My parents left Chile in the 1970s to escape the authoritarian regime and their oppressive families. My father was no longer welcome at home; his Catholic father disapproved of his marriage to my Protestant mother. My mother had escaped the clutches of a patriarch who had kept her busy with household chores from the age of 12 onwards after his wife had an accident.
Everything was unfamiliar in Switzerland, but one thing was certain: we wanted to honour the homeland of our ancestors. Adaptation was the top priority. I experienced xenophobia first-hand: I was excluded at school and threatened on my way home. My parents said I just had to get through it.
From afar, my mother stylised the family she had fled from into a sanctuary.
Father found work as an assistant carpenter, mother, who was a biologist, became a housewife. She said she was only doing this so that we could have a better life. Mother seemed overwhelmed, always on alert, everything was difficult and nothing was good. She isolated herself and was homesick.
Completely monopolised by the parents
As a child, I walked on eggshells, sensing that I couldn't bother my parents with my problems. From afar, my mother idealised the family she had fled from, elevating it to a sanctuary: she was convinced that everything would be better if we had that family here.
Real-life interactions with them were marked by envy, resentment and malicious gossip behind my back. But they clung stubbornly to their connections and preached that family was the most important thing in life. So I served my family, acting as a mediator and always being there when it came to school meetings, dealing with the authorities or organising apprenticeships. I was over 30 when I realised through others that it was not normal to be so preoccupied with this.
Grandchild becomes the centre of life
My mother was horrified about my first pregnancy – she said that being an unmarried mother was a disgrace. Then Anna* was born and became the centre of her life. I tried to set boundaries, first in a friendly manner, then more firmly. She said that we were now an extended family and belonged together. My parents even bought a multi-generational house. Their expectations overwhelmed me.
When Anna was two, I stopped looking after them. They still stood outside the door or called and wanted to speak to Anna on the phone. My needs were disregarded, my boundaries ignored. My parents blamed my partner for my withdrawal.
I wish for my parents that they may be freed from beliefs that have harmed them.
They didn't understand what I was getting at, even though I tried to explain it to them in every way possible. Their response was addressed to my partner – a four-page letter full of accusations. I stopped answering their calls and didn't tell them about our move.
Slight rapprochement after breaking off contact
My parents have only seen my youngest daughter twice. However, in recent years, we have grown closer. I see my parents from time to time – alone. It seems to me that a process of reflection has begun. I had therapeutic support for many years. Now my mother also says that mediation might be a good idea.
My brother has also broken off contact with our parents. It hurts to see them suffer. I feel a longing to be close to them and want to enable my children to have contact with them. But I will not teach them that family is based on a sense of duty. I wish for my parents that they may be freed from beliefs that have harmed them , that they may accept what is, instead of clinging to ideals.
*Names changed by the editors
