ResA. Life(course) of an invisible butterfly E-Book

ResA. K.K.

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 787

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

"I want to be weightless. To finally be rid of the hidden heaviness," ResA notes in her diary. Her heart's desire is to offer her two daughters the protection and security in her home that she was denied in her own childhood. However, her plans to spend her life with her two children and her beloved husband falter several times. The challenges that arise often seem insurmountable. ResA fights through her entire life with iron discipline and as an invisible butterfly. But she first has to find the answer to the question of whether the hardships are worth it.

Leseprobe

What it's all about

Someone once said to me that all stories and tales must have a happy ending. This made me feel skeptical, because I was surprised by this statement. I shook my head in disbelief. No, not only does life write few happy episodes, I know of literature that also manages without this dream.

RESA. K. K., one of the countless under this sky, ponders her life. She is married to Mo, with whom she has two daughters, Charlotte and Henriette. I, Resa, have broken with my life, yet I never wanted to let the traces of my life be forgotten. In numerous handwritten diaries, I recorded my whirling life. For a long time, without knowing for what purpose and for whom at all. In the last two years, I developed an increasingly strong idea of compiling everything in a book.

You hold my more or less lived life in your hands. Curious? Then read me! You've already started a bit.

I promise it won't be boring, but at times explosive, tense and emotionally grueling.

All the plots and characters in this book are fictitious.

TRIGGER warning to my readers

What is triggering?

In medical and psychological terms, this is understood to meanthe triggering ofsensations, affects or illnesses.

I, RESA. K. K., would like to point out to you, dear reader, that this book contains sections, ideas and passages that could be triggering.

The following triggers could occur unintentionally or be aggravated:

Fears

Depression

Suicidal thoughts

Mourning

Only if you as a reader can deal with these topics emotionally,only thenis reading not to be discouraged.

1st cycle

Invisible butterfly

From the age of five to nineteen

The hiding place

They run back and forth. They call out to me: "Resa! Resa! Where the hell are you? Resa!" They can't find me! But I'm only invisible! I'm right in the middle of the daily hustle and bustle. But I don't want to be there. I want to leave! I want to dissolve!

Now everything gets even louder. The noise crashes into my head.

I've made myself very small behind the door. I cover my ears. My eyes are as big as plates and fear is gripping me. It makes me tremble and I'm hot!

It comes very slowly. A shadow moves in front of the crack in the door.

I squat in the hallway between our fridge and the nursery door. I make myself very small. There's very little space. But it's enough for me. I try to breathe as quietly and slowly as I can. But I no longer succeed.

With a sharp jerk, the door is suddenly torn away from me. The rush of air sends my hair flying and I am visible again.

My short arms crossed over my little head in a flash.

With a thunderous noise and an explosion of words from my father, it roars and lashes out at me. It sprays out of his mouth as he roars: "Ah, there you are! You stinking rotten piece ... You're shirking? Don't want to! Leave the work to the others! You'll regret it! You'll dry off! One way or another! And without argument! Scissor yourself into the kitchen! And as punishment, sweep and vacuum everywhere! Get out of here! Before I forget myself!"

My hiding place, my attempt to escape, all hopelessly failed.

Tears run down my face, but no one takes any notice. They look away. They don't dare. Are afraid too.

My four older siblings have done their share of the housework and leave the scene. Get out of the danger zone. Can't help me. Are not allowed to.

The parents are in the living room on the couch, want to have their midday rest and won't tolerate any more disturbances.

Choked with tears, with my throat constricted and my heart pounding loudly, I quietly close the kitchen door from the inside so that no noise can escape. I try to do my chores quietly and, if possible, without making any noise - which is a really big challenge for my five-year-old self. After all, we are a family of seven. That means a lot of dishes and dirt.

Oh, how am I supposed to manage this mountain? Plates, pots, boards, cups, cutlery and tons of kitchen stuff. All piled up and nested inside each other. It's like Mikado.

I have to be careful which part I pull.

Fetch me the red, somewhat tippy stool. Can't reach up to the washbasin. I'm just too small. Climb up, carefully pull the pieces out of the piled-up mountain piece by piece.

Dry one item at a time and keep climbing down. Quietly move the stool to get to the cupboards and drawers to tidy everything up. A constant up and down. And after a while, my strength wanes.

But giving up is unthinkable, because the next trouble would come. The fear of that is too powerful.

So I fought my way through the dishes that Jilaiya and Seth had washed. It was an almost insurmountable mountain that I was now working my way through.

Tears kept running down my face. And I blamed myself for not having found a better hiding place.

Seth, my middle brother. He's a blonde and the sunshine of the family. He's usually really funny. He's always up to some nonsense. He can't be really serious. At least he makes us laugh from time to time.

And then there's Jilaiya. My older sister. She's a real curly, dark-haired beast with coal-black eyes and the complete opposite of Seth. She manages to freak out in no time at all and hurls insults at whoever she wants. Yes, just like her father. The whole universe revolves around her. She's the boss!

At some point in the afternoon, I had cleared the mountain. But I couldn't clear away a lot of things. I just couldn't get high enough up to the cupboard. So I left it there. What was I supposed to do?

In the meantime, my parents were already awake again and were now drinking coffee. The smell of it permeated the whole apartment.

But things continued for me. I didn't get anything for coffee, which wasn't bad. We children were always outside at this time of day and there was never anything to eat or drink in the afternoon.

So I started sweeping.

My eyes were still burning from all the crying. But it slowly subsided and exhaustion fell over me. I had no more strength and no more tears.

