The prose of life: How she still receives trauma?

Eighty five million two hundred twenty two thousand five hundred twenty six

© Claude Monet

As she still receives trauma?

It is clear that it is always possible to explain everything "flow", "weaves", "ancestral memory," etc., and quite possible that it is no mystery and will not do, but if you try it? To take only the clear, pure family perspective, child-parent relationship, without politics and ideology. About them later.

Family currently lives. Very young, just got married, have baby. Or just given birth. Maybe even two yet. Love, happy, hopeful. And then a disaster happens. The wheels of history have moved on and went to grind the people. Often the first to fall into the millstone men. Revolution, war, repression – first strike on him.

And now the young mother was left alone. Her inheritance – the constant anxiety, overwork (have to work and child raising), no special pleasures. Death notices, "ten years without the right of correspondence", or simply long absence without news, that hope is fading. Maybe it's not about her husband, and about brother, father, other relatives. What is the status of the mother? She is forced to control myself, she can really surrender to grief. Her child (children), and much more. From the inside, tearing pain, and Express it is impossible, weep not, "limp". And she goes hard. Freeze in a stoic voltage disables the feelings, lives, gritting his teeth and having collected will in a fist, doing everything on the machine. Or worse, sinking into a hidden depression goes, is doing what it should, even though she only wants to lie down and die. Her face is a frozen mask, her hands heavy and do not bend. It physically hurt to answer the smile of a child, it minimizes the communication with him, did not respond to his babbling. The child woke up, called her and she muffled howls into the pillow. Sometimes anger erupts. He crawled or walked over, pulls her attention and affection, she may respond through force, but sometimes suddenly roars: "Yes, leave me alone" you push that much he will fly away. No, she's not his angry – at fate, at his broken life, the one who left and left and more will not help.

Only here the child does not know all the ins and outs of what is happening. Do not tell him what happened (especially if it is small). Or he knows, but can not understand. The only explanation that in principle could come to mind: my mom doesn't like me, I'm in the way, it would be better for me. His identity cannot emerge without the constant emotional contact with the mother, without sharing with her glances, smiles, sounds, caresses, without having to read her face, spotting the shades of feeling in his voice. It is necessary, inherent nature, is the main task of infancy. And what if the mother's depressed face mask? If her voice is monotonous, dull from grief, or strained ringing from the alarm?

While the mother is tearing of veins that the child is elementary survived, not died of starvation or disease, it grows by itself, already injured. Not sure what its like, not sure you need it, with poorly developed empathy. Even the intellect is broken in terms of deprivation. Remember the picture of "deuce Again"? It is written in 51. The main character 11 years old in appearance. A child of war, injured more than older sister, seized the first years of a normal family life, and a younger brother, a child of post-war joy the father came back alive. On the wall – trophy watch. And boy is it hard to study.

Of course, everybody's different. Reserve mental energy different women have different. The acuteness of grief is different. The character is different. Well, if the mother has sources of support – family, friends, older children. And if not? If the family was in isolation, as "enemies of the people", or evacuated to a strange place? Here or die, or stone, but how else to survive?

Years go by, very difficult years, and the woman learns to live without her husband. "I'm a horse, I'm a bull, I'm a woman, and a man." Horse in a skirt. A woman with eggs. Call it what you want, an essence one. This is a man who was carrying-were carrying burdens, and is used to. Adapted. And differently is simply not able. Many remember grandmothers who just physically could not sit idle. Already quite old, all fussed, everyone carried bags, all trying to chop wood. It became a way to cope with life. By the way, many of them became so steel – Yes, here's the sound – I've lived a very long time, and their disease did not take, and old age. And still alive, God grant them health.

At the very least your expression at the most terrible confluence of events, a woman turned into a monster, able to kill with her care. And continued to be strong, even if there was no such need, even if he again lived with her husband and children were not threatened. Like a vow fulfilled.

The clearest way described in the book Paul Sanaeva "Bury me behind a plinth".

And here he writes about the "Terrible woman" Ekaterina Mikhailova ("I'm one" book is called): "Dull hair that has been compressed by the thread of his mouth..., cast iron step... Stingy, suspicious, ruthless, unfeeling. She is always ready to reproach a piece or to give a slap: "do Not save enough for you parasites. Eat it!".... Not a drop of milk squeezed from her Breasts, all of it dry and hard..." There's a lot of very accurate said, and if you have not read these two books, then it is necessary.

