Trigger warning: estrangement+suicidal ideation +depression+mania mentioned below.
My mother and I are estranged. Last time I saw her/talked to her was four and a half years ago when she came to help with R’s birth and to help for the first few months of his life. She lasted about two weeks, announcing (after her and I had a fight), and that she would like to leave as soon as possible and go home. She went back to Russia within two days.
That was back in February of 2020.
I am angry at her for so many things she did, and said, and how she knew she shouldn’t say/do those things, yet she wouldn’t change. But when I look at her life, I see that she had some tremendous trauma and PTSD throughout childhood, adolescence, and as adult. Especially as an adult. And as a parent.
The information below was gathered by me, bit by bit, through my childhood and adulthood. She never sat me down and was like: “let’s have some tea and I’ll tell you my life story.” No. These are the little things that I picked up/overheard here and there, over the years, from hushed conversations among aunts, my dad, and things my mom herself had mentioned.
The story is incomplete because mom always was very ashamed to speak about her childhood and upbringing, always very secretive, not trusting anyone. She was always afraid that if she shares about herself, it will be used against her somehow. She taught me to do the same. But my story is my story, and her story is her story. BUT: I feel like I carry some generational trauma.
She was born in October of 1945, in a small town next to a big town, in the Soviet Union, the Ural region. Her mother (my grandmother) went to prison when my mom was a baby, and came out when my mom was 14 years old. Grandma got out sooner than expected for “good behavior.” Why did my grandmother received a sentence? Apparently, she was managing a small grocery store, she stole some food to bring home to her kids, got caught and, Stalin times, got a 20 year prison sentence.
My mom grew up with her aunt – my mother’s sister. Back then taking on another child, even if it’s your sister’s kid, was viewed as hardship for the family especially in post-war years. Plus, they already had two kids. Then they took my mom in, and I have a feeling that my mom was not entirely welcome.
My mom met her mom when she was 14 years old. I remember she was telling me a story how they had to pick up grandma from prison, that was located deep, deep in the East Siberian taiga. They had to cross a river in a boat, and when grandma saw mom, at 14 years old, she was running towards her, but my mom felt nothing but apathy. My mom shared that all she wanted was to get back to her aunt (see above).
Mom also shared that she had a hard time building a relationship with grandma after her release. She described a scene when they were in a bakery (a luxury in post-war years in Russia), and grandma was asking my mom “well, what would you like, honey, what can I get for you? Anything you want.” And my mom shared that she just wanted to run away. I think it is fair to say that my mom held/holds a lot of anger toward grandma.
What about mom’s dad? He was a German prisoner of war. He was brought to Russia after the war, where he met my grandma, where they had an affair, where they had my mom, and then he may have left back to Germany after the war. Or, maybe he stayed. We don’t know. Mom told me once that the fact that she was half German was a secret: being German in post-war Russia could give you “an enemy of the state” label, for life.
I specifically remember, as an adult already, my mom expressing a clear want to find who her father was. Even to just know his name. That was already in the times of World Wide Web, but she never followed through with it. To her, the project may have felt impossible to complete, a bear of a project. I honestly think she did not know where to start. She was scared. The project would have required her to dig deep, very deep, into her childhood, to visit her town, to have uncomfortable conversations, to read the archives, to re-experience that pain. Plus, she had us – my brother and I. Who can do such a project with two kids under foot?
Talking about trauma. I think there were other terrible things that may have happened to her when she was a child and as a young person. She never disclosed them. She always struggled with mania and depression. She told me once when I was already a teenager: “I wish I could fall asleep and not wake up.”
My brother and I were the direct recipients of her traumatic childhood experiences. I think she tried to hide her emotional state but simply couldn’t. Overall, my brother and I inherited the following philosophies: be very afraid of this world and its people; everyone is out to get you; trust no one; rely only on yourself; family is underrated; do not forgive or forget.
Mom can hold a grudge, much to her and her family’s detriment. I wish she could have gotten help, I wish she would have taken medication or gone to the doctor. But that was simply not possible due to the place and time.
I have mixed feelings about mom. I see some of her character traits in me. The anxiety, the fear of the other shoe dropping when all is well. The pessimistic outlook on the world. The hardness of emotions. I am angry at her, and at the same time I feel tremendous compassion – life gave her a shit piece of a pie. We don’t celebrate Mother’s Day in Russia opting instead for International Women’s Day on March 8th, but I am thinking about her today.
Mom of Children 