My daughter convinced me to go on vacation to the seaside: “All inclusive, Mom, you won’t have to do a thing.” I paid for the tickets myself. Upon arrival, I discovered I’d be staying with my grandchildren, while she and my son-in-law would be in a different building.

Anna burst into tears.

 

“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” she sobbed. “I’m exhausted, Mom. I live in constant fear that our family will fall apart. I thought if we got away from everything for a week, we could start over.”

 

I looked at her and saw not only a grown woman who had been unfair to me, but also my little daughter who came running to me after every nightmare.

 

I wanted to hug her. Tell her everything would be okay.

 

But I realized that if I started pretending like nothing had happened again, we would find ourselves in exactly the same situation in a month or a year.

 

“I understand you’re going through a difficult time,” I finally said. “But your problems don’t give you the right to decide how I live my life. I can help you if you ask me. I can take care of the children if I have the strength and the desire. But I no longer want to automatically accept everything you suggest just because I’m afraid of disappointing you.”