Zecko
life is killing me
- Sep 2, 2024
- 37
with a program translated from German into English
So I was born in NRW. |
When I was about two or three years old, we moved to Lower Saxony because my father was transferred - he was a soldier in the German army at the time. We lived in a housing estate where only members of the German army lived. |
My "mother" (I put her in quotation marks because she was never a mother to me) was always a very choleric and unpleasant person. I remember that she was always starting arguments with the neighbors and was very insulting. She also always provoked arguments with my "father." It often got to the point where he would beat her up. |
I have to say that my mother was only 16 when I was born. Perhaps she was overwhelmed by the situation from the start. First child, moving to another state, away from relatives... |
It's strange, but I don't remember a single nice experience with my "parents" from my childhood... |
My brother was born two years after me. He was born with a hearing impairment and a cleft palate, which meant he never learned to speak properly. It wasn't a problem for me, as I grew up with him, but he was teased a lot in the outside world. |
Today I blame myself for not always being there for him and defending him. I wasn't the brother I should have been. That still hurts and saddens me to this day and I always cry when I think of him... Now it's coming back again... |
Well, I can't think of anything else from my preschool days right now. I'll just move on to the first day of school. |
That was also a life-changing experience (I've already talked about it somewhere in this forum). Starting school should actually be a nice, exciting experience for a child. For me, it was rather sad. All the other children came with parents, grandparents and siblings. There was laughter, photos were taken, etc. |
Only I was standing there all alone because my "mother" didn't want to accompany me and my |
" |
father" was somewhere else but not with me. |
At that time he had already left the army and was working in a large steel processing factory. When there was stress at home, he was often away from home for weeks. My mother always said that he was with a mistress... I have no idea whether there was any truth in that. |
So I stood there all alone in the schoolyard and didn't know where to go. That wasn't nice. The |
" |
funny" thing was that I was in the wrong class for three weeks because I hadn't remembered |
which class I was assigned to. It's strange that the teacher from the wrong class didn't notice it until so late... |
Then came the thing with the cat. When I was six or seven years old, a little kitten came to me while I was playing outside. |
I ran home with her and asked my "mother" if I could keep her. And what does she do? She beats me up and shouts about who should pay for the feed, who should take care of the |
" |
animals" and that she would have to do all the work again. Finally, she threw me out! |
I should find another family that would let me do that. |
Well, I didn't know where to go at first. I went to a school friend and he told his parents. They then informed the youth welfare office and they then consulted with my "mother". I then stayed with this school friend for about six weeks. |
I don't know how or why I got back home - I have no memories. |
In 1978, when I was seven years old, my sister was born. The dramas began... |
I don't remember what triggered it, but my "mother" freaked out again and kicked all three of us out. |
Since I now at least knew that the youth welfare office had to help, I went to the nearest phone booth with my brother and little sister in the stroller. I could already read, so I looked up the number of the youth welfare office in the phone book and called it. |
The three of us were then placed separately in different foster families. That wasn't nice either. |
I can't remember how long we were there. |
When we got home, we had to go hungry. My "father" was away again and had emptied the account. My "mother" always sent me to our grocery store with a note to put it on their account, but at some point that was no longer possible because a large sum had already accumulated. So I came home empty-handed. |
When the hunger became too great, my "mother" went to the social welfare office and received food vouchers from them, but they could only be used for food. So I had to collect cigarette butts outside, and my "mother" would then crumble the tobacco out of the remains so that she could roll new cigarettes... I was extremely ashamed when people asked me why I was collecting cigarette butts. |
Now, as I'm writing, I realize that I haven't even mentioned the constant beatings... But they happened constantly. |
When I was still in elementary school, I had a nice experience. I was in the third or fourth grade. My "father" was at home for once and asked whether I wanted to spend the summer holidays with his mother, my grandma Dorle. I wanted to! So, as a little boy, I was allowed to travel the almost 300 km to Wuppertal by train all by myself. That alone was exciting. |
I still remember the train pulling into Wuppertal station. I stood at the door and saw my little grandma standing there. This sweet person in her elegant coat and hat. A real lady. |
I have to say that my "father" drove to my grandmother's house every now and then, and I was allowed to go with him a few times, which is why I recognized her from the train door (some things are only coming back to me as I write this). |