I took the broom and swept room by room. Then I took the vacuum cleaner and went through the hallway and living room.

The suction pipe with the small upholstery squeegee was adjusted for me. The large squeegee was too heavy for me and I couldn't manage to vacuum with it.

It was my job anyway, which I always had to do. And it wasn't bad. At some point, I even started to grin about it. Punishment? Ha! I'm sure I won't have that much tomorrow. And so I could even be happy about it.

The city

Why did I have to do all this now?

It was hard not being able to play like we used to. We had a big yard and we were allowed to play almost anywhere in the village. We had a really big sports field. A small, beautiful garden. And playmates who were always there.

Nothing has been the same since the big change when we moved away from our home and lived somewhere completely different.

Everything is strange and chaotic. Familiarity and order have been exchanged for confinement, uncertainty and terror.

Greyish green with black beams, the house stands on a street corner in the town where we now lived. A huge house. With two entrances. At the front, from the street, with a beautiful sweeping staircase and double brown front door. At the back, in the courtyard, an inconspicuous, gray-green, egg-shaped entrance that was meant for us.

It is an office building in the old architectural style with only one apartment.

The smell of the house was new. It was heavy and musty. It was due to the paper and the chemicals used for printing. Unique and unforgettable.

We had to walk up many steps to the top. There was another large double-glazed door with colorful floral ornaments and behind it a huge, windowless hallway with lots of office cabinets on the walls. They were really creepy the way they stood there. A lot of dark corners that cast many different shadows.

And then there was our large front door, also with two doors on the right and left. We now had a kitchen immediately on the left, a living room opposite on the right, a children's room next to it and our parents' bedroom on the left again.

All the doors were very high, very old and painted dark.

The toilet was outside, at the far back left along the long, wide corridor. We had to pass all the creepy cupboards to get to it.

I was always terrified to go there at night.

Once you had opened the door, it was another long but narrow corridor to the toilet. There was a long window behind it.

To bathe, we went to the wash house down in the basement. Everything here was incredibly big. There was lots of space on the right. And Mum always washed our clothes there in a kind of giant bowl. On the other side, there was a huge boiler for the bath water and a gigantic bathtub. There was room for four of us children in the bath at the same time. So much so that four more children would have fitted in. We could almost swim from the right-hand side to the other end and we were constantly diving through the bathtub. In on the right, out on the left. And on and on. A wonderful playground! Every Sunday.

Bathing

Once there were four of us again, Seth, Jilaiya, Bill and I, we romped around. We could splash and splash without being careful.

We washed our hair after the game and the announcement that the fun was about to end. My brothers Seth and Bill handed me the shampoo. I put it on my head, scrubbed and wondered why it didn't lather when I washed it. And then they burst out laughing and laughing. I didn't understand why and tried the hair wash again - which made the two of them burst out laughing. With laughing tears in his eyes and apparently a guilty conscience, Bill said that Seth had peed in the bottle and then given it to me to wash. They thought it was hilarious. For me, it was horribly disgusting and I scrubbed and scrubbed my head over and over again until I finally felt like I was free of it and it didn't stink anymore.

But I was still amused by Seth's prank and not angry about it. I also had to laugh for a while. I didn't hold it against Seth and Bill.

Maxims room

A room had been set up for Maxim in the attic. He lived there all alone. Huh, I was often afraid to go to him. But it didn't stop me. I loved Maxim. He was the closest of my siblings. We had been together a lot.

If I wanted to see him, I had to go through the double door at the top of the hallway to the stairs. There was a door to the attic rooms on the right. But first up a terribly steep wooden staircase. And there wasn't much light. Almost as much as from a candle. It was really creepy with the shadows the light cast.

Upstairs, it was a simple attic room that had been converted into a bedroom. And there wasn't much in it either. His bed and a very narrow cupboard for his things. Oh yes, there was a chair and a tiny table.

The walls in his room were dark and without paint or wallpaper. Just completely shabby.

To the right of his bedroom door was our attic room with all kinds of stuff that we could no longer get into our room. And there were also lots of things that used to be in our living room and no longer served any purpose.

Maxim, ten years older than me, is my eldest brother. He was already really big when we moved here.

Unfortunately, he was often no longer there. When I was in first grade, he left.

I often asked about him. But I didn't understand why he didn't come home anymore. No one bothered to explain that he had finished school and now had to work. They simply dismissed the fact that he was no longer there. "Maxim is big. That's just the way it is," was my response to questions about him. But there was no sense of concern or worry about him. Rather the opposite. Dad often seemed really relieved that he no longer had to look after him.

Somehow he no longer belonged. Only I seemed to miss him painfully, no one else. I felt completely alone for a while, even though we were such a big family.

The farm

The courtyard, slightly indented and facing away from the road, was paved with stone slabs and equipped with drainage channels. It wasn't huge. Nor did it compare to the playground in the village we came from. But it was big enough and it was clean, open and not enclosed. We were allowed to leave it and wander through the streets in the surrounding area. It wasn't too bad there.

There was a canopy for bicycles and a garden, which we didn't use much but kept in order. We didn't seem to be the only users of the garden.

There was a company next door. I can't remember which one. It doesn't matter. It was just next door.

First lesson

Still exuberant from playing outside in the yard with my seven-year-old brother Bill, we come home.

Even in the hallway, screams and shouts of shame thunder into our ears. We pause for a moment and listen.