The worst thing in this pathological woman – not rude, not authoritativeness. The worst thing – love. When reading Sanaeva, I understand that it's a story about love, such is disfigured love, that's when cold then scraping. I had a friend in childhood, late child's mother, a teenager who survived the siege. She told how she was fed, holding your head between your legs and pouring into his mouth broth. Because the child is no longer wanted and could not, and the mother and grandmother believed that it is necessary. They are so experienced hunger gnawed inside that crying live girls, native, favorite, voice of hunger to block could not.

And my other friend's mom took when I was doing illegal abortions. And she showed a small daughter full of blood the toilet bowl with the words: look, guys-what they do to us. Here it is, ladies, our share. If she wanted to hurt the daughter? No, only to protect. It was love.

And the worst thing – that the features of the "Terrible baby" carries all of our child protection system so far. Medicine, school, guardianship. The main thing – that the child was "fine". To keep your body safe. Soul, feelings, affections – not before. To save at any cost. To feed and heal. Very very slowly it disappears, and we have something in childhood be like, a nanny that doormat in the face of bill, who had not slept in the afternoon, I remember very well.

But let us leave aside the extreme cases. Just a woman, just a mom. Just mountain. Just a kid who grew up with the suspicion that not needed and unloved, although it is true, and for his sake only and survived mother and endured it all. And it's growing, trying to earn the love that she he does not put in vain. Helps. No demands. Itself busy. For younger looks. Making progress. Trying very hard to be helpful. Only useful like. Only comfortable and the right. Those lessons will make himself and the floor in the house will wash, and Junior put the dinner to the parish of the mother will cook. Heard, perhaps, not just this kind of stories about post-war childhood? "We could not come so with a mother to talk!" is about today's youth. Still. Still. First, the iron women and heavy hand. And secondly, who's going to risk the crumbs of warmth and closeness? It's a luxury, you know, parents to be rude.

Injury went to the next round. The time will come and this child will create a family, have children. Years approximately in the 60's. Someone was "laminated" iron mother, was only able to reproduce its behavior. We must also not forget that mothers-many children are not very strong and seen in two months – kindergarten, then five days, all summer – a garden in the country, etc. That is "rolled", not only the family but also the institutions in which "Scary women" always have enough. But consider the more prosperous. The child was traumatized by the grief of the mother but does the soul of him froze. And then all the world and the thaw, and flew into space, and so want to live, to love, to be loved. For the first time taking in hands of private, small and warm child, the young mother realizes that he is. Here's someone who will finally love her for real who really need it. Since then, her life takes on new meaning. She lives for the kids. Or for the sake of one child whom she loves so passionately that you can not even think to share that love with someone. She quarrels with her mother who is trying beat the grandson nettle – so it is impossible. She hugs and kisses her child, and sleeps with him, and not inhale him, and only now in hindsight realize how much she was deprived of in childhood. She absorbed this new feeling completely, all her hopes, aspirations – all in this child. It is "living his life", his feelings, interests, anxieties. They have no secrets against each other. She's better with him than with anyone else.

And only one is bad – it's growing. Grows rapidly, and then what? Surely again alone? Surely again, an empty bed? Analysts here have a lot to say, about displaced eroticism and all, but it seems to me that there's no eroticism special. Only a child who had suffered lonely nights and no longer wants. So strongly does not want that his mind otshibaet. "I can't sleep until you come." I think we in the 60's and 70 this phrase was often mother to children, not Vice versa.

What happens to the child? He can't help but respond to the passionate request of his mother about love. This is the hight of his powers. It happily merges with it, he cares, he is afraid for her health. The worst was when my mother cries, or when she has a bad heart. No. "Well, I'll stay, mother. Of course, mom, I really don't want to this dance". But really want, because there is love, independent life, freedom, and usually the child still breaks the connection, tearing pain, hard, with blood, because no one will voluntarily go. And goes, taking with them the guilt of a mother leaving a grudge. Because she "gave all his life, did not sleep at night". She has invested all of himself, without a trace, now makes the bill, and the child does not want to pay. Where is the justice? Here the legacy of the "iron" women comes in handy in the course are the scandals, the threats, the pressure. Oddly enough, it's not the worst option. Violence breeds resistance and allows you to secede, though, and suffered losses.
Some are my role so skillfully that the child is simply not able to leave. Dependence, fault, fear for the health of the mother is tied thousands of the strongest threads about it there Ptushkina play "While she died", which is a much lighter film, there Vasilyeva mom plays, and Jankowski of the applicant's daughter. Every New year's show have probably seen it all. And the best – from the point of view of the mother option if my daughter is going married for a short time and will remain with the child. And then the sweet unity can be transferred to the grandson and to go further, and, if lucky, will last until death.

