How I Got Evolution | Clarissa’s Blog

How I Got Evolution | Clarissa’s Blog

Just writing this here because it involves something in my head and it is vaguely related to epigenetics. I seem to have taken an interest over the years in the nature of history-induced trauma, especially that which is not seen. We all know that those who have experienced genocides have a sense of historically-induced trauma, however that is defined. As well as this, there are those responses to trauma that are not noticed, seemingly be anybody studying any of the academic disciplines (cultural studies probably gets the closest). I have said that at the base of the “Western personality” is the trauma of being identified as a colonizer. That explains why Obama is left making all sorts of lame-ass statements about Islamic State, such as that Christians in the past also set people alight. Westerners are people who have castrated themselves at the level of the ability to identity aggressive power interests and to work effectively against these. They always seem to end up on the back foot. Or even meddling in dangerous affairs, but still with not any deep sense of the power interests, so they are caught out once again. Ask a typical Western person with a guilt complex to help you against an attack by those, perhaps, espousing chauvinistic interests, and they will mutter something about everybody’s patriarchy being different, as they wander off into the ether. A Westerner is someone who has castrated themselves at the point of looking at power
Well, that is invisible historically-induced trauma, experienced as guilt, which makes people practically useless as defence (and certainly such people are worse than useless as allies, because they get very muddle-headed, due to guilt, and start to victimise their friends when they feel confused).
I’m not sure if this level of guilt has sunk deeply into the genetic make-up of people, but there is something that is so deep it may as well be in my own genes. As I mentioned, I have been talking to Japanese about the I.S. killings, and what followed was strange — the whole week I had a sensation that I could have stopped I.S from killing Mr Kenji Goto, if only I had been more on my toes and less useless. What had I done wrong? I kept going through everything in my head I could have done to stop this useless death. I was trying to get into the fabric of history to see if anything could have been changed. That was really weird seeing as how I am totally unrelated to these events, but I did feel deep personal responsibility. More than that, I felt guilt and anxiety that I would be blamed for this failure.
And then I began to see that this relates to my own basic historically-induced trauma, since my father seems to have blamed me for his loss of the Rhodesia war. I’m very used to this emotion of sinking into guilt about a war I cannot win. This basic trauma defines my character, since I am rooted in history on the basis of this historical guilt — or more precisely, sense of ineptitude. I do try to overcome it through my writing, though. And, needless to say, it is a very different order of sensation from those Westerners who view themselves as capable of extremely evil deeds because their ancestors were “colonialists”. I just feel responsible for not being able to help those whom I feel responsible for — those who are closest to me because I relate to them every day. But this sensation is certainly extreme and I feel it on a primal level, as if preoccupation with it uses up all my primal energy. And its so weird that I do not think that my job is something different than to go behind enemy lines and conduct a rescue. Instead I just anticipate being blamed for not doing that.
This describes the knot of trauma that is underneath all my writings.

What Scott Walker, Syriza and Putin Have in Common | Clarissa’s Blog

What Scott Walker, Syriza and Putin Have in Common | Clarissa’s Blog

The task of intellectuals today is to facilitate these goons to go their own way, to the point that they create such a gap between themselves and intellectuals that their criticisms, demands or desires are no longer taken seriously. The difficulty will be in how to create and reinforce this unbridgeable gap effectively.

The Politics of the Infantile | Clarissa’s Blog

The Politics of the Infantile | Clarissa’s Blog

I wonder if the Greeks will in fact aim not to experience any discomfort at all. You know, if the infantile refusal to experience discomfort is really as pervasive as you suggest, we are all in the same boat with it. Some people seem to have adapted to the new psychology, whereby people attempt to mould other people to suit their needs, rather than speaking to them directly, one person to another. This is the advance way of doing things now — but it is both advanced AND infantile at the same time.

