Exploring needs: unconscious writing series

I don’t want to have needs. We don’t even know what they are really. We understand Maslow’s hierarchy of needs because we learnt about it in a postgraduate degree. We have our security needs met, the rest is a bonus.

To have needs means your needy and nobody likes needy people. Also it’s selfish to have needs because you should be thankful for what you have.

It’s better to not get your hopes up because bad things will happen. Needs mean attention and attention is not good. Attention means you will get hurt. If you don’t need anything people won’t even know you exist which is clever.

Needs are stupid and having them means that you are stupid and lazy and selfish. Needs sounds like an infectious disease growing inside your body.

Needs mean you have to talk to people! Gross. Needs are like weeds. They’re a nuisance.

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I asked chat gpt if we have to have needs and it said we do.

“Yes, having needs is intrinsic to being human. Our needs drive our behaviors, motivations, and interactions with the world around us. They are essential for our survival, growth, and overall well-being. Without recognizing and fulfilling our needs, it can lead to dissatisfaction, distress, and even physical or emotional harm. Acknowledging our needs allows us to take proactive steps to meet them, which is crucial for leading a fulfilling and balanced life.”

What does this part have to say to this?

Chat gpt is an unoriginal algorithm and another controller so I don’t give a f*** what it thinks.

I told chat gpt you disagreed and it said that you might hold self beliefs that prioritise self sufficiency. It also said: “Exploring different viewpoints can lead to deeper insights and mutual understanding. However, from psychological and biological perspectives, the existence of needs is well-supported by research and observations of human behavior and development. These needs play a significant role in shaping our experiences and interactions with the world.” What are your thoughts on this?

This part has gone.

I learnt about thought stopping tonight. Cults often employ various methods to discourage or prevent followers from questioning the beliefs, practices, or authority figures within the group. I grew up like this and so it took me a long time until I could really question things. It wasn’t until after I got my PhD that I could properly question things. This part stops thinking when it gets too hard. It’s hard to have a conversation with someone who’s like that.

Coffee catch up with my godmother

This afternoon I met with Fran, my godmother. We talked until the coffee shop closed and I learnt a little bit more about my upbringing.

She told me that she remembers seeing me as a baby in this large cot and that the room was so cold. I was in this large box like cot with mesh over it, wrapped in a blanket. There were no toys with me. “Just the basics” she said. Fran could see I was unsettled and thought to herself “no wonder. It’s so cold and lifeless in here”.

Fran said that kids she knew used to say they didn’t like coming to our house to play because my dad was so scary and mean.

She said we were all a bit wide eyed and stiff in our demeanour. As though there was no spark or spirit. She said our mother was very focused on food and ensuring our basic needs and privileges were met but agreed there was no emotion or love there.

Fran thinks my parents joined a charismatic church group that held its services at the primary school I went to. Fran went along one night and they had healing services where people went up the front to get healed. She saw my father and when the healer laid her hands on him, he fell down.

She said my brother was demonstrating conspiratorial and strange views when he was about 18. Fran said during Covid my mother went on this tirade about our Victorian premiere and alluded to the end times. Fran found it really overwhelming and told my mother she needed to end the conversation and hang up the phone.

Fran told me my mother went to a convent school called Loreto in Ballarat, but didn’t last long. Something happened and she never went back but no one knew what. My mother also had no relationship with her sister Marie but no one knows why they didn’t speak.

Fran said most people in my mums circle were a bit strange and said as kids we didn’t really have any relatives or extended family to connect us. This is because all of our grandparents died either before we were kids or when we were young. We also moved to Perth so that made it harder to see people.

Fran also said it was my mum that convinced my father to move to Perth and take the management job. It was her that didn’t want to move back. That’s a bit weird to me as from my perspective my mum made it out that she really wanted to come back and live in Melbourne. She didn’t like Perth.