So let's continue... |
Another passenger had to open the train door for me. It was just too difficult for me, a little boy, to open. So I rushed onto the platform and we ran towards each other. My grandma took me in her arms and kissed me and hugged me. It was so beautiful. We then took the bus to Velbert, where my grandparents lived. |
A completely different attitude towards life came over me. |
My grandparents' older neighbors greeted me with "there comes little Peter!". My name is not Peter, but my father's. They called me Peter because I looked a lot like my father when he was my age. Neighbors I didn't know at all gave me sweets and kind words. |
That was the first time I really started to think about my "father". If people call me "little Peter" so nicely, then my "father" can't have been a bad person, at least in the past... |
In my grandparents' apartment, I was given the room that used to belong to my aunt, who had since moved out (she was a late descendant of my grandparents, just eight years older than me, and had recently moved in with her boyfriend). That was nice. A room of my own - even with a television. There was also the old music cabinet with a record player, where a few of my "father's" old records were kept. I don't have many memories of my grandfather. He was blind (during the Second World War, he was shot in the head during the Russian campaign, which he survived but remained blind). He had a small workshop in the basement where he made all kinds of brushes. I always wondered how a blind person could be so skilled with machines. The machines - that was great too... I liked the smell of the workshop. It smelled of machine oil. |
These summer holidays were the best of my life. My grandma spoiled me like a little prince. |
I got gooseberry cake because I loved eating gooseberries. And she gave me books. I read a lot back then. I got bananas - we didn't have anything like that at home. |
But there was also a bad experience for me. One evening I asked my grandparents if I could sleep in their bed. I just wanted to be as close to them as possible. I was allowed. My dear Grandpa Josef said as he put on his pajamas, "But don't look!" And I crawled under the covers and said, "I'm not looking, Grandpa. Here, look!" He couldn't even see if I was watching! |
At that moment, I hadn't even thought about my thoughtless remark. Later, however, I felt so much pain and regret for having said that sentence. To this day, I think |
often think of this moment. |
To this day I ask myself why I shouldn't watch. Was that sentence of his just a joke? Or did he perhaps have scarred wounds from the war that I shouldn't see? |
A year later, Grandpa was dead. He died of lung cancer. My dear Grandpa Josef, who hardly knew anything about his grandchildren. |
I had wished that this holiday would never end, but it ended and I had to go home. |
I remember that when I was in fifth grade, we had to move. The army housing project where we were still living was sold and the apartments became condominiums that we couldn't afford. We moved to a housing estate that today would probably be called a "hot spot". The majority of families living there were financially weak (I write financially weak on purpose because the word "socially weak" suggests something wrong. In my opinion, socially weak are people who lack social skills and are simply not social). |
In this settlement, the proportion of people with a migrant background was very high. This was the first time I became aware of my "father's" attitude. For him, all foreign, southern-looking people were "Apaches". He always spoke very derogatorily about these people. |
At that time, a chapter in my life began that almost destroyed me. I don't want to go into too much detail, but I was sexually abused by a man over a period of about 1.5 years. This man also took photos of me and other boys, which he then developed in his own darkroom. I can't say how the whole thing got out, I just know that at some point my "mother" beat me up more than ever before. She had received a summons from the police and I had to go with her. I made my statements and was ashamed to death. When we got home, the beating started again and my mother literally said "You really enjoyed that, you filthy pig!" |
That hurt so much and destroyed so much inside me that I don't have the words to describe it. After that sentence, my "mother" was finally finished with me. Strangely enough, none of this (at first) had any influence on my school performance. The fifth and sixth grades were the so-called orientation levels in Lower Saxony at the time. After that, a recommendation was given for my further career. So Hauptschule, Realschule or Gymnasium. |
I was recommended to go to grammar school, but my parents thought that a secondary school would be enough for me. After all, they hadn't attended a higher school either. You don't have to work as hard at a secondary school and the teaching materials at a grammar school are too expensive anyway. |
So I had to go to secondary school and that's where things went downhill for me. |
I hardly participated anymore and felt totally out of place there. Maybe puberty played a role... |