And often enough, as this generation of women are much less good, they often die much earlier than their mothers last war. Because steel armor, and yet the bumps resentment destroys the heart, weaken the protection from the worst diseases. Often their problems with health begin to use it as unconscious manipulation, then it's hard not to play too, and suddenly everything is really bad. Thus they grew up without a mother attentive tender care, and hence take care of yourself not used to it and can't be cured, can not pamper themselves, Yes, by and large, do not consider myself such a great value, especially if ill and became "useless".

But something we all about women, but where are the men? Where are the fathers? Someone had to give birth to children?

This is difficult. A girl and a boy who grew up without fathers, creating a family. They are both hungry for love and care. Both of them hope to get them from a partner. But the only model of the family, known them all – sufficient "woman with eggs", which, by and large, man does not need. That is cool, if there is, she loves him and all that. But really it is useless, not sewn Mare's tail, a rosette on the cake. "Sit down, darling, on the sidelines, football look, and then interfere to wash floors. Don't play with your child, you roam, then fall asleep. Don't touch, you'll ruin it. Move, I" And stuff like that. And boys too mothers grown. To listen used to. Psychoanalysts would have pointed out that with the father because the mother didn't compete because men themselves felt. Well, physically in the same house often, attended the mother of the wife or husband, or even both. But where to go? Come here and be a man...

Some men found a way to become a "second mother". If not the only, because she is the mother, as we remember, "eggs" and iron pohramyvaet. In the good option is something like dad uncle Theodore: soft, caring, sensitive, all allowing. In the interim – a workaholic who just ran away from all of this. Bad is an alcoholic. Because the man who did not need the gift to his woman, who all the time hears only "damn" and a comma "what kind of father, you do not deal with children" (read "don't do as I see fit") remains or to change the woman – who if all around are? – or go into oblivion.

On the other hand, the man himself has no clear model of responsible fatherhood. In their eyes, or the stories of elders, many fathers simply got up one morning and left and never came back. That's so simple. And that's okay. Therefore, many men considered it perfectly natural that, leaving the family, they didn't have attitude, don't communicate with the children, did not help. I sincerely believed that nothing should be "the drama Queen", which was left with their child, and at some deep level, maybe that was right, because often women simply were using them as inseminator, and children were more necessary to them than men. So still the question of who owes whom. The resentment felt by man, could easily negotiate with the conscience and to score, and if that's not enough, that is because vodka is sold everywhere.

Oh, the divorces of the seventies, is painful, cruel, with prohibition to see the children, to break all relations with insults and accusations. The excruciating disappointment of two under-loved children, who wanted love and happiness, so many hopes are pinned on each other, and he/she – cheated/but, it's not that, bitch, bitch, bitch... They were not able to establish the family cycle of love, everyone was hungry and wanted to, or wanted to give, but it was the government. They were terribly afraid of loneliness, but it came to him, just because but loneliness never saw anything.

The result is resentment, emotional wounds, even more shattered health, more women get hung up on the children, men drink even more.

In men all this is superimposed, the identification with the dead and missing fathers. Because the boy is necessary, it is vital to be like his father. And what if the only thing that is known about him – that he died? Was very brave, fought with enemies and died? Or worse – we only know that he died? And about him in the house do not speak, because he went missing or was arrested? Vanished – that's all the information? What remains a young man, in addition to suicidal behaviour? Booze, fights, cigarettes, three packs a day, motorcycle racing, working up to a heart attack. My father was in his youth the assembler-vysotnik. A favorite trick was to work at a height without insurance. Well, everything else too, drinking, Smoking, ulcer. Divorce, of course, and not one. In 50 years, the heart attack and death. His father was missing, went to the front even before the birth of her son. Nothing is known except his name, no pictures, nothing.

Here in such a growing entourage of children, already the third generation.

