I’m so angry Terry about them being dumped, as that’s the only explanation I can think of for them appearing on our land and at our back door.
It’s like someone even came in and left them for us to find.
I don’t know about that, but as we’re the last house on this dirt road with Jill being quite a distance away, it’s the thought of thinking that we’re just a convenience that’s really griping me at the moment. It’s bad enough that such cuties were dumped anyway, but the fact that we are an out of the way and convenient place, that’s what’s really making me mad.
Because I feel like I’m being used. Like I’m being made to look after these two whether I like it or not. And even though I am grateful for them suddenly appearing as they did, still another part of me feels really angry about it.
It’s as if I’m some sort of dumping ground. Hey, if you don’t want your rubbish, you unwanted pets, go and dump then at Ann’s place. So many people just use the bush as their own garbage dump as we see so much shit lying around everywhere, and live animals as well, shit I feel bad.
Yes, that I mean nothing, I don’t count, I don’t have a say, I am a nothing person whom others can just do whatever they like with. They don’t respect or care about me, just come and dump all over me and dump whatever they like. And what’s to stop them. We can’t be on guard all the time, looking for strangers, god enough people drive down here thinking they can get to the beach, and so what’s to stop them dumping all their shit on our place whenever they feel like it.
But really it’s the most personal part that’s making me angry the most, that me, the person, Ann, is not respected or cared about. I am not asked, I am taken for granted, used as a convenient place to put someones rubbish.
God I feel furious, if I saw the people or found out who did it, I feel like I’d go over and shit all over their place, dump all my rubbish, get the rubbish truck to unload on their front lawn. I feel so angry, so angry, ANGRY, ANGRY, SO FUCKING ANGRY!
And when I feel they don’t respect me, then I feel very hurt, very upset; they don’t respect me, they can do what they please with me. It’s even as if a man, any man, can just come in and rape me, have his way with me and I can’t do anything about it. And not only that, but in some ways I’m supposed to be grateful that he chose me.
I know it sounds fucked, but that’s how I’m feeling.
I should be so pleased, so grateful, bowing and scraping at their feet because they chose me out of all people, me to give all their unwanted rubbish and shit to; me to give their lovely little kittens to, and all because they now I won’t refuse. They know, or so they think they know, that I’m a soft-touch, that I won’t protest, I won’t say no, I won’t put up any fuss. And concerning the K’s it’s true, I won’t. And why I won’t is because I pride myself on being able to look after them well, that I will do the right thing, I won’t just neglect them, I’ll love them, and I won’t just go and dump them on someone else. I’ll be, because I am, the responsible one, so you can ‘count on good ‘ol Annie’ she’ll know the right thing to do, she’ll take care of it.
And all of this shit - shit I feel even more angry speaking about it all - is exactly all the sort of shit mum and dad put on me all the time. Most of it I’ve spoken about before in bits and pieces, but I feel raging angry with them. HOW DARE THEY USE ME; HOW DARE THEY TAKE ME SO MUCH FOR GRANTED, and even as if they are doing me a fucking favour. Oh Ann will take the kittens, she’ll love having them, and she’ll be so pleased, and as she doesn’t have any children in her life, and living so far away from everyone and having no friends and not having anything to do, she’ll love to have them, she’ll love to look after them. Go and give them to her, she’ll take them.
And do I ever get considered, do they ask me if I am bored in my life, if I’m so miserable and lonely living here; and if so, would I like to have a couple of unwanted kittens.
No, no one asks me, they all just assume they know me, assume they know what I’m thinking and feeling. They take huge liberties with me, presuming to know all that would be good for me. And it’s not right because I am not lonely, as you know Terry, it’s the opposite, I am so happy being away from them all and I don’t feel like I want to go into town and volunteer to help where it’s needed, I don’t want to be disturbed from own feelings for once.
