Elya G. (ILI) — A Dreamy Rebel

The Rebellion Against Pressure

As a child, I hated being forced to do things or pressured. For example, when I was about six or seven years old, my parents made me wash the dishes, motivating it by saying that I was already "big." I remember feeling terribly offended because they were forcing and pressuring me. I would throw tantrums and leave the dishes unwashed; it was a strong internal protest—not against the dishes themselves, but against the pressure. This applied not just to that specific situation, but to any situation where I felt pressured.

No one ever forced me to do my homework because I was a good student. My parents didn’t even know what it was like to sit and do homework with a child. If I did something wrong, I would rewrite and redo it all by myself; I never went to school unprepared. However, they did force me to go to the after-school program, and I kept running away from it. It was an internal protest—I wanted freedom. After a while, my parents stopped making me go.

Later, when I was around fifteen or sixteen, they tried to make me cook, but I had no interest in it at the time. Nothing worked out—everything burned, boiled over, or spilled all over the kitchen. But as soon as they stopped forcing me, I decided on my own that the time had come. My interest awoke, and everything clicked instantly.

I think a gentler approach is needed for a child like me—one without authoritarianism or harsh, direct pressure. I cannot stand harshness; it wakes up my "inner hedgehog," and I will do the exact opposite, even if I understand that the demands are rational and justified. I just can't overcome this stubbornness. It is much better to just ask me, to approach me with warmth and give me attention. But it must be done without reproaches, shaming, or accusations, as those only trigger a backlash.

A Sanctuary of Love: Grandparents

My grandparents actually knew how to handle me much better than my parents did. They simply loved me and accepted me for who I was without demanding anything, and I responded with deep love and affection. To me, love meant them spending a lot of time with me in my childhood. For instance, my grandfather would take me to the ice rink, play checkers with me, and braid my hair. That time belonged entirely to me; no one was rushing or running anywhere. They were mine, and their time was for me—and it brought them joy. Warmth and communication flowed from them, making me feel warm and safe.

Thwarted Passions: Expression vs. Restriction

As a child, I really wanted to do dancing. I danced a lot at home—I would turn on the music, dance, and fantasize that I was at a ball or somewhere similar. I loved listening to music. I went to a music school, but it didn't bring me much joy, whereas singing was something I truly loved. Singing and dancing brought me pleasure, and sports went well too.

I tried to join a circus gymnastics class and play volleyball on the school team. However, I wasn't allowed to do any of it; I was told I would break my fingers and wouldn't be able to play the piano. I also wanted to join a speed skating club, but I ended up doing only music. Looking back, I wish I could have spent my childhood doing dancing, singing, and sports.

A Distaste for Food

I had terrible eating habits as a child; I barely ate anything until I was about five years old. Now I eat well, but back then, food just passed me by. If I did eat something, it was purely out of inertia, just to keep from starving to death. Even sweets didn't appeal to me. Food simply wasn't important back then. I do remember going to a cafeteria with my grandmother, but what I actually liked was the company, the environment, and the atmosphere.

School Years: The Inner Rebel

I had a lot of problems at school. Academically, I always did well, meaning there were never any complaints about my grades. However, my behavior was frequently marked as "satisfactory." There was an inner troublemaker in me. If something mischief-making was brewing, I loved participating in the chaos and disorder. If people were cutting class, I was among the first to go. It wasn't because I didn't want to learn, but rather because it gave me a sense of adrenaline, drive, and freedom. I loved it.

Standing Up Against Injustice

My relationships with teachers varied; some loved me, while others deeply disliked me. For instance, I had a conflict with my Russian language teacher because her behavior often struck me as unfair, petty, and undignified.

We had a girl in our class who was a professional athlete. Her sports training took up a lot of time, so she skipped classes frequently. The teacher despised her and intentionally mispronounced her last name every single time. I would always correct the teacher in front of everyone. Naturally, she disliked me and called my parents to school. Her injustice and pettiness infuriated me. I knew it would impact my grades, which is why I never got an 'A' in Russian, but that didn't bother me at all. I was a very straightforward girl. Fortunately, my dad understood me. When he was called to the school, he defended me and, surprisingly, didn't even scold me.