In my class more than half of the children's parents were divorced, and of those who lived together, maybe only two or three families was similar to marital happiness. I remember my Institute friend told me that her parents arm in arm watching TV and kissing at the same time. She was 18, gave birth to her before, that is, parents were 36-37. We were all amazed. Insane! It does not happen!

Of course, a corresponding set of slogans: "All men are bastards", "All women are bitches", "Good job not be called marriage". What life was confirmed. Wherever you look...

But it was good. In the late 60's mother had the opportunity to sit with children up to one year. They are no longer considered in this tuneable. That someone to put a monument, as the author of this innovation. I don't know who he is. Of course, the year still had to give, and it hurt, but it is not comparable, and about this injury next time. And so, the children happily passed the most terrible threat of deprivation, the most crippling – up to a year. Well, usually people still around then, then mom'll take a vacation, then grandma at a time, even won a bit. Such is the game constant was the family against, "the approaching night", against the "Terrible women", against the iron heel of the Motherland. Such cat-and-mouse.

And what happened is good – apart housing began to appear. Hruschoby notorious. Also put ever a monument to those flimsy concrete wall, which role was performed – finally covered the family from the all-seeing eye of the state and society. Though you could hear everything through them, and all are kind of no – autonomy. Border. Protection. Den. The chance of recovery.

The third generation begins its adult life with its own set of injuries, but with its fairly large resource. Loved us. Let's not like psychologists are told, but sincerely and much. We had fathers. Let the drinkers and/or "henpecked" and/or "throw mother goats" in the majority, but they had a name, a face, and they have also at their loved. Our parents were not cruel. We had a house, a home.
Not at all the same, of course, was more or less happy and prosperous.
But in General.

In short, we owe you one.*** So, the third generation. Will not strictly tied to year of birth because someone gave birth at 18, someone is 34, the more, the more blurred the distinct "banks" of the stream. Here is an important transmission scenario, and the age can be from 50 to 30. In short, the grandchildren of the war generation, children of war children.

"We owe you one" — this is the motto of the third generation. Generations of children forced to become parents of their own parents. In psychology this is called "parentification".

What could I do? Nedolyublennosti children of war spread around such a powerful vibes of helplessness not to respond was impossible. So the children of the third generation was not about the years and felt responsibility for parents. The child with a key around his neck, from the first grade alone in school – in music school – to the store, if a vacant lot or garages too. The lessons themselves, soup to warm ourselves, we know how. The main thing that mother was not upset. Very revealing memories of childhood: "I do my parents never asked, had always understood that little money, tried to sew, do" "once I hurt my head at school, was sick, was sick, but mom didn't say was afraid of upsetting. Apparently I had a concussion, and the consequences are still", "To my neighbor molested, groping tried, his farm was shown. But I did not tell my mother, afraid that her bad heart will be", "I really missed dad, even cried quietly. But mom said that I was okay and I don't need it. She is very Silas on him after the divorce." Dina's rubies is a story of the piercing "Thorns". Classic: a divorced mother, six year old son, selflessly showing indifference to a father who passionately loves. Together with my mother, curled up in his little den vs. alien winter world. And it's all quite affluent family, it has sometimes happened that the children were looking for drunken fathers ditches and brought home and mommy out of the loop pulled with his own hands or the pills she hid. Was, like, eight.

And divorce, as we remember, or life in the style of a cat with a dog" (for the kids, of course). And children-the role of mediators and peacekeepers, which the soul is ready to sell, in order to reconcile the parents to glue together again the fragile family well-being. Not to complain, not to sharpen, Shine, and dad is angry, and mom will cry and say that "she'd better die than to live", and it's very scary. Learn to anticipate, to take the edge off, to lighten things up. Always be vigilant, to look after the family. Because no one else.

Symbol generation can be considered a boy uncle Fedor from the funny cartoon. Funny-funny, but not very. The boy of the family with an adult. And he is also in school yet, so there is seven. Went to the village, living there myself, but worried about his parents. They are only a little faint, a drop of heart drink and hands helplessly spread.

Or remember the boy rum from the film"You can not dream"? He's 16, and he's the only adult out of all the characters in the film. His parents – a typical "children of war", the girl's parents – "the eternal adolescents", teacher, grandma... These comfort, then support those to reconcile, there to help, here to wipe the tears. And all this against the backdrop of lamentations adults, they say, it's too early for love. Yeah, and all of them nursing at the time.

