you start of trying to figure out how to eat and end up back at incest
Whats the emotional reward in not eating? Well it means we arn't going against everything mental & physical that is in the way. Its accepting we are not well, strong or healed enough to do normal things like eat regular meals. It means we avoid that thing when we prepare food, sit down to eat our stomach turns we get totally trigger and in tears.
We hate it to of course, feeling weak is triggering. Its so motherish to she has always just has coffee fags/spliffs for breakfast and lunch and we know the more we replicate that behaviour the more we loose ourselves, keep our immune system depleted and possible positive futures become even harder to get to.
We have never been comfortable the presence she has in our head. Blocks everything out. Always something so not right something unnatural and manufactured about her and what we feel about her. The fear she has that her daughters will function well enough to get far away has always seemed really obvious. Not that she intentionally got lost when driving Psycho to an interview in her teens, deliberately arranged any of the sexual abuse or wanted Alky to drink herself to death. We still pretty much feel that she doesn't do much intentionally other than the normal stuff people are supposed to do like keeping a clean house, paying bills and doing practical stuff for the kids now or working when she did that.
Recently the sense that the 'parents' actually did the worst of it is changing, we are seeing them dragged off, tied up, drugged up, locked away and other people putting on their clothes and wigs, it was done openly with the people talking and laughing about what they were going to do, to terrify, effectively.. And the
'these are your parents, when you look at them you see your parents' which was longterm, a big aspect of it all and its associated with lots of agony we couldnt dissociate from perform by mostly men but always people who had status in rings.
In the eighties in the Glen in the first house we remember answering back when we could. Feisty, is not the word..
These are your parents.
No their not.
No. These people are your parents. This is your mum and dad - the people who are in the next room.
But their not my parents.
By the time of the house in Aberdeenshire we didnt do much answering back but we just had to pretend we thought they were. It was the parts they made, parts who were amnesiac of everything who only knew what they were told and believed it completely that could actually be convinced that a someone was someone other than they were.
With 'dad' some of us knew it wasn't him because that wasn't how B raped.. Not how he smelled, sounded, or hurt.
We hate it to of course, feeling weak is triggering. Its so motherish to she has always just has coffee fags/spliffs for breakfast and lunch and we know the more we replicate that behaviour the more we loose ourselves, keep our immune system depleted and possible positive futures become even harder to get to.
We have never been comfortable the presence she has in our head. Blocks everything out. Always something so not right something unnatural and manufactured about her and what we feel about her. The fear she has that her daughters will function well enough to get far away has always seemed really obvious. Not that she intentionally got lost when driving Psycho to an interview in her teens, deliberately arranged any of the sexual abuse or wanted Alky to drink herself to death. We still pretty much feel that she doesn't do much intentionally other than the normal stuff people are supposed to do like keeping a clean house, paying bills and doing practical stuff for the kids now or working when she did that.
Recently the sense that the 'parents' actually did the worst of it is changing, we are seeing them dragged off, tied up, drugged up, locked away and other people putting on their clothes and wigs, it was done openly with the people talking and laughing about what they were going to do, to terrify, effectively.. And the
'these are your parents, when you look at them you see your parents' which was longterm, a big aspect of it all and its associated with lots of agony we couldnt dissociate from perform by mostly men but always people who had status in rings.
In the eighties in the Glen in the first house we remember answering back when we could. Feisty, is not the word..
These are your parents.
No their not.
No. These people are your parents. This is your mum and dad - the people who are in the next room.
But their not my parents.
By the time of the house in Aberdeenshire we didnt do much answering back but we just had to pretend we thought they were. It was the parts they made, parts who were amnesiac of everything who only knew what they were told and believed it completely that could actually be convinced that a someone was someone other than they were.
With 'dad' some of us knew it wasn't him because that wasn't how B raped.. Not how he smelled, sounded, or hurt.