The World of Imagination

I loved sewing outfits for my doll; I enjoyed it very much. All kinds of dresses. What I liked was not so much the sewing itself as inventing all sorts of stories in my head while I was sewing—stories with this doll. Her whole life unfolded in my mind: what she was like, who her prince was, what conversations they had. There were many fantasies. Dreams. An entire story took shape in my head, with all the little details. When I finished sewing the dress, I was no longer interested in it; I would just put it away in the closet. What mattered to me was the story of that dress.

The same thing happened when we went to the dacha with my parents. I didn’t like it there, it was boring, so I kept myself occupied by imagining stories. For example, that I had ended up in Koschei’s castle. I was very interested in being alone with myself. I was a dreamy child. As for books, I mostly loved adventure stories, historical novels, melodramas, and fairy tales. I don’t like horror stories, and I never did.

Fears and Physical Agility

I hate the emotion of fear. I have a very vivid imagination, so if I get scared, I stay afraid for a long time afterward. I am afraid when there is no solid ground beneath me. Even though I swim well, I only swim along the shore.

As a child, though, I wasn't afraid of heights; I used to climb incredibly tall trees—it was my favorite pastime. I also crawled through storm drains because I was very agile. I would spin and flip on the pull-up bars and stand on my head. I did all sorts of things. A child like that absolutely needs to lead an active lifestyle.

Protecting My Inner World

I don't like it when people pry into my soul or ask about my feelings and inner experiences—it makes me want to shut down. Even now, expressing emotions and feelings remains difficult and heavy for me. Yet, on the inside, there was and still is so much going on: deeply felt experiences, vivid fantasies, and big dreams.

The Need for Solitude and Analysis

I love life's comforts; it is necessary for me that everything around me is beautiful and cozy. I absolutely need my own separate territory in the house—a room, a space for solitude to reflect and dream. I get tired quickly from a prolonged stay in a loud, hectic environment, and I just want to retreat into myself, into the silence.

The process of reflection is ongoing. I constantly analyze my life, my behavior, my emotions and feelings, trying to get to the root cause and to anticipate how it will all end. Often, I examine and evaluate people's behavior: what they are like, how they behave, whether it is dignified or not. The bad always catches my eye much more than the good. The good isn't evaluated the way the bad is; everything that doesn't stand out is good, but because it doesn't stand out, it isn't strongly noticed—it is taken for granted. But the bad stings the eye immediately, and that shapes my attitude toward the event or person. In people, I despise hypocrisy, brown-nosed sucking up, sycophancy, and meanness. Usually, I evaluate people from a moral and ethical standpoint. This evaluation is for myself; I draw a conclusion and, if I don't like it, I step aside and distance myself. I don't impose my opinion on others—let them be. They can do what they want; everyone is responsible for themselves.

Innate Responsibility and Boundaries

By nature, I was responsible; I didn't need to be taught or instilled with this trait. I regulated myself. I always had clear internal boundaries, an edge, and an innate inner knowledge of what was permissible and what was not, what was good and what was evil. Restrictions from adults were perceived as a lack of trust, which is why they hurt me.

The most delicate part of such a child is their soul. It is highly vulnerable, even if it isn't visible from the outside, as everything is hidden within. I worry deeply about relationships.

Respect, Equality, and Praise

A child like this needs to be praised, but moderately. If you overpraise them, it feels insincere; everything should be in moderation. They need to be treated with respect, like an adult—like a little adult. I cannot stand humiliation, especially when people talk to me as if I were an inferior being rather than an equal. In childhood, it hurt deeply when people said, "You don't amount to anything yet, you're still small." I took it as a personal insult and took it very hard. I would emotionally shut down during moral lectures, letting it all pass over me. This child must be accepted as smart and as an equal; only then can you correct their behavior. When you feel accepted, you naturally don't want to disappoint or hurt people.

Value of Time, Routine, and Rest

Waking up in the morning was hard for me; I loved studying during the afternoon shift. I could sleep until eleven, and it never felt like wasted time. Even now, it doesn't feel that way. I prioritize time for sleep, and I find a special pleasure in taking afternoon naps.