All through my childhood. And when it's time to grow up and leave home – flour separation impossible, and wine, wine, wine, half with anger, and the choice is very cheerful: separate yourself – and it will kill the mother, or stay and die as a person himself.

However, if you stay, you will say that need to arrange their own lives, and what you're doing is wrong, wrong and wrong, otherwise it would have been his own family. The appearance of any candidate it is, of course, would have been useless, and it could be a long latent war to the bitter end. It's all about, there are so many movies and books that even I will not enumerate.

Interestingly, when all the while they and their parents perceived their childhood as quite good. Indeed, children, lovers, parents live, life is quite prosperous. For the first time in many years – a happy childhood without hunger, epidemics, wars and all that.
Well, almost happy. Because what else was kindergarten, often five days, and the school, and camps and other delights of the Soviet childhood, which was someone in the suit, and who is not. And there was a lot of violence, and humiliation, and parents are helpless to protect could not. Or even really could, but the children did not apply to them, cherished. I never didn't tell mom that the kindergarten cloth hit in the face and barley through spasms gag shoved in her mouth. Although now, in hindsight, you realize that it would, perhaps, this garden was blown apart. But then I thought it was impossible.

This is the eternal problem – a child is not critical, it can not sensibly assess the reality of the situation. He always takes his own expense and greatly exaggerated. And always ready to sacrifice himself. Just like children of war, took the usual fatigue and grief for the lack of love, their children took some neutralist dad and mom for the complete vulnerability and helplessness. Although it was not that in most cases, and could the parents of the children to stand up and not crumbled, not died from a heart attack. And the neighbor would be shortened, and a babysitter, and would buy what we needed, and allowed dad to see. But the kids were scared. Exaggerated, overreacted. Sometimes, then, when all was revealed, the parents in terror asked, "Well, why did you tell me? Yes, I would, of course..." No answer. Because you can't. So I felt, and all.

The third generation became a generation of anxiety, guilt, liberatoscioli. All this had its advantages, these people are now successful in various fields, they are able to negotiate and consider different points of view. Anticipate, be vigilant, to make decisions on their own, not waiting for outside help – strengths. To protect, to care, to care.

But there is liberatoscioli, like all "Hyper" and the other side. If inner child military children lacked the love and security, inner child "generation uncle Fedor" is not enough childishness, nonchalance. And the inner child – he takes her anyway, because he is. Well, takes. It's the people of this generation often there is such a thing as "aggressive-passive behavior." This means that in a situation of "need, but want a" man not protest openly: "I don't wanna!", but not resigned, "well, it must be this way". He's all sorts of different, sometimes very ingenious ways, satisfied with the sabotage. Forget, to procrastinate, no time, promises and does not, is late everywhere, etc. Oh, the heads from this howling right: well, a good specialist, Profi, smart, talented, but so disorganized...

People often say this generation have a sense that they are older than others, even the elderly. And do not feel "quite grown up", there is no "feeling of maturity". Youth as a jump goes into old age. And back, sometimes several times a day.

Another noticeable effect of the consequences of "merging" with the parents, just this "live the life of a child." Many remember that in my childhood my parents and/or grandmother did not tolerate closed doors: "are You hiding something?". And to punch in his door latch was tantamount to "spitting in the face of the mother." Well, that is fine to check your pockets, Desk, briefcase and read a personal diary... is Rarely what the parents considered it unacceptable. About the garden and the school generally keep quiet, some toilets that cost, what are the boundaries... as a result children raised in a situation of constant violation of the borders, then watch over these boundaries Sorrento. Rarely visited and rarely invite. Strain overnight in the hotel (although it used to be commonplace). Don't know neighbors and don't want to know – and suddenly they begin to friends engraved? Painful tolerate any forced neighbors (for example, in the coupe, in the hotel room), because I do not know, do not know how to put the border easily and naturally, while getting pleasure from intercourse and put "antitank hedgehogs" on the distant approaches.

What about the family? The majority and now in complicated relationship with their parents (or their memory), many did not work with a durable marriage, or it did not work the first attempt, and only after the separation (inner) from their parents.

Of course, obtained and learned in childhood of the installation about the fact that men are just waiting to "hit them and quit them", and women only seek what "subjugation", happiness in personal life do not contribute. But there is the ability to "sort things out", to listen to each other, to negotiate. Divorces have become more often as not perceived as a disaster and the crash of a lifetime, but they are usually less bloody, increasingly divorced spouses can then quite constructively to communicate and work together to raise the children.