I could no longer cope with my "father's" racist attitude and gradually became more and more oriented towards the punk scene. I have to say that the city I grew up in was a right- wing "stronghold". When I became more and more recognizable as a punk, I was often beaten up by skinheads who were springing up like mushrooms in this city. |
I then spent most of my free time in Bremen because the punk scene was bigger there. School played less and less of a role in my life... |
Eventually my parents found out about this and there was a final beating... "Father" was gone again and "Mother" could only throw one punch. I pushed her against the living room cupboard, breaking the glass plates and the dishes on them. |
Then I went to the youth welfare office and told them that I had to get out of there. I was completely surprised when I was told that a classmate's family was taking in foster children and that I could go there. At first I was relieved because then the family wouldn't be complete strangers. I stayed with this foster family for three months. I noticed pretty quickly that they only took in foster children because it apparently brought in a lot of money from the state. Her own son - my classmate - got his ass gilded and we foster children |
- |
there was a younger boy there - had to live in a room with only a bunk bed and a |
closet. |
So after three months I said I wanted to go home. |
That also went very smoothly. When I was dropped off at home, my "classmate" said, "Now you're a street kid again." |
That hurt me less than he had hoped... |
I was amazed at how much had changed at home in just three months. My parents had separated. My father now had his own small apartment in another "hotspot". My mother also had a new "lover". A guy in his mid-20s, just a few years older than me, who now had the presumption to take on the role of father. |
This relationship didn't last very long. My "mother", choleric as always, had provoked him several times to the point that he also beat her up and at one point even kicked in the apartment door. This door could now simply be pushed open, which I thought was quite "good" because people who wanted to visit me no longer had to ring the bell. They could simply push the door open and come to me. |
And people came every day :-) |
Well, my "mother's" "lover" then separated from my mother, but not without impregnating her first... I got my first half-sister. |
At some point, when my half-sister was still an infant, my "mother" lost her temper again and told me that I should now take care of the child. She would no longer feed it, change its diapers, etc. I didn't feel like having a big argument with my "mother" because that wouldn't lead to anything anyway, so I called the police. They must have misunderstood me somehow, because shortly after my call a patrol car with flashing blue lights pulled up. They had been told that a child was being neglected and wasn't getting anything to eat. My "mother" then played the whole thing down and nothing else happened. I assume she continued to look after my half-sister - I was hardly at home anymore and spent more and more time in Bremen. |
Of course, my school performance continued to decline and I had to repeat the eighth grade. At some point, my new teacher took me aside and told me that if I didn't pull my weight and join in, I would graduate without a degree. |
I then improved my grade point average to the point where I was able to obtain a qualified degree. |
That means I would only have had to add one more year and would have had my secondary school diploma. I didn't even have to study hard, the "knowledge" was just there. So the last school year wasn't particularly challenging for me. |
Still, I had had enough of school. I wanted to get out of there. |
Back then, as a school leaver (assuming you had a degree), you could choose where you wanted to do an apprenticeship; there were enough vacancies. But I was completely disorientated. I had offers as a painter/varnisher, cook, interior decorator, retail salesman... I met a former school friend there. He told me that he was training to be a pastry chef and that there was an apprenticeship available there. I thought to myself, good, at least I know someone. So I signed the contract and started my apprenticeship as a pastry chef. The good thing was that they only trained pastry chefs there. Most of the time, you train as a baker and confectioner and then have to go out at night to bake bread rolls. That wasn't the case there. Work started at seven. |
However, at some point the stress at home became too much for me. |
I didn't want to put up with my "mother's" constant accusations and reprimands any longer. I went to the youth welfare office and wanted to know under what conditions I could move out of home and what the situation was with having my own apartment. |
This also went relatively smoothly. |
So at 17 I was able to move into my first apartment. However, I needed financial support because the apprentice's salary - which was just 200 DM in the first year of my apprenticeship - was not enough to pay rent, let alone cover living expenses. But I did get support from the social welfare and housing office. |
It was an incredible feeling to finally be able to hold the key to my first own apartment in my hands. I was so happy to finally be able to leave my former "home" behind me forever. |
