And I don’t regret it one bit. Relatives condemn me and call me a bad mother, but I couldn’t care less what others think. I simply could no longer tolerate what was happening in my own home.

Until that day, I tried to ignore their antics, tried to be patient and understanding. But patience has its limits. They would show up without warning, leaving piles of dirty dishes, trash, and broken belongings behind. Every day, I felt like I was losing control of my life. I couldn’t bear watching the money I had worked my entire life for vanish into their whims and endless demands.

My son, once my reliable support, had turned into an adult incapable of taking responsibility. His wife, who had seemed modest and kind at first, revealed herself as a tyrant, imposing rules in my own home. And the grandchildren, seemingly sweet and innocent, became tools in their manipulations. They would cry to get their way and throw tantrums when denied.

I remember one evening coming home from work to find them having dinner without asking me. The table was littered with leftovers, the kitchen was a mess, and the living room was scattered with toys I had seen countless times before. I felt something inside me break. My heart ached with both anger and helplessness. I realized this could not go on any longer.

The next day, I told my son and daughter-in-law firmly: “You have 24 hours. Pack your things and leave. This is my home, and I will not tolerate this behavior anymore.” They responded with threats, accusations, and tears. “Mom, you’re our mother! How can you kick us out?” my daughter-in-law screamed. But I didn’t listen. My decision was final. I had realized one simple truth: taking care of yourself is far more important than trying to hold onto a family that doesn’t respect you.

Neighbors and relatives were initially shocked. They called me selfish, cruel, and heartless. But no one saw what went on behind the closed doors of my apartment. No one saw me crying at night, trying to come to terms with the chaos caused by my own blood. And no one understood the liberating relief I felt once they finally left.

The first few days were strange. I was afraid to be in the empty apartment. But soon, I felt a sense of relief. The air was lighter, the walls quieter. I could walk freely through my home without fearing messes or having my rules ignored. I had returned to myself, to my interests and habits that they had destroyed.

I’ve heard the gossip about what they say behind my back, that the whole family criticizes my “cruelty.” But I don’t care. I realized that taking care of yourself does not make you a bad person—it gives you a chance at a new life. I no longer live for others who only use and destroy me.

I am no longer afraid of being alone. I have learned to put myself first, and it’s not selfish—it’s survival. Sometimes freedom comes through hard decisions, through breaking ties with people who drag you down. I took a step toward myself, my life, and my happiness. And believe me, this feeling is incomparable to anything else.