The conversation felt somewhat validating. At least I can stop second guessing whether my parents abused me. I know in my heart they did and were both complicit. Funeral is next week then go on some sort of process to contest the will and move on with my life yet again. I’ll try and find out some more stuff at the funeral but it feels like I have to accept I grew up in an environment of fear, terror, silence, secrecy, control, guilt and shame. I always knew that but now I feel more confident owning it. It’s helpful to have this information as I often feel like I am making things up.

Oh one more thing. Fran was at my wedding with M. She said she remembers thinking that I was “marrying the father I never had”. This is pretty much true given all my littles came out for M and just wanted to be looked after by him. I alway felt like it was a period of seeking to be reparented. I don’t regret it although it can feel a little sad as it was such a trauma reenactment. Nothing like ending a marriage when you turn into a string of little kids. 🫣

Fuzzy, heavy, flat

I’m limping through today. I feel a heavy weight of exhaustion. Trying to remember my therapy session but my mind keeps going blank.

A little part came out. Maybe 4 years old. She would like to connect with me more and come on walks with the dogs. Another part came out full of fear and terror. Mostly about remembering. She said she would die if she remembered. Then I fell asleep for a bit. The rest feels fuzzy.

My older brother keeps sending me links to conspiracy videos on the signal app. Last night he sent through one on SRA. It irked me. I wanted to shoot him a message back. That’s how we grew up don’t you know??

Some of the stuff he sends me I don’t disagree with. I just don’t like it coming from him.

All week I have been wishing for someone to cuddle me. I just want to be patted on my head and looked after for a bit. I miss holding someone. I feel so flat tonight. So deeply depressed. It’s loneliness. I want to escape into the arms of someone and be held and told it’s going to be okay. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s going to be okay. I wish someone could look after me for a bit.

Bear in the big blue house

If anyone is looking for things for their littles to watch, we highly recommend “Bear in the Big Blue House”. He’s a big beautiful and kind bear who lives with lots of funny creatures. He’s always dancing and singing and scratching his belly. We love him so much.

Strange recollections of the past

On Friday evening I received an email from my godmother. I’ll call her F. She reached out to me to say she had heard about my mother’s death and felt compelled to write to me.

She had searched for my name on the internet and then came across a podcast interview I was featured in. She listened to it and couldn’t believe what I disclosed. She said in her email “it confirmed what we saw and heard”. Then she went on to share stories about me as a baby and young child and how my mother was a good person etc. I emailed her back with a long email asking for clarification about what she meant by saying “it confirms what we saw and heard”. I told her about the abuse and its impact on my life and my sisters. I remained calm and considered and didn’t write in a tone of blame. Just matter of fact. I let her know;

“On Thursday morning, I woke to a message from Shirley (mum’s friend and the executor of her will). Shirley shared that dad had left 45 per cent to brother 1 and brother 2 and 5 per cent to my sister and me. A pointed statement from the grave that signals – ‘you are worth nothing in my eyes’. By standing up to him and saying ‘no’ to the abuse, he has punished us. It is deeply misogynistic and cruel. I appreciate you have good thoughts of my mother, and I don’t wish to negate these, but I cannot celebrate her subservience or her complicitness to the abuse. I forgive her and as I said, I have moved on, but it is not a life I respect or admire sadly. In fact, I feel sorry for her. I mean no offence to your feelings about J. They are completely valid also.”

She rang me and we spoke today. F confirmed that my father was not a nice man. He was very dominating and rude and mean and people didn’t like to be around him. She said my mum was very subservient to him and loyal because of her faith. She felt my mother had accepted her lot. She said my mum spoke in single statements. She rarely expanded on things she spoke about or ideas. Apparently my mum did yoga and F said it was an extreme form of yoga. She told me to google Margaret Segesman and that there’s 2 types of yoga:
Tantric
Kriya.

I always found it strange that my Catholic mother did yoga. Imagine if she did tantric??!!

We could only speak for half hour so I hope to be able to meet her again to discuss more of what she saw and heard. I found it somewhat validating but still fuzzy and unclear.

F said she thought mum was being abused but no one had language for it at that time in society.