But it wasn't an easy time. There was financial support, but it was only enough for the bare necessities. At some point my colleague and former school friend introduced me to his cousin. She was a few years older than me and had two small children but no husband... I don't want to go into too much detail, but we got closer, I moved in with her and we got married. |
I got married when I was 18. What nonsense, I think today. I was totally immature and not ready for marriage. Today I think it was just a desperate attempt to have a family. I hadn't considered what I was burdening myself with. I didn't think for a second about the consequences. I was stupid, blind and just immature. |
Well... at some point I came home early. We had finished everything in the bakery and were ready for the weekend... At home I surprised my wife with another guy in our bed. I totally lost it and became "my father." I beat up my wife and her lover. Someone, I assume the neighbors, called the police. |
Although no charges were filed against me, I was evicted from the building. Where do I go now? |
My colleague – my wife's cousin – had no room for me. What do I do, idiot? I ask my "mother" if she has room! I, idiot, don't know what else to do but go to the person who was never there for me. |
She didn't have any room, but she offered me the couch in the living room to sleep on. Oh well... at least... Oh yes, she already had a new "partner". Another young guy, just five years older than me. Strangely enough, I got on quite well with him. So I was able to sleep on the couch. Meanwhile, I tried to save my marriage. But since I had never learned how to deal with such situations, my attempts were so amateurish that it was almost ridiculous. I called her constantly, sent telegrams (there was no internet back then, no SMS or anything like that), or sent her flowers from Fleurop. |
Like in a bad movie... |
Of course the marriage could not be saved. |
I picked up my belongings from her and put the stuff in my "mother's" basement. |
And then from morning to night I feel lost again. I sleep on my mother's couch, my wife has filed for divorce and I don't feel like doing anything anymore. |
I quit my apprenticeship three months before the exam. I no longer had the energy to work or to worry about anything else. |
So... and looking for an apartment without a job didn't help either... I have to start over somehow... |
I called the district military recruitment office and asked when I would be drafted. Because of my training, I was drafted but deferred. I was told that the draft notices for the coming quarter had already been sent out and that I could only get in now if I waived some of the deadlines. I did that and received a draft notice for the following week in the mail. That was at short notice. Very, very short notice! |
But on the other hand, I now had something to do again and at least some money. |
So I packed a few things and reported to the barracks that had been assigned to me. I was very lucky that it was the barracks where my father was an instructor at the time. Some professional soldiers still knew him and so I had Those doing basic military service have at least a somewhat easier life than other recruits. I was often invited to the staff for coffee and was allowed to address some officers as "Du" at least in private. |
To explain: My father was "only" a soldier, but a highly respected instructor. He sometimes took me to the barracks when I was still very small, before I started school. |
So I had a bed and food secured during my military service. That was worth a lot in my situation. |
After basic training, I was transferred to my regular unit. It wasn't that far from my hometown. I joined the armored artillery and I have to admit, I really enjoyed the service. It was a bit unusual for someone who was very left-wing, but that's how it was back then... |
My performance there was described as above average and after just six months I was allowed to train recruits myself. The stupid thing was that I wasn't allowed to commit myself. |
During my "active" time in the Bremen scene, there were occasionally violent confrontations with the police and of course such things are on record. Although my battery commander, my sergeant and my sub-unit leader were in favour of me becoming a temporary soldier, the MAD (Militarist Counterintelligence Service) said NO! Since, as a "left-wing extremist," I have problems with state authority and do not stand on the basis of the free, democratic basic order, a commitment as a temporary or professional soldier would not be an option. The only option would be the so-called extended basic military service. That means I could extend the regular period from 12 to 18 months. That's all I can do. |
Well, I extended my stay to 18 months. Back then, time wasn't just money, it was also a roof over my head. During this time I did a lot of special duties that others didn't like to do. Patrol duty or guarding the gate. Because for every day of special duty I got a day off in return. I then saved up enough time off to be able to take a month's holiday in one go. So I effectively reduced my period of service from 18 to 17 months. |
During my vacation, I worked illegally every day with the ulterior motive of working for a permanent position. It worked! |
So I was able to start working at the company immediately after leaving the army and earn real money for the first time. This meant that finding an apartment was no longer a problem. I slept on my mother's |
couch for about two weeks until I could move into my new apartment. |