But do they think of me, truly consider me and my feelings, no, they just assume I’m unhappy and miserable and that they know the answer to make me feel better. But I’m not fucking unhappy and miserable! And what I am is, which they don’t want to know or deal with, that I’m fed up and pissed off with them. I don’t like how they are, but as they don’t want to know what I’m really feeling, so they make up a fantasy me and that’s the one they are relating to in their mind. And me, the real me, doesn’t have a say in it. And that’s how mum and dad made me feel so often. They knew, so they said, what was best for me, they didn’t ask me what I wanted and felt about things. They even told me how I was, how I was feeling and then what I should do.
Fuck me I feel so furious. I want to rage at them: HOW FUCKING DARE YOU, YOU IMBECILES, YOU MY FUCKING UNLOVING PARENTS WHO DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHO ME YOU’RE UNLOVED CHILD FEELS. You never ask me, you don’t care, you don’t want to know, and all because you believe you already know.
It makes me feel like I don’t really exist, that I disappeared somewhere along the line but they didn’t notice. And they keep speaking to me and telling me what to do even though the real me has vanished, been lost, took another turn long ago. And that’s how I feel they still feel about me and treat me when I see them, they have not in the past years that I’ve become more feeling aware asked me one thing about how I’m feeling or how I feel about anything. Not once Terry, not once have they asked me!
And it’s because they think they know, they’ve got me all worked out, and what really hurts the most, is they don’t want to know. They don’t want to know who I am, who I am as the adult I am. I suppose they just think I’m still a baby and they know all there is to know about me, but fuck, how blind and narrow-minded can you be.
Fuck Terry, the anger is boiling up in me. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I’m longing to see more truth about it...
I am so angry, so fucking angry, angry, angry, how dare they treat me like I’m a machine or something, as long as you take its pulse and give it the right petrol and oil then you don’t have to think about it anymore. And it’s the same all the time - predictable; and so you think you can know how it is, which might be all right for a machine, but that’s not how I am!
And what really annoys me is that they think they know me and don’t even think for one moment that I might have many different feelings all day long. And how I feel and what I think in one moment might not be the same in the next, let alone in the same situation. And that I am growing and changing, and do you think they even notice, no, they are blind to it all, so locked within their own little lives, their own little world all of which thankfully I am no longer a part of.
Right now I don’t care if I never see them again. In fact, I don’t even want to see them again because what would be the point. They are not wanting to see the real feeling-me, just their picture in their mind of me, their fantasy me, that’s all they want to see; so there’s no point to my trying to express myself to them, to have anything of the sort of relationship I’d like to have with someone - with them.
And I can feel myself as I’m waking up to the truth of my relationship with them no longer wanting to have it. And all because what is it anyway - it’s a nothing thing. I don’t have a relationship with them, not at least one that I like and enjoy and get something out of. It’s just an obligatory having-to-go-and-see-mum-and-dad relationship, and I go there and ask them if they are well, and they tell me what they have been doing and I tell them what I’ve been doing, and we have our cups of tea and the things mum might have made, and when I leave I say see you next week and wasn’t it lovely, and it’s enough to make me want to puke! I CAN’T BEAR IT ANYMORE TERRY! I feel like I’m having to put my head in the vitamiser to be able to sit there playing the ‘seeing mum and dad’ game. And I’m bored to shit, so fucking fed up and frustrated with it. It’s like having to play a board game over and over and over until you just play it on rote, getting nothing out of it. But you can’t stop, that’s not part of the game, that’s not part of the pattern, and so you have to keep going, keep going robotically through the motions; oh fuck, I can’t stand it, I want to scream and pull my hair out!
And I can’t get away. I can’t, I have to be the good obedient daughter and go along and see them, I can’t stand up to them, I can’t say fuck off I hate you and your silly game; because if I did I know their whole world would shatter, and as I’ve spoken about so many times now, I don’t want to do that to them. But I don’t know why. Why is it all right for me to put myself aside and to be obedient to them, doing all they want and being how they want me to be, but it’s not all right for it to be the other way around, for them to be how I want them to be.
You weren’t the parent.