Dazed by the electrical tension in the air, Bill anxiously unlocks the front door. It doesn't get any quieter. On the contrary. The noise comes from our living room. The voice belongs to his father. The screams belong to Maxim. He is about fourteen years old.

Bill quickly goes into our children's room. Apparently he doesn't want to see or hear what's happening in the living room. I, about six years old at the time, don't follow him. Curiosity drives me on.

Although the fear of my father's angry shouting and excited, attacking words almost paralyzes me and stops my breathing, I open the door to the living room quietly and slowly. Cold horror strikes me. I stand in the doorway for a moment, silent and stunned.

My father, a slim, wiry man of around thirty-five, with dark, tousled hair and bright gray-blue eyes, holds a leather belt folded in half with an iron buckle on the loop in his hand and beats Maxim with it. Every blow hurts from watching. I flinch with every thud of the belt buckle on my beloved Maxim. The scene tears me apart. My head, my gut and my heart contract painfully. I don't want to see what's happening. Resistance stirs inside me and makes me act rashly. I can't let this happen. I have to save Maxim - at all costs. I want it to stop.

Attracted by the agony coursing through Maxim and driven by it, I rush to him and cover him with my tiny body. The following blows rain down on me too. I suffer unspeakable pain. I too am screaming my head off. But Maxim is protected for a moment and I have given him this respite.

Suddenly the father stops and only now does he notice me. He gasps: "Resa! Get out!" I couldn't and wouldn't let him hit Maxim again. I stayed. But my whole body was trembling and I clung to Maxim. I wrapped myself around his body and the beatings started again. But this time it was almost all on me. He seemed to want to chase me away. With an excited voice and spurting saliva, the father thundered that I would have to learn the lesson at some point anyway.

After he had calmed down, he let us go. I still don't know what caused this outburst.

At pre-school age

At that time, I was still attending nursery. It was a long way to get there and we walked it every day. Mom took me with her every day when she went to work.

She was a cook in a beautiful, large kitchen in a restaurant near the lake. And right above her kitchen, in the stairwell just one floor up, was my nursery.

It always smelled like food. We made a guessing game out of it and learned which dish smelled like what.

When we children passed the kitchen, which happened very often, we always asked the lovely women curiously what we were going to eat today. And the answer was always the same: "Naked mice fried in butter!" It was funny for us and nobody wanted to hear the right answer. It was like a ritual. It couldn't be broken. All the children and teachers were happy with it.

My mom was always very quiet and I was always chattering away back then. Especially when I was a bit excited. She always found that funny. She was never annoyed, just quiet and listened. But maybe not, because she only answered occasionally and rarely explained anything.

She was often sad and had a lot of headaches.

Her face was soft but serious and surrounded by bright golden hair, which she sometimes twisted into spiky, colorful curlers, which looked quite funny.

She had beautiful, warm black eyes. Sometimes, not very often, she could also laugh beautifully.

So when I was at nursery, I always had my mom with me. Sometimes I was allowed to go to her when she was working. But only in the break room. We were always told that the kitchen was too dangerous and we weren't allowed to cross the threshold. That was taboo.

She also picked me up from upstairs from time to time. But it was usually my siblings who picked me up in the afternoon.

The daycare center also had a beautiful garden, which we reached relatively quickly. We were out there very often.

First we went through a small park, where sheep sometimes grazed and there were lots of apple and cherry trees. Then we had already reached it.

It was surrounded by beautiful large trees and a high brown fence stretched around it.

In summer, we all took our bread bags and tea - there was always tea - out with us.

We had beautiful, long, colorful tables with benches in the garden. All the children fitted on two tables.

A climbing frame and two sandpits as well as a few scooters, balls and lots of other toys.

Wild animals

Seth came to pick me up once. But he didn't come through the garden door as usual. No, he came flying over the high fence. Totally out of breath, frightened, but with laughing eyes and a grin on his face, he briefly told me that he had fled from a wild, evil sheep.

On the way home, he told me that he had really annoyed the sheep and it ran after him in a huff and tried to push and bite him. He was afraid of this and fled. Shortly before the sheep reached Seth, he was able to jump over the fence. He didn't manage to open the door.

With a lot of courage

Have I ever mentioned that I was a very anxious child? No? Well, now you know. But alongside my constant fear, which I only had in the dark at the time, I could also be incredibly brave, controlled and combative.

We, our whole family, once went to an outdoor pool in midsummer for some summer fun.

Everyone except me could already swim. We children played happily in and out of the water. We were delighted and beside ourselves. Our parents were sunbathing and lying on a blanket. After a while, we got hungry and thirsty and joined them.

"Who dares to jump into the deep pool?" came from the father. And he added: "He'll get five marks for his courage." I didn't miss out on that. I went to the edge of the pool unnoticed and called over to everyone: "Dad, take a look!" And I bravely jumped into the deep water. What could possibly happen?

Everyone was horrified and called out to me, almost in chorus. "Resa! No!" But it was already too late.

I was in the water and did nothing. I didn't move. I just waited for what would follow. I floated upright in the water like a pillar of salt. To my own astonishment, I didn't sink. My hair floated under the surface of the water like a radiant flower.

Seth quickly got me out. You wouldn't believe what a mess and frenzy I had caused. But I was also proud of my courage and got the promised reward.

I later learned to swim unassisted in a thermal bath. That also filled me with pride.

And since I was already learning something new and one day my mother's bike was in the yard, I spent a Saturday morning trying it out on my own until I could ride it. I managed that too - and without any help.

