Any human can fast and are caught unprepared by strokes of fate. This can quickly result in an emotional downward spiral.

Best of HR –®

What is normal life?

At first my life was quite "normal": Mom, Dad, younger brother, the nice single-family house in a well-kept neighborhood where the children played outside in front of the houses on the street. My parents had me shortly after Vocational Training, say: right jung. Building the house followed. The classic family concept that they had experienced at home. Were they ever happy together? I don't know it. Whether we as Family were ever happy? I don't know it. Think Mother, who initially actually had another man in her heart, my father, who sensed early on that she wasn't "right" for him. And then I came!

My parents came to terms with the situation, bought the property in the beautiful single-family housing estate, and built the house. We lived family. The father who Money earned, and the mother who takes care of the household and the children at home – that was her Idea. Only the mother role was not the role that fulfilled my mother, the family model was not the model that made her happy. That's why she was looking for a kindergarten place with all-day care for me. That meant: At 7:30 a.m. the kindergarten bus picked me up at home and at 17 p.m. it dropped me off again. Practical.

When care is lacking

The books on the subject (advertising)

Tip: You can also use this text as a PDF or an eCourse on the subject download. You can also find it in the shop exciting inspiration to experience your success, plus offers & news in Newsletter ! (Advertising)

But after a day in kindergarten, I didn't get to know the feeling of running excitedly outside with red cheeks and disheveled hair, where mom is waiting to hug me and listen to the day's experiences on the way home. When I was four years old, my brother was born. Outwardly, it complemented the beautiful family image. Large garden, the beds made pretty, the hedge trimmed. Great family vacations, nice family celebrations. You have to show what you have ... On the outside, we must have made a happy impression. Yes, the outside, what others think of you - of us - was always very important to my mother. Always mindful of what others might think.

It was the same when she took me to her friends for coffee and cake in the afternoon. On the way back, she always counted me where I would not have behaved "appropriately". I would have played too little with the other children, hung the adults on the tip of my skirt and eaten too much cake, had been too greedy, hadn't been sitting, was too cheeky and not thankful enough. She would be ashamed of me. Again and again I had to listen to these allegations while driving home. I was afraid of her, knew that as soon as the engine started, she would start and would not fall silent so quickly. The children of her friends, however, were always particularly great.

What others might think - when fear is more important than your own feelings

Exactly this what-others-might-think-of-me, paired with the Anxiety, negative being evaluated will later become a very central one Significance play in my life. When my brother was born, my mother was overwhelmed. Suddenly there were two children. Two children, she just didn't have the nerve for them. So I kind of walked alongside, wasn't really seen, they said: "Sarah, she'll do it, her brother is still so small." Yes, I did it. I learned to do things that are in my Age weren't common, and I learned to do them extra well, to be seen, to awareness to get.

I took on more and more because it worked Tasks, more and more responsibility, and became very independent very early on. Too early. That's how I got praise, affection and love - the love I so missed. I linked love with Performance and with perfection. Increasingly took care of my brother while my mother was away. She constantly looked for ways in which she could just be a boy Ms. could be. Whether she went out with friends, drove to beauty farms, or went to the bowling club, she found plenty of reasons not to have to be home.

Envy, resentment, jealousy as the predominant emotion

Discounts for your success (advertising)!

As a result, I was very advanced for my age and had no interest in people my own age. Also because I'm in Contact with other children increasingly felt the feelings that I already knew from home and that had to do with my sibling role. Resentment, envy, maybe even jealousy of other children. I also wanted to be the best among them. Whenever I was with my peers, it was like being in a competition for me. Other children noticed that and didn't want to play with me. They avoided me. My feeling of being different, of being excluded, of not being good enough increased. Me, the foreign body, the foreign body that doesn't fit anywhere?

Too old for peers, too young for adults. This feeling that there is something different about me, the insecurity that I'm under People felt the feeling of not belonging, not fitting in anywhere, but also not wanting to belong - all of this will run like a red thread through my life, similar to the fact of not only wanting to do things well, but to make them as perfect as possible , to be seen. Around recognition and get love I felt my mother as emotionally absent, sensed her dissatisfaction. Maybe that's why I never bonded with her?