What Scott Walker, Syriza and Putin Have in Common | Clarissa’s Blog

What Scott Walker, Syriza and Putin Have in Common | Clarissa’s Blog

It’s a common recourse. “I’m not getting what I think I need, so I need to start squeezing the teet a lot more.” An attempt to bypass thinking is symptomatic of this day and age. There’s no “Why didn’t I get what I expected?” There’s no “Why did I go to a site called Intellectual Shamanism and then get upset when I did not find New Age shamanism, which would have appealed to my emotional and ideological proclivities?” There’s just the bashing and demand that I shut things down. The weakness of intellectuals is that we often try to impart our knowledge. That makes consumer types think that this inclination is compulsive on our parts. It isn’t though. We can enjoy our knowledge without having to impart it. The assumptions of the low brow and middle brow types that people capable of higher thinking are nonetheless motivated by the same drives as they — that is a need to dominate and/or gain social recognition — is false.
Those who make false assumptions need to bear the consequences for those.


More Russians Needed! | Clarissa’s Blog

Shame and horror “works” on superficial people. You can make them feel ashamed and horrified regarding themselves. On deeper people, it creates a deeper wound. That injury in turn becomes part of a political dialectic. This may be for better or worse, but is probably a combination of these.

Tuesday Link Encyclopedia and Self-Promotion | Clarissa’s Blog

Tuesday Link Encyclopedia and Self-Promotion | Clarissa’s Blog

Yeah, it is like sinking sand if you meet someone with this world view. They might seem ok on the surface, but then they start labeling you with this or that aspect of things. And I KNOW by all this time that I do not have, by any means, a typical Western modern character structure, so I KNOW when this happens that what is taking place is usually projection, if not just simply shoddy thinking. There tends to come a point when people reveal their shoddy thinking to me — or their incapacity for thought. Suddenly I become aware that somebody has been reading me as a Western character type all the time, whereas I had made clear to them that I am not. I have very much an austere, post-war character structure, and I’ve inherited the shame from my father who was beaten in the war. So I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve to the extent of the modern personality. This makes people uneasy. They think they know me, but they also feel they are not sure. And rightly so. They shouldn’t be sure because the lower reaches of my character structure are repressed and reticient. When the turning point comes and it is apparent that I am not as easy to “read” as I was thought to be, that is when the accusations fly that I have somehow been rather tricky. In an attempt toget to know me better, I am given many different labels that pertain to people diametically different from me in character structure.

A very bad cultural trend

Tuesday Link Encyclopedia and Self-Promotion | Clarissa’s Blog

As for the horrific tendency of people to revel in their psychiatric diagnoses, I do believe this to be an extremely bad cultural trend. Now that I understand the lay of the land as it is for the majority in the industrialised English speaking world, I also understand why it was so difficult for me to find the means to solve my own problems, that is from the position of someone who had the opposite condition to most people brought up in the West. They are inclined to speak their minds to all. I was suffering from shame so deep it swallowed all my emotions and I couldn’t access them anymore. That was actually my state, and whenever I tried to speak, people accused me of being arrogant. I was suffering from profound repression. All I got from people was that I must be a female stereotype (a very Western one!) because I was trying to articulate something I could not actually articulate. When one’s emotions are buried deep, it is amazing how little it is really possibly to articulate. And then these Western types kept saying, “Oh, no, you are drawing attention to yourself,” as if I already had a typical Western character and was being flamboyant. And I’ve had random fly-by-night shooters label me with a lot of typical Western characteristics, due to the general prevalance of psychiatric terms in the contemporary culture. Severe emotional repression is the exact opposite to the highly integrated and/or emotionally charged character that most Western females are labeled with, which they also probably correspond to more or less. This attitude of flamboyant self-diagnosis that many contemporary people go in for really makes mental health into a very superficial cultural discourse, and does nothing to get to the bottom of the systemic pathologies that are engendered and reinforced by imposing gender stereotypes. To be deemed feminine and loquacious and emotionally volatile when my problem was an excessive tendency to impose control over myself has not been helpful. My level of emotional control always was and still is very high. It became pathologically high, though, when I was taking out my aggression on myself, rather than integrating it with the rest of my being.