My life was actually normal... |
After a year, there was a huge accident in the company that destroyed the entire company. The employees who had been with the company the longest were offered employment at another location by the company headquarters, because the destroyed area would not be rebuilt but sold. I didn't get that offer, but luckily I was only unemployed for two weeks because I got a job at a company where I earned even more and only had to work two shifts instead of three. |
Everything was fine. No, actually everything was perfect. I had a very well-paid job, an apartment that I had furnished really nicely, a car... everything you need. |
But no girlfriend. No one who waits for you after work.... |
The only thing that distracted me from everyday life were the weekends, which I almost always spent with a colleague in the city. We went from club to club, drank and took other things. But I also had my consumption of alcohol and other substances well under control. I never came to work "stoned". |
Then I met a woman... |
She was very nice and what attracted me immediately were her brown eyes! I don't know, but brown eyes make me melt... The only problem, albeit a small one, was that she lived in another city. But that wasn't a big problem - I had a car. We had separate apartments for six months, but I drove to her place every day after work. I was actually already living with her, and I only drove to my place to empty the mailbox. |
For me, she was the great love, the love I had always been looking for. For me, everything was perfect. |
We quickly started talking about marriage... |
A very, very, very big mistake, Martin!!! |
Her sister had warned me several times before: "You, be careful. She just wants to rip you off!" But since I had no reason to believe her sister the whole time - there was never a major argument, everything was wonderful - I couldn't or didn't want to guess what was coming. |
Although... I can't make it that easy for myself. I was very jealous and I let her know that. When she talked to another man for a longer period of time, I would reproach her |
made. |
I personally didn't think my jealousy was too bad, but I don't know what it looked like inside her. I don't know how much I hurt her with it. |
She got pregnant and I was so incredibly happy. I finally got the family I always wanted. |
Now that she was pregnant, thoughts of marriage became more concrete. We got married. |
The celebration was big and beautiful. Everything was perfect. After the party we were pretty exhausted, which is tiring, but in a good way. |
We were lying in bed, I was the happiest person in the world and she said to me: |
" |
I don't want to anymore. That was a mistake!" |
Very bad joke, I thought. We got married a few hours ago and she comes around the corner with such a "joke". But she was deadly serious. I tried to talk to her for a few days, but she went mute/stubborn. She stuck to |
that. |
This threw me off balance to the point where I could no longer concentrate on my work and started making mistakes. After another argument, I tried to hang myself in the shower, but it failed because the rod broke off the wall. |
I went to my doctor the next day and told him about it. I asked him: "Send me somewhere. I don't care where. I just want to get away." He made a phone call and gave me a referral to a psychiatric hospital. On the one hand, I didn't care, but on the other hand, I was very panicked. |
Wow! I've only seen something like that on TV. On the way there I had the wildest thoughts and ideas. Bars on the windows. Crazy people screaming, drooling, people who think they're Napoleon, etc. The usual prejudices that one can have when one is ignorant. |
When I got there, I saw no bars, no screaming people, and I didn't meet Napoleon either. There were just people who could no longer cope with themselves or their environment, who could no longer cope with any kind of pressure. Completely normal people. Young, old, business owners, unemployed. |
The staff and all employees in civilian clothes. |
The only thing that surprised me was the food, or rather where it was eaten. In hospitals, food is brought to your bed. But when I was waiting in bed for the food, nothing came... I just heard a bell at some point. Aha, I thought, someone has fun with bells... At some point a nurse came and asked if I was hungry. I said not that much, but a tea or |
something would be nice. |
She explained to me that meals would be eaten together in the dining room. |
But I hadn't been told that beforehand. Well, I went into the dining room with a slightly uneasy feeling. Of course, everyone was staring at me. I found that very uncomfortable. I could feel the |
stares. But at first, no one spoke to me. |
I spent most of my time in the smoking room. I kept wanting to know what would happen next with me and what would happen in terms of therapy or something like that. I should be patient, was the answer I received over and over again. Not particularly satisfactory for me. I wanted to talk to someone about what had happened. I wanted to get out of my emotional chaos. At some point I spoke to the cleaning lady who was taking a break in the smoking room. I spoke to her every day. After a week and a half I said I was going home. They only let me go reluctantly. But since nothing is happening to me here, apart from the pill I get there, I can just hang around at home. I was angry! |
" |
