I am 28 years old. I broke up with my girlfriend 3 years ago, we were together for 8 years, I had quite a lot of girls before her to understand that this is her.

Completely not my previous type, cheerful, friendly, simple, honest, fundamentally pure and correct to a fault, but not like any religious bigots, she really had the inner dignity of doing the right thing, no matter what. But there were also disadvantages, for example terrible cooking, but with such a set of advantages they did not bother me.

We were, like water, everywhere together, we shared everything, our friends considered us the strongest couple, if necessary, we went away, for example, to our parents, then we chatted on the phone every day for 5 hours, we went through a lot together, both losses and good events , supported each other, made plans, prepared for the wedding. I worked hard for a promotion and got my own home. The site really wanted her to not need anything.

At some point she pulled away, felt that she had fallen out of love and wanted him to let go. We talked. I didn’t want to, but I let him go, it was very painful, but what other options do I have? I won’t lie at your feet, and it’s useless. She thanked him, left, and found the one she needed. They maintained communication for some time at her request, saying that it would be easier for her to get through this, then they stopped.

He left all his things where they were, only hid the photographs. In the closet, her clothes were never taken away. But I didn’t want to see her so I could give her away. A toothbrush, a comb, cosmetics, her gifts to me, all in the same places where they were left. I often dream that we are quarreling, and then I can’t sleep half the night. I can’t shake the feeling that the person I loved died, and the world collapsed around me, all my plans, all my aspirations, what’s the point now. In my head, very often I conduct a dialogue with her, we chat, share thoughts with each other, remember our walks, travels, some good moments.

I often remember the smell of her hair, her eyes, her jokes, phrases. I feel a little lighter in my soul when I think about her. I can't even be angry at her for more than 5 minutes. I don’t know why, I just don’t want to. I want to remember good things about her, to blurt out dirt, especially on the Internet in front of everyone, so that it would be unethical to get angry and let go (for how long?) I don’t want to start a new relationship, it would be wrong for a new person if I’m so attached to my ex. I don’t want to return her either, she’s a different person whom I don’t know. It itself, apparently, does not go away even in three years, and who knows whether it will go away. I wrote my conclusions and deleted them. I'd rather listen to others. How to forget, let go and stop grieving? Is it worth doing?

Yanochka, hello! Thank you very much for you, your LJ, your optimism, cheerfulness and love! You are very inspiring and guide me on the right path, and I am sincerely grateful to you. My question is hackneyed and has long been discussed and discussed. But now the moment has come in my life when I don’t want to live, I don’t want to walk, breathe, or exist at all. Everything is banal to the extreme - my loved one left me. This was preceded by several years of painful relationships for both, endless scandals and swearing. Nevertheless, a phone call with the words - I won’t come back to you, there are no feelings left, it’s all over - just crushed me and destroyed me.

I don’t understand how to live further, and most importantly, why? Why do all this - walk, breathe, eat, sleep? It seems to me that there will be nothing good in my life anymore, although I am 29 years old, not 59. It seems to me that I will never be able to love anyone, and that no one will love me either. A week has already passed, and I feel absolutely as bad as I did a minute after that call. I'm just breaking down into molecules every minute, crying, and acting like a complete slob. How to get out of this state?

Nothing helps me - not friends, not sports, not books or music. And it seems that all this will never end. How to continue to live? Sorry to write to you, but I just don’t know where to get even minimal support. I would be grateful for any feedback - whether in the question-answer section, or in person.

Hello!
I'm afraid the answer will be as banal as the question. Time will help you.
From your letter I realized that there are girlfriends, sports, books, music. So do all this further (at least through force), try not to listen, read or watch anything sad and sentimental (I’m serious), and listen and watch only funny things (just comedies), or positively optimistic and exciting. And then only time will help you.
A week is not enough. It would be good if he lets go in two months. When a very important relationship suddenly falls apart like this, such pain does not go away in five minutes.

It’s probably not worthwhile at this point to make platitudes like “well, what’s the point of living” and “you shouldn’t endow other people with such abilities and qualities - the meaning of your life should not be reduced to any other person, this is your life.” All these “smart thoughts” will come to you when you “sober up” a little. and while you feel bad and in pain, it is useless to say such things to you, because you are simply in pain and unhappy.

