Maxim Mazhorin - The struggle between good and evil

Our dad had one friend whom he constantly listened to more than our mother. But this very friend later got into prison for some machinations with money. His friend was not able to present at the funeral of his father, because he was in prison. Only our father was at the funeral. His friend’s mother asked him: “Why did you allow your friend to go to jail and not see his father for the last time? Why?” But our father just stood and looked blank. He did not understand that one had to live with reason in his head. Our father knew that his friend was engaged in something illegal, but because of his indifference and stupidity, he did not tell his friend to stop. Our dad felt good being in an alcoholic delirium with his friend. But our father still considered himself the most intelligent person and considered his life normal, smirking and proudly being extolled before other people. Surprisingly he opened his eyes so wide when his friend’s mother told him, that probably there was a dry seed of reason gave a small green sprout in the head of our father. But will our father change? Will he be able to turn from the stupid into the intelligent one, from the spiteful and irritable to the loving and humble?

My mother also told me that when our father was young, he courted to her very nice and tried to look like a kind, intelligent and strong person. And then he was not that at all. When he achieved his goal, and our mother became his wife, my father relaxed and his inner evil, impatience, humiliation and psychosis merged into their relationship.

My parents often brawled and sorted out their relationships. I heard what they were arguing about and screaming at each other. Once I saw two small children who were quarreling with each other, unless it could be called a quarrel. One boy was 3,5 years old, the second one was only ten months. The elder brother pushed the younger and swore at him for grabbing his clothes and preventing play with toys. He tried to explain something to his little brother, and said, “Why did you touch me, don’t you see that I’m playing with toys, and you hinder me to play!” These guys did not understand each other, as well as my parents, due to the fact that no one wanted to stop the quarrel. While quarrelling they told each other insulting words. Loads of wicked and sarcastic expressions were composed in their minds. Each of them recalled the most evil moments of past quarrels. These arguments were similar to the evil game “who wins”. I towered above it all, because I knew that such quarrels should not exist at all. My parents had to be above it all, as well as all adults above the quarrels of young children. So, after a while, acquiring a taste, our father started to abuse me and Artem.

Of course – a man has two natures. He knows both evil and good. But you always need to speak and to do only good things. But still, not everyone chooses good… For all his life a person makes a nest of goodness, reason, love, and another nest of sins, madness, anger, irritability, grumpy discontent, drunkenness and psychosis.

I remember once I was riding on a bus and there were two little boys in front of me. One of them said: “It’s great that your father is so kind. My dad is not like that at all, so, let’s go to your place to play.” These words wounded me, because I immediately remembered how my brother and I talked the same about my father. Many fathers could immerse themselves in the worlds of their children and could listen to them with joy and love in their eyes. They could hear the story of how the dandelion was ripped off, a frog was caught or an earthworm was found. But some fathers did not like to communicate with their children, and they did not like to play with them and did not like to teach them. They simply did not have love in their hearts.

I remember once our father broke his leg and was unable to do many things by his own. Of course, he asked us about these things. We gladly did these things for our father, who had problems with movements. He looked somewhere to the side and said without anger: “Thank you, children.” We were happy with his words and the way he talked to us. My younger brother asked me: “Why our father has become kind, after he had broken his leg? Let his leg always be broken.”

I was sorry for my brother, because he needed his father’s love. I tried my best to love for two. I tried to love for myself and for my father. My brother still feels a lack of love. When he was fourteen years old, he had some troubles with breathing. It was hard for him to breathe. He told me that as if some kind of lump in throat rolls to his chest, strains it and prevents him from breathing. He developed vasomotor dyscrasia. I did everything I could to help him. I wanted my brother to breathe easily, and not snuffle with great anguish. Our father looked with anger at Artem and said: “Why are you breathing like this? You are therefore gasping for not breathing properly. How many times have I explained to you that you cannot breathe like this? You need to breathe properly and do not exhale completely all the air, so you are suffocating.” After a while, unable to stand it, our father said angrily: “What!? Do you check if you have enough air or not? That’s ridiculous!”

These words just destroyed me and my brother. These words helped us to understand one simple but very important thing. Our father did not have love. Once he rejected this love and was not looking for it. He put himself in irritation, anger and endless psychosis. A man without love is like a car that has no wheels. Even when we grew up, our father did not like to communicate with us. A telephone conversation looked something like this, “hello” and “goodbye”. A real conversation was similar to one by phone. Our father started to talk only when drinking any alcoholic beverage. But after a week of hard drinking, when he frayed all our nerves, he began to feel very ill, and talked about it to all their relatives, waiting for their pity. When he felt that he was not regretted, and expressed only grudge against his drunkenness, he was angry again and answered irritably: “Let me alone! I’m fed up with it!

When we grew up, our father almost never called us, because he did not want to communicate with his children. He liked to communicate with TV, drinking some alcoholic beverage and with other people in a drinking state. I do not remember that our father, at least once in our entire life, would embrace us and say how happy he is to be with us and that we can spend time together. There was no place for love in his heart. He was never afraid to offend us with words. He never apologized for anything and never asked for forgiveness. He had never admitted his guilt, even if there was something to blame him in. He could endlessly prove his rightness, proudly humiliating with rude words and causing insults. He always tried to scintillate with his mind before other people and loved when they told that he was a clever man. With all his might he tried to show his “sharp” mind to the first available and making sure that a person often makes mistakes, is not experienced enough or not yet an adult, he tried to humiliate, offend and exalt him.

But why do I talk so much about my father? Maybe it’s because I have not got enough love from him?! Maybe because my father is the most striking example of a man who has no love, but has the opposite?

Since Artem’s breathing had been in abnormal state for a long time, our mother was advised to take him to a psychologist. But the angry, irritable psychologist told our mother without restraining himself: “You brought your son to such a state with your care and overprotection. Therefore, he suffocates, because he is afraid to take the first steps, moving away from your care to adulthood. What have you done with him, mama?!”

As expected, our mother believed every word of this psychologist. When they returned from the hospital, I asked my mother to tell me what the psychologist had told them, and, of course, I was very shocked and saddened from the story I’ve heard. For some reason, this psychologist decided that Artem, who was raised by our mother in love, care and protection, came out, as the psychologist hinted, “to the world of independence and evil,” and broke his spirit, which accordingly led him to emotional stress, and then to nervous disease. I knew that there are a lot of psychologists like that who do not know what they talk about or diagnose all by the same pattern, without going into the essence and problems of each person. I immediately saw the consequences of their visit to this psychologist. I saw that my mother stopped saying warm, laudatory words of love, kindness and gratitude. She stopped looking at Artem with a kind and loving eyes, and also stopped hugging him. A few days later, when Artem had a strong attack of oxygen shortage, my mother tried to show him warmth, caring and love, but as little as possible. Our mother thought then: “Here is my son lying and gasping. Maybe I should not approach him and say something, otherwise it will become a habit and then he will grow up as a nincompoop.” Our mother was presented with incorrect information, and as a result, she began to struggle with good deeds, warm words, a loving smile and merciful love in her mind. The words of the psychologist were deeply embedded in the mind of our mother, and without understanding the psychologist himself could convince “a little” our mother that love and good do only harm and do not prepare children for adulthood.