On detours to the goal in life
- anon
- Jun 17, 2021
- 18 min read
Updated: Jun 8, 2023
(DE/EU) I am the daughter of a teacher and was therefore naturally unwilling to learn. Attending school, studying, writing exams and getting good grades was a chore. I just muddled through my last four years at the commercial girls’ secondary school run by nuns and just paid attention to fulfilling my parents’ expectations in terms of schooling. If someone had asked me back then, in 1969, what I was burning for, what I was dreaming of, I couldn’t have thought of anything. Yet the seed for my much later fulfilled professional life had already been planted at school.
Creating dreams
I owed my first job at an insurance company to my shorthand and accounting skills, but my dreams of travelling, which were unrealisable as I believed at the time, I owed to Sister Germana, our English teacher. She introduced me to the English language by encouraging me. According to rumours, as the daughter of a wealthy family, she could undertake many journeys, e.g. to the Scottish Highlands, despite her status as a member of the order. And as was her way, she also tried to inspire us with slide shows and stories about everything English and travelling. It worked for me, while others who also enjoyed these lessons, did so mainly because they didn’t have to actively learn anything, weren’t questioned and could indulge in other activities and conversations as they pleased.
I, on the other hand, soaked up these impressions, loved speaking English and imagined travelling to foreign countries.
Arriving in reality
In the real world, after I finished secondary school, I got a job as a typist at an insurance company in my hometown. After completing secondary school, in September 1969, I went to the office every day and did what I had learned at school. The office manager called for dictation and I wrote it down in shorthand, then typed it all up on headed paper and took care of the rest, such as dispatch and filing. Apart from me, there were four female colleagues, a boss and several field staff. We were a well-coordinated team, had a very pleasant working atmosphere. I enjoyed the work and the pay was also okay. Soon I was put in charge of property insurance, everything except life insurance. I was then able to work completely independently, which I really enjoyed.
My professional life turned out to be quite positive and yet my next step led me down the path that was marked out for women at that time.
The golden cage
When I got married in 1976, I looked for a part-time job with a large corporation so that I could adequately fulfil my domestic duties. Why did I do that? The classic case! I had fallen in love with this young man and I also wanted to have children with him. There should be two because I was quite lonely as an only child, surrounded only by adults. I didn’t want my children to grow up like that. It was clear to me that I wanted to take care of my children myself for the first years. So I prepared myself to leave my job and start a family life. It seemed logical to me, but I must still have sensed that something was wrong.
My husband told me later, shortly before we separated, that I had had a kind of panic attack just before we got married: afraid that I was doing the wrong thing or that I wouldn’t live up to anyone’s expectations. I had totally repressed this incident. The wedding had already been organised and besides, there was always the option of getting a divorce. I guess that reassured me, that in case it didn’t work out, I could always walk away! Today I ask myself: what kind of attitude was that? But at that time I didn’t have any particular longings or dreams that would have contradicted starting a family. You could say I was disoriented, taking each day as it came. But I was not truly happy.
In 1979, after the birth of my first son, I also gave up this job and with it my financial independence. With the birth of my second son in 1981, I was then permanently tied to the house, completely absorbed in the upbringing of the children, and I gradually lost touch with myself.
I had no idea that my first son would be such a challenge. I didn’t get on well with him; strangely enough, my mother idolised him from the start. The second son was completely different, a ‘normal’ baby. I couldn’t have managed to work on the side. The older son started kindergarten, but only stayed for about 10 days. He was aggressive towards the other children and the kindergarten management advised me to take him out of the kindergarten. He was not ready yet. In the meantime, I had long since realised that the institution of marriage and family was not for me. But I was now trapped. Still, that wasn’t the end of my self-sacrifice.
The pressure to meet expectations was even greater because we as a young couple and family were living in my parents’ house. I couldn’t counter the prospect of rent-free living and free childcare with any reasonable argument except my uneasy feelings and the recollection that this was exactly where and how I never wanted to live. With my bare instincts, I couldn’t even argue with myself against all the rational and reasonable arguments. I was sitting desperately in the golden cage and only wanted to get out. Out of the marriage, out of the house, away from the city, into professional life, into self-reliance and financial independence. Slowly but surely I could no longer breathe, metaphorically speaking.