Why I oppose Christianity

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Christianity

When my father lost the war and therefore his homeland, he turned to Christian ideology much more extremely than he had done in the past.  He was also looking for causes for his terrible tragedy.  Christian ideology invokes a simple binary, whereby men are rational and upstanding — qualities my father had tried to embrace and largely succeeded in doing, before the loss of the war.  Women were the opposite side of that binary dualism.  Christian ideology holds that they do not have ethical substance, but are weak and conniving.  Not only that, but their Evelike characteristics lets the devil into the equation.  What was pure and upstanding and true, and fought long and hard for in a courageous efforts, could be undermined in a jiffy by those who didn’t think as you do.

Experiencing my father’s strong hate, I turned my aggression inwardly.  This led to my succumbing to Chronic Fatigue Syndrome in my twenties.  An overheating of the immune system.  Inward-directed aggression is of course the exact opposite of being emotionally labile, which is what Christian ideology tends to accuse women of being.  It perplexed me no end when people brought up in a Christian culture kept ascribing these opposite attributes to me.  I didn’t understand that they were merely employing the mechanisms of an ideology, so I thought I must have been communicating especially badly.   I tried still harder to communicate, using different methodologies and varying the emotional tempo to see which approach might work.  It was really necessary for me to alleviate this extreme guilt complex — this sense of having failed in life absolutely, because my father lost the war.  To escape from my troubles I felt I had to communicate.  This was really difficult whilst people were alleging I had the opposite characteristics to the ones I had.  I felt locked into my own mind, and the more I felt this way, the more aggression I directed at myself.  Christianity was killing me from the inside out.

It wasn’t until I read Nietzsche that I began to understand human psychology.  Before that I had been dwelling in the mode of metaphysics, which meant upbraiding myself for every small sign of falling short of an overarching standard of perfection.  From Nietzsche I learned that all humans harbor aggression and that is it better — healthier — to direct those energies in some way outwardly, rather than keeping them inside.  Nietzsche effectively saved my life by stopping me from attacking myself.
My immune system used to be so low that not only would I contract any virus going around, but I would then spend the greater part of the year getting over a minor cold.  A ‘flu virus in my system was a major disaster for me, as the infection stemming from it would inevitably migrate into my sinuses and ear canals, leaving me debilitated for month upon month.  Because I had internalized the Christian ideology of moral perfectionism so much, I couldn’t offer any excuses for myself.  I would mumble something about not being able to hear others properly, due to my eternally blocked ears, and try to soldier on.  I knew any sign of weakness would only invoke my father’s wrath more completely.  He would rain down fire and brimstone.  I was the cause of everything that had gone wrong.  I was the externalisation of the negative feelings he had about himself.

That I was unable — and literally prevented — from communicating the nature of the problem I endured for many years was down to cultural Christianity.  If women are not to be trusted on principle, there is little they can communicate.  They must keep enduring whatever situation they are in until they find a way out of it.

Although I succumbed to Chronic Fatigue Syndrome in my early twenties, it wasn’t until my late twenties that I had made significant achievements in managing to climb out of it.   I really had to re-pattern my whole psyche so that its energy systems were not directed inward but went outward to some degree.  I had to destroy myself (as I had been) and build myself up again, whilst having no recourse to communicating my project to anyone.  Those I did try to speak to communicated, by their actions, that they not only didn’t understand but that I made them angry.  I had to save my very limited energetic resources not in soliciting the help of others but in building myself up.

These days I find that those who embrace cultural Christianity still do blame me for something nebulous, but their opposition to my goals and intellectual efforts is not all that active.  Something in me or in the air has changed. It would be a vast understatement to say I am grateful for it.

My parents’ hopes and aspirations that I would settle down and start a family devolved — out of necessity, of course — to the point where I would marry a communist and resolve to live life on the edge. There is a humorous side to everything, even the darkest nights.  I hadn’t gone through all this pain and torment for no reason. Now that the end of all that was in reach, I had resolved to what advantages were coming to me, and actually enjoy my life.

Mike and I have a common sentiment that we simply love to share. It’s that “communism is good.”

“Hey, did you look at my essay and check my grammar?” I shout out from the other room.

“Yes. All done.”

“And are you sure you weren’t tempted to add anything extra?”

“I added one thing only — that communism is good,” he answers.