I do feel bad wasting time on uninteresting people, empty chatter, or worthless movies. But I never regret time spent sleeping, reading, cleaning, doing something useful for loved ones, or learning something new and interesting.

Financial Independence

I have had a careful attitude toward money since childhood. When relatives gave me money, I would save it, economize on pocket money, put it all together, and later spend it on something I truly needed. That is, I didn't waste it on trivial things, but I didn't mind spending it on something substantial and necessary. Then I would start saving and accumulating all over again; this is a normal, natural process for me. I always had my own savings, even as a child—without savings, I feel insecure and uncomfortable. I don't need a massive amount of money, just enough for a normal, dignified lifestyle; I always strive for this and treat it with care.

I have a deep sense of pity for people. In childhood, I hated it when someone was teased or humiliated; my heart would tighten, and I never participated in such bullying. Cruelty is simply not in my nature. However, I could get into a fight as a way of self-defense or in the name of justice. I was always able to stand up for myself. I wasn't an obvious leader as a child, but I was always in the thick of things and enjoyed the respect of my peers.

A Lesson in Accepting Others

I think the right approach is to explain to a child like this that people are different, everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, but everyone deserves understanding and respect. They need to be accepted as they are because they have a right to exist and be happy. You need to teach the child to accept people without idealizing them, because they will see their flaws regardless. It is essential to instill warmth and empathy toward all people.

Romance and the Search for Authenticity

I could always sense the true nature of relationships between people; I could tell authenticity from affectation. I was constantly in love with someone, starting from the end of my kindergarten years. Reciprocity was important to me. These crushes were serious and long-lasting—I truly lived through these feelings. Being in love is something I need.

My attitude toward people depends heavily on my mood. If I'm in a good mood, I treat everyone with warmth. If my mood isn't great, people can really irritate me; they seem foolish, hypocritical, fake, or undignified. I noticed all of this in childhood too, and such people annoyed me—just like that Russian language teacher with her petty malice. For me, people like that practically cease to exist.

Love, Care, and the Comfort of Home

In relationships, I need to be told that I am loved, even if I already know it. However, baby talk was never something I needed; excessive mushiness actually irritated me.

A child like this needs to be gently taught to care for others and to think about other people's feelings, because they don't always notice the need for it on their own. I have always loved giving gifts, partly because I get a lot of positive emotions from it myself. When I bring joy to others, I receive a kind of emotional nourishment.

I do household chores because I know no one else will, but I don't get any particular pleasure out of them—I do them out of sheer necessity. However, I do enjoy the process of cleaning because it clears the space. Afterward, I can literally breathe easier, and a sense of lightness emerges.

Respecting Strength in Relationships

Regarding respect: much of a ILI's behavior (caprices, provocations, reproaches, manipulations, etc.) often requires a specific reaction—you simply need to put them in their place and shut it down, then they snap out of it. People capable of doing this command my respect. I respect strength (strength of will, of desires, of convictions, the capacity for autonomy despite the reaction of others). People whose strength and authority I recognize are very significant to me.

Next to a strong person, I feel gentle, feminine, and good. If I feel a person is strong, I will try not to push them over the edge; I become better and adapt to them. If a person is incapable of putting me in my place, forgives me everything, and lets things slide, I start behaving worse than I actually am, and I become disgusting to myself. I want to find the limits of their patience, so I begin to test them. If their limits are very wide, my behavior becomes even more capricious and worse than usual, and then I don't like myself. I might behave well with them, but not out of respect for their strength, but more out of human pity for their weakness.

However, a feeling of pity is not a foundation for love for me. Love is, in many ways, respect for the personality (human qualities plus strength of spirit). For the most part, this applies to men, of course. If a man takes a subordinate position in a relationship with me (forgives everything, is indulgent to everything), then I feel stronger than him and I lose my femininity. A man must walk ahead, be the driver, and protect the woman, while the woman gives him warmth, understanding, and support. Only then will there be harmony in the relationship.

Fears, Changes, and Health Anxieties

If someone screams, everything inside me tightens up with tension, and I just want to leave the situation. In childhood, scandals between loved ones gave me a sense of insecurity about tomorrow, defensiveness, and fear. It is wonderful when the atmosphere at home is warm and benevolent.