Today I reached out to a lawyer to find out how I go about contesting the will. When I spoke to my sister she told me she reached out to my brother to check in on him. She asked about the funeral and he said it’s next July 4. We were both miffed / like when was he going to let us know? I thought that was so rude.

I’ll book my flight tomorrow. What a drama. I’ll just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The will is announced

This morning I woke to a message on Facebook from my sister:

“Our dad is an evil man. I’m not going to the funeral given Shirley’s text.”

Whose Shirley? You might be wondering. Shirley is the executor of my mother’s will. She sent a text last night at 10pm:

“Hello All
Firstly sorry for your loss.
Wanted to let you know I am Executor of J’s will. The process will be awaiting death certificate, applying for probate, changing house title through Landgate to Exec to allow it to be sold. All this is quite a long tortured process I’m afraid and will take at least 6 months,
At the end of it all assets will be distributed as per will and I will provide an account to all of you of income/expenses. The terms of the will are a distribution of 45 per cent each to brother 1 and brother 2, and 5 percent each to daughter 1 and daughter 2.
Kind regards Shirley”

I redacted names for privacy. But in case you missed it, my brothers are to receive 45 percent each and me and my sister have been thrown peanuts. This is our father’s way of saying, “you selfish bitches. You reject me and I will reject you harder. You want some of my estate? Here you go. Here’s a measly amount – which is all you’re worth. You can go and battle it out in the courts if you want more”.

And at his funeral, how the priest spoke about my father’s undying love for God. His desperate need to hear the word and seek God right until his last breath. So hypocritical and cruel.

I am going to contest the will. It irks me that my brothers are being rewarded for staying silent and being compliant. So it’s going to be an interesting few months or longer as we battle this out.

I moved into a high trauma state by early morning, very dissociative and couldn’t stop shaking. But it felt good my body was doing that as I have so often just shut down in the past. I still participated in work meetings and life and a friend came over and we hung out and had dinner and watched “secret life of pets”. My parts and I love watching that movie with our dogs. 🐶

The mother is gone.

I woke this morning to a text from my brother letting me know my mum had died last night at 11.15 pm, June 19. I best keep record as I am not sure if I’ll remember this as an anniversary.

I still went to boxing and work and just got on with my day. I had therapy tonight and we checked in with my parts. Everyone is happy but feels a bit naughty for feeling this way. My T said it’s okay for us to feel happy. My system feels relieved and glad she (and him) cannot hurt us anymore.

I’ll go to the funeral, whenever it is. I’ll do the right thing. But I don’t think I’ll cry.

My ex husband texted me and said “condolences for your loss. A truly, loyal lady”. This shit me. Even after I cut off contact with my mother and father, my mum would ring M. I asked him to respect my decision and support me but he remained in contact with her. It was a real sore point whilst we were married. Even after we separated, he was still talking with her! I couldn’t believe it. And his comment about her being a loyal lady makes me queasy. Does he mean loyal to my father who was controlling and abusive and who she couldn’t leave due to his financial control and also the confines of Catholicism. Or does he mean loyal in terms of her persistence in trying to contact me through him? My T said that when I needed my mother she wasn’t there for me. Later in life, when she needed me or wanted me, I wasn’t there for her. We reap what we sow said my T.

I shared with my therapist five things I am deeply grateful of for my mother.

1. I am grateful for her home cooking. That we grew up in a house where there was rarely junk food or processed food. I feel very lucky for this as I know not everyone has this good base with nutrition.

2. She got me into drama at the local community centre which I am so thankful for. Doing drama saved me in so many ways and I fell in love with the arts from a very early age.

3. She drove me places and supported me in different ways that helped keep me engaged with community and life.

4. She catered for my short films from when I was about 17 to 19. This is a big deal as catering is always very expensive and requires a lot of time and effort. Everyone was volunteering on the films and so loved her home cooking.

5. She met my security needs – we had a clean house and food. Even though I never felt safe I think having your basic needs met is important.

Anyway, it’s over. Although it’s not. There’s a funeral and a will and other things to sort. Given I’m out of the family I doubt I will be an active agent in any of it. So the next few months will be an interesting ride.