What I dreamed about

I am choked by a thought that has always been with me. I always wanted to be a boy. But I was born a girl. As less worthy than my brothers! Ever since I could think and perceive differences, I felt and saw it.

I often copied my brothers' behavior. I marveled at them. I created a way of thinking and playing that was more suited to a boy. But that wasn't enough for me! There must be more to come! Surely there must be more. Deep down, I can feel that I'm not a girl. I couldn't and didn't want to be a girl!

At some point in my pre-school years, I asked my mother: "When will I finally be a boy?" There was no answer.

Only the laughter still rings in my ears today. No explanation. Nothing! Just laughter, laughter, laughter! Suddenly everyone was laughing.

I had the same feeling as if I had been beaten. It hurt me and no one saw it. It was an insult to the bone. The disappointment, the shame and the truth were hard.

Something was biting and tugging at my body, my chest, my head. Like a wild animal. I had to become a boy! Now I felt it very clearly. I didn't want to be a girl.

I wanted to leave. I wanted to be invisible.

Help with consequences

A beautiful, sunny spring day. I'm on my way to school alone. First grade. A little proud, and yet still so small.

I meet my classmate Anja outside the school building at the start of class. She is crying and very upset. Her face is all red, swollen and smeared.

"I've lost my key," she sobs. "I'll get into a lot of trouble at home. My father will scold me and maybe I'll get a scolding. Can you look for the key with me?"

I am immediately caught up in this situation, in their suffering. I know what it means to get into trouble.

"Of course I'll help you!" is my immediate reply. I couldn't have said no, my inner feelings forbade it. I simply had to avert the suffering as best I could. And I felt good about being able to help.

We talk about the way she came to school and that we are going back the same way. We're sure to find the key there. So off we march.

A few meters further on, we meet Jörn from our class. He is late. The first lesson has already started. Anja also tells him about losing her key. And before we know it, there are three of us looking for it.

And so the time passed. We walked back the way Anja had come. Along the street, through the small park, the next street, over the big bridge by the lake and right into the street where she lived. Nothing. Crap! So once more.

And suddenly the realization hit us: we missed the hours. And now what? Go to school anyway? But where to then? Is anyone else there? And the after-school care center! Can we go there without having been to school? Oh, all three of us didn't dare go to school anymore!

We were afraid of being discovered by adults. We had to hide. But where?

Jörn had the solution: In a nice, spacious hut in a hedge. His playground, his daily hiding place. Exactly the ideal place for us!

We were stuck in this hedge for the next few hours and it wasn't very warm, even though the sun was shining.

We were now very worried about the time. We didn't know the time yet. When is it so late in the afternoon that we can go home at the right time, the end of after-school care, without our absence from school being noticed?

I suggested watching out for when the adults on the street become more and they all go home or go shopping. Yes, that would be a good sign!

So we ended up going home almost on time. And of course, without the lost key and with a pretty guilty conscience.

Oh, I was so happy! I was now in our nursery and nobody noticed or said anything. [Wow, that went well.]

The doorbell rings. [Sylvia, my chubby classmate, is at the door and asks for me. Was I ill? She brings the homework. Astonished, my parents listen to everything the little girl says and thank her for her help.

Now I started to feel anxious. And rightly so! Quietly and slowly, the front door slammed shut. Moments later, the children's bedroom door was also closed. I had hidden in my bed. I crawled into the far corner. I didn't dare breathe. I heard my father quietly pull his belt out of his pants. All my hairs stood on end. Goose bumps covered my whole body. The great tremor inside me began and then came blow after blow. The blanket protected me somewhat from the force of the blows. But it didn't stay on me long enough. He didn't say a word. He just hit me non-stop. I screamed and cried. Crawled away. With no way out. Over and over again it hissed, whipped and burned. At some point, I no longer noticed the belt flying towards me. The world flew around me incessantly and without pause, the air parted and everything was torn from its solid foundation for me. I could no longer feel anything and my tears and screams died. He killed my pain. Only the agony of the situation still dominated me. After what felt like an eternity, he had calmed down and stopped. "As punishment, there'll be no dinner for you and you'll be grounded for the next few weeks!" he thundered, his saliva spurting out of his mouth. He left the nursery seconds later.

Dazed by the situation, unable to move due to pain and horror and completely shaken, I remained in bed. Now I knew that my bed offered no protection. The intimate familiarity had evaporated, beaten away. The paralyzing fear of being at the mercy of others remained.

I hoped that my mother would come and comfort me. The spark of hope died very slowly as time passed. The agony of being alone tore me apart the following night. No, no one came to see me. Only the silence of the room surrounded me. I heard my siblings tidying up the kitchen. And I heard the TV blaring in the living room. I didn't know when my siblings went to bed. The effort, the fear and all the tears made me tired. But I also wondered why he hadn't asked me what had happened that day. I hoped that I would be able to explain tomorrow. Unfortunately, no. Just a cold silence the day after. No question, no explanation, nothing. Episode ticked off.

I find myself

We romped around the hall in sports lessons. All together and all mixed up. Sport was the school subject for me. I could play with my body here. I could try out what I could do. I did the most impossible things. I liked the ladder. Climb up and hang on. Legs up. Higher. There's still room! Oh yes, great, I can do it!

A forward roll on the mat. Ah, there's also a backward roll without tipping over! Powerfully into a standing position. Yes, exactly my thing!

We were still in first grade. Some of our class were asked to come to a special gym one afternoon. Here we did a few exercises that were given to us. I really enjoyed the afternoon. I was completely with myself. I listened, understood and did what was asked of me.

