WELCOME TO MY SECOND PAGE

MY BACK GROUND

My father and mother on their wedding day. He wore his military Nazi uniform on his wedding day, but then, the entire generation was brain washed to believe in the obedience of Authorities. This picture was taken in 1939 and I was born much later in 1953. My father had returned from Russian war prison in 1947 and was trying to make up for his lost time for as long as he lived.

My mother would often beat me and my brother Eric up. I eventually believed that I was so bad that I needed to be beaten into perfection. Mind you, that also meant that "good people do not desire and have sex" They are too perfect. Every time my school results were not too good (and I always did my best), my mother would go straight to the cupboard, take out a belt and beat me up.

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My parents on their wedding day.

Actually, I believed that the purpose of getting the school result signed up by a parent, was to "be beaten into goodness", and I had to be beaten as I was "so bad". One can imagine the self-image I was left with in my life.

My parents were brought up in a Roman Catholic society. She was born out of wedlock and sent up to a village to be hidden by her uncle as a public shame. She was very young. One day she fell ill, and her uncle threw her out into the yard in an attempt that she would die. He already organized the coffin for her and the cloths in which she would be put in when she is dead. They showed the items to my mother. It was o.k. as she had no right to live anyway as she was born out of wedlock. You see, this is what happens when Catholism is driven into extremes.

To the left is my mother and I am with her. The other boy is Eric my brother.

Both my parents had sexual hang-ups. They don't have sex, they only have kids. When I was approximately five years old and asked my mother where children come from, she yelled at me that she would not know. I could not understand why she wouldn't know. When my father had sex with my mother he would hide his car, by removing it from our premises, to pretend that there is nobody at home.

One day Eric, my brother could not enter the house and broke in, believing that there was nobody at home, that is how we found out.

I did not know anything about sex until I was 14 years old and was told by a school mate in one of those school camps. Until then I thought my sexual desires and private activities was a sickness and that I would die. It was also linked to a horrible feeling of guilt. I expected to die any moment of it. That went on for about three years and it was like being moved to the execution chamber every couple of hours and released for the moment.

My father in a typical scene - Repairing motor cars. Near his death.

I was a total nervous wreck. My grandmother knew that there was something wrong with me, but she did not quite pinpoint what it was. My mother realized nothing or it least that's what it seemed to be. The beatings of her did not stop, at least not until we were about 13 to 14 years old.

Things improved when I found out that I was actually normal, but the feelings of guilt for my sexuality will haunt me for decades to come.

I also had another brother who at the age of 17 (near 18) committed suicide, but his story is on the "Helmuth's Death Page" on this site.

My mother after Helmuth's death. One can see the pain and sadness in her.

My Story is continued in My Early Life Page.

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