It has been difficult for me, encountering the ideology that says I must adapt to cultures and attitudes that I don’t feel. Everything that pressures me, that pushes me in one way or another, saying “hurry, and adapt!” has had its peculiar and complex effect on me.

I lost my health for many years, but it is back again. I think I nearly killed my father once or I might have imagined it, being prone as I am to taking on the blame for others  — or perhaps he did it himself, by trying to force me to become  without a mind of my own. It made for an impossible situation — where survival was possible for one of us or the other, within the limitations of his ideological view of women, so the more he told me that I couldn’t speak, or even think properly, the more I told him to leave my space and me alone and go and die. Then he became manic and nearly drowned in the ocean  and an ambulance had to take him to the hospital.  I couldn’t get others to take me or my situation seriously, so I fought with fire  as best I could.  I was numb to social relations by this time.   I repeated my mantra for survival: “Either me, or him.”

Hate gets to the bottom of your soul eventually, and when you know that you are hated, you become ruthless eventually. The struggle for survival seems to sharpen on all sides in harsh relief, when you are surrounded by hate. You make absolutist ultimatums to preserve yourself — and it comes down in the end to “Either me, or him.”

And I knew this, too, because I sensed his pain:  my father had lost everything in losing his place in Rhodesia. His work place could no longer fund him, and his pay was diminishing with inflation, monthly. Perhaps his way of adaptation was to preserve in me a little retrogressive flavour — a little island of Rhodesia. Survival said I didn’t have the option to offer him that. “Either him or me.”

Hatred has its way of going deep — his constant attacks did that.  On morning I was sleeping in late, due to a virus.  9.30 am — and he threw my bed over.  I scrambled to cover myself with a sheet, naked.   Right-wing and left-wing attacks on my identity now strike me with all the psychological force that sends my blood cold. This has gone on for so long.  The ideological onslaughts that command me to change because I’m evil are based on Western needs to label and combat evil identities in their midst.

Whites who come from Zimbabwe (or “Rhodesia”, as it was known) are not, however, evil — as Western liberals hold. And, Communism is not inevitably “good” either! Get to know our sense of humor, our interests and nuances, because conforming to your cultural norms (rather than being out of step and in a time-warp) isn’t morally pure or all that intelligent either and adaptation is not the only meaning left in life after everything else in life has lost its meaning.


Books We Haven’t Read (But Always Wanted To) | Clarissa’s Blog

I’m reading more and more from this herald of cultural decline book of the early 200s, THE BLANK SLATE.    He states that the humanities were mistaken in trying to get people to see that the world was “a weird and dangerous place”.  The reason he gives is that the humanities  types didn’t know enough science to understand the need to avoid masochism.  Instead they held, via Freud, that the perceiver is irrational and also (through what Pinker claims to be a misappropriation of physcis) that their perceptive faculties influence what is being perceived (i.e they embraced cognitive relativism).

More likely weirdness and danger are the taulogical constructs of the conservative mind’s own perceptive apparatus — that is to say, its short-circuit and dead-end.

I really think Pinker’s book has to be closely read and scrutinised to better understand the horrors that some of us lived through during the past couple of decades.  No doubt Pinker’s writing encapsulates a lot of the logic of antihumanities and justification for instinctive animalism that took hold of many — but he also pushed that project forward.

I also think that Bataille’s philosophical matrix, far more than Nietzsche’s, furnishes the perfect answer to this form of radical right wing antagonism.   Bataille, in effect, says, if you fully KNOW the limits of your own being, you will not buy into this sort of stuff — it will have no enticement for you.   Furthermore, Bataille’s capacity to see from both high and low perspectives, rather than jsut in animal terms, enables one to see how small a picture one embraces when one attaches oneself to this form of evolutionary psychology.

But it is still, in a way, our cultural hegemony.   Most people have been pulled into it to some degree.


you may enlarge

…. which all leads to a very enticing impasse. To be alone with the weirdness and danger must be a privilege reserved for the few….the ones who have a capacity to do that and enjoy it without being all weirded out and left unable to cope. I call those highly profound few “intelllectual shamans”.