At that time, I also had a strong feeling that I was not a “born mother”, whatever that means. We, the young women of the 60s in a conservative small city, had been instilled with the image of a devoted mother who, when she made sacrifices for her children, did not suffer from it, but worked off a list of priorities written by God and society. But I suffered!
Today I realise that there is no such thing as a “born mother”, but only women who should define their mother role themselves. At the time, I did not feel this inner freedom, and the right, to design my own role as a mother. Ultimately, there was only an either-or.
I was certainly not the first, nor will I be the last, to start an affair as an escape from marriage and unbearable living conditions. The affair was over quickly, but my desire for change remained.
A radical step
My husband and I separated in 1985 after two failed retries. He took the children and I agreed. The decision was not easy for me, but I also thought of the children’s welfare. This back and forth was not good for them and they suffered from the tensions.
My mother and all the relatives were horrified. A mother who leaves her children behind cannot hope for any understanding. But I definitely felt I didn’t have any other choice.
I couldn’t have stepped out of a life, which I felt was “wrong” for me, with them, nor would I have been able to give them security and stability. I didn’t know myself where my path would lead me. I had yet to discover who I was and what I wanted. And in such a search, one often stumbles. Should the children stumble with me every time and possibly get hurt?
The decision to leave my children with their father in the family and leave was painful for my sons and me, but I am still convinced today that it was the right decision.
So in 1985, at the age of 32, I left my hometown for Munich without my husband and children.
A new life, but not yet the right one
My school friend Eva supported me morally and actively and made my new start in Munich possible. Most job interviews started with the question of whether I had a flat in Munich. Well, that wasn’t easy back then. But Eva knew about a flat in Oberschleißheim, which I did indeed get. Networking is therefore not a completely new invention of the high-tech industry but also worked for former convent schoolgirls in the 80s.
And then everything went by itself.
With my certificate as a “state-certified secretary” hot off the press, I looked for and found a new field of activity at a law firm.
My new workplace was a newly founded 3-person office that administered the monetary estate of the owners of a large mail-order company. I was the second secretary. Our main task was to be available by telephone and to organise an executor’s meeting in the office about every 6 to 8 weeks, take minutes, make coffee and prepare canapés. My colleague and I were not too fussed about it, because we had a lot of free time between the sessions and the pay was good.
I was not challenged there and was bored, but also had free capacity for evening courses at the Cambridge Institute. Still, getting the First Certificate in English was not enough for me. I needed practice, preferably in the sunshine and warm weather. So off to Malta!
There is a saying that applied to me at that time: “I owed my life to my dreams”. And I paid this debt with growing enthusiasm from then onwards.
During several holidays stays in Malta at different times of the year, I felt myself blossoming. Being able to converse easily in the local language made all the difference to any all-inclusive stay in tourist resorts with no connection to the country and its people. This was not just how I wanted to spend my holidays, this was how I wanted to live. In a foreign country, but not as a complete stranger!
And now I became downright audacious. On a whim, I asked the German Embassy in Malta if it would be possible to work on the island. And indeed, a position as a local employee was available. Without question, I applied for the job, since I fulfilled the basic requirements: Typing, shorthand and good English. In 1990, it worked out, I got the job. That was a new beginning to my liking!
I sublet my flat in Oberschleißheim, Munich. The young woman from the GDR who had fled via Hungary and now wanted to build a life in Munich was happy and grateful. An affordable apartment in Munich was already a jackpot back then and I didn’t want to give up this option. I wanted to leave a back door open just in case something went wrong.
Malta – a whole new experience
And then, in January 1990, I landed at Luqa airport in Malta with two suitcases ready to fulfil my two-year contract at the Embassy. During my many holidays before, I had made contacts on the island and so on arrival, I first stayed with friends in a B & B. I then had to find a place to stay. Since I was on a holiday island, there was no problem finding accommodation. A short time later, I found a fully furnished flat, only a 5-minute walk from the embassy. From my office, I had a wonderful view over the coastal road to the sea. A dream!
