’t want to. Yet every day, I sat down to practice and suffered. It wasn’t for me—I dreamed of painting.
At twelve, they forbade me from spending time with a girl next door—claiming I was too young for such friendships.
At fourteen, they decided I’d go to a specialist math school. I wanted to become a designer.
When I turned eighteen, I followed my parents’ strict directions again—I enrolled in the economics department.
At twenty, I fell in love with Alice. One night, I stayed at her place too late and missed the last bus. I had no money for a taxi, nor a phone to let anyone know. The next morning, my father slapped me so hard my jaw still remembers the crack.
At twenty-three, they introduced me to the woman chosen to be my wife—it was the norm in our community, deemed the right thing to do. We married. Children came along. We raised them, and soon it was time to choose their paths in life.
Enough Plans!
One day, my parents and wife declared they had decided everything for our children—who, where, and what they would study. For years ahead. What? Seriously? That’s when I snapped. How many lives did they intend to script to their rules?
With their rigid outlook, they crushed any spark in me, turning me into a puppet on strings. And my wife? What was she thinking? I screamed—it was a cry from the heart. It was as though I saw my life in full for the first time—a giant maze stretched out under an endless sky over a boundless plain.
And in that sky, I noticed tiny stars I hadn’t seen before. All the details of my life, which I had ignored, flared up with such intensity they blinded me.
I could no longer bear it. I couldn’t remain spineless. I couldn’t be a sponge absorbing everything blindly. I couldn’t be the sole of someone else’s boot. I couldn’t—and I didn’t have the right. I had to protect my children.
No one would dictate how I live anymore. No one would chart out my days and make decisions for me or my children. No one had that right.
Speaking of “rights”—I never loved the economics I studied. I didn’t want to pursue it. But now, I intended to use all my knowledge to erase the past and move forward.
The divorce was straightforward. The children feared her—she treated them like subordinates: harshly, with physical discipline, with punishments. The judge didn’t hesitate for a moment, ruling in my favor and chastising her for cruelty.
And my parents? I severed all ties with them. It was time they saw life differently. Changed. Made concessions if they wanted to see their grandchildren and keep their son.
One Lift, Two Calls
A year went by before they showed up at my door—two changed people, as if they’d finally drawn honest conclusions from their lives. Two people who spent decades living by empty dogmas, thereby destroying all the beauty of each day, every dream and aspiration, the entire wonder of feelings.
The meeting was brief but astounding: for the first time, I felt I had loving and genuine parents. Why brief? Because half an hour later, the doorbell rang again.
They immediately got up, saying it was time for them to go, and asked me to call when I was ready. Two minutes after they left, the lift stopped on my floor. Out stepped Alice. Yes, the same Alice I still secretly loved and dreamed about. They had found her—told her everything about me, apologized to her. They cried. They repented for everything they had done.
Without Chains, Without Limits
Alice won over my children with her kindness and passion for life. For the first time, they experienced what it meant to have a loving and understanding parent. Strict, fair, forgiving, always ready to listen. That is my Alice. Her presence in our lives was like a new birth—as if we had never known spring or summer before, and now we lived in eternal summer, day after day, full of warmth and love.
A year later, we welcomed our third child—yes, all three are ours, mine and Alice’s. And we are an incredibly happy family.
My parents are now like a renewed version of themselves—as if, for the first time, they’ve allowed themselves to relax and live without endless chains and restrictions. Our life is wonderful. I don’t regret the past, but I know the river shouldn’t wait too long—it’s better to wake up on time and rise. It’s worth it in the end.