Now came a little competition. I ran through the hall once, jumped a long way, ran over the overturned bench and jumped on it a few times, then pulled myself up the ladder, the wall bars, and again, and again, and again. And finally to the climbing poles. "Well, who can get up there?" asked the PE teacher. "Me!", that's for sure!

That was exactly the fuel I needed to forget everything around me. When I was doing sport, I was ME!

We found out what the afternoon was a few days later. This was the selection for an equipment training session in Bergenstadt. I was privileged. Yes! Hooray! And now? I got a letter to take home to my parents. It said that I should go to Bergenstadt several times a week to train. For me, this meant a little freedom to disappear from my family almost every day, to be out of their sight, intangible and a little bit invisible.

I then trained five times a week in apparatus gymnastics in Bergenstadt. Saturdays were added later. After about two years, I took part in competitions. I usually won gold and silver in my age group. Occasionally I won bronze or fourth place with a certificate. At the age of nine, I was one of the top gymnasts in my district. The school also recognized my sporting achievements several times. However, my parents weren't even interested in my sport. I was always very sad at first because all of my sporting friends' parents always came to the competitions and encouraged them. No one was there for me. But gradually, after I lost my sadness about it, I felt independent. It filled me with pride and this feeling was mine alone.

In the years that followed, I learned to achieve my goals with discipline and hard work. After warming up, I was repeatedly asked to do strength exercises. I pushed my physical limits, unconsciously at first. Some exercises really hurt. On the wall bars, for example, we stretched our legs upwards and tapped our toes over our heads. I really enjoyed doing push-ups. However, my arms often started to shake after about the sixtieth one, which was very tiring.

I took part in several training camps. I unconsciously steeled my body through training. It became boyish. Nobody in my family liked that. Only me! And that's exactly what I enjoyed. What chic girl wears a six-pack on her stomach? The chest area was also riddled with muscles. My upper arms no longer fitted into blouses and dresses. I didn't want to be what they wanted me to be. I didn't want to be like them! It wasn't just my physical appearance that changed. Thanks to a hairdresser's misunderstanding, my hair was already cut short anyway and now suited me perfectly. I was flooded with happiness when I consciously recognized so many visible muscles on me. I worked very hard in training. I quietly and invisibly provoked people with my appearance. In the future, sport would set me apart. I had found the recognition and attention I desperately needed.

The hate

The book cover is fiery red. A red that stings and bites my head. It lies before me like glistening fire. I can feel the heat emanating from this book. I loathe books. Especially this one. And the red doesn't make it any better. My hands are already drenched in sweat and I start to vibrate, to tremble. Our teacher announces in an exalted voice that we are coming to read aloud. I hate it. I can't do it. My breathing is now intermittent. Hope to remain invisible. Try to follow the words of the reader on the open page of the book. But after the first reader, I no longer know which line we're on. I'm out. I become unsure and restless. Excitement starts to creep in. I can't find where we are. I want to scream for help. But I know the consequences. I can already feel the pure rejection and the feeling of being excluded. Now it hits me with a pointed arrow. The teacher has noticed my searching, my desperation. My name is already floating in the room, blurred and without outline. It thunders out like a fateful rumble: "Resa, please read on!" There it was, the bright, charged flash. It hits me with full force. As if switched on by a light switch, I emerge from my inner hiding place. The whole class groans. "Oh no, not them!" I sit sheepishly in my seat. Timm, next to me, is now turned away. He even scoots his chair a little further away from me. He doesn't want to get involved. Stubbornly refuses to look in my direction. He still has to please the others and supporting them shows weakness.

So I try, in a brittle voice and barely audible, on a line somewhere and receive ridicule and rebuke. I feel like crying, but I don't let it happen. My face starts to burn and glow and I fight back the rising tears. One embarrassment is enough. Exasperated, the teacher points to a word in my book. Sweating, short of breath and with a thundering heart, I now try this very word. But I can only do the individual letters. I can't put the first word together. I can't find the individual syllables. I can't! Just poke out the letters and only with the greatest effort. "L... le... eo... on... n... ni", I stammer together. Half-heartedly and annoyed, I get support. "Le-o-ni." I parrot the word. But I can't find the syllables that make a word a word, even in the word shown. So it goes on word after word. I agonize over the page, the text and through the lines. But I understand nothing. Chaos and discomfort spread through my head and chest. It's not just the moaning that makes me insecure and sad. The laughter and aping also make me scratchy. It remains a mystery to me how people read.

After what felt like an eternity and endless words, the teacher put an end to this disgrace. But not without a reminder that I should practise reading every day. As always, I get an F in reading. Now my resentment is still brewing. Because this is now not only in the class register, but also in the homework book and requires a parental signature. As is so often the case, it gives me a stomach ache and I feel sick because I know what to expect. And I ask myself for the umpteenth time: How am I supposed to practise if I don't know how to do it? So, until the bell rings, I dive back into my inner hiding place and become invisible.

Piece of gold

At some point we got a golden hamster. I don't know which one of us. Why and for what? He was no joy for me. When I had to touch him, I usually only did it with two fingers. He made a lot of mess and work. None of us wanted to clean his stall. He kept disappearing somewhere in the children's room and we had to look for him. He was in the most unlikely places. He caused us a lot of trouble. I can no longer remember his name.

Once upon a time, it was early before school. We four siblings were once again looking for the four-legged miniclop. He was gone. Didn't appear anywhere. And our time to go to school was scarce. So we called off the search and postponed it until the afternoon. That made us very uncomfortable. Everyone was afraid of the consequences it could have. But Seth was still joking about it. So the four of us got ready and went to school. We split up and everyone went about their business.

