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I grew up in the quiet cozy capital of Bulgaria (1 million people is nothing, believe me), went to an international
college for kids from diplomats’ families and studied physics and mathematics in the last two years of college. I did the latter mainly to be around boys because frankly speaking I found most girls too talkative, gossipy, unfunny and generally not too smart. I mean who talks about brands, boys and polished nails 24/7?
Why talk about boys?
Stop talking and do something — either date boys or pick something interesting in life.
Just stop talking.
Anyway, that got me distracted.
My childhood was reasonably smooth although when I was 14 my parents made me do part-time work — mainly cleaning and gardening — so I could learn the value of money. I remember once complaining to a boy in my class about that and he said sarcastically, ‘Poor you. And I’m cleaning toilets once a week and that’s fine with me.’ The message was ‘Shut up and stop thinking you are special.’ I got the message and never complained about anything after that. In short, my life was as normal as it could be in a country in the Soviet Union area of influence.
Starting from 8 years old I remember being approached on multiple occasions by adult males who tried to lure me into an apartment or elsewhere. I was well warned by my parents about ‘weird men who will come and talk to you and offer sweets and toys’ so I learned from a very young age that the many ‘weird men’ running around is just another norm of modern society. But they were always somewhat shy and never aggressive, at least in Bulgaria.
What I am trying to say with all this is that when I was 16 and moved to Moscow, I thought I barely had any fears except maybe the fear of being alone in a dark forest at night. If you ask why this strange fear, I will say too many horror stories I read. It was not even a real fear but a fearful fantasy — what does it feel like to be in a dark forest?
Little did I know at the time about the fears sleeping deep inside and patiently waiting.
Life in Moscow was a totally different story.
For those who do not know what Moscow is, it’s Russia’s capital and at the time the population was around 11 million people plus a couple of million of people who commuted to Moscow every day for work from the smaller cities close by. And it was Moscow of the criminal 90-s, right after the Soviet Union had fallen apart with all the emerging criminals with shootings, kidnappings, robberies and a generally unhappy and overly aggressive population. The crowds were adding to the aggressiveness — with five people fighting for the same square meter in the Moscow underground train during peak hours, it just could not be any other way.
Moscow like any big city, especially at the time, was full of triggers that could awake any fears. Being attacked by criminals was a matter of when, not maybe. My sister was once caught in a shooting when she was driving to work in central Moscow at 8 in the morning. I was robbed or attacked on a couple of occasions, mostly with happy last-minute escapes. We were usually shaken of course but not overly surprised, because crime was almost considered the norm.
The dismantling of my fears started one late evening in the dark forest of the Moscow suburb. When my sister and I were quietly — trying not to breathe — lying down in the thick bushes in the dark forest while a group of men (criminals?) were flashing their torches at the bushes trying to find us. Sister and I went for a short walk not far from our suburban house, and a car with some men pulled up. Their faces spoke trouble so sister and I rushed into the forest and ran for cover.
The men were reluctant to go down into the bushes because it was pitch dark and it was easy to break a limb or two. I don’t know what my sister was thinking at that moment, but I was thinking that the dark forest was not as scary as the men in that car.
MY fear of being alone in the total darkness of the forest was gone forever. It was like saying good-bye to nice childhood memories.
Fears are usually shapeless, faceless and vague. They are all about probabilities. Concrete specific well-defined fears that we face and size up stop being just fears and become measurable risks that can be predicted, mitigated or tolerated. It is easier to live with a risk of being attacked by criminals and having plans of how to avoid being attacked than living with irrational fears.
But fears are like weeds — you take one out and new fresh strong weeds take its place because the seeds were just sleeping deep in the ground waiting for the right moment to take off.
When my husband and I left Russia and came to New Zealand almost 20 years ago I suddenly realised that I had a deeply engrained irrational fear of government. Well, it was not fear like in Fear. It was inexplicable irrational reluctance to deal with any government-related structures or people. Who knew? Every time I saw a police car in New Zealand I would say to husband, ‘Don’t look at them!’ Every time I had to interact with government in some shape or form I was procrastinating. It gets even funnier if you think that I started working in the government sector in New Zealand right from the start and still working now.
Most ordinary Russian people have this inherent fear of interacting with the government. My grand-grandfather was taken by the KGB in the post-revolutionary Russia just because he was a priest, and he never came home. When people from KGB came to the house after that, the family hid the youngest and prettiest daughter (my grandmother) in the cupboard, because everyone knew that KGB would take pretty young girls. The fear of government is engrained deep inside every Russian person. Back in the 90-s husband’s friend spent a couple of months in hospital after spending a couple of hours with police simply because he did not want to pay them for running his small business at their territory. No one was surprised.
But we left Russia, didn’t we?
I recall 13 years ago meeting a Russian mother in New Zealand and asking if she was applying for Russian citizenship for her son, because New Zealand allows double citizenship so why not have two passports?
She laughed and said, ‘Yes, right, so my son is taken by the Russian government and sent to war when he travels to Russia? (There was no war back then).I laughed and said, ‘You are paranoid.’
That said, I myself did not go to the Russian embassy to sort out Russian citizenship for my kids. It was because of the usually unfriendly vibe in all Russian government structures and my deeply engrained discomfort every time I have to interact with government officials. It is like walking back to a job with a rude boss or an abusive partner — why would I even contemplate something like this?
It took years of life in a country like New Zealand to eliminate this fear, very slowly. Almost. Like, what can happen if you ring the tax department? I worked there for 9 years and I know they are all nice professionals and friends. My mentor in relationship management is from Police so no need to jump when I see a police officer. And Russia is far away.
So I proudly thought I eliminated yet another fear from my life (I had quite a few by the way not even mentioned in this post). There was maybe a little tiny voice deep inside me saying there was a catch, but I ignored it like I often do.
Until just before Christmas one of my mentors and friends shared with me that his half-brother living in the USA (with a double citizenship of USA and Russia) was arrested at the Russian border for posting on social media something the Russian government did not like.
As my mentor was spilling the news on me in my favourite Butler’s Cafe in central Wellington, my mind was frantically going over my own social media posts. Not that I was planning any travel to Russia. Definitely not anymore. The problem was that until that point my fear of government was somewhat vague and delusional. My only concern with social media has been that I would publish nasty secrets from my personal life and one of my exes would come after me. The idea of the Russian government coming after me was too paranoid even for me
I agree the guy was silly and unreasonable to post the things he posted on social media. But if everyone posting silly nasty things on social media was locked down, half of the Earth population would be in prison. The poor silly 60 year old guy — far removed from politics and wealth games — is waiting to be sentenced for 10+ years in prison for offensive behaviour towards the Russian government just because he never cared to get rid of his Russian passport. He is now in a Russian Prison awaiting his sentence. Have you ever read about Russian prisons? Period.
Strangely, this incident helped me totally eliminate my fear of government.
I waited for proof that something bad might happen, and it finally happened — albeit not to me directly — and almost gave me some breathing space because my fear has finally become reality. I am not paranoid. It is actually happening to ordinary people. It has become a measurable risk that can be faced, discussed and mitigated. It is like bad weather. We do not sit around fearing a strong wind or a tsunami, right? We just get used to the idea that living in a particular region comes with being prepared for tsunamis, that is all.
Approaching my 50th anniversary next year I start thinking — what other fears are hiding deep inside my mind?
They do come up one by one triggered by external events. And it might be a good thing that they do, so we can see them and eliminate them, but I can’t help but think — what about the fears that sleep deep inside, and we don’t get to see them, but they still drive our behaviour...
JaiHind.. 🇮🇳 JaiBharat..
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