Fortunately, all people have some kind of built-in mechanisms. At some point, any pain and any horror becomes dull, because otherwise we could not bear it any longer. Yours will also become dull. And then you will have the advice and persuasion of your friends, a million smart tips from the Internet, suggesting that the meaning of your life is still somewhere in you, and of course promises that you will find everything a hundred times over. And a couple, and love, and happiness, and everything you need.
I pass the baton to my beloved readers - may they console you.
Dear readers, console your broken heart!

Priest Andrey Pinchuk

My wife liked him. Cheerful, with intelligent, penetrating eyes. He was 13 years old then. It seemed that he ended up in the orphanage by accident. By the will of evil fate. Well, he was not an orphanage boy!

The family council did not last long. The decision was made quickly. And now my application for guardianship is already in the regional children's service. At that time, the district service was headed by the odious and ambitious madam, Mrs. Shtyk. The funny thing is that no one called her by her last name, but all the officials “lovingly” called her nothing less than Shtychka. Well, Shtychka and Shtychka. So I asked in the district council building where they have Shtychka sitting? I didn’t know, but everyone laughed.

This woman flatly refused to accept my statement. And I refused to leave her office, sat down and relaxed, deciding to myself that even if I went on a hunger strike, even if I lived here, they would accept my application. The official called the police. Thank God, the knight of truth had a head on his shoulders and did not drag me out of the office, seeing my determination and the fact that I would cling to all the furniture that came to my hands, and without help he simply would not have been able to cope.

I had to write a statement to the prosecutor's office. She intervened, and the children's service had no choice but to carry our case through the guardianship council and prepare an order from the head of the district to establish guardianship over Vanya. When I came to Mrs. Shtyk for the last time, she swore to me that she would take all my adopted children back to the orphanage. She assured that she would never leave me or my family alone.

To fulfill my plan, I mentally wished her good health and longevity, and at the same time warned her that she could even break her teeth. About me. She then worked for a short time. Either a criminal case was opened against her, or something else happened in our area - but she was kicked out. As they say, “God does not lie in might, but in truth.”

Vanya did nothing and began to run away from home

It took us 3 months of struggle to take Vanya. When I brought Vanya home, everything was fine for the first couple of days. The tension began to increase when I saw that he was not going to do anything: neither study nor help around the house. He ate and watched TV all the time. When I tried to say that this is not an orphanage, we do not have cleaners and cooks, the answer was: “How? Am I supposed to do something? Ugh! And I thought that you took me away so that I could rest and do nothing!”

This was the beginning of the end. Vanya resisted everything. Words could not explain anything to him. It was impossible to talk frankly - it was closed. Theft, taking out of the house what could be taken out and sold, an attempt to create hazing at school, constant complaints from the parents of classmates - this was an incomplete list of what we faced. On dark evenings, together with a couple of renegades, he toured empty houses, giving the owners the opportunity to rejoice upon their arrival at their haciendas. The tension grew every day.

Dad began to encourage Vanya to run away and go somewhere deep into Russia to visit his grandmother. Vanya began to run away from home often. Just to my dad, who lived somewhere in the area of ​​dacha towns on Igreni - one of the most distant areas of Dnepropetrovsk. Or he simply left home and wandered around the city.

Every time he left, I began to feel incredible panic: I always imagined that he would be in some kind of trouble, something would happen to him, God forbid he would die, and - hello, prison!

A huge number of people took part in the search for Vanya: my friends, parents of other adopted children. Everyone understood that it was difficult to imagine a greater evil in a foster family than a “runner” child. After Vanya was found, I had to lie down for a day. My legs simply refused to walk. During the search I kept my cool, but then I turned into a plant. By the way, we had two such “runners” in our family. The second appeared a few years later.

And I began to betray

At some point I got sick of everything. And endless losses to the family budget, and the tears of my wife Olya, and the lack of peace and stability in the family. I began... to betray. Whenever possible, he stayed at work until late. I didn’t want to go home and see Vanya or anyone else.

I was overcome by depression. I left home as early as possible and returned as late as possible. Olya, my soul mate, took the entire blow during that period of our lives. Where I can't stand it, she always stands up.

A huge negative feeling towards Vanya grew in my heart - a feeling of rejection bordering on I don’t know what. I understood that I didn’t love him and would never be able to love him again.

I couldn't even look at him! I felt extremely uncomfortable just being around him. I couldn't help it. Sometimes I squeezed out the words to talk to him about something that was absolutely impossible not to talk about. About everyday life.