Any changes in life were hard for me to endure, even switching schools or joining a new group, because initially, you only see the negative sides of the event. This happens automatically. Only later do I tell myself, "But look, there are good things too: this, that, and that." You have to consciously pull yourself out of pessimism toward the positive aspects. But that requires conscious effort. At first, there is always a fear of life changes. The same mechanism works today—I have to encourage myself.

I have also always had anxieties about my health. If I watch a medical TV show, I usually find every symptom in myself except delirium tremens. I am highly hypochondriac. I might go to the doctors to get checked out if I am deeply worried, only to find out later that it was nothing but a trifle.

Rebellion Against Boundaries and False Perfection

About my rebellious side: in childhood, it always gave me great pleasure to cause a little mischief—that is, to break established orders and rules. It gave me a rush of adrenaline, drive, and a sense of my own internal freedom. The feeling of freedom is a total high, a flight of the soul.

To me, rules and regulations always mean boundaries and limitations that fail to encompass the entirety of existing reality, which means they violate the wholeness of the world. They recognize one part of the world as correct and permissible, while rejecting the other half, pretending it doesn’t exist. But it does exist! There would be no heaven if there were no hell; both comprise the wholeness and unity of the world.

It is the same with people—everything is mixed and contained within them: both the good and the bad. There are no unequivocally bad or good people, yet for some reason, everyone is required to show only their good side. This is not the whole picture; it is a destruction of wholeness. In my view, it is precisely in this wholeness that the beauty of the world, of man, and of nature lies—in the multifaceted nature of everything alive. Therefore, inside me, there is a rebellion against rigid boundaries, judgments, and the division into black and white. Even now, I sometimes want to break out of the boundaries established by society. To be myself, in order to know all the facets of my own soul, even the less beautiful ones, and to accept them.

"I don't want half of the sun,
I have no use for half of the sky.
Halfway together means apart, halfway sincerity is a lie,
Halfway courage means cowardice,
Halfway—is definitely not mine!"

The one who recognizes imperfection in themselves also accepts the imperfection of others, and that is the very Unconditional Love that God commanded us to have. Furthermore, this all comes from the fact that I want to be loved not for being "correct," but simply because I am me, exactly as I am—and I want to love others the same way.

In general, overly polished and "proper" people make me tense. It feels as though they are unfamiliar with themselves, with all sides of their nature, and therefore their judgments are wooden, one-sided, and do not reflect the essence of things. They are afraid of themselves, afraid of anyone who might overturn their fragile crystal world and the imaginary, invented peace they hide behind. In front of such people, I especially feel like pulling some kind of wild stunt and shouting: "Well? Remembered that you can live differently too?!"

Eternity, Mortality, and Purpose

From childhood, I had prophetic dreams and dreams about death and life after death—certainly from about the age of twelve. Once, when I was about fifteen, I dreamed that the end of the world had begun: everything was collapsing, burning, people were dying. Everyone was dying, but I couldn’t die; death wouldn’t find me, and it was terrifying to watch all this. Suddenly, in the dream, I ran out into the street and saw priests standing by every apartment building entrance, with lines of people waiting to confess. People were pulling out enormous papyrus scrolls filled with bad deeds. And I had only one thought: I had to make it in time to confess, to repent, before I died. Dying is not scary; it’s scary to die with a heavy soul. I’ve had many dreams like that, and I still do.

The feeling that life is transient and finite has always been very strong in me—a strong sense of the vanity of earthly life and its futility. Sometimes I watch people fussing about and think: “Why are you all fussing over trivial things, worrying so much? You’re all going to die anyway—better think about your soul.”

That’s why I don’t want to waste time; I want to do something good, kind, and eternal in life. I want to do something good for people, even if only for one person—not because of official or family ties, but simply because he is a human being and you are a human being. Then life has not been lived in vain. Then you have lived life not only to eat, drink, and grab.

I really liked a line from a film, spoken by the main character: “No matter what happens in life, a person must love and hope. Always.” The most important thing for me is, in any situation, to remain a Human Being, to act in accordance with the dictates of my soul.

Source: How to Raise a Child Without Complexes by O. Mikhevnina