One More Perspective

Oh, such a tempting title, but a very thorny one. The bold expression first soothes the devastated Mother in me, but then also tugs on the parts of me which have cultivated appreciation for how complex relationships are and how I do not wish to engage in the divisive behaviors from which I continue to suffer. I do, however, wish to air my perspective; something I have been suppressing and subordinating, out of fear it would only be used to confirm the offensive campaign against me.

It’s this, this heartache, the loss of my Daughter from our daily lives, that wears me down, breaks my heart over and over and has me thinking my life is pretty much a failure, despite my best intentions and best efforts.

Where do I begin my account of what has transpired? In order to be as fair as I can be, I must probably begin with my Grandparents and travel back to before WWII, in Hungary.

I will change names to protect those who may disagree with my perspectives, with my recollection, or simply with how I put ducks in a row. I’m not seeking to cause further pain, and certainly, I don’t wish to cast anyone as the Villain, as I have desperately wished I could have been afforded the same consideration. Instead, I wish to bring light to the interwoven, multifaceted, collective human history of a small group of related individuals to document all is not as simple as feuds, grudges, blame, and gossip may imply. In fact, there are three-dimensional puzzle-pieces here, and I am aching to shine light on the family elements seldom discussed, events and hurts seldom if ever acknowledged, and consequence simplified to shortcomings in the offspring’s character, as if hatched in a vacuum. Without intending to sound like a martyr, I do believe I have been given the bill for generational history and survival, all that was bad, culminating into who my Family think I turned out to be. My Mother has professed this, though usually to someone other than me, as far back as I can remember. Seemingly, and with no precipitating circumstances, I turned out to be an angry, self-righteous, stubborn, and staunchly independent woman, and of course, a bad Mother.

In the next chapters, I will attempt to digest my greater Family dynamics by recalling everything I experienced, learned from archives, or was told by other Family members. I will do my best to delineate between what I experienced vs I was told; it’s important to me I do so.