Working in an embassy
At the embassy, I had to get used to working differently, because I had never worked in a government office before. I had to familiarise myself with titles from the 19th century. All the abbreviations! It was like learning new vocabulary at school.
There are two levels in an embassy:
At the top of the political/diplomatic level in an embassy is the ambassador. The members of the higher service are addressed in English with the title “His or Her Excellency”. At consulates, the Consul General assumes this role.
The second level is the administration. Abroad, there is a chancellor or a chancellor 1. class! (Senior Service), followed by the Intermediate Service and the Lower Service.
I couldn’t care less, I only distinguished between very nice, nice and not nice at all! Oh, and the hierarchy!!! Of course the superior stabs the inferior! Meaning, what the ambassador commands has to be done.
There were many a discrepancy between the higher and the elevated service because an ambassador usually has no idea about administration. After all, his attention is focused on the political level.
I don’t know how many Note Verbale (= precisely defined procedure in correspondence between the missions abroad and the ministries in the host country) with four copies I typed on my ballpoint typewriter. There were no PCs yet, but there was a difficult ambassador who made great demands on himself and the entire staff. Apart from that, I worked with nice German and local colleagues.
Another task was to prepare and provide administrative support for the numerous visits of German MPs from the capital Bonn. Each parliamentarian had to be registered with the Maltese Ministry of Foreign Affairs with a note verbale. As Malta was not yet in the EU at that time but aspired to be, there was lively communication with European politicians.
The highlight was the visit of our then Federal President Richard von Weizsäcker together with his wife and a large business delegation in the spring of 1991. Preparations for this visit began 6 weeks before the event. Two officials from the protocol department arrived and told us what had to be done. Soon our nerves were on edge! There was a holiday ban for everyone; we also worked on weekends; the phones and fax machines were running hot and every morning our telecommunications room was bursting with yellow telex ticker tapes that had to be decoded. The programme and conversation schedules were constantly being changed, etc. … I couldn’t believe the amount of work that had to be done for a two-day official visit by the Federal President.
On weekends, I was regularly on call for stranded German tourists, deaths (including 2 suicides on the island), passport losses, accidents, repatriations, visa requests. The first East Germans with less travel experience were already arriving on the beaches of Malta and had to be supported.
I also had a lot of private visitors, enjoyed the blue sky, sun, beach and high life. Malta is a very historic small island (about 28 x 14 km in size) between Sicily and Libya, last under British rule, with a beautiful natural harbour, the new capital Valletta and the old beautiful city Mdina in the middle of the island. There are many hotels and discos, many more B&B’s, countless little shops and friendly Maltese people!
It was a very exciting and busy two years. I have learned a lot, including about myself and my aspirations and expectations in life. I would enjoy seeing new countries regularly. The challenge of looking for a place to live in each new location, getting used to new bosses and colleagues, starting from scratch every few years didn’t scare me but rather appealed to me. I found it exciting and stimulating to interact with colleagues from the other missions, to celebrate with them and to do activities with them. And always and everywhere there was the security of the German mission abroad behind me. It was a privileged “gipsy life”. Yes, I wanted to try that now, and I felt fit for it.
Always on the road – always new experiences
After two years in Malta, when my contract was up, I went back to my flat in Munich. I looked for work through a temporary employment agency. It was a very interesting experience to get to know different companies: First, a company that sold and rented all kinds of containers, then an electricity supplier and finally a big chemical company. The latter moved to the Rhine area at the end of 1992. I could have joined them, but I didn’t want to. I was drawn to faraway places again.
I applied again at the Foreign Office (AA) in Bonn. Since the AA was desperately looking for people, because after the fall of the Berlin Wall many GDR embassies had been taken over and staffed up, I still had a chance, at the age of 40, to be taken on as a secondee. I was now being trained properly and in 1995 I was transferred from Bonn to the Consulate General in Manchester/GB. This was one of my most pleasant posts, despite the IRA bomb that went off in the City Centre on 15 June 1996.
During the World Cup in the summer of 1996, our consulate was looking after the German football team in Manchester. That’s when I saw my first and last football match (Germany – Croatia) live! Well, it didn’t make me a football fan, even though Germany won the World Cup in London.