The Apolitical Political Correctness | Clarissa’s Blog

The Apolitical Political Correctness | Clarissa’s Blog

Yeah, I’m not sure about the “Friends” imagery, as I never had much time for that show, but what is clear is that we are moving out of thete social engineering rubrick, which has had some successes but has largely failed. That doesn’t mean that there are not theories of “human nature” circulating out there and formulating all sorts of rubrics, which are fundamentally as wrong as can be. Those who submit to nature get nature in return, which means nourishing mothers and authoritarian fathers but very much little inbetween — and certainly nothing beyond this. Nature reproduces itself in a rather predictable way, but it doesn’t let in any intellectual light. For that to happen one would have to oppose “nature” — even, to some degree, on principle.

The Apolitical Political Correctness | Clarissa’s Blog

The Apolitical Political Correctness | Clarissa’s Blog

I’m not sure academia has been completely overtaken yet, but the point of any authority is that it has to have the ability, which is to say the socially condoned power, to remain remote and detached. You cannot have any symbolic or actual sense of authority if the overarching principle of governance is not permitted to remain detached but has to become embroiled in any squabble.

Repost: The misnomer of "civilisation"

Something about the spirit of the present age is wrong, wrong, wrong. My suspicion is that there is too much indulgence of people’s naturalness these days. Secularism has not been the redeeming factor one might have hoped it would be. A return to nature was never a good idea, because it has led to men treating women as if they were all a gargantuan nurturing body — his “mummy”. And women, I was told tonight, are just as often inclined to treat males like a daddy. Where this happens, “civilisation” is a misnomer, because really nobody is truly civilised. Rather, everybody just falls back into a familiar psychological and social pattern in their relationships with other people. “Civilisation”, as such, does not (is not permitted to) intervene.

When this happens, we are all in a very low state, as I feel we are today.

One simply has to have something to compare it to, to know this, however.

When I went back to Zimbabwe, I felt I did not have to justify every little thing I said by trying to show that I had shaken it dry of all emotionalism (i.e. any personally discrediting content). At least in the white culture, there is not this form of social censure. People are just people, and their status does not have anything to do, in principle, with the degree to which they can demonstrate a separation between their mind and body. In black culture, where “civilisation”, was externally imposed, women are ascribed as more emotional than men.  This is from both the colonial point of view and that of the culture they already have.  Therefore we can say that the black cultures are often more genuinely “natural” in that they identify men and women in terms of their familial positioning.

It’s not good in my view — this global “return to nature”.   We need something else to intervene –some reason, some values imposed from as if from on high, but ideally something people have been led to feel would automatically be creditable.


I’ve changed — the most fundamental way this has happened is that I no longer fret when I notice that virtue is not rewarded in this world.  It seems I have completely liberated myself from the Christian paradigm.  In some ways this is a loss, of course, because this had enabled me to feel I was at a height, with ever greater moral refinements and discernment.

When Bataille spoke of Nietzsche falling from his height, I believe this is what he means.  No actual God is necessarily for one to ascend the mountain that leads one to enjoy the moral heights, but still there is implicit reliance on the legacy of the past, to provide the basic drive and meaning of the ascent.
Now this has all gone.  Without the sense that virtue is part of the calculation I have to make in order to survive and thrive, life is simpler.  I’m met with hardly any discrepencies between my anticipation of how others might behave and how they do actually act.  I’m able to do away with a lot of unnecessary calculations, along with the disappointment when people do not do as I imagine they should.   I can ignore a great deal that doesn’t interest me without reprimanding myself:  “Maybe it’s my duty to pay attention here?”

Repost: AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL NOTE: family psychodynamics

AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL NOTE: family psychodynamics

Patriarchal power has been normalized to date, and not critiqued by the important figures of Western intellectual culture.

One reason for this is suggested by writer, Samuel Slipp*, who holds that it was because Freud had abandonment issues with his mother, which prevented him from viewing his relationship with his mother in a logical, accurate and consistent way. Due to his unstable connection with his mother, he was unable to make any inroads into “feminine psychology”.  Perhaps “human psychology as it pertains to women” would have been a better term.