But you can come back anytime if you feel bad," I was told. |
You'll have to wait a long time for that, I just thought. |
When I got home, my wife was extremely cold to me. She had filed for divorce. For her, the whole thing was over. I went to my doctor to get a prescription for the medication that I got at the clinic. I stayed at home for a week. My wife became increasingly distant and colder. |
I then took the whole pack of pills and eventually collapsed. |
At some point I came to in a hospital bed. Tubes and cables were attached to me, inserted into me. Everything was dull, barely perceptible, as if everything was blurred by a thick fog. |
But I'm still alive. What bullshit. |
When I was halfway back on my feet, I had a conversation with the head doctor. That was something special, because he rarely gave "private audiences." But he was totally fine. He told me that he was personally sorry that I had left the hospital so disappointed. If I urgently needed to talk and no one else had time for me, I could turn to him immediately. He would then make time for me. I thought that was very nice and courteous of him. In general, he was very understanding and talked to me for a long time. He was empathetic. I had missed something like that. |
I pulled myself together and felt that I was now being taken seriously, because I quickly got appointments for talk therapy and occupational therapy also started. |
I want to shorten this a bit.... |
When I was sick for too long, my wife sent me a letter from my employer to the clinic. |
The termination! |
How can they fire me while I'm sick? Is that even possible? I didn't have the strength to fight back, I didn't care about anything. And I had savings and good insurance, which gave me a financial cushion. |
I called my wife, who was making accusations against me. She was worried about the bills, rent, etc. I was able to calm her down by mentioning the insurance and tried again to persuade her to start over... She said we could try again, but she couldn't promise anything. That was at least one straw I clung to. |
I was allowed to go home at the weekend and I was looking forward to going home...despite the uneasy feeling. |
Surprisingly, she was very kind to me. My mood shot from zero to a hundred. Everything was forgotten (for me), everything was good (for me). After a very, very nice night, the next day she casually mentions the kitchen. It's getting old and it's time for a new one. Without thinking much about it (well, I did), we went to a furniture store that Saturday and I ordered a new kitchen. |
Everything was fine. I promised her that I would continue to go to the clinic anyway, to get more stability in my life and my emotional world. But since everything was fine, I was allowed out again the following weekend. She was a little more distant again, but I didn't want to allow myself to panic about a setback - I suppressed the panic. |
The following weekend, the beautiful new kitchen was installed. But strangely, my wife didn't seem particularly happy. PANIC! |
" |
Now you can go! The kitchen is here!" |
I didn't do anything to her! Why should I leave now? What happened? |
" |
You, just be careful. She's just trying to rip you off!" Her sister was so right! |
Now I'm realizing that the whole thing sounds like something from a bad movie. Maybe they should make a movie out of it... |
I didn't try to hurt myself again that day. I went back to the clinic and cried it all out. I cried like I hadn't in a long time... and I've spent a lot of time crying uncontrollably in the past. |
Here I shorten again.... |
In the weeks that followed, I surprisingly became a little more stable. However, a return home was still out of the question for the time being. My stability increased and it was time to leave the clinic. The only question was where to? Attached to the clinic, there was |
a house with assisted living. There was a room available and I was able to move in without any problems. However, the care there was only sporadic. There was also a man living in the house who I got on well with. He was funny and distracted me a little. The problem, however, was that the care really wasn't very intensive and you were left to your own devices most of the time. To keep the evenings from getting too boring, we liked to have a drink now and then. But (for me) it escalated very quickly. To put it briefly: It got to the point where I drank up to four (!) bottles (!) of brandy a day (!). Horrible, in retrospect. It all happened so quickly that I realized in the morning, "Oh, there's nothing left and today is Sunday. I guess I have to go to the gas station to get some more." |
I was well aware that I was shaking like a bum, unwashed, unkempt, and wearing sweatpants, as I went to the gas station, but I didn't care. The booze was more important. |
That's bad... |
At some point, however, I also had a small glimmer of hope. I didn't want to let myself go like that anymore. After all, it's not pleasant to just be drunk and neglect your personal hygiene. |
I went to the clinic and was immediately able to go to the detoxification ward. With the help of medication, this went very well. I can say that I still have a good grip on my alcohol consumption. Sure, I drink now and then, but not so excessively and, what is very important to me, I can live without it. There have been times when I haven't had any alcohol for months and I haven't missed anything. |