Back to Bonn, moval to Berlin and to Wien
For a few years, my new workplace was in Berlin Mitte. From Berlin, I was transferred to Vienna in 2002 until 2006. In December 2004, my mother passed away and I wanted a tougher assignment: from 2006 to 2010, I went to Belgrade and in the summer of 2010, I was finally transferred back to Berlin.
The periods abroad are generally limited to 4 years in ‘normal’ countries. You shouldn’t necessarily put down roots in a host country (don’t fraternise with the enemy!) A traditional diplomatic principle?
My absolute highlights were the posts in Malta and Manchester, where I felt at home from the very first moment. Vienna was also like home, only 400 km away from my mum. She wasn’t feeling well at the time and I was quickly at home for the weekend. (For comparison: it was 500 km to Berlin).
In 2002, I was posted to Vienna, the most beautiful city on the Danube, in the ugliest building of a German embassy (in Vienna dialect called Haefn – Prison). The embassy has already been demolished. The Castle Schloss Belvedere was just around the corner.
A dangerous situation in Belgrade
My personal toughest posting was Belgrade in Serbia. The Balkans were a world apart and Belgrade was still scarred by the NATO attacks. The situation came to a head in spring 2008 when Kosovo declared independence from Serbia on 17th February and Serbia did not recognise it. Germany was one of the first states to recognise its independence, others followed.
The disaster was brewing, leading to civil war-like conditions on 21st February. On Kneza Milosa Street, there were many embassies lined up, including ours. On that day, all the embassies were closed at noon because news of a planned demonstration was spreading. Such situations held incalculable risks in Belgrade at that time.
In fact, a marauding mob instigated by the Serbian government set out and from 5 p.m. onwards went from one embassy to the next, burning and pillaging. Rubbish containers and cars went up in flames, windows and doors were smashed, Molotov cocktails flew through the windows. In our embassy, there were only three property guards (e.g. German BGS officers/policemen) left in the building. They were lying on the roof of the garage with their weapons drawn. And no police came! There were two dead rioters in the US embassy. It was a very scary situation. We were stuck there for a long time, not knowing how it was going to turn out. After all, years ago the world had experienced in Iran how easily embassy staff can become hostages.
In crisis meetings, we were warned not to speak in German in public and to avoid large gatherings of people. There were other incidents with foreigners in cafes. I started to feel insecure, also cancelled all the visits from my friends who wanted to come to Belgrade to see me.
This life no longer met my idea of an interesting experience in a foreign country. This was frightening and restricted the freedom of movement of all foreigners to an unprecedented extent.
There were still a few positive experiences, such as the Eurovision Song Contest in May 2008, when the German representatives, the No-Angels, performed at a pre-final party at the embassy…
…. and the birthday party in honour of the British Queen Elizabeth II in June 2009 at the British Embassy in Belgrade. I gladly accepted such invitations.
Illness paves the way to leaving
During a routine check-up at the health service of the Berlin headquarters of the AA in summer 2008, i.e. while I was still on assignment in Belgrade, I was diagnosed with bile duct carcinoma (Klatskin tumour). I had ignored the symptoms. I did not want to have an operation in Belgrade whatsoever (the conditions in the Serbian hospitals were not up to European standards!!), so I travelled to Regensburg without knowing whether I would ever come back to Serbia. In October, I underwent a 6-hour operation at the Regensburg University Hospital and I only slowly recovered. I even had to break off the rehab. I was incapacitated for more than a quarter of a year before I went back to Belgrade. A year later, a recurrence of the tumour occurred and I had to have another operation at the same hospital. Once again it took three months for me to recover.
After this second operation, I decided that I would not want to work any longer than necessary. I had escaped twice from the jaws of death and only recovered thanks to treatment by my Naturopath!!! I thought one shouldn’t tempt fate too many times. And I had become tired: Technology was slowly but surely surpassing me, the demands of work were increasing. My parents had passed away and the house I had inherited was dilapidated. I may have settled for another nice post: Dublin or Edinburgh. But that didn’t work out. So it was time for me to quit.
