The selected pages of a diary of the housewife The majority of fairy tales tells about "dosvadebnom" the period: heroes are young, enamoured and dream to be together. All happily — Also comes to an end with a marriage. And the life, nevertheless, proceeds. There are children, and a beloved, having settled houses, receives not honorary status of the housewife. Whether it is possible to be happy outside of a fantastic plot? How to organise the life so that and further to find in it pleasures?
The soul toils, thoughts skip, floods of tears wash off all … It is impossible to take itself in arms and to be abirritated. A medicine — tenderness of the liked person — in extreme deficiency... When «the female hysterics» occurs for the first time or even in fifth time, it still draws attention and when all it «already passed»? I look at an icon. Has reached, has taken in arms, has pressed to a breast and has curled up … My spirituality suffices only on a balloon: lift can nothing, and is loud burst — without ceremony! Whence these tears? If to try to understand occasions, they insignificant and even the ridiculous. It has forces on job, on friends, for a supper, on phone, the TV, the Internet, but not on the wife and the more so not on its nonsense... Because has got tired, worked, and all it for a family! He remarkable, clever, hard-working, does not drink, does not smoke — here has carried!!! And I — the spoilt selfish little fool. I so would like attention! But we do not talk almost, we almost do not see one another, we have ceased to feel one another. We inform one other any facts on how there has passed day, sometimes something we plan. Any strange mechanical coexistence: at 7.30 the husband has woken up, has eaten and has left, at 23.00 has come, has eaten and has fallen asleep. Between these hours the whole eternity: my day filled with children, a life, vanity and … loneliness. When it with us happens? How it has occurred? How from happy, generous and magnanimous enamoured we have turned to hypochondriac paranoiacs, in each awkward word suspecting provocation? And we already are careful and almost we are afraid one another. The whole ball of mutual insults and half-words. Impossibility to be sincere and frank. Alienation. And after all several years ago we accepted one another entirely and each step of other, each thought were important and interesting. There has Perhaps passed love? But then why not all the same … Perhaps he has stopped loving it, can, it simply suffers me? But also to it too not all the same, he too worries and absolutely sincerely considers, that all does for a family. Also suffers, poor, on my hysterics looking, but... I can not stay, there is no love. And it is valid. Whether it is not enough round families where husbands constantly drink, abuse wives a floor-mat, and even pokolachivajut? And whether a little such where the husband lays all the day on a sofa, and the wife «all drags»? But I for some reason look not there. I look on sacred … To me so it would be desirable, that to it was not indifferent, that occurs in my soul. As it was earlier, right at the beginning. And as we promised one another, that will be till an old age, to the extremity... Once we were on peer. Have grown in one big city, both have finished prestigious high schools. Both of us dreamt of the future, dreamt to be happy. On wedding prayed for always to be together, both in a grief and in pleasure — one flesh. To us it was good nearby, we rejoiced to presence one another, to a word, a view. Then we had children. It was successful at job, it appreciated, and I with pleasure attended to kids and the house. At me it was well received, I tried to do all on five with plus and itself have not noticed, how so left, what is it became already my responsibility. And then only my responsibility. And then it began to do remarks if suddenly with what has not consulted or was not in time. We really become one flesh, but somehow not so, incorrectly. I become a part of my husband — irreplaceable, but also imperceptible, myself understood. As an arm, for example. What for to it to call, something to discuss or consult on it? What for to reckon with its opinion? What for to it to do compliments? It is — and it is good. It the demanded expert, and I only the housewife. And my "petty" family efforts seem it fine and trifling. All of us keep away from each other more. I searched for an exit. Children — in a garden, itself — on job. To be switched, have a rest. To be independent, not to waste time and forces on «the system of relations», not to ask, not to excuse, not to be arranged constantly. But children still absolutely kids, and them so it is a pity to me! I tried to reconcile, adapt somehow: it is necessary to know the place, to bring up in itself humility — for humility special force is necessary. But it has not supported me. I said to myself, that the present pleasure is possible only there, in TSarstvii Heavenly, and here there should be first of all a work and patience. But also with it heart cannot reconcile. I find a consolation in Church. The Lord again and again gives forces to cope with emotions, to go through a storm, to ask for all involuntary witnesses of a pardon and to come to the senses. Again there is an inspiration, I with pleasure am dipped into the efforts and I persuade myself, that that's all right, very well, it is not necessary to think out nonsense, to attend to self-digging and samoedstvom. And the husband puts an arm on a shoulder and asks not to worry. I so am grateful to it and so it I like … Nevertheless is not present-is not present, and you will think: really it also is — happy home life, a life after wedding?