Looking for warmth

When I was seven I baked her my first cake for Mother's Day, with a baking mix, but still. I was so proud and quickly transformed the small, round TV side table into a gift table. I decorated it with a colorful blanket, lots of pink sprinkles and chocolate hearts. I had planned everything very carefully. On this wonderfully decorated table I put my cake and presents: I had drawn her many pictures and made mandalas. I stood in front of it that Sunday morning, excited and looking forward to her shiny ones Eyes. She entered the room and reacted completely sober.

She tried hard to show joy, but didn't feel it Honestly at. I just didn't feel any warmth, happy motherly feelings and no warmth - I missed the shiny eyes anyway. I had also set the breakfast table, and when we ate together afterwards, she only took a small fork from my cake. "Don't you like it?" I asked. "Yes, yes little mouse. But it’s a real calorie bomb.” I ate the rest of the cake myself over the next few days. She didn’t stick the many pictures I drew for her on the fridge or frame them like other mothers did, I found them later in the wastebasket . Or she kept them in a box in the attic.

Heroes can also fall off the pedestal

I therefore increasingly oriented towards my father. He wasn't at home often, worked a lot, but I really enjoyed the time he was there. I accompanied him on weekends for business appointments. I sat like a princess in the passenger seat next to him in the convertible or went on a motorcycle tour with him. Sometimes we just went for an ice cream or the hype. I was so happy! I, the daddy child. Dad was my hero. I didn't know then that this would change very soon. That heroes can also fall off the pedestal.

So that's how we lived. Together and somehow past each other. Consolation and words of encouragement on an open knee? Closeness and hugs at the first lovesickness? Fooling around together, telling each other about the day? I don't have a single childhood memory in which we sit around a table and paint together or someone reads something to me. I didn't get to know feelings like closeness and security. Perfection and performance also played a big role in terms of appearance and weight. When I started school, when I was six years old, I began to gain weight. At first I wasn't a fat kid, I just had a little baby fat. My mother was slim, my father had always struggled with his weight - he wanted to spare me that. He declared losing weight to be a joint project between father and daughter.

Emotional food and yo-yo effect

On a Friday evening - that was always our TV night, my absolute highlight of the week - the two of us sat at the kitchen table and my father explained to me that he had thought of something. "Tonight we're going to hit it hard again, then tomorrow we'll go on a diet." My father, who loved sweets, needed a partner in crime, an accomplice, for his diet phases, and that was me. His plan: I'll be weighed at the weekend and as soon as I've lost two kilos, I can make a wish. I had absolutely none Lustto go jogging with him or ride his bike with him when he was jogging, but I went with him, it was ours after all Projects, especially since I have no other Choice had …

Luckily, my father never stuck to the diets, and every break was a salvation for me. Until the next weight loss phase came and it started all over again. The consequence? Sure, the yo-yo effect. through the constant Control and the eternal prohibitions on sweets had a great appeal to me; I nibbled secretly. I ended up getting more overweight with every diet. Eating, being overweight, losing weight, gaining weight - all of these will play another central role in my life from this point on. At school, I never really became part of the community either, and I struggled to build solid relationships. Bullying? Perhaps it was one of them. I had a terrible boy hairstyle that I had to run around with and I was getting more and more overweight. I wasn't popular. I was the last one called on in sports during group splits. About which was blasphemed. Nobody liked to share the room with on the school trip.

Suddenly divorced child

Then my parents separated. I got more and more, like one for my father Welt collapsed as he suffered. From the dream of a house, children and a dog, from a healthy family! He hadn't imagined it like that. At some point he moved out. There were three of us living in the house for a few months, my mother, my brother and I. My mother was completely overwhelmed with the house we had previously played family in, with the memories and with her two children to take care of.

Our relationship was hypothermic. She shone with her emotional absence and was physically on the move as often as possible - actually only. It was even like that when I was lying on our beautiful leather couch in the living room in front of the TV with an ulcerated surgical wound and 40 degrees fever. A few days earlier, all four wisdom teeth had been extracted from me on an outpatient basis. My mother drove me to the dentist that morning and then picked me up again. There was no soup, tea and consolation afterwards.

