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I was named after my father's mother—and my mother's mother
Irma—Barbara
my name held great significance for my parents
as a teenager I could build bridges to my parents
when I fulfilled their need for companionship
my talents and gentle nature allowed me to be special to them
my father was a gifted violinist
his musical mother had accompanied him on the piano
his father manipulated him away from music into business
yet my father still loved music and desired a musical companion
I became his accompanist
the better I played the piano
the more my father played music, and spent time, with me
sometimes we would sight-read late into the night whatever
we could find—Mozart, Schubert, Beethoven, Brahms, Kreisler
the hours I spent as a teenager making music with my father
brought happiness and pride to my childhood
gave me a sense of competence, worth, importance
of being special to him
music replaced feelings and closeness—became my life force
my strong musical bond with my father helped cover the incest
and foster a blind idealization of him
my mother's unhappiness was painful for me
I became my mother's companion during many evenings
filled with long conversations deep into the night
my mother read with dedicated interest
modern literature and liberal political magazines
my father had no interest in either
with my mother I learned to be an understanding listener
I became skilled at keeping conversations interesting and alive
as I shouldered a responsibility that was not mine
to reach my lonely mother—to alleviate her suffering
we talked about religion, history, politics and books
but not ourselves—the personal was excluded
unbeknownst to me I carried a burden
that could not be delivered but buried me deeper and deeper
in the addiction of trying to save others
I was proud to ease her loneliness and to nurture her
to provide a sense of acceptance and connection for her
those long talks made me feel important
even special and chosen—but the responsibility
to relieve my mother's misery weighed heavily
deep down I resented it strongly—and longed
for a content and self-confident mother
although I returned to visit my family for many years
I left—after I married when I was barely nineteen years old—
these conversations with my mother behind
together with all ties to organized religion
my unconscious knew about the unbridgeable abyss
between my mother and me
and guided me away from her more and more forcefully
but the young woman was unaware
she was proud to be the daughter her mother desired
it gave her life meaning and importance
© Barbara Rogers
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Screams from Childhood |