Neither reading smart books, nor prayer, nor anyone else's advice helped. We ran around whoever we could. We consulted with everyone who could give us advice or simply listen and console us. The family was falling apart before our eyes. We even made a special trip to St. Petersburg to visit one famous foster mother, the head of Parental Bridge. She stood on her feet and coped with children even more difficult than Vanya. They wanted to consult. Marina, of course, consoled and inspired us. But hope did not last long. It was all in vain.

Nothing has changed. Every day everything got worse and worse. Vanya was carried away. It was terrible. His actions have long gone beyond what is acceptable. Olya began to be afraid to leave the children at home. And she cried often. But Vanya did not regret anything, he constantly lied, never apologized, never cried. Monster! Daemon! It was clear that this would not last long.

“Do you understand that he will go down?”

On his next escape, he went to the orphanage where we had once taken him from. The director, who called me on the phone, said that he had come to his group and did not want to live with us anymore. I breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed his personal file and went to the head of the district, under whose supervision the orphanage was located.

I didn’t go in, I flew into the office of the district chief and threw Vanya’s personal file on his desk with the words: “Here! Take your child. I rent it out safe and sound!” The district manager looked at me through his glasses and asked me to sit down.

– I have only three questions for you. Could you answer them for me? I won't detain you.

“Come on,” I answered in a nervous voice.

“You understand,” he began, “that while Vanya is in your family, there is a struggle for him, a difficult struggle. But when he ends up in my orphanage, this fight will stop, and Vanya will slide down. Forever. Do you understand this?

“Yes,” I said in surprise, unusually struck by the frankness of an official of this level.

– You understand that a week, a month, a year will pass... You will cool down. Everything will be forgotten. All bad things will be forgotten. You will forgive him. But you will never be able to forgive yourself for this act. Never in my life! You understand?

“Yes,” I said, hanging my head. I understood all this myself and thought about it more than once.

– Do you understand that now I will put just one stroke of the pen and Vanya will remain in the orphanage?

I nodded affirmatively.

- So should I sign? Or will you still think about it?

“I’ll think about it,” I said, taking Vanya’s personal file and plodding towards the exit of the office.

A slight smile appeared on the district manager’s face.

I couldn’t fall in love, I decided to have a wedding and let go

I took Vanya from the orphanage. A second time. When I brought him home, he hid in the corner of his room and cried for a long time, about three hours. Cried! Cried!!! Three hours!..

The next morning he was already different. Gradually our relationship began to improve. Vanya graduated from 9th grade and went to college. We have supported him all these years. I could never love him. The emotional wounds never healed. Forgive - forgiven. But I couldn't love.

It was the same on Vanya’s side. In addition, he was still burdened by the fact that I was trying to control both his behavior and his studies. He demanded absolute and unlimited freedom, which I could not give him.

After some time, Vanya said that his girlfriend was pregnant and he wanted to get married. "Well, thank God! – I thought. “We’ll have a wedding, and he’ll finally be free.” I'll let him go."

The wedding was celebrated “as expected.” Painting, wedding, cafe for 60 people. The director of Vanya’s orphanage and the head of the regional children’s service were at the wedding. After all, their pupil. Vanina’s chosen one was also from a family orphanage. I wanted to give Vanya one last gift before letting him go. And not to appear in his life again: I knew that he was waiting for this freedom and that I was disturbing him with my constant and vigilant control.

The bride was irresistible in her dress and overall beauty. We had a blast! Lots of young people, rivers of champagne, dancing until you drop.

When the wedding ended, Vanya came up to me, hugged me, looked into my eyes and said: “Thank you, father!” Tears were in his eyes again...

From that moment, the moment when I thought that I was letting him go completely and irrevocably, we became close. Many years later. Vanya and I see each other very often. I love his children, especially the youngest - he is just as naughty as Vanya. And with Vanya... we have a special relationship with him. I don’t know what to call it – respect, maybe. Or maybe friendship. We both remained as stingy with words and feelings.

P.S. I kept thinking: who is he, this district chief, that he treated me so mercifully? Why? I asked him this question 5 years later, when he rose through the ranks and became a very respected official in education. He took off his glasses, looked at me and said: “I have one child. We adopted a boy. Now he is already graduating from university. I simply understood you.”