In any case, from a young age Freud’s psyche was split between seeing his mother in a wholly positive and wholly negative light. He would have had to understand his own psychology in relation to his mother to make sense of hers, but the “light” kept changing on him, due to early developmental issues.

As an important side note: It is my considered view that “feminine psychology” is a practical outcome of patriarchal power dynamics. In my view, an understanding of social dimensions and their changing nature is vital, or else one ends up with the metaphysical postulates one had started with. If women are necessarily “passive” — so be it. That is a fundamental truth of metaphysics. If one has accepts this, one will not be able to turn up any evidence to the contrary, no matter how widely one may look. It is of vital importance, therefore, to differentiate metaphysics (with its religious basis) from genuine science, which is always alert to measuring the changing world “out there”.

But, patriarchal approaches to psychology have ruled supreme, even up until today. What this means is that a certain degree of pathology — including Freud’s own, indicated by a lack of knowledge of “the psychology of the feminine” — has become normalized. Patriarchal dynamics, insofar as they exert a negative and pathological effect on those who come under them, have not at all been understood. Although feminists and sociologists are well aware of the negative outcomes of power as suppression, psychologists, in my experience, lag behind.

I have already written broadly about my father’s experiences with his mother. His father had been shot down in a plane over the ocean, during World War Two. I’m uncertain of the details, except that he was a radio-man in the back of the plane and was fighting on the British side of the war. My father grew up to hate his mother, due to similar abandonment issues to those Slipp describes with regard to Freud. Only, my father’s abandonment issues were more extreme. He also dealt with them differently from Freud. Rather than retaining an unconscious (that is, not intellectually integrated) ambivalence toward his mother, he developed pronounced contradictory principles to live by, which he formed into theological principles.

The first principle my father internalized was that one must, unconditionally, obey authorities to gain permission to thrive. This was a message from his mother, whose marriage of convenience had allowed my father to have a source of financial sustenance. She had obeyed the patriarchal principle of finding a male breadwinner, in order to support her child, my father.   There was no social security system in Rhodesia   Consequently, he had to also learn to obey this principle of necessity unconditionally. “Even though this new power over you is arbitrary and alien, you must obey it unconditionally.”

The second principle my father had internalized was that unconditional obedience leads to pain, abandonment and a life where one doesn’t get to decide the final meaning of anything. It’s inadvisable to follow this path. My father, in many unguarded moments, made it extremely clear to me that the path of unconditional obedience also leads to relentless, inescapable misery.

My father’s subconscious communication to me has always been in terms of two opposing principles: I command you to submit to all authorities without condition. I also caution you that this path leads to the most extreme form of unhappiness there is on Earth. If you do accept this formula for living, be aware that you will be extremely miserable. Nobody can help you here.”

 So I learned a great deal from my father about how not to conform, under pain of risking my very sense of being.

 My father’s principles were tricky, though. He’d placed a great deal of emphasis on the side of unconditional obedience. Indeed, he’d label any difficulties in life as being related to an inability to unconditionally trust.

Thus, when I faced some problems in my life, due to taking others at their word too much, which is related to my right-wing culturally conditioned naiveté,  he would always label the problem in the exact opposite terms. “You’re not trusting enough! Your belief in authorities is too conditional.” I learned that this wasn’t so when my father tried to break down my sense of independence, to teach me to “trust”. Once again, it was a contradictory message: “If you give up your power to authorities, you will lose the pain that’s brought about by separateness.” The addendum was: “Only — from experience, I can tell you that this solution to your problems will induct you into desperate and suicidal misery!”

Of course, I decided not to trust my father on this. It was not only his logical consistencies, but his emotional urgency that persuaded me against developing too deep a trust.

Still, there were people who could not help but see things entirely his way. They were people who thought they were on his side, but were actually working against him, because they sided with unconditional trust of all authorities, no matter who they were. That is, they supported the idea that no matter what troubles it had already bought us, the patriarchal structure of paternal authority was correct.  Thus they made the faith-based assumption that if I conformed to my father’s requirements, all would be well. But his own experience, as it had become semi-articulate, had warned me against this.