When care is lacking

My mother wasn't a mother who cooks chicken soup. I felt the wound on the top left hurt more and more, get hot and start to throb. It was a Friday and it got worse in the evening. "Mouse, it's not that bad," she said. "You'll go to the dentist on Monday, I'll meet you soon." She left me alone and went out to party that evening.

My father called and asked how I was doing, I told him about my severe pain and fever. He came by immediately and drove me to the emergency service - the wound had become badly infected and had to be cut open. Ultimately, this worked Concept Not for all of us, so my parents agreed that my brother and I should live with my father. Then my mother moved out. She gave up custody at the same time, so she could finally live her life. From then on she lived her happy single life.

The new stepmother: like Cinderella

My father's new wife and I, we both made life really difficult. I felt that she wanted to be number one for my father and was driving a wedge between us. There were always provocations, lies, jealousies. It was terribly exhausting to fight against it again and again! When I got home from school, there were to-do notes for me on the worktop. I should vacuum the whole house, put the laundry away, take care of her son ... keep an eye on her son.

Of course I didn't like that at all! I was a fourteen year old teenager with other things to do with me Head. Started rebelling! I ignored the note, and house arrest followed. "You have nothing to say to me, you're not my mother!" became a standard sentence. The principle was very simple, because on each SALE a reaction followed. I was allowed less and less - and the less I was allowed, the more defiant I became. The more I resisted and did my own thing, the more explosive and cold the mood between her and I became.

Between all chairs

My father stood between the chairs and after a hard day's work didn't feel like playing our little games, which is why he basically took her side. But what would that be? Alternatives been my father's? being a single father? I had a feeling the idea frightened him. His behavior and the fact that he basically believed her more than me – his own daughter – hurt me a lot. It hurt to see that the new wife he had only known a few months was taking on more importance than his own children. Everything was done right not only for the woman, but also for her little son. To be dropped as a daughter for your new partner, that hurts.

What's wrong with me Am I not adorable The more I felt rejected, the more my head went through the wall. It cost what it may. I secretly had parties at home when my father and wife weren't around. "No storm", that was the key word. I dropped it on the older guys in the area - and in the evenings the guys with whiskey bottles would stand at our door. So the whole thing degenerated into a wild party in our sauna area in the basement, until the door opened and my father was in the room. Even if I was busy all evening making sure that it didn't get out of hand, my father was anything but pleased ... Theft in the drugstore is also one of my youthful sins.

Emotional target

The highlight was probably the alcohol poisoning on New Year's Eve - at fourteen. My girlfriend and I smuggled ourselves into a party using fake ID, and from there we went straight to the hospital after I drank too much and accidentally smoked weed. Happy New Year! My father wasn't exactly in the New Year mood when he was allowed to dance on New Year's Eve in the hospital. I remember waking up on that bed in the hospital corridor, opening my eyes and blinking, blinded by the bright neon lights. I had to sort myself out - I didn't even know myself where I was, only knowing how I passed out at the party. I heard them in the background voice my father: "I won't take them home like this." He had spoken to a doctor.

Of course, with my rebellious behavior, I made it very difficult for his new wife light: I gave her plenty of room for attack and made myself the black sheep. Diplomacy? Not my strength. I felt how I lost access to my father as a result, how my words no longer got through to him and how we grew further and further apart, lost each other. I felt it! And much worse, I felt I couldn't stop the process. I tried, countless times, in countless conversations.

Helpless and alone

But I couldn't beat the new woman. I felt helpless and alone. So it escalated more and more. During the day the doors slammed, rooms were locked, I was locked up; I cursed, I was verbally abused. My father's blended family bubble was about to burst. He became increasingly helpless and irritable, louder and more choleric. There was also more and more between his wife and him Streit, they basically blamed it on me. Made me the enemy, that welded them together. My father came home one evening and I heard from above how his wife was telling him something again. She sounded hysterical and angry, howled. I had secretly used her cosmetics. That made the situation much worse and I confided in a teacher.