I know, and it’s so fucking unfair. That we’re subjected to these two people, who it turns out aren’t the great all-loving gods we believed they were; they are two unloving full-of-shit people, just two ordinary people who are fucked themselves because of their own parents unloving treatment of them; and then they have me, and they are my whole universe, they are my gods, my mother and father of life and heaven - everything. And yet who really are they, two nobody nothing people who are living untrue to themselves, evilly, and don’t even want to try and heal themselves, aren’t interested in expressing their feelings to uncover the truth, aren’t interested in their daughter or her partner and how their whole life has changed these past years, aren’t even interested in each other or anything. They just stay together because that’s what you do, it’s what there parents did, so it’s what they will keep going until they die. And then probably in spirit they will also keep staying together and on and on forevermore. And I will have to keep going over there visiting them and being their dutiful daughter forevermore. AND I WANT TO SCREAM - NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! It is an eternal punishment, an eternal torture. I want it all to end, I don’t want to be part of it all anymore. But I’m too fucking pathetic and weak to stand up to them and tell them no more.
I can’t Terry, I still don’t really know why, but it’s as if they have some power over me, and they keep me bound to them by unseen bonds. And they are so tight, they are strangling, smothering me, sucking all the life out of me; my vitality, my spirit, it’s all being sucked and drained away.
And they are killing me Terry, my own fucking parents are killing me. I am trying to keep alive, but I feel that right from conception they have been killing me, killing the true and real me by stopping me come out into the world how I wanted to - how God wanted me to.
They gave me life, they started me off in life, and yet it all has to be for them, all their way, all how they want it - me - to be. So they are stifling the shit out of me Terry, suffocating me, sucking the air out of my lungs, my own fucking parents!
And then at the same time they are saying, ‘oh Annie’s a good girl, she always does what she’s told, she was always a good baby, she never gave us any fuss, she was always so well behaved’; and this poor Annie person is fading away, having the life sucked out of her as she kills herself, as she tries her hardest to please her mother and father so they will love her and keep being nice to her.
So she does as she is told, she never says no, she never stands up and fights them, she even sucks up to and goes along with her gaolers, the keepers of her prison. Fuck Terry, I am one of those poor little bears stuck in those cages having to lie on my back so they can keep sucking the bile out of me. That’s what mum and dad did to me, sucking my energy, my life essence out of me, all so they could keep empowering themselves.
They fucking used me Terry, it’s one big use the whole parenting thing. We have children so we can use them, so we can have power over them, so we can dominate them, so we can feel better. We have children so we can feel loved by them, not so that we can love them. That’s how it was for me, it all being for them, and not for me. So they kept me caged up in their world telling me that I should be so lucky, that they were such kind, caring and loving parents, and yet it’s all evil, all wrong, it’s horrible Terry - all so sick.
I feel sick, sick to death of it all Terry, and still so fucking angry. I feel like I want to rage around the place smashing the place to bits. Shit I can understand those people who lose it. I want to cut my hair off, throw out all my clothes and get new ones, rearrange the furniture, re-build the whole fucking house! I want to dig up the garden, do something, something with this pent up rage and anger in me. And I can see what you’re thinking but if I were to do that, I’d probably want to pull it right off you, or cut if off, so sex is not the answer to my frustration, not fucking this time! It might have worked in the past, but right now that would only make me feel more like that’s all I’m good for, and you and everyone else knows what’s best... you know Terry, when the woman loses it a bit, goes a bit mad, a good root is what she needs... isn’t that what you boys all talk about?
Well, fuck you all, and fuck everyone who thinks they know what I’d like and what is good for me, because how they fuck can they possibly know - BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT ME! And yet that’s what we do to our children all the time, that’s how we treat them, like we know what’s best for them, we know and they don’t, they are only the child and the child knows shit. But do they ever fucking ask us? No, and all because they are the Great Ones, they are the gods and we are nothing. We are only to be as they want us to be, it’s all so hideous, so fucking controlling, we grow up in a fascist state in our own fucking home life, so no wonder all those people want to support those dictators. All those people thought the likes of Hitler and Stalin and Mao were great, all because it was what they were used to in their own fucking families, only these people offering them ways to gain more power within their powerlessness. So they can pick on all the unfortunates, all the designated bad and evil ones, stuff all the Jews in the gas chambers, all because you are allowed to pick on them, it’s been sanctioned, so yeah, let