To trust unconditionally is to cast one’s fate to the winds:  It is to open oneself to any violent storm that may be passing. My father’s residual integrity, a key part of his buried African persona, had manifestly designated this a bad option. I also couldn’t side with unconditional acceptance. This was a demand that came from my father’s would-be allies. Their demands nearly undid me. I had to fight for an internal anchor of self-justification to keep my sense of self.

There were those who have read my writing and who decided that my fight for independence from authoritarian control was all wrong. I’ve had those who, in opposition to my father’s semi-articulate plea not to trust the formula of all-acceptance, have demanded that unconditionally I accept a new way of life in Australia. There are also those who cannot understand why I will not conform to my father’s requirements to become his unconditionally accepting mother. I should be the punching bag against which his desperate emotions raged.   It should be clear to them that any child is not equipped to be their father’s mother — to unconditionally accept them, so that they can move beyond the early childhood stage of confusion into adult maturity.

 Those who would lay on me the heavy burden of being my father’s mother, correcting the past through controlling the present, have no idea what they are doing to me. A child cannot accept an adult’s burdens — and the story of my memoir is how I had accepted them for too long.

There are all sorts of situations that disturb me profoundly because they seem to be demanding of me, as a woman, that I give my trust and approval to them without nuance or critical distancing measure. I am to accept any authority without questioning or investigating whether it is good or bad.  These situations paralyze me with a threat of annihilation. I can’t engage emotionally with such demands. I’m overwhelmed with numbness.  I disengage.

For my whole life, there are those who have tried to force me to become the emotionally life-giving mother of my father, in the belief that “father knows best” and submitting to authority without question is the norm. In response, I’ve feared every situation that demanded I give all my trust without condition or limit.  Moreover I have been fully aware that the only measure separating me from destruction has been in resolutely not giving my trust in this way.

 Others have chosen to assume my disengagement from these violent social demands must be related to my ego. I must have such a gigantic ego that I can’t engage with people who demand my absolute compliance.

 The opposite is the case.  I have simply been preserving what is left of my ego when I I have stepped out of an extremely bad situation. I won’t be pushed into a role of being anybody’s early childhood mother, or giving them my wholehearted trust regardless of their behavior.


*  Samuel Slipp’s book, The Freudian Mystique, usefully suggests why the psycho-dynamics of patriarchal family structures did not come under scrutiny via Freud.


Now that my days at the martial arts gym are numbered, I do need to set some goals and stick to a regime that will do me some good.  I really was beginning to feel slightly demoralized going to training when I could not hold the kick shield for a push kick as my knee (one or the other) would have buckled had I put myself in the way.   And then there is my left ring finger which hasn’t been its normal self for a couple of years.  It’s crooked and has set incorrectly after breaking, so that I used to wake up in the night with three far side fingers numb and nerve damaged.  I’ve finally figured out an exercise to rebuild the nerves, which consists of stretching my fingers as much as possible and then lowering each of them one at a time, whilst still straining at the stretch.  This seems to have restored greater functionality to my hand.

I still long for a challenge and for the toughness that makes you feel like you are really working against something to get results.   Beach running doesn’t really make me feel all that tough.  Writing books that nobody reads was a very tough experience, because it was me against myself, trying to get to the bottom of things hidden from myself.   That was painful and I did become raw from the effort needed.  

I’d like to do something I would consider personally significant, for the rest of my life, like offer my services to combat ivory hunters.   This would push me against myself and against my limits and would be doing something right, leaving a better global legacy.

I just miss the rawness and the wild.   I yearn for it.   The birds singing outside my window in the morning are something, but that is nothing like the wildness of unpredictability — the sort you get in Africa.

My cash resources are strapped and the work I have is limited.  I would expand outwardly if I could find a way, but it is very difficult to know how.

The only certainty is that I’m moving into a new phase of my life.

A Depressive at Work | Clarissa’s Blog

A Depressive at Work | Clarissa’s Blog

So actually some kind of Jewish literary star. Because she wrote well and was well-poised socially to spring into the world of literature, she could push the boundaries and write in this way. In the end it is just a text, which is to say that whatever becomes of the author herself has to do with her own ability to untangle herself from the mess she was in.