About Stories... Part II

In order to write about this next part, I have to trace back a little bit. As long as I can remember, I was searching for love. I so wanted to be in a relationship and be loved. I would fall in love and fantasize about being in relationships with the singer of my favorite band or the main character of a movie I liked. They were usually American or at least English-speaking since almost everything I listened to or watched were American bands or movies. In third grade, we got an introductory course into English. And I was so happy. It was, besides art, the first thing that really made sense to me and I was good at it. Once I entered fourth grade, I was able to choose a secondary language to continue taking in school. I had a choice of Russian, French, and English. Of course, I chose English and from then on, English became a massive part in my life. I would study the lyrics of my favorite songs and would memorize every word and sing along. One of the first songs I remember singing to over and over again was Toni Braxton's "Un-Break My Heart." I remember hearing my dad say to my mom at one point how he was in awe at my understanding of all the words (I pretended that I didn't hear it because I didn't like the attention). I would end up helping him figure out certain song titles he never understood. We had lots of laughs about what he thought the titles were versus what they really were! 😂So innocent! When we got internet at home, it was AOL dial-up, and when I'd want to use it, it would mean unplugging our house phone. I was on it all the time! And I discovered very easily AOL chat rooms. I would come home from school and spend hours in English-speaking AOL chat rooms. And of course, I was looking to simply speak English, but let's be honest, I was also looking for love. I wanted to meet someone that got me, with similar interests. And I did find someone. I think we were both 14 or 15. We would talk through AOL instant messenger and whenever we couldn't do that, we'd write letters. We would write each other long letters and mail them to each other. We weren't talking about deep things, but simply sharing our lives with each other; what we had to eat, what music we were listening to, and so on. We were in love! In 11th grade, it was that time when everyone was figuring out what they were going to do with the rest of their lives. This was such a hard thing for me. I had interests, like art and music, English and animals and I remember looking through this big book our school had given us with all these different jobs one could have. I tried to fit my interests into these jobs. I thought maybe I could work as an art restorator, or make stage decorations, or work in a zoo. Nothing really clicked and I eventually felt to take a year off—like my sister had done—and go to America as an Au pair (it's like a nanny). Because another thing I was good at was being with children. I did an internship at my old kindergarten and took care of the little ones there for a few weeks. At the end, a teacher there was supposed to write a reference for me and I remember one thing very clearly. She wrote, "Jutta is so caring and loving." It touched me, because I hadn't really considered myself that. It was just natural to me to be sweet with the children; playing with them, helping them get dressed and changed for nap time, helping them eat and fall asleep, and just being gentle. I was chosen by several families in the US to be their nanny. But it was my choice as to where I wanted to go; there was a family in Vail, Colorado, another one in the Bronx, New York, and another in Westport, Connecticut. My choice was based on one thing: It needed to be close to Pennsylvania, the place where the person I met through the AOL chat rooms lived. I wanted to meet him. Being an Au pair was the means to get there. I chose the family in Connecticut. Being there was difficult. I was 18, I still didn't know how to live life, and my biggest tendency was to be lazy: When I didn't have to do anything with the kids, I didn't do anything but watch TV and play games. There were things for me to do, like clean up after the kids, but I always saved those things for the last moment—I would do them only when I absolutely had to. I remember overhearing a conversation my host parents were having; I wasn't meant to hear this conversation, but I did. The one thing that I heard was: She is so goddamn lazy! They didn't know what to do with me anymore. I didn't like hearing this and my response was anger and a further closing in. There was so much happening at the time and I just didn't know how to deal with it. I had met the boy in Pennsylvania, and of course we fell in love, so I missed him a lot. I was missing my family and how simple things used to be. And then to hear that my host parents were on the edge of making me leave because I was lazy and finding a different Au pair.... whew. That was a lot. In the end, they talked with me, and all the emotion came out all at once in lots of tears and "I miss my parents." My host mom, all she said was, "You're so beautiful when you let your emotions out." I didn't believe her. I didn't like feeling these things. It felt like a failure. I should be strong and I should be angry and I should just make my own path, like a bulldozer without considering anyone else or their stupid helpful suggestions. And one thing I definitely shouldn't be was vulnerable and emotional. I made it through and found love for the host family and left in good terms... straight into the arms of the boy in Pennsylvania. We got married when we were 19. My parents were sad, because I didn't tell them. I was very secretive, because, well if I wasn't, someone was going to get in my way. But it also led to disconnect. But I was doing what I wanted: I was living in America and I was married to someone I loved and who loved me. I got pretty arrogant after that because I thought I had life figured out! I did it! It got so bad that I thought I knew more than my parents about marriage and I sent them the book The Five Love Languages. Thinking back to this, I cringe a bit. I didn't know shit! 🙃I certainly didn't know what my parents were going through, but boy, did I think I had it all figured out and now I could show them! Very naive. My marriage was good. I had lots of new experiences: I got a job that I excelled at, I smoked weed for the first time (and then lots of it thereafter), I went to parties and drank, I found new music I loved, I went on hikes, saw and smelled new plants I didn't grow up with, I drew and painted more. And there were hardships: How do you communicate effectively with your partner? How do you share what you want and need? How do you say what you don't like, and maybe more importantly, what you do like?

I still couldn't keep my room clean!

All of my tendencies from childhood and early adolescence were still with me. I was shut in and didn't know how to speak to what I was feeling, what I liked and didn't like, what I wanted and didn't want. Because I was afraid and ashamed, just like the little girl showing the veins under her skin to her parents and seemingly getting laughed at. So, it all ended up staying inside and turned into confusion and lots of anger and opinions. And I still felt like no one really got me. No one understood me or really liked me for me. But how could they? I kept everything inside so how could anyone know me? That was me, in the first years of being in the US. Thanks for reading! See you for Part III. Love, Jutta