I remember it like it was only yesterday. I had math in my first lesson. The teacher was already there and we all unpacked our school supplies for the lesson. I wondered what my exercise books and my book looked like. Crumbled and nibbled on. But I didn't think anything of it yet. The lesson began. And right at the start, I looked down at my orange satchel, and there was a hamster climbing out of the tiny gap on the very side I was looking at and cleaning its mouth. I was shocked. My heart stopped beating for a few seconds. I didn't know what to do for a moment. After I had recovered a little from the shock, I spoke up. But now my heart was racing and my breathing was intermittent. I was afraid of this information and what would become of it. But I really wanted to tell the teacher about the problem. But I was simply ignored. At some point it was too stupid for me. My arm was already hurting and everyone kept staring at me secretly. So I just stood up, took this animal and left the lesson without a word, as no one said anything. Well, I didn't have a key for home yet. So I went to the classroom where Seth was. I brought him our copy of Runaway. That was going to cause a lot of trouble, of course. I didn't understand it. We hadn't brought the hamster on purpose. What's more, my school stuff was now eaten, disgusting for me and some of it was completely broken. There were no replacements for me. And to top it all off, we were able to light a pipe at home in the afternoon. That was totally unfair. It didn't matter at all that we had spent a long time looking for the hamster at home. Everything was blamed on us.

But at some point this filthy hamster thing disappeared.

First thaler

The sun was shining beautifully that day and the sky was a heavenly blue. Bill and I came back from playing outside by the flower garden. It was a beautiful garden full of colorful roses and shrubs that bloomed in all colors. There was a special scent in the air. Almost all the local children were playing here.

A visitor had arrived at home. Some man with whom my father played Seega. He often played Seega and was always invincible. This time too.

The atmosphere was good and relaxed. The strange man gave Bill and me each a banknote. We were allowed to keep it and were told to buy something nice with it.

I was just about seven years old at the time. I was very happy. It was a banknote! A lot of money for me. I had never been given money before.

As everyone was in a good mood, we asked to be allowed to go to the toy store just around the corner. I went into the store, totally excited and proud as punch. Until then, I had only been able to look at the toys from the shop window. But now I had a lot of money and really wanted to get myself something great. I went in and was enchanted. Never before had I been so close to so many beautiful, great, colorful toys. My mouth fell open at everything I saw.

The saleswoman looked at me in rapture. But she left me to marvel for a little while. But when it seemed to take her too long, she wanted to know what I wanted. I proudly showed her my money. I would have loved to buy everything there was for it. But the lovely woman said that I didn't have enough money for everything. I could save a little more and then buy one or two things later. But I knew that saving would never work. That was my first and only money. We never got any to buy anything. So it had to be now. And I was also afraid that I wouldn't be allowed to keep the money when I got home. So I had someone show me what I could get for the money.

The selection was very small. But there were also some beautiful colorful balloons. And I chose exactly these. There were ten of them. I was on cloud nine and incredibly happy. So I went home happy and intoxicated by my happiness.

Everyone immediately wanted to know what I had bought. I proudly placed the colored balloons on the table. Now I looked into dismayed and embarrassed faces. Seth was the only one grinning. Bill looked a little envious and Jilaiya made a spiteful face. My mom started to laugh quietly and my father trumpeted indignantly and angrily: "How crazy are you? You can't handle money! You buy balloons! You're just blowing them up and popping them. You'll burst all the money! And it's gone. You're really too stupid to handle money!"

The man who had given me the money had left while I was at home.

"That idiot gives the children money. No, how stupid can you be?" the father now spoke about him.

Now I felt like I had a heavy stone in my stomach. My throat started to itch and it tightened up more and more. My father scolded me again and again that evening. He said all the words in such a derogatory, patronizing and insistent way. He sounded like a ghost in the night talking to me. And again and again from the beginning; you're too stupid, you're totally stupid, you're no good for anything, you don't get it, you ...! Now my tears were rolling unstoppably. I could no longer calm down. I even cried into the night.

The next morning I took the beautiful balloons, went into the kitchen and cut them all up, which didn't go unnoticed. Then I took them all and threw them into the smelly ash bucket.

That was always my reaction. If I was hurt or laughed at with my things, such as painted pictures, letters I wrote or things I received, I always destroyed them and threw them away. I always made sure that I was seen doing this. I wanted to see the horror of the person who had done this to me.

This thing stayed forever. It's written on my forehead. It has been rubbed in my face on many occasions since then. I would be too stupid to handle money.

Feathered fowl

Oh, birds are so beautiful. My parents bought a couple of canaries, complete with cage and accessories. One weekend, my father gave them a bath. He made a light, warm detergent bath especially for them. Because birds had mites and they only made them ill. Unfortunately, none of them survived the bath. Allegedly they got pneumonia afterwards. (Who can believe it!)'

However, in the following years we had several lovely, well-behaved and beautiful birds. Budgerigars or redheads. We loved every single one of them and had a lot of fun with them.

Exposed

My teacher didn't like me. I hated her German lessons. And she knew that. She often picked on me.

As I couldn't manage to read, I also had problems writing words. Here, too, it was the syllables that made it difficult for me. But I also often didn't know which letters to use to write some words.

