● A 72-year-old Russian woman’s observations, made universal
She was 72 when she left Russia and married a retired man in Turkey.
She did not come to judge. She came to love. To live. To watch.
But after a few years of sitting at other people’s tables, listening to other people’s conversations, and watching other people’s children grow up, she started to see something she had not expected.
It was not just about Turkey. It was about _us_. All of us.
Here is what she saw — in a version every country will recognize:
● We live to eat, not eat to live
Everywhere, we love food.
We sit down for five minutes and already we ask, “What are we eating?”
We want variety. Not one dish — five dishes. Not just enough — more than enough.
Food has stopped being fuel. It has become entertainment, comfort, celebration, and escape, all at once.
And then we wonder why we are tired, heavy, and sick.
● We love talking about being sick
We complain a lot. In every culture.
We meet, and the first topic is illness. My back. My knee. My blood pressure. My thyroid. My stomach.
We wait until we collapse, then we go to the doctor. The doctor says the same thing in every language: “Rest. You are very tired.”
And we use that as a permission slip to talk about our sickness even more.
We have turned illness into a conversation. Into an identity.
We don’t talk about how to stay healthy. We talk about how sick we are.
● Women have forgotten themselves
In many homes, in many countries, women do not know how to make time for themselves.
They serve everyone. Husband. Children. Parents. In-laws. Neighbours. Guests.
They only stop when the body forces them to stop — when they fall sick.
Then, and only then, do they rest. And even that rest is filled with guilt.
A woman who does not rest until she is sick is not strong. She is exhausted.
● We have handed our children to the screen
This is the part that broke her heart the most.
Her husband’s son got married. They had a child. That child lives in front of the television.
She watched and said to the daughter-in-law:
“Your child sees you a little, and sees them a lot. In the child’s mind, you are small and they are big.”
The child has memorized the commercials. Memorized the cartoons. Memorized the jingles. When the mother says no to what the television promised, the child cries.
Then cries again. Then cries again. After 3 or 4 days, there is a fight. There is no respect left.
How can there be respect? In the child’s mind, the mother is small and the people on television are big.
She said: “Turn it off. Let the child watch YOU. Let your face take root in his mind. Let your beauty, your voice, your love take root — not a cartoon’s.”
No one realizes whose voices are filling children’s minds.
You gave birth to that child. You swaddled them. You stayed up all night. You remember.
They don’t know any of that. They only know what they see every day.
We even feed them in front of the television. They don’t look at our face. They look at the screen.
Then we say: “Why doesn’t my child look at me? Why is my child hyperactive? Why doesn’t my child listen?”
Because television has redesigned the child’s brain.
The child sees a costume in a shop window and wants it, and cries — because the child no longer belongs to the parent. The child belongs to the screen.
Even when playing with a sibling, the child does not talk like the father. Does not talk like the mother. Talks like the television. Acts like the television.
The child has become theirs.
● We talk too much, say too little
Everywhere, women and men talk a lot and never stop.
Talking without thinking has become normal.
We talk, talk, talk — and our brains get hot, our hearts get tired.
The old woman said: “All this illness comes from talking too much.”
People gave her dirty looks. They said, “I have thyroid. I have anxiety. I have pressure.”
She said: “You eat too much and you talk too much.”
They got angry.
When people talk too much to her, she does a simple gesture — stop. “You have talked too much, and I am tired.”
Because listening also fills the brain. Listening also heats it up. Listening also tires the heart.
We do not know how to talk about nice things anymore. It’s always complaints.
We complain about husbands. About wives. About families. About children. About ourselves. About work. About the country. About the weather.
We sit and drink tea or coffee for an hour. It is supposed to warm the heart. But it doesn’t. Everyone gets on edge. Everyone goes home angry. Then what happens? Illness.
● The universal truth
She did not write this to insult Turkey. She wrote it because she saw herself in it too.
In Russia, in Turkey, in Nigeria, in America, in India, in Brazil — it is the same story:
*We eat too much. We complain too much. We talk too much. We rest too little. And we give our children to screens.*
And then we wonder why we are sick, tired, and disconnected.
Her message is not about one country. It is about all of us:
Eat less. Talk less. Complain less. Rest before you break.
Turn off the television. Look at your child. Let your child look at you.
Let your face be bigger in your child’s mind than any cartoon.
Because one day, that child will not remember the commercials. But they will remember whether you were present — or whether you were just in the room, while the television raised them.