The Millionaire Next Door [Episode 2] Friends who support you so you don't fail will leave when you do

"Why did it end up like this?"

──More than anyone else, I was the one who thought that the most.

Around the time I was about to turn 30.
I was just an ordinary stay-at-home mom, like anyone else.

I was working as a freelancer, I was married, and
my daily life was a bit unstable, but I thought I was managing somehow.
That's what I thought.

But suddenly, everything fell apart.

My husband's father—my father-in-law—died suddenly, leaving a gaping hole at the center of our family.
From there, like dominoes, our family began to break down.

The despair of my husband's grandparents, who had lost their heir (my father-in-law), was severe, and they became depressed and shut themselves away in the house.
Before long, my husband's grandfather caught the flu, and by the time he recovered, he couldn't get up and remained bedridden.
My husband's grandmother developed dementia.
My mother-in-law, exhausted from losing her husband and then having to care for both of her in-laws, eventually developed depression.

The family that had been
"a reliable presence that supported us" for my young husband and me,
suddenly became "a burden we had to carry."

My husband and I had to shoulder it all ourselves.

My husband's company had no caregiving support system, so he couldn't take time off, and
my work meant I couldn't go home during busy seasons, and there were months with zero income when things were slow—it was unstable freelance work.
Our children were small, and we would need more and more money as they grew.
Time, money, manpower—we were critically short of everything.

"I have to do something."
"I have to become someone who can change this reality."

Thinking that, I started attending self-improvement seminars.

What was waiting beyond the desire to 'become strong'

I had no money, but I somehow scraped together the participation fee to sign up for the seminar.
'I want to gain the strength to protect my family.'
'I want more peace of mind.' 'I want to change.'

With that wish in my heart, I attended many times.

At the venue, I felt brave. The deepest parts of my heart were healed, and I cried a lot.
I felt like I could do it, and my motivation kept growing.
I felt like I could change.

But when I returned home, reality hadn't changed at all.
If anything, it was only getting worse.

Caregiving time increased, the atmosphere at home became heavy,
conversations with my husband decreased, and when we did talk, we fought.
And then, my income kept dropping—

Eventually, I couldn't even pay my health insurance.

I kept working without insurance,
my meals became irregular,
and I would wake up many times in the middle of the night.

Even when I picked up my phone thinking, 'I want to talk to someone about this,'
I would close it, thinking, 'But what good will it do to talk about this?'

In the days I spent like that,
the feeling of people drifting awaybegan.

The 'kind people' were all gone

The friends I was so close with
slowly and quietly started to distance themselves.

At first, it was just slower replies.
"Sorry, I've been a bit busy."
"Let's talk properly another time."

I held onto hope because of those words.

But that "next time"—it never came.

When I suddenly realized it,
I was all alone.

It wasn't that I wanted help.

"Why did it end up like this?"

As if searching for the answer, I went back to seminars,
felt moved again, cried again, and came home thinking, "This time, I can do it!"
But in the end, reality didn't change.

In the midst of that cycle, one day, I suddenly realized.

I wasn't actually asking "what I should do" in earnest.

I was just,

"It's not your fault."
"That must have been hard."
"You're doing your best."

I just wanted to be told things like that.

What I really wanted wasn't advice or a solution—it was
sympathy.

It was justification disguised as "consultation."

When I realized that, I felt pathetic and ashamed!!
.........But I understood.

They didn't abandon me.

No one had abandoned me.

I was the one who kept repeating, "I have no money, everything is so hard, but it's because of circumstances beyond my control..."
I just kept spewing complaints and suffering,
and even while asking "What should I do?," I wouldn't change a single thing.

If someone said that to me, I'd be at a loss too (laughs).
There's nothing I could do for them,
and I wouldn't know what to say if someone told me that.
I suppose I might be able to listen to them vent,
but I don't think there's anything I'd want to talk about with the me from back then (laughs).

And finally, I understood the meaning of those words.

Even so, I kept waiting for someone's kind words.
I believed that being cared for was what love was.

But true love,
wasn't about "affirming you as you are without change,"
it was about "believing in the you that can change."

When I realized that, I—

I remembered the words that man said back then.

"If it's not a place where you can fail a lot,
get back up anyway,
and create the next challenge—"
"Even if they are good people, you shouldn't be with them."

Those words, which sounded cold-blooded and cruel at the time,
are painfully true to me now.

What looked like kindness was holding me back

Relationships that accept "not changing"
are certainly comforting.

But that was"a relationship of supporting each other so we don't fail any further."

In that relationship, when I truly failed—
no one was left.

Relationships that support each other with kindness so as not to fail
lose their function the moment you fail.

And that form of mutual support,
I had been choosing unconsciously.

To Episode 3: Meeting the 'People Who Don't Boast'

Next time, Episode 3.
The day will come when you meet 'people who don't laugh at failure and don't boast.'

How will I get back on my feet?
The signs of that began quietly.

──To be continued