A good human being

My mother never talked about herself or the things she experienced in her life. But I know she had a tough life that made her who she is: hard and bitter. This shaped not only her life but my life as well. Our relationship is a continuation of her own trauma, and I am only slowly carving my way out of it.

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Silent protection

After leaving a place I completely cut all connections with my past. I stop talking to my friends. I don’t have any old relationships with anyone. People find this strange. How can you not keep ties with other people? Don’t you miss your friends? Yes partly. It’s not that they are not on my mind. Sometimes I wish I could talk with them or know what they are doing, but at the same time it’s not what I want.

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Lost control

He died. That’s drama enough. Everyone showed compassion and nobody knew what to say. But the background is that I was hiding him and I was embarrassed to tell people that I was pregnant. I can’t have him now and I didn’t even honor him by showing my joy for his existence. I so wish now that I could do it differently.

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Whitewashing

In a way he ruined my life. I don’t know. Maybe it was my lack of self-confidence that prevented me from leaving him sooner. But I liked him. We could have had a great marriage. He could have had a nice and successful life with me, but he simply didn’t play along.

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My right to exist

Like an evil ghost, there is a dark force inside of me that keeps trying to convince me that I am worth nothing. It tells me that I am not good enough for anything. It sells itself to me as the ultimate truth and insists that I don’t need to try to fool myself into believing otherwise.

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She has no access to me

I haven’t spoken to my sister for the last 9 years. I made this decision knowingly and willingly and I communicated it to her. I told her that she will never see me again if she leaves now, and she left. So I made this decision final for us. She never accepted it as such, but she has to live with it, just as I do.

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It’s ok that I am the way I am

My maternal grandmother would have turned 90 this year. She died exactly on her 72nd birthday. She had a heart attack while she was on the toilet. I don’t want to tell her things as much as I want to ask the 1000 questions I have for her. It might be some kind of search. There are surely many people in the world who have similarities with me, but within the family there is a strong desire for identification because these are my personal roots.

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