I was mainly raised by my grandmother. She gave me a lot – knowledge, skills, love and care. Sometimes this concern goes beyond the boundaries.



I went through everything – taking a shower, total control over everything. Learned to determine by the sound of the steps from the corridor that will now go to the bathroom, scratched from each invasion with the question "What are you doing there? Why so long?”



I did not have my room, but despite the narrow conditions, my grandmother still tried to create my own corner (to fence my corner with the closet) and until the age of 11, everything was still tolerable. and then :



I had my first personal diary. It was not personal for a long time. On my request, “Please stop reading!” The grandmother replied that it was for my benefit, said, the age is difficult, and she does not want to miss important moments in education, as she once missed with my mother (my mother gave me birth early).



I bought a computer at the age of 13. I kept an electronic diary. with a password. There was no limit to joy, until... "Give a password or you will not have access to the computer" "Do you not want to share?" “Do you want to follow in your mother’s footsteps?” At that point, of course, I started to like boys, but there was no serious romance and no talk. I could and would like to share experiences, but not to ruin my soul! The diary removed.



3) The Internet appeared and the apogee of the violation of my personal space was one event. There were holidays, I came home from the store and found my grandmother knocking on the buttons in the window of my ass. She passionately corresponded with my friends. After a grand hysteria "as a reconciliation," my grandmother gave me a comparative table of the qualities of my interlocutors. Based on this paper, Friend No. 1 was not respectful enough with me in correspondence, so it was decided to stop communicating with him. Friend No. 2 is in love, but too naive, so she "obsessed" him. And my girlfriend is not a friend to me and I generally envy her, ignoring her. It was painful. I remember crying and asking to leave me at least something of mine, in secret where she would not go, pushing her away when she tried to embrace me and calm me. We have never found consensus. Nevertheless, she continued to be my authority, my primary parent. My hygiene, my circle of communication, my books, my studies, my clothes were controlled. At some point, I even started to think that it was really necessary to "not give in to bad influence."



Unfortunately, in the following years and until my admission to the university, the situation only worsened. After her death, I found myself in an extremely broken state, with a bunch of complexes and fears. I gradually recovered, turned to specialists, I continue to work on myself.



Even if you really want to protect your child from the world’s evil and universal injustice, please do not arrange a dictate. Do not be for him the All-Seeing Eye from whom you want to escape.