A Son's Quest for Identity and Belonging

 "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," they say. And indeed, there are many ways in which I resemble my father. 

One of the most striking parallels between us was our shared inclination to instill order amidst the chaos of life. We both possessed an innate tendency to create systems and structures, finding solace in the organization of our mental and physical environments. The order that was then created served as an anchor, providing stability and a sense of control in the face of life's unpredictable currents.

More often than not, this pursuit of order clashed with a recurring pattern of regression into chaos. The weight of responsibilities, the seemingly inevitable distractions of daily life, brain fog and a sense of overwhelming existential weariness all contributed to that ebb and flow between order and chaos. It was a never-ending loop of creation and crumbling, some sort of a time trap from Groundhog Day, only that we weren't really aware of it. 

Many people lead this kind of existence and never question it. 

Another shared trait was our tendency to dream and imagine without giving much thought to the practicalities of implementation. Our minds were fertile grounds for ambitious plans and grand visions, allowing us to explore the boundless possibilities that lay beyond the realm of our day-to-day lives. While this inclination fueled our creativity and inspired us to reach for the stars, it also presented the challenge of translating our dreams into tangible realities. It has to be said that the landing might be particularly hard once you get the reality check. You may realize that you lack the basic prerequisites for whatever you've just dreamed up. Your limitations (both imaginary and real) surround you like the walls of a prison cell and it just comes down to what type of person you are: the one that submits or the one that pushes through at any cost.  

I used to be easily swept up by big ideas and grand visions. At 25, I grew to despise them. Instead, I increasingly focus on sticking to daily routines and living accroding to my values. 

Our penchant for risk-taking was yet another shared characteristic. We were both drawn to the allure of the unknown, willing to step outside our comfort zones in pursuit of a better life. This adventurous spirit propelled us forward, leading to personal growth and wealth creation. On many occasions, he tended to rely on luck and miscalculted risks which resulted in disasters and financial ruin. I perfectly emulated this unfortunate trait of taking poorely calculated risks in my adulthood and ended up in dire straits more than once.  

It took me years of life to gain awareness of the delicate balance between taking calculated risks and reckless abandon. 

My father went into business as soon as the liberlization of Soviet economic policies under Gorbachov allowed the creation of small private companies. He preferred the risk and responsibilty of running a business to the security and stability offered by a government job. The era was not without its perils, as organized crime, including racketeering, was rampant. This ultimately led to my father's decision to flee Ukraine and seek asylum in the Netherlands, a decision necessitated by the threat to his life. After a year in exile, he decided to return to Ukraine, drawn by an unwavering connection to the place where he spent the majority of his life.

There were also distinct differences that set us apart. My father lacked my introspective nature as well as my tendency to seek solace in writing. I found catharsis in pouring my thoughts and emotions onto the page, using words as a means of self-exploration and expression. He rarely talked about his emotions and mostly related the facts of what happened, as he saw them.

While he found comfort in the familiar confines of his own culture, I was drawn to the vibrancy and richness of other cultures, embracing the Western values (I hadn't yet been taught that they were being deconstructed) and ways of life. I wanted my life experience to transcend borders and languages. The post-Soviet culture of 21st century Ukraine was, in my teenage eyes, no match to what I perceived as the superior culture of the West, be it German, French or Canadian (the university hadn't taught me yet that all cultures were equal). It must be said that my father, who was born in 1949 in stalinist Russia, experineced completely different socialization and wasn't exposed to heaps of content, be it books, cartoons, movies or music, all produced in the West. 

The insight that our state of minds shape our perception of reality. I was acutely aware of how my thoughts and emotions shaped my experiences, and I strove to cultivate a mindset that fostered productivity and life satisfaction. My father, on the other hand, may not have always recognized the connection between his inner world and his external experiences. I believe that cultivating a more skeptical approach to life, questioning assumptions and seeking deeper truths, could have opened new doors for him. He never revised his strongly-held conviction that "our" people are not welcome in the West, even when presented with facts to the contrary, like the successful career of one of his sons (my step-brother) that had moved to the US. 

While time has taken my father from the physical realm, to some extent, he continues to live through his children. If it hadn't been for utterly distinct historical periods we were raised in, separated by half a century, we may have manifested more similar approaches to life.  Some of the lessons he tried to impart explicitly were met with opposition on my part. Nevertheless, many of his attitudes and behavioral patterns were unwittingly emulated and eventually became my way of being.