Then one day my still-wife called: "Your son has just been born!" She said I was welcome to come to the hospital. I immediately got in the car and drove the almost 50km to the hospital. I was so excited... |
When I arrived at the hospital, I saw the little boy lying in his bed. He looked a bit like my grandpa Josef. I wanted to pick him up, but my wife said coldly and in a contemptuous tone: |
" " |
Don't touch my child!" Then why should I come here at all?" I wanted to know. She just grinned at me and I |
immediately knew that it was just another stab in my heart. Without another word, I got in the car and drove to the nearest gas station. There I bought a bottle of brandy and had a drink. |
My head and stomach were turning again and I no longer saw any point in anything. On the way back I was crying and just wanted to die. Since it was already late in the evening, there was hardly any traffic on the country road. I drove faster and faster and thought to myself "the next tree is yours!" |
The "miracle" was that the car was a wreck, the engine was on the passenger side, but I didn't have a single scratch. I don't remember how long it took, but eventually the fire department arrived and freed me from the wreckage. The police then took me to the station, where they took a blood sample and confiscated my driving license. I didn't say that I wanted to take my own life. |
Well, I was able to leave after the blood test. But I couldn't relax in my room in the assisted living facility. I was so down, so exhausted. I have a wife and a son and I still don't know anything about them. The next day I bought a train ticket and went to my aunt's. She was the last person who still stood by me without reproach and was very loving. When she opened the door, she immediately fell into my arms. "My big one!" she called in her squeaky voice that I loved so much. It felt so good. She hugged and kissed me and was happy. I was happy at that moment too. |
I think I lived with my aunt and uncle for about three weeks. At some point I started to feel restless. I can't stay here forever. At times I was barely responsive, especially when I had increased the dose of Aponal again. I just sat on the couch in a daze and wasn't really there. I then went home without saying goodbye. I think that really hurt my aunt. I only said that I had to go to the bank to withdraw some money. But then I got into a taxi and went to the train station. |
I had also left the bag with my clothes behind... |
Next to the clinic there was a former hairdresser's salon, which now housed a contact point for people with mental health problems. In addition to the café, there were also rooms where you could be creative. You could paint, or do pottery, or do something with soapstone. I usually sat in the café to at least have a chat, drink cheap coffee and play a game of chess now and again. |
A woman who visited the day clinic also came regularly. She was something of an eye-catcher. She attracted everyone's attention because she was so beautiful. But that wasn't all. She was eloquent and very, very likeable. But I didn't pay much attention to her. My head wasn't "free" for that sort of thing. |
Eventually we started talking more and more often. It was very pleasant to talk to her, she made me feel like I could speak openly about everything, she listened carefully and showed understanding. Then one day she said that she had been observing me for a while. She was in inpatient treatment at the same time as me, just on a different ward, and she often sat in the same smoking room as me... "Strange... I never noticed," I thought. Well, you can't pay attention to everything... She had already had a bit of a crush on me at that time, but didn't feel strong enough to tell me this in any way. Especially because I didn't even notice her. She talked about her life and everything that had happened to her. In addition to her still not completely overcome anorexia, she had lost her husband in a traffic accident a few years ago. Her two children were currently in a home because she did not have the strength to look after them. |
We talk to each other every day in the café and then one day she invited me over. Besides me, she had two really good friends who I also knew from the café. I just didn't know that they were so close in private too. One was a plump plumber who I only knew in his overalls, the other was a gay man who had only recently come out, which wasn't easy for him here in the rural area, especially because he came from a "noble" family. |
In any case, these two were really great people and I liked them very much. |
So, she invited me and I visited her. Great apartment! Really tastefully furnished. All furniture made of knotty pine and lots of blue decorative |
pieces. |
We talked a lot about all sorts of things. It turned out that we both liked going to the same club in Bremen and listened to the same music. We talked and talked... At some point we got closer... Well, actually she seduced me. I would never have dared to waste a single thought on something like that because she was so incredibly attractive, even though she was eight years older than me! |
I had always thought that I would never be able to get close to a woman like that. That's why I never even thought about something like that. |
