From the author: Is it good to think about others, forgetting about your loved one? Perhaps it would be wiser to take care of yourself first? But others don’t need to rack their brains and be distracted from their own affairs. What do you think? Based on materials from Svetlana Oskolkova’s author’s blog “Your Psychologist” In my distant and socialist childhood, the word “egoist” was a dirty word and was equated in its negativity with “fascist.” No truly good boy or girl had to think only about himself. If you have candy or a bar of chocolate, you must share the sweet pleasure between two or three. It doesn’t matter that you yourself categorically don’t want this, and the toffee cannot be cut into three parts in principle. You should, at a minimum, offer some of the treat to your friends or, at maximum, give it all away. Otherwise, they will brand you with a bad word and scold you. Personally, I really didn’t like wearing “bad boys.” Therefore, she always offered her delicious spoils to others. Reluctantly and in the secret hope that they will refuse. They didn't refuse. Even the chewed gum was sold out like sweet pies. Not without the help of adults, but I quickly realized that when there is sweets, but there is clearly not enough for everyone, it is better to postpone the meal until lonely times. When there is no one around, you don’t even need to think about anyone. True, there was a feeling of guilt. Like, he’s still an egoist, just pretending to be good. A person should not be selfish. Even when a candy bar is at stake. What happened next was only more. We were persistently forced to behave like musketeers. "One for all and all for one!" If you stand up for others, then someone will definitely stand up for you. But never for yourself! For himself, he is only a very bad person, abandoned by everyone and a deeply unhappy egoist. They are not accepted into cosmonauts and are scolded at Komsomol meetings. True true! I myself participated in such madness. In the first year, our group, almost in its entirety, angrily branded student Misha. Like, you are Mikhail, a very bad Komsomol member and person. And you will never make a worthy pediatrician, because you only think about yourself, don’t go to classes, and drag down your academic performance. Of course, the real reason for the indignation of the young “pediatricians” was something else. Misha was stunningly beautiful. But he didn’t pay any attention to his classmates. And he really didn’t care deeply about our group maiden honor. He loved older and richer women. This was the brightest representative of the Alphonse tribe. Although the criticism had an effect. Soon he took the documents from the medical institute and entered law school. Misha was right. A person who thinks only about himself has absolutely nothing to do in medicine. His career turned out quite well. But today I will tell you a different story. Sad and instructive. About the fact that it is still worth being selfish sometimes. Without relying on others. Simply because these people around you may not be around. And what happens to these others if you thoughtlessly squandered the most important thing. Working as a psychotherapist in a state hospital is difficult and without money. But for the time being it pays off with an abundance of interesting experience. You are aware of all the high-profile events and conflicts in the city. Participants often seek free but qualified help. Moreover, both sides. Victims and perpetrators. Abandoned and abandoned. Offenders and offended. And everyone has their own truth. Well worth being listened to. Under the influence of such meetings, a very philosophical view of problems is formed. Both on their own and on those around them. The first to come was the mother. It was written on her forehead. The woman looks like she was taken from socialist realism posters. 100%, undiluted quintessence of motherhood. Not a heroine, but still. A mother’s son died. Sudden, tragic and absurd. An 18 year old guy who barely graduated from high school. A loafer and a C-grade student who failed to enter a technical school. At the insistence of his parents, he got a job as a worker at one of the large industrial enterprises in our city. But to your functional responsibilitiesI didn’t have time to start. He didn't even see his own workplace. During the first half of his first day at work, he was crushed by a massive weight. The cable at the tower crane broke. Of course, a criminal case was opened into the death of the young man, and an official investigation was carried out. And the picture turned out strange. No one knew how he ended up on that dangerous site where people were not supposed to be at all. The workshop where he was supposed to work was in a completely different place. He did not change into overalls and did not have a helmet on his head. He didn't have any assignments. He actually had to sit in the personnel department and read the safety instructions. There was no one to tell the details. No one really knew the guy at the plant, and he himself died without regaining consciousness. I felt very sorry for the mother of the deceased. This is how you give birth in pain, grow, teach, heal. And all your hard work comes to nothing in a couple of minutes. One thing was a little confusing. It seemed that she was not so much grieving for her son as looking for those to blame for his death. Thirsts for revenge and blood. She came to the psychoneurological dispensary in order to document the fact that she had suffered severe moral damage. In order to then recover it from the guilty. Her son was very difficult for her, he was often sick and was extremely disobedient at school. But she dreamed that even such a child would somehow settle down and become a help to her in her old age. Now who will serve a glass of water in the last minutes of life? Let them pay, let them compensate. She was much less interested in the treatment and sympathy of strangers. But who am I to judge such grief? A week and a half later, the crane operator came. 100% working from the same masterpieces of our socialist past. A woman of about forty. Reliable and simple. Rough facial features, strong build, slightly masculine. Well, of course, it’s not a woman’s profession at all. Voice with a slight hoarseness. Not from smoking. From frequent colds caught in a draft in a cold tower crane cabin. But my eyes are frightened. She didn't see this guy at all. The height of her workplace is almost 90 meters above the ground. And I certainly didn’t want to destroy anyone. Fifteen years of work - and no serious incidents before. Only certificates and gratitude with entry into the labor record. A preliminary investigation showed that she acted correctly and according to the instructions. But we are not able to check the reliability of securing the cargo. And the situation was normal. Some people just don’t need to run around anywhere. Her own people are aware of this, but here is a newcomer! But they are trying to pin the responsibility on her. It's easier for the company. No crane operator, no problem. If he quits, then the plaintiffs have no reason to appeal. Moreover, he did not read the safety instructions. In any case, I did not sign up for the acquaintance. And I didn’t put on a helmet. From the administration, bribes are smooth. You might think this helmet would have saved the guy! And I felt sorry for this woman. Guilty without guilt. I didn’t sleep, I was worried, I lost my appetite, and I lost a lot of weight. Dark circles under the eyes, trembling fingers, exacerbation of lumbar osteochondrosis. I was afraid of being left without work and livelihood. But most of all, she was burdened by the thought that, even if absolutely unwillingly, she contributed to the death of the young man. I did not know the deceased. And it’s hard to imagine premeditated murder by dropping a large load on the victim from the height of a tower crane. Shooting sparrows from a cannon is much more logical. Much more likely to hit the target. But the responsibility is quite real! And she will have to live with this skeleton in her bosom. I don’t know about you from the outside now, but then it was obvious to me that the guy himself was to blame for his death. And the saddest set of circumstances. Accustomed to the fact that everyone and everything was thinking for him, he thoughtlessly rushed to inspect the territory of the plant. Without even suspecting that this is not a park of culture and recreation named after A. M. Gorky. And a tower crane is not a Ferris wheel. And a cartoon plasticine song: Don’t stand and don’t jump, Don’t sing, don’t dance Where construction is going on Or!