Suicide Mother

The hanging
“The hanging” by evakins!
compare: suicide by charcoal grill

frizztext: maybe I’m allowed to add, that my mother committed suicide by hanging; but she used a wrong technique; she struggled half an hour, the doctors said, till she was dead at last…

a part of my biography:

Escape, 1989/Nov/9

A point of view: When I was born in 1945, my mother, a German armed forces helper on the way from Prague (deep South) up to an isle named “Ruegen” (in the very North, Baltic Sea), in the middle of her long journey through a breaking down Germany: she gave birth to me and, after one day in a hospital, she passed me on to a children’s home (in a town called “Wuppertal”, West-Germany) – and left me to my fate.
So she robbed me (among others) the experience of a childhood in the GDR, German Democratic Republic, “Wuppertal” should be “West-Germany” (American sector), the isle of Ruegen became Russian sector, behind the “Iron Curtain“.
So I did not learn anything about socialism, communism, STASI (the secret police) or summer camps of young “Pioneers”. In the Western hemisphere I grew up, drinking Pepsi Coke, receiving American Care packages, later on: listened to the Beatles, noticed the students movement in 1968, had no Walter Ulbricht or Erich Honecker, but chancellor Willy Brandt and Helmut Kohl.
But I tried to find out the place, where the woman could live, who had born me in that dark year 1945. After 40 years of persistent search, 1985, before the Berlin Wall fell (1989), I found out: She was living behind the “Iron Curtain” on the isle of Ruegen.
I took my OPEL car and drove from West-Germany (crossing the “Iron Curtain”-frontier) to communist’s East-Germany, the “GDR”, motivated to take a look at this lost childhood, which I did not enjoy: She (after hugging) showed me her photo album: summer beach near “Kap Arkona” at the north-point of the isle, snowy winters on Hiddensee, flight ducks, cranes – but on the other hand coal heaps on washed-out sidewalks. Colour films (Orwo), books, Trabi (the typical GDR-automobile) substitute parts: only hard to get.

"The Life Of Others"

Nevertheless, I wanted to make up for my life in the GDR – when (in 1990) the Berlin Wall was fallen: A schools inspector on the island pointed into a corridor, filled with former Stasi employees (security police) and informed me in this manner in an almost dumb “cadre conversation”, he unfortunately (thanks to the “reunification” of East and West-Germany) would have to hide many people in the teaching profession now (the former STASI persons). I should return please to West-Germany, where I just had come from. The direction of my journey seemed to be absolutely atypically, out of character, and not recommendable. No “Ossi” (vs. “Wessi”) – no job.
As a result my mother, noticing, that all her dreams collapsed, joined an acute epidemic disease at that time: She committed a so-called balance sheets suicide. I was deprived of the chance to become a “zone child” a second time. Did I miss really much?
compare the version in German language, my book-review on that topic at

About frizztext

writer, photographer, guitarist

20 responses to “Suicide Mother

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  3. Don’t know how I could ignore this untill now …

    Very emotional. But my history was another one: No “wessi” – no job. The “ossi” is unable to do a good job and has to get less payed than a turkish …

    And my history is same to yours: in 1990 I disliked this “reunification” (I continue disliking until now, ’cause it seemed and still seems for me to be a hostile takeover
    / occupation / annexation).

    But this is only my secret humble opinion. And I don’t know what I should say because of your mothers dead.


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  10. Thank you for sending me the link to this post. When I posted my “RRR Challenge: Rope” submission I did not know about your mother. I certainly did not intend to cause you any distress, and I apologize if I did. It upset me so much that I removed the post.


    • no, do not remove, there are ropes, and if someone takes a rope for suicide, it was his decision. Not guilty: ropes – or your photo. I only dared to tell you my association – and thank you for reading it. As Naomi Baltuk wrote for my S-challenge:
      “…so long as there is
      someone left to tell it
      and someone willing to listen,
      the story will survive…”



    My brother committed suicide at age 42. I was the last person he spoke too and I did not know his desperation because he wore a very brave face. I am sorry for your pain and I understand Frizz. I suppose enough time has passed for me that I did know think of Suicide for SSS. {{HUGE HUG}}


  12. “I did not know his desperation because he wore a very brave face…” – often all their energy does not come out, so there’s an implosion – we feel guilty, if we failed, to turn the emotions out for expression – so it is so important, to care for a culture of uncensored speaking!


  13. Nun fehlen mir die Worte, lieber Frizz!
    Danke für die Antworten! Wie fürchterlich muss man sich fühlen, wenn man keinen anderen Ausweg sieht als seinem Leben ein Ende zu machen? Wie schrecklich, wenn es dann nicht sofort klappt und man so lange kämpfen muss und sich jede Minute wie eine Unendlichkeit zieht? Was wäre gewesen, wenn…? Fragen über Fragen – ich hoffe, ich bin Dir nicht zu nahe getreten.
    Es tut mir sehr leid für Dich. Da hast Du Dinge erlebt, um die Dich kein Mensch beneidet.
    Du wirkst auf mich – trotz oder vielleicht auch wegen dieser besonderen Vergangenheit – so, als hättest Du mit Familie, Katze(n) und Gitarren Deinen Platz im Leben gefunden. Ich wünsche es Dir!
    Herzliche Grüße 🙂


    • vielen Dank für: “…mit Familie, Katze(n) und Gitarren Deinen Platz im Leben gefunden…” – ja, versucht, das Leben anders zu gestalten als die Generation meiner Eltern. Und nun versuche ich, meine beiden Töchter (Architekt & Banker) sowie die 4 Enkel so lange noch kreativ zu begleiten wie die Mediziner es mir ermöglichen …


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