Chapter I – Part 1

Wo die Angst ist, da geht’s lang.
German saying

$ I don’t have brothers and sisters! This woman and this man conceived by my mother and my father?! So what?! Hardly anybody in the whole world is so stranger to me as they are! Hardly anybody in the whole world cares less about what is happening to me! Even the customers of mine who don’t adore me, to say the least, snarl less than they do when we meet.

$ Are you still talking about Easter?

$ Yes, I am. I was scared the most of my brother’s visit. For dozens of years, I have subordinated myself to his moods, I have counted days till the end of holidays we spent together, done many things for peace’s sake. He knows very well how to aim and send an arrow and hit the bull’s-eye: see me sad, devastated, obedient. And they came: he, his wife and their son. Civilized greeting, small talk. What a fantastic consommé! Is it made of duck? You are a divine cook! And we talked like humans do. I was so filled up with optimism afterwards that I could barely fall asleep. This and general exhaustion with getting ready to Easter made me feel very tired when I got up the next day. My sister didn’t want to come on Friday, she decided to come no sooner than for the Easter breakfast, 10.00 am. They came in the last moment. With a hangover They brought a computer with a TV to be able to watch Formula 1. Sports in the computer, never-ending conversations about food, pâtés, almond sauce, chocolate-orange tart; do you need anything more to avoid closeness? My sister didn’t even greet me. Whatever I said, she commented with sarcasm. Nevertheless, the worst part started after they had left. I discovered an ocean of unexpressed anger towards her. I could have cut her alive into pieces with my professional butcher’s knife if I had a guarantee that there wouldn’t be any legal consequences, nor bad conscious. I knew I had a choice: either to wallow in the mud of – I’m not reluctant to use the word – hatred, to triumph that my sister after years of overdosing booze looks older than our mother does and possibly to raise a cancer in my body eventually or to take the stopper out of my ocean tub, let the “water” out, let go of everything that doesn’t support my life. In the other option, I would consider her my shadow that brings out with an extraordinary precision what wants to be healed in me: adults’ authority, responsibility for their feelings, expectations as for what a healthy family atmosphere looks like and smells of, let alone poise, confidence about my arguments in a discussion… My ego was pierced like a balloon when I saw how far I am from the enlightenment. I felt disadvantaged by the fact that she declares aloud that she doesn’t give a shit to working on herself while I get involved with working on myself with an enormous commitment and don’t even get access to what my siblings had got practically with no effort and what they in my opinion don’t appreciate: faithful partners and healthy kids. When I was getting ready for Easter I was longing for a deeper kinship and closeness and I got artificiality, abruptness, superficiality. I feel so disappointed with my communicational skills, me – a specialist in communication cannot reach the people who I have known since I was born to this world. And I am a coach! What coach am I? How dare I offer people hope for a better life if stupid Easter can drive me crazy? I am like a person who took an important exam and got a mark: totally inadequate.

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