Part III: Alone and Together

As a going and returning migrant worker, my father started traveling more and more. Since 2007, he has lived and worked in Switzerland most of the time. He invested all his strength, resources, and savings to give us a better life and secure a future for us.

His dream was to ensure that I studied at a good university, that we all lived a decent life, and that my mother and sister had the chance to build better opportunities for themselves. Every hour he worked abroad, every coin he saved and sent back, carried that purpose.

However, as the 2007–2008 global economic turmoil began, my dad was forced to leave Switzerland and travel wherever he could find a job. He went to Italy, England, and France and worked all kinds of physical labor, saving and sending all the money to us.

Around 2010, after being unable to find a full-time job in England, my dad returned to Switzerland. He continued to work hard, provide for us, and set the ground for our future.

At that time, the flight ticket from Geneva to Skopje was costly; it varied from 350 to 550 Swiss francs (for reference, that was my mom’s salary and half of my yearly university tuition, even though I had a stipend). My dad was coming home less often than before, and we barely had an opportunity to visit him.

This influenced my discipline and dedication to working out at home and keeping progress with my right arm. I didn’t have anyone else who knew the exercises and movements like my dad did.

My mother was working full-time as a teacher in a primary school. She left her heart and health in that school, ensuring all the kids were well educated, felt accepted, and were guided on the right path. Sometimes, it seemed as if she was a mother to more than twenty kids at school, and at home, we received what was left of her.

My sister was living her life, working full-time in a café and trying to build her own future.

I studied hard and dedicated my whole strength, time, and health to become an excellent stipendist and get a job as soon as I could.

As much as we tried to stay unified, life started throwing its flames at each of us. All four of us were left on our own, fighting our battles while trying to keep the family together and support one another.

The battle lasted too long, eventually taking a toll on us all — health-wise and emotionally. For me, it meant moving in a different direction, standing firmly, and building an independent life. I never realized I had left the most crucial battle — my health — only to fight the less important ones.

Factor: Shifting Priorities

Between growing from a teenager into an adult, keeping good grades and studying hard, gaining experience in NGOs, and going through my first and then second heartbreak, I almost forgot I had Erb’s Palsy.
I was never “the girl with the injury.” My parents raised me without putting emphasis on it. They balanced perfectly between giving me the proper care and making me feel as free as possible.

From ages 16 to 20, I barely cared about my arm. Some days I’d ask my mom to help me with stretching or exercises, but I was far from the discipline I had when my father was at home.

He never stopped encouraging me. We would spend hours talking on Skype about music, politics, Geneva, his jobs, his friends and numerous landlords, Jesus and faith, and our dreams. But the opening and closing lines of our conversations were always the same: “Do not lose hope” and “Exercise the arm.”

He suffered not only because we were separated, but also because he knew my progress was stagnating and that I still needed his help.

With time, I gave in to carelessness and began ignoring the injury. I had other priorities: growing into a young woman, excelling as a student, taking care of homeless animals, and enjoying life with friends.

Around 20, I started practicing yoga at home, and later I discovered the liberating world of fitness and weightlifting. But it wasn’t until I was 25 that I truly began learning about my condition and realizing I’d have to strengthen my whole body, not just my arm.

Those four years of pretending I had no injury, for the sake of carefree days, and the five that followed—spent trying to figure out how to work out alone—cost me not only the progress I had achieved but also the foundation for my future.

My muscle atrophy worsened, my arm growth and function stagnated, and my frustration only grew.

Factor: Freedom through Humor

In my teenage years, my mom worried more about how I perceived my injury and how it might affect my self-confidence. She was probably projecting her own fears and doubts, but I always found a way out of those moments. I had built a strong sense of humor—often dark or at least edgy—and whenever I noticed her worried or sad, I’d crack a joke and make her laugh.

Looking back, I suppose it was my defense system too, though I never really saw it that way. Both my parents have a great sense of humor. My mother is more timid, while my father is known for pushing the red line with his remarks and comments. I’ve always loved his humor. It has boundaries, but only a good listener would catch them.

That’s what I admired—it made me feel alive, free, and it helped me develop my own style of observational humor. I rarely used others as inspiration for my jokes, unless they were very close to me. The one person I trusted most not to be offended by my humor was myself.

To Be Continued

Song of the day: Alone and Together – No Clear Mind

Note: All songs, lyrics, artworks, images, and other forms of inspiration shared here reflect a deeply personal way of expressing emotions tied to a specific period in my life. Some of these pieces may not represent my current thoughts, beliefs, or circumstances, but I continue to include them as an authentic reflection of what I felt and experienced at that time.

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Originally written in March, 2024.

© All rights reserved. Written by Ana Topshiova, Founder at Zebras and Magpies.

This story is shared with the purpose of encouraging and supporting others on similar journeys, as well as educating, connecting, and raising awareness about Erb’s Palsy/BPI.