Late the next morning, the plumber and the gay man showed up at their door, fully loaded with groceries for brunch. They had arranged this beforehand without my knowledge. The four of us made ourselves comfortable at the dining table and the plumber said to her almost casually: "So, have you finally done it?!" She had apparently already spoken to her friends about her feelings for me. "Yes, I do!" was her answer. I didn't find the whole thing unpleasant at all, rather funny that other people had been talking about me for a long time without my knowledge. |
We moved in together very quickly. |
Everything stabilized. Her two children (both girls) then came back to her. The younger of the two liked me straight away, the older one was very distant. But that was understandable, since she could still remember her deceased father. This will work itself out, I thought. |
At some point, offspring were on the way. At that point, I had no fear that it would happen again. Everything was fine. |
However, we had to move because her apartment only had three rooms. So we rented a nice terraced house with a garden. This is how I always imagined my life. A family, a small house. Everything good, everything |
beautiful. |
Our daughter was born, I was there and cut the umbilical cord. It was all beautiful. |
I became self-employed and ran a small computer shop. There were two other shops of this kind in our small town. So the competition was very fierce and business was doing okay... |
However, I couldn't get health insurance. My income simply wasn't enough for that. |
Here I'll cut it short again... |
We were together for 12 years. We weren't married, but that didn't matter. We led a pretty normal life. |
However, business was getting worse and there was hardly any money coming in. She was receiving her widow's pension, but that couldn't cover everything. Then I went bankrupt and we had to give up the house. |
Inevitably, I slipped from self-employment straight into Hartz IV. |
But so that her money wouldn't be counted towards my Hartz IV benefits, we had to move to separate places. We had fooled ourselves into believing that nothing would change otherwise. My room, which I rented in a shared flat, was actually only supposed to serve as an alibi. |
But things turned out differently. |
Due to the physical separation, we also gradually grew apart from each other. Although I was usually with "my family" every day, the times when we didn't see each other became more frequent. I sat in my shared room or in the living room with the other residents. |
What hurt me the most at the time was the separation from my daughter. The whole thing had not left her unscathed either. I was torn again. I had to make an effort to save the relationship, but on the other hand I was powerless again and didn't care about anything... It's hard to explain. "Officially" we were still a family, even if we were separated... |
At some point I met a woman from Essen in a chat. A half-Spanish woman with brown eyes (!) |
Without my "partner's" knowledge, I drove to Essen. |
When I returned, my daughter's mother also noticed immediately that something was wrong with me. Since we had (almost) always talked openly about everything, I confessed to her that I had fallen in love with another woman. This was of course a shock for her, but she said she had suspected something like this. She had also fallen in love again some time ago, but nothing had ever happened. |
We both knew that this relationship was now over. |
I met the woman from Essen a few more times; I was also planning to move to Essen. But then it turned out that she had two other people besides me. I was devastated again. |
Everything is broken again. Alone again. My daughter's mother found out about it, of course. We never completely stopped contact - because of our daughter. |
And what does she do? She comes to me and comforts me! She comforts the man who left her for another woman. |
To this day I cannot say a bad word about her, she was so selfless, had courage, character... |
How much strength must this woman have to comfort me despite everything?! |
Since then, I have never been in a relationship again. I only had "contacts" for sex, but that is long gone too, because sex without love is not exactly fulfilling. Since 2015, I have lived without any intensive contact with women and I have actually come to terms with that. |
I'm actually quite happy to live alone. I've also realized that I'm not capable of being in a relationship. |
I have had depressive phases over the years, but this severe crisis of meaning that I am feeling now has only become more pronounced in the last 12 months. I have never had these panic attacks before either! I am afraid of people, especially when a lot of people are together. (For me, five or six people are enough). I get anxious when I hear cars driving past my house. I am afraid when the postman comes. I am afraid to go shopping. |
And I long to be away. |
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- - - - |
In this text I have left out or greatly shortened a number of things that I do not consider relevant to my condition. The death of my grandmother, the death of my aunt, the death of my "parents". |
Maybe I simply forgot a lot of things.... |
But if someone has actually taken the time to read all this (thanks for that!) and doesn't understand something, or would like to know something, I'm happy to provide information. |
Well, that was my "life"...until now.... |
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