Once, it was just before the end of the German lesson and we were getting our dictations back, the teacher couldn't resist making a comment again. She already had my exercise book in her hand and read one of my words to the whole class. She was holding her stomach with laughter. Very slowly and very clearly and firmly, because she didn't want to make a promise, she spoke to the class, theatrically drawing all the attention to herself. "Resa writes mouseleum instead of mausoleum! You have mice to see! Ha, ha, ha!" Now everyone was making total fun of it and there was a lively atmosphere in the classroom for a while. Only I didn't feel like it. Mockery and insults cut deep wounds into me. I felt miserable. I wanted to sink into the ground or at least become invisible. Shortly afterwards, the bell rang for the break. But it didn't get any better. On the contrary. Now this mistake was being spread everywhere. I went to the toilet. I didn't want to be seen anymore.

I only came out when the bell rang and went back into the classroom with my eyes downcast. I didn't want anyone to see my tears. I didn't look at anyone else that day. I searched inside myself for a place where I could be alone. I remember that no one spoke a word to me that day. So I was alone with my mistake, my pain and the constant humiliation. It was no better here than at home.

I

But somehow I didn't grow as beautifully as everyone else. Sometimes they all seemed like giants to me. My siblings and classmates were constantly growing, while I remained very small, wiry and thin. Teasing was my constant companion, but it didn't usually bother me. I quickly got the hang of disappearing unnoticed among many people. Stayed under the radar. Didn't stand out, was inconspicuous. I liked this very much because I could become invisible if I had to.

Mom often said that I was ugly and cheeky. There were two sides to that: Sometimes I was offended, sometimes we laughed ourselves silly.

But sometimes I also felt the need to be noticed and to be the center of attention.

It was no longer enough for me to have some strength. That's when I started to consciously dress more intensively in boys' clothes. I liked shirts and trousers more than dresses, skirts and blouses anyway. That wasn't a problem at all. We always wore the clothes of our older siblings. And as I was the youngest of us siblings, I also got my brothers' clothes. It made me feel real and more comfortable. So I became the boy I always wanted to be, even if only for myself.

Candy and chocolate

On a somewhat gloomy, rainy day, when we weren't allowed outside, Jilaiya, Bill and I were in our nursery in the afternoon. Dad wasn't there yet and Mum was still at work. It was sometime during the week, because everyone in the offices in our house was still there too.

I noticed a small green bucket in the room. I tied a long piece of string to it and let it hang out of the window. Suddenly the string jerked and Bill and I tried to pull the bucket up again. But that didn't work. It was stuck somewhere. "Shit! Resa, you have to look where it is. If something happens! The bucket hits a window. It'll break. Oh, that's trouble!" said Bill excitedly and panicked.

Jilaiya now looked over at us attentively and wanted to say something.

Suddenly the string jerked again and again. I was irritated and frightened and pulled the string very quickly. It was harder to pull. Strange! Bill now also grabbed the string and helped me. The bucket appeared at the window and we were amazed. It was full to bursting. Full of sweets. Our eyes widened immediately and our hearts leapt for joy. Wow, so many lovely things. We shouted a joyful "Thank you!" out of the still open window. In less than two or three minutes, the three of us had already eaten a lot of it. But there was still some left and we divided it up. Seth also got some later when he got home. We each hid our share. We didn't get this lucky very often and we didn't want to lose it.

Burning planes

Whenever we came home from school or after-school care, we had to do our household chores. Everyone knew what had to be done. The washing up, tidying up, sweeping and whatever else needed to be done. But we usually didn't do these household chores straight away. We took our time. We played and often did crazy things.

Once, in the summer, my brothers let burning paper airplanes fly into the yard from the window. Oh, it was so exciting and looked really cool as they flew around and burned more and more! We made one plane after another like crazy. It was fun and totally exciting. These flames produced the most beautiful colors. And some of the gliders smoked so beautifully. Insanely beautiful.

However, there was one stupid plane that landed on the small tar roof of the company next door. But the fire didn't go out like the other planes. The hairs on the back of our necks stood up and goose bumps spread. Our eyes widened as big as UFOs. We could already see other little flames that weren't so pretty, colorful and made of paper. They licked at the tar and grew steadily larger. And it got wider too. There were only flames and the tar left. There was nothing left of the plane. The small flames had long since devoured it. The flickering spread visibly. A blue circle of fire, which looked like a wave in the surf, formed around the spot where the plane used to be. In the middle, it first turned green, then yellow and finally red. Black smoke was now rising. But not much.

Then all of a sudden Seth started running. Down and over. Climbed up the fence from our side of the yard to the roof. Took off his shoe and hit the fire. He got the already slightly burning roof out. Phew, that went well again. Nothing happened, we thought. Sweat and black soot was on Seth's face. I was sweating too. We were now all standing in the courtyard, Seth, Jilaiya, Bill and I, looking at each other with relief. Seth was still breathless and tense. Moments later, it burst out of him and he laughed out loud. After an irritated moment, we laughed along too. It was pretty funny for us what had happened. The situation quickly relaxed.

But now Jilaiya stood up in front of us. She put her arms on her hips, took a deep breath and unloaded a torrent of abuse that rained down on Seth and Bill. Now that she had vented, she reminded us of our duties.

We tidied up the burnt paper scraps in the courtyard. We all went upstairs, somewhat depressed and with clipped wings. Now we did our chores too. And we often looked out of the window towards the street so as not to miss our parents coming. Everything had to be done by then. Jilaiya would then announce them with the familiar call "They're coming!".

Their arrival was anything but ordinary and normal. They thundered off straight away. They already knew about our game and the burning roof.

