One More Perspective

I have finally written enough to get to sit in one spot and stare at it all, uninterrupted. I am doing a lot of that these days, the quiet whateverIwant, I haven’t done since 1993. Yes, yes, it’s my fault I was married at age 19. All of it is, and very little of it is, all at the same time. The beauty of writing bits and pieces across a few years, is to get to one day take a step back and look at it as if it was someone else’s life. This is the cohesive narrative of Hubayvica.org, the story of how I stopped being an asset to others and started being a sovereign to myself. I am a Defector who has finally stopped funding my own captivity.

Part I: The Architecture of the Iron Curtain (How I learned to trade my truth for safety.)
1. The First Defection
I grew up in Communist Hungary, where the air was thick with systemic oppression, especially for the Child of a Family with an extensive anti-communist history. I was taught early that survival required a public face and a private truth. At age fourteen, I got to join my Mother already in America; my exit was a year before the Berlin Wall fell. My Mother and I hadn’t lived together for six years by then, something we would not overcome, because my Mother never learned to undertake repair in her relationships. I didn’t know it then, but I would spend the next four decades trying to out-perform the abandonment I felt from that. Not her absence, but her enduring refusal to acknowledge it happened, and its impact on me. My childhood taught me it was my job to be competent enough and work harder than everyone else, so I can compensate for the fractures in the system. It was a survival strategy to fill a gap left by others.
2. The Hope of Marriage
Since I didn’t feel accepted in mine, I sought to create my own Family; I married at nineteen. It was also, subconsciously, my first major attempt at the American formula for life. I traded my autonomy for a script:  if I was the perfect Wife and Mother, I would finally be safe.  …but I quickly realized that the formula was just a different system of recruitment. I had defected from one Iron Curtain only to be assigned to another, one that demanded I remain the load-bearing wall. I spent years in different marriages trying to be the woman who could hold it all together, despite zero functional support, but an overabundance of judgement.

Part II: The Friction of the Break (Owning the asshole label and the cost of the solo perimeter)
3. The High-Functioning Asset
For twenty-eight years, I climbed the ranks of the US Federal Government. I was a cross-functional leader, but I was also a high-functioning asset for everyone but myself. I was optimizing a machine (both in the government and in my home) that offered no reciprocal care.
4. The Load-Bearing Wall
I have been called intense. I have been called easily angered and impatient. My Mother called me a Nazi.  For a long time, I carried those labels as badges of shame. …but five decades in, I now see them as structural stress fractures. When you are the only person holding up an entire Family system with zero support, the intensity is the sound of a structure under terminal stress. I own my mistakes of anger and impatience, but I also now see the zero-support reality that made that anger inevitable.
5. The Poisoned Well
The hardest part of my revolution was realizing I was being sabotaged from within. My Mother, who had abandoned me in Hungary, spent decades grooming my children to see me as the villain. It was a tactical move to mask her own history. My Children were raised in a context-free narrative; they saw and suffered from my stress fractures, but they were blinded to the abandonment I buffered and the structure I provided. To be sovereign means to handle being misunderstood by those I still love, but to protect my new perimeter first.
6. The Extractive Union
Through four marriages, three to men and the last to a woman, I played the Maximizer. I was the one breathing life into Imago Turtles who preferred to hide. I was being mined for my stability and my labor. Just like in my relationship with my Mother, I alone was held responsible for the stability in marriages that offered no nurturing in return. I finally had to accept that gender wasn’t the problem; my compliance was. I was tired of being a resource for people who had no capacity to be Partners.

Part III: The Act of Defection (Dismantling the old world to save the new one)
7. The Sexual Revolution
At thirty-seven, I broke the ultimate contract. Moving from a heteronormative life to a lesbian identity wasn’t just about who I loved; it was a radical defection from the societal blueprint. It was the first time I prioritized my own reality over the formula, even as the world around me began to push back.
8. The Great Decoupling
The year 2025 presented me with multiple forks in the road. I retired from federal government service, moved from Washington DC to Connecticut, and finally realized I was still the load-bearing wall.

Part IV: The Birth of the Sovereign (The ancestral blueprint and the Life after Life)
9. The Spirit of 1945 and 1956
I can see my Grandmother and my Grandfather in my reflection now. They stood against Communism and with enduring determination provided for their offspring. I realize that my non-compliance with societal expectations is a genetic legacy. I was designed to break out of oppressive systems, even when those systems look like Family. Reclaiming my entire personal history is my way of anchoring my soul to that revolutionary truth.
10. The Sovereign Social Contract
I will no longer nurture those who do not likewise provide kinship and support. I prioritize my own critical thinking over the echo chambers of guilt and tradition. This is the definition of my new Sovereign Social Contract. I am no longer a load-bearing wall for people who won’t help me build. I am finally in a place where I can own my mistakes, the hurt I caused, and my independence at the same time. I accept that I will always be the villain in the stories told by the people I left behind. They lost an asset, and they are angry about it. …but I didn’t leave to be a villain; I defected to get to provide oxygen to the parts of me inconvenient for them. My life is no longer a formula. It is a revolution.