Dared To Survive - Olya Mancuso

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such as holidays, more money for Zhenya.

      But all his attempts were useless. Mother was as solid as rock. She kept on singing sarcastically: «You can kiss my ass, you old fucking fool,» she jeered. «The child is your ugly mini version. Two fucking monsters. You are nothing but pathetic shits. I am too strong to defeat. I am too strong to convince. I am a rock. I am iron. We Russian women never give up… None of you are worth dirt.»

      She kept on singing the put downs over his voice ignoring his pleas about me. I know he was trying his best to improve my life at home. But, if anything, his interfering always made it worse for me the next day when he left to work. After that, I always had to pay the price for «making parents fight against each other and poisoning their relationship.»

      My mother never lost a fight. She would never give in to Dad’s pleas to stop punishing me. Every night, they’d fight about the same issue «ME or my brother Zhenya. Every time, mother won the fight. They fought whenever they were together.

      My Dad accused my mother of exhausting their finances by letting Zhenya have everything he wanted, by paying out his debts to people to stop them from reporting him to the police. Dad said mother did not leave any money to feed us because she spent everything on my brother and his desires.

      My brother didn’t want to work. He never worried about money. He has always lived off my parents’ money avoiding terrific jobs. He spent years conning people who came to our house to demand their money. They threatened to go to police if we didn’t pay. Mother always paid them out to keep Zhenya away from jail.

      Zhenya refused to take any job that he considers beneath him. He had no interest in becoming financially independent. He believed every job was beneath him.

      This was why mother and father fought every day. Dad did not want to take part in financing my brother.

      But he could never win with my mother. Mother refused to let Zhenya suffer by being responsible for himself. Zhenya’s girlfriends were also supported financially by my parents. My mother insisted we needed to help Zhenya hold on and keep relationships with females.

      Zhenya liked drugs and partying. He yelled at my mother and blackmailed her if she did not give him enough money. So, in the end she always relented. Dad begged her to stop enabling my brother and his destructive behaviours, crimes and spending.

      Usually, when my parents were home no matter what the issue that would start the fight, I would soon be the object of their battle. Mother’s hatred of me was so powerful that it made her illusions real. In her own sick mind tormenting and torturing her spirit, Mother had always believed I was evil that I should change.

      Often, when Dad was not home if I passed her she’d start sobbing. Knowing that I would never ignore her tears, she’d start yelling for no reason, talking to herself and begging God to «change» me.

      I would sit down near her on the bed while she sobbed and sulked. She would lean toward me, her lips close to my ear and hiss how much I had fucked up her life «Everything was good until you came into this family. I could sense you were from Satan,» she would sob, «You and your father are the reason your brother went on drugs. You both adore each other. But, my son lost his own father. You bitch have taken the whole lot. You have a natural father, but my son’s father abandoned him. My son is better than you,» she’d accuse. «He was too good too kind. He became bad because you were born, and all the attention was given to you by your elderly fool of a father who was blinded by his love towards you. My son was neglected because you took it all. I married your father and he adopted your brother and promised to be there for him. We all were so happy up until that day when you devil was conceived and then born. Your father stopped loving us. He switched to you and became obsessed with the love for you. You took it all from us. Zhenya became unimportant for him. He would not leave your cot. He would not show you to anybody up until you were two months old. He cherished you. He adored and admired everything about you. Nobody else mattered to him. He would sleep sitting at your cot. He was very possessive about your care. It was as if you were born to her majesty royalty „Romanovs“. At that time, he stopped loving me and your brother. All the love and affection were given to you, bitch… You were the centre of your father’s thoughts, life, and love. Since you little bitch were born, I lost my son and husband. You always demanded too much attention. You were always sick, always cruel to me. Poor Zhenya was left to himself. Everyone was too busy with you. Zhenya was left behind to grow on his own. And now my boy is on drugs and on the street. I am a broken-hearted mother. You took my son. Then, my husband. Then everything else I loved and enjoyed. You bitch! You ruined me and my whole life,» mother finished, wiping her tears.

      I watched my mother’s tears and pain, devastated. My guilt was overwhelming. My heart was broken for her I asked what is that I could do to make her happier.

      «You are so ugly. Oh God. You are so pathetic. You are evil! Do you understand that if you don’t change, you will never be able to have a family and be happy? With the character like yours you will never be amount to anything good in life. You will never marry. You will never have any relationship. You will never be respected by anyone. The universe never accepts people like you. You are just like your Dad,» she accused. «Evil, pathetic, ridiculous, stupid, smelly, messy, dumb, yucky and ugly. You and your Dad turn people off. People are disgusted by you. It’s all about people, Olya,» mother continued. «They hate and despise you and your Dad. You must become like, so everyone could like you and respect you. If you become like your Dad you will inherit his karma and bad luck.»

      She went on, «People talk about him behind his back and disrespect him. You and your father have so many things in common. You both have nothing to be respected for. Olya, answer and chose who are you going to be like HIM or me? The older you become, the more inadequate, bad qualities I see in you which are identical like your Dad’s.»

      «I have these conversations with you every day and, you bitch. You still don’t want to change,» she’d lament.

      I tried to tell her I’d change. «CHANGE,» she said. «I BEG YOU, mother cried and threw herself on the floor banging her fists. «Let God cast out the evil spirits from my daughter. Give me a good daughter instead of the evil one.»

      I ran to my room, tears are running down my face. I couldn’t breathe. There was not enough air for me to inhale…. I took the knife and cut my wrists.

      I cut to block the pain out. I cut to punish myself. I hated myself. As I watched my blood running, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and yelled out loud, «I hate you!»

      I believed I hated myself all my life without even realizing it. Where I got the courage to go on in the face of these daily verbal and physical attacks.

      When I was a child, my mother never liked anything about me. She would slap me across the face. My laugh, she claimed «sounded demonic». She believed I was evil and it was her responsibility «to cast the evil spirit out» of me.

      Even today at forty-two, I am criticized for my laugh by my mother. Mother still gets very disturbed and inconsolable when she hears my laugh – while many others find it charming.

      I think the worst and most difficult thing for me is to block those ingrained feelings of inadequacy and the feeling that I am «BAD», unworthy, unlovable. This was always a challenge that was so hard to overcome. I’m not sure that I’ve ever really believed I was worthy. Too many years of abuse have done their job on my sense of self-worth. But they’ve never broken my spirit. I had the courage to continue in spite of little hope of a brighter future.

      Chapter Five.

      Independent Girl

      I remember, one day, my mother decided that I should go to kindergarten by myself. «You

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