I don't want to imagine what my father would have done if he had found out that I had confided in someone, that I had spoken to a teacher about our situation. Better not think about it! I persuaded her not to do anything, saying I would deny anything if anyone brought it up - such was my father's panic. But it felt good to finally be able to talk to someone about it. With someone who believed me. That wasn't a matter of course, after all we were the perfect blended family with the nice house and the big cars to the outside world. But one day I couldn't take it anymore, I was mentally exhausted. I cried to my teacher again. Besides her, my best friend and her parents knew about it. I was now so afraid to go home that my teacher asked for a Solution searched. She called my best friend's mother on the phone and they agreed that the mother should pick me up first. Then they would think again.

Physical violence

My friend's mother picked me up, and I knew then that I could not undo this step. I was afraid that this would end terribly, but besides all the fear I was also incredibly relieved not to have to go home. We drove to a restaurant and the mood was more than tense. My friend's mother was also scared, after all, she made herself punishable for simply taking me with her. What if my father reported them now? I felt guilty about dragging this family into my misery, but what should I do? My friend's father later appeared and decided that he would go with me to my house to talk to my father. He promised me not to leave me alone. He meant well, but he was also naive because he believed he could mediate and help me in this way.

It happened the way it had to. With an angry face, my father opened the door and I knew immediately: That's it! He didn't even let my friend's father speak, let alone come into the house. He made an intimidating, very matter-of-fact announcement, and the tone of voice told me clearThat it would end badly for me. It ended badly ... As a result, he let out his anger on me more and more and became more and more unscrupulous. After he had to pick me up from the department store detectives after my shoplifting, he slapped me several times on a downtown street until my nose was bleeding. With my shirt covered in blood, he dragged me to his car. None of the bystanders reacted.

This creates a feeling of helplessness

In general, I found that no one helped me. Not even the few people who knew about my suffering. Everyone was overwhelmed with the situation and with my father. It was my favorite top, a light blue t-shirt with a big white flower that fell victim to my father's freak. I tried desperately to wash the bloodstains out, tears streaming down my face. I cried for my favorite shirt, and I cried for feeling lost. Nevertheless: I didn't want to be broken by my father. And so at the same time I felt myself getting stronger with each punch. I learned to hide my feelings. Think Education seemed only out to bend my will.

There was always a reason, something I had already done. The highlight: my father ripped off all my clothes, put me in the basement in the shower area of ​​our sauna and sprayed myself with the cold water hose. Icy cold water hit my body. I do not know how long. My sense of time was lost. I finally collapsed from exhaustion. He didn't stop. I was shivering in front of him, feeling so naked, so helpless, so vulnerable, and on my own. And yet the thought dominated me: You don't break me, not you, not here! No way! Even in this situation, I felt how I grew stronger with every second. He wanted to break me. But didn't make it! This went on for months, only the situation in the sauna did not repeat itself. The others do. On the outside you could enjoy the nicely trimmed hedge in front of our house, on the outside my father was an extremely personable and charismatic man. But inside he was: a tyrant. Violence and psychological terror, I continued to experience that every day. This humiliation was terrible.

Top books on the subject

Read text as PDF

Acquire this text as a PDF (only for own use without passing it on according to Terms and conditions): Please send us one after purchase eMail with the desired title, we will then send the PDF to you immediately. You can also purchase text series.


Advice on success, goal achievement or marketing

You have Ask about career, Recruiting, personal development or increasing reach? Our AIAdviser helps you for 5 euros a month – free for book buyers. We offer special ones for other topics IT services

5,00 / per month   Book

Book eCourse on Demand

Up to 30 lessons with 4 learning tasks each + final lesson as a PDF download. Please send us one after purchase eMail with the desired title Alternatively, we would be happy to put your course together for you or offer you a personal, regular one eMail-Course - all further information!


Skate eBook as desired

If our store doesn't offer you your desired topic: We will be happy to put together a book according to your wishes and deliver it in a format of your choice. Please sign us after purchase