Oh shit! Our activities didn't go unnoticed. The workers from the company next door had already told on us. Crap!

There was a huge thunderstorm, beatings and punishments. Seth got most of it because Jilaiya couldn't keep her mouth shut.

Games

Our games became more and more adventurous and unusual. After all, we were very imaginative in such things. At times we were really crazy about what we did, and sometimes we were just looking for new and exciting challenges.

I can't remember any real toys in the children's room. There was no reason to have any. We only had a ball or badminton for outside. But we usually went out and about anyway, building dens or playing with the kids from the neighborhood. There was no point in having expensive things to play with. We also had a few board games like cards or board games. But they were locked away in the living room. They were brought out when we all played something together with our parents.

Darkroom game idea

Once again, the parents weren't there. One of us had a new idea for a game. I don't know who exactly. My siblings had darkened the huge hallway with blankets. It was really dark in the hallway. We could only find our way by touch. After a short time, we knew which door and which cupboard felt like what. We were familiar with the positions of the light switches. Whenever we touched each other in the dark, it was like an electric discharge. And we didn't know who we had touched. The tension in this darkness was so palpable. The air was charged with electronic particles. We could feel this stimulus, which came like lightning, and it frightened us. A real chamber of horrors. A hallway of ghosts.

Sometimes we played hide and seek. There were plenty of hiding places and cupboards on the walls. We could crawl on top, squeeze against the sides or underneath. Even behind them, if a cupboard could be moved. Sometimes there were cobwebs in these hiding places, which was really nasty and disgusting. The thin threads stuck to you everywhere and I never knew if one of these spiders was crawling around on me. That alone was really creepy. Imagining where the animal might be was a total horror. Every time I had such an encounter, I was shaken. I would then hastily stroke my arms, legs and all over myself to avoid being surprised by such an animal. I felt disgusted by the spiders. But this quickly subsided and was replaced by the fear of being hunted. Sometimes I just lay flat on the floor. And usually in the middle, because hardly anyone could get that far.

It was fun and we could play in all weathers. It didn't bother anyone at the weekend or after work. We were the only residents in this huge building.

Crazy games

But the nonsense didn't stop there. We were inventive children without any interesting toys. So we had to improvise from time to time. I don't know who came up with it.

They made projectiles. Just two or three at first. To try them out. After the first test, there were more. They were divided up fairly among us and we threw them at each other. However, these projectiles consisted of large leather needles with a piece of potato slightly behind the tip and a longer, but not too long, woolen thread to control the flight. They were really good arrows. And they stuck wonderfully on their target. But the targets were ourselves.

Sitting in a dark room like that was extremely exciting, and listening to every sound was only possible if we couldn't hear our own breathing, which was very difficult.

A hiss came out of nowhere, "Fshhht", and there was an arrow stuck somewhere in me. "Ouch! Crap!" I was hit right in the left calf. Ah, it really hurts! But it was best not to make another noise. And crying was not allowed. Just moan very briefly to indicate the hit. That was tolerated and wanted. But then quickly get away from the hiding place and find a new hiding place, otherwise the next arrow would land in me. I heard Bill laugh briefly.

We chased each other through the huge hallway in the dark. Heard the hits. But also when the supposed target was missed.

The high tension of the dangerous game dominated the following minutes and the adrenaline shot through our bodies. Pain flooded through us from time to time. But we ignored it. The hunting fever broke out every time and we were intoxicated.

We now had to find our way in the dark. We learned to breathe quietly, even when we were breathless and completely agitated. We didn't make a sound when we had to change position. Everything was extremely quiet. It was crazy.

We often didn't play it, much to our chagrin. Only usually when the parents weren't there. After all, we enjoyed it. Even if it was quite painful at times.

Disappointed gold in new surroundings

On a Saturday in spring.

I was at a competition in a larger gym than the one at our sports club, but in the town where I lived.

Here we competed for good places in the children's league in various age groups. Our sports group from the Bergenstadt sports district competed against the gymnastics league from the neighboring district.

We had trained extensively and hard for this competition. It was my first major competition outside of Bergenstadt. I showed with enthusiasm and joy what I had mastered and learned. Performing the exercises and presenting them accurately made me proud. My coach was always there for everyone when it came to the apparatus. He encouraged us all and praised us when we performed well. We put in a tremendous amount of effort and perseverance and worked incredibly hard at everything.

Fortunately, I came away with several medals. I came first on the uneven bars and was awarded a gold medal. The vault brought me a silver medal. I was as proud as punch. So I went home victorious.

When I arrived home, Jilaiya was already waiting for me in the courtyard. However, we didn't go back up to our familiar apartment. We had moved that day and we went to the new apartment together. Jilaiya proudly told me on the way that the two of us would now be sharing a room together.

It was a complete mess when we arrived. The elation I had from the competition and my victories was gone. Nobody took any notice.

All our stuff was still stowed away in boxes, baskets, bags and suitcases. The furniture was taken upstairs to the designated rooms. Then everything was unpacked and put away again.

This apartment was much bigger. After all, there were now two children's rooms. One for Seth and Bill with a stove. One for Jilaiya and me without a stove.

The view from our children's room was beautiful and priceless. We looked out over the lake - the landmark of this city. The living room was also huge and the kitchen had a balcony. However, the toilet was now in the stairwell. But it no longer flushed. It was just a big brown wooden box with a large, round hole and a heavy, round lid. And it stank. There was now water in the bucket next to it. It was now even scarier to go to the toilet at night.