Death, dying, break ups

My mum is dying. As of two days ago she had 24-48 hours to live, but that time has passed. I feel like it’s only a matter of days now but I am not with her and so do not really know. I will find out via my sister when it happens. Just like my father, who died three months ago, I feel numb and nonchalant. Still more upset about the breakup up than the deaths.

How could S leave me? She said she would never leave me. I have never felt so heart broken and sad before. Maybe I’m making up the intensity of my feelings. I don’t think I could look her in the face if I saw her. Too painful.

Mother, I don’t care if you die. It sounds so awful to write it out but I let you go so long ago. You are a distant memory to me. To see you would pain me. A reminder of everything I didn’t have. Yet I’m thankful for the things you were able to offer. Home cooked meals. You met my physical needs. You got me into drama when I was a kid. You took us to and from all of our activities. You catered for my short films and took it so seriously. I appreciated that.

When did it all go wrong? When I grew up and needed more from you? When you rejected me for being in a same sex relationship? When you didn’t try to get to know me. When I became sober and began to remember the nightmares. When I watched your submission. When I realised you would always be loyal to him.

And we stopped talking. I led the split. I couldn’t do a false relationship with you. I told you about the ritual abuse but you shunned me and denied me. You gave me nothing. I am left with feeling I made it all up and the resentment was my problem all along. I have no proof. I thought you were a witch but who knows. You loved God. Will my mother and father be in heaven? Will I know the truth of my past before I die? If I had more time and inclination I would rummage through your things when you pass. But it’s been so long since I visited the house, I don’t think I could go inside. I don’t think I could stomach the air.

The critical parent/ judge

It lives on my shoulder. It sits on my lungs. It exhausts me. It whispers I am a loser, I deserve to be punished, I am a f**k up, a failure. It dominates my feelings.

In ACA they say the critical parent is there to serve a function. Is it to belittle us first before we are shamed? To prevent us from remembering so we don’t feel the overload of shame and fear and attack? I wish it would stop. I wish it would try another tactic. But my loving parent needs to step in. Another part of me.

David and Goliath. I must read that story. I don’t need to slain my critical parent, but I need to quell it and I do want to understand what / who it is trying to protect.

I have an offer for the apartment finally. It’s not finalised yet but it will soon. It’s still going to take another couple of months to settle. I had to drop the price and I have now sold it for $20k under what I paid for plus I have lost my savings attached with it – all in all about $50k loss. Money that’s not just easy for me to lose as a single woman who earns her way with no buffer from family.

It’s a painful feeling and my inner critic came out in full force. I went to bed last night exhausted.

Today I feel a bit better. At least the waves aren’t as big but I’m still tumbling in the sea. I feel angry at S still and even though we had good times, I wish I had never met her right now. It’s easier to deflect than accept i feel like I could drown.

Heart matters

Heartbreak sucks. Especially when the person who broke your heart reaches out and tries to be nice and congratulate you on something. And you are kinda shocked to receive a message and your heart warms a bit and then you remember how this person smashed it. So you end up sending something short and meaningless and kinda cold back, as simple as “thanks”. Not even an emoji or a heart or few more words to buffer out the meaning. Just a one word uninspired pleasantry. When really you want to say, you could have been here to celebrate this moment with me. Did you really want me to succeed? Are you being on the front foot to be nice now because you haven’t been nice to date??

And then the circular head chatter starts again. You made a mistake. You were a fool. She was too young. You’re an idiot. You stuffed up. She took you for a ride. A new voice appears. You deserve better. You did deserve better. She treated you unfairly because she has unresolved trauma and could not face her own stuff. You’re doing okay. You’ll meet someone else who’s amazing and on your level and who’s doing the work. You’ll learn to forgive her and move on with your life and accept these things happen. They are part of life’s ebbs and flows. You’ll get stronger from this. You’ll recognise when you are confusing love with pity and rescuing. You’ll no longer desire to be rescued. Joy will come back in. It came tonight. It lives inside of you. It’s waiting to be released.