This year, for the first time in ten years, I decided to celebrate my birthday at home. Before, I couldn’t, as I had only recently bought a place of my own. I moved to Italy after my divorce.
My husband and I had been together for twenty years when one day he simply told me, You need to leave.”
“Where? Why?”
I inherited this house from my parents. You have no rights to it. And I’ve met someone else.”
He shamelessly brought his new woman into our home without hiding it. It hurt beyond words. By then, the kids were in college. I lived with my sister for a while and kept working, not wanting to give up everything. But eventually, I realized I wanted my own space, so I went abroad to earn money.
At first, I accepted any job—it was a tough journey. But soon, I started saving money. A few years later, my son called: he had taken out a loan for an apartment but couldn’t repay it. I sent him 10,000 euros to cover his debts. Later, my daughter asked for help—she also needed money. I helped so there wouldn’t be any talk about favoritism.
But instead of buying a place, my son-in-law convinced Aline, my daughter, to invest in a business. They did not invest in a physical project such as a store, but rather in an online scam. Ultimately, they walked away with nothing. My daughter defended her husband, saying everything would be fine, but I wasn’t going to give them more money. I started saving for my own home.
Of course, I kept helping the kids, sending small sums and packages of things. But I wasn’t willing to save on everything. In Italy, you can’t just work without any rest—you’ll go crazy. So, from time to time, I allowed myself some fun, traveling with friends.
Finally, I saved enough, found a realtor, and bought a small house with a new renovation. I wanted something ready-made so I wouldn’t have to remodel. I was eager to go home, so I decided to celebrate my birthday along with the housewarming. I invited a few guests. My son and his family had moved to Poland after the war started. My daughter, her husband, their kids, the in-laws, and a few close friends came to the party. And that’s when it all started.
The in-laws walked around the house, inspecting everything and exclaiming. Then, suddenly, my in-law said, How can you afford such a mansion when our kids are struggling?”
“Haven’t I helped the kids enough?” I asked.
“Of course not. Give this house to them. You can earn enough for a small apartment.”
“I won’t even consider it. If it weren’t for your son, my daughter would already have a place.”
“What could they have bought with that 10,000? If it had been enough for a home, he would’ve bought one. Instead, they had to invest in a business. Besides, why do you need this house? You’ll go back to Italy anyway. Let the kids live here!”
“I don’t want to! I’ve dreamed of having my own place my whole life, and I earned it myself. I’m not letting anyone live here, only to have to redo the repairs. Or, even worse, end up on the street.”
We had a big fight, and the celebration was ruined. My daughter also got upset with me and said that her in-laws were right and that I’d end up alone in my old age. But why should I keep taking care of others and not myself?