Often the first child appeared in fleeting "elementalism" marriage, played the parent model. Then the child was given completely or partially grandma as "repurchase", and my mother had a chance yet to secede and start living your life. Besides the idea to comfort the grandmother, here still plays a role repeatedly heard in childhood, "I'm the life of the put". That is, people grew up with the installation, that to raise a child, even one is something insane and heroic. Often we hear memories of how hard it was with my firstborn. Even those who gave birth in the era of diapers, food in jars, washing machines and other gadgets. Not to mention the Central heating, hot water and other creature comforts. "I first summer spent with the child at the cottage, my husband was only in town for the weekend. It was so hard! I just cried from exhaustion" Cottage with private facilities, no chickens, no cows, no garden, the child is quite healthy, my husband by car brings products and diapers. But it's hard!

But what is not hard, if you know in advance the conditions of the problem: "to put life, nights without sleep, the health to ruin". Here I want or not... This setting causes the child to fear and avoid. As a result, the mother, even sitting with the child, almost does not communicate with him and he openly longs. Hired nanny, they change when a child begins to become attached to them – jealousy! – and now we get a new round – debrelibanos, under-loved child, something very similar to the military, only war, no no. The prize race. Look at the children in some fancy Board full of content. Tics, enuresis, violent outbursts, tantrums, manipulation. The orphanage, only with English and tennis. And those who have no money on Board, those on the Playground in a residential area can be seen. "Come on, idiot, you'll get it, then I have to wash, right?" Well, and so on, "my strength on you, b my eyes didn't see you", with genuine hatred in his voice. Why the hate? So he's the executioner! He came to take a life, health, youth, the mother said.

Another variant of the scenario unfolds when it takes over another insidious installation separatisten: everything must be RIGHT! Well! And this is a separate song. Early parental mastered the role of "uncle Fedor" are often obsessed with conscious parenting. Lord, if they mastered at the time of the parental role in relation to their own mom and dad, do your children will not be able to educate at the highest level? Balanced diet, gymnastics for babies, educational classes year, English three. Literature for parents to read, think, try. To be consistent, find a common language, not to freak out, to explain, to ENGAGE the CHILD. And perpetual anxiety, familiar since childhood – and suddenly what not so? And suddenly something did not consider? but if could be better? And why am I not patient enough? And well I am for the mother (father)?

In General, if the generation of war children lived in the belief that they are a great parents, what to look for, and their children have a happy childhood, that generation separatisten almost without exception struck "parent neurosis." They (we) believe that there is something they did not consider, did not finish, a little "engaged in the child (also work dare and a career to build, materi-vipers), they (we) totally not confident in themselves as parents, always dissatisfied with the school, doctors, society, always want their children to get bigger and better.

A few days ago, I called a friend from Canada! – with the disturbing question: my daughter in 4 years not reading, what to do? Those anxious eyes of mothers when meeting with the teacher – my bars don't turn out! "A-Ah, we're all gonna die!", how likes to say my son, the next, pofigistichno, generation. And it's not the brightest, as it saved impassable lazy parents that got to me at the time, owner Nikitin, which said in plain text: mothers, do not worry, do as you're nice and comfortable and all the baby will be fine. There's still a lot of things said that need special dice to play and develop differently, but I happily missed it:) It has evolved to quite a decent extent.

Unfortunately, many with laziness turned out to be weak. And they roditeljstvo with terrible force and in full. The result is a cheerless, now the shaft of the references with the text, "He wants nothing. Lying on the couch, not working and not studying. Sitting, staring at the computer. Never want to answer. All attempts to speak snarls.". And what he want, if it is already all athotel? For what to say if a number of parents, which do not feed bread – give to part for anyone? Well, if just lying on the sofa, not taking drugs. Do not feed a week, so maybe will rise. If you are already taking – worse.

But this generation is just coming to life, let him hang tags. Life will show.

The farther away, the more blurred the "coast", multiply, split up, prichudlivo refracted consequences experienced. I think the fourth generation is much more important than the specific family context than global previous trauma. But it is impossible not to see that a lot of today, still growing from the past.published

Author: Lyudmila Petranovskaya



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