I wanted to renew my friendships with people I had not seen for many years and I wanted to organise my free time in a new way. I already had a few ideas and new ones came up of their own accord. I was suddenly very much looking forward to coming home to my family. I had my former marital home modernised gradually. It was a new start and since everything worked out so well, I am still sure today that it was meant to be.
But before starting this new life, I first had to go back to work. In 2010, I went to the head office in Berlin. I had some interesting conversations with my therapist during my second rehab. I realised that I was only doing fine on the surface, but that I had actually become depressed. He supported my decision to leave my professional life behind and start a new life once again.
I asked the pension department for clarification on what would be the earliest date that I could retire and the reply was at 60 years and 7 months. Finally, at the end of August 2013, this time has come. I left Berlin and moved one last time: back to my hometown. I have finally come full circle, but I came back as a different woman than the one who had left all those years ago to discover the world and herself.
Looking back with serenity and no regrets
Yes, these 20 years at the AA were exciting and interesting. I have seen and learned a lot, met interesting people and experienced first-hand what it is like to live as a foreigner in a foreign country. Like everywhere, there are good and not so good experiences. One thing is certain: the mentality of the people in the respective countries, which is typical in a certain way, creates an atmosphere in which one feels comfortable or not. What has remained are contacts with the most diverse people of different nationalities and the certainty that I am European in body and soul.
I am at peace with my chosen path in life. Yes, you could say that I reached my life's goal in a roundabout way. What can I say – despite all the emotional upheavals, I have never regretted walking this path. Strangely enough, I have never felt lonely in these 20 years of my troubled life. True, there were one or two men in my life after marriage, but none would have brought me before the registrar again! I am quite happy on my own. I am not cut out for being in a close relationship.
I have been able to become independent and realised my dreams of travelling and of living a fulfilling life. This life is far different from what I could have had as a full-time mother, housewife and spouse.
These role models had been built up in my youth as ideal perspectives for the future. For a while, I followed these ideas until I reached my limits. To break away, to disappoint the expectations of the family for no discernible reason, no external cause, no better perspective or alternative, was an unimaginable feat of strength.
Because I wanted to be able to stand on my own two feet and be independent – both emotionally, but more importantly financially – I managed to do it. The secret: I simply believed in myself!
The price for the life of my choice
Of course, I paid a price for this life, as did my family. What Konrad, my ex-husband, experienced with the children, I only found out in passing. He remarried and I hoped that he and the boys were happy.
I saw my children only sporadically. They visited me on holidays, wherever I happened to be on post. And we also saw each other during my holidays at home. Today I would describe my relationship with them as good, which of course was not always the case. I keep a low profile because I know that their stepmother still keeps them very busy. She lives in the same village as my two sons and every now and then has urgent tasks for them. Like all grown-up children, they are sometimes a bit annoyed, but they are still committed to looking after their stepmother, who has no children of her own. But they also help me when I need help (mostly with the internet/mobile phone).
I, on the other hand, can now be there for my boys when they need help. I can cope well with this role as a mother.
I’ve even been on a first-name basis with my children’s stepmother since my ex-husband died in 2013 and we also see each other from time to time at family gatherings. I was very upset by his painful end. He died shortly after I had moved back to my hometown.
My life today
My illness has given me a new outlook on life: I became more relaxed, accepting what will come. I don’t have to prove anything to myself anymore. Before Corona, I had put together for myself a nice weekly programme: I continued to attend ‘English Conversation’ courses at the adult education centre (VHS) as long as it was still possible. The English language has been my love for over 50 years. I have many English books.
However, my life would not be complete without tasks. I enjoy volunteering in the Oxfam shop once a week for 5 hours and I always look after an elderly lady (almost 90) on Thursdays. She approached me when we both took part in the English conversation course at the VHS. Now I shop for her and pick her up from the hairdresser. Before Corona, it was even nicer, because after her weekly visit to the hairdresser we would go out for dinner together.
Of course, I have also taken up hobbies. I am passionate about flea markets. I do a bit of silk painting and glass fusing, but mostly I sew little bags for my lavender harvest, which I then sell in these little bags. I also sew for my family when such help is needed.
I now lead the tranquil life of a pensioner who realised her dreams when it was time to realise them. Now I can rest and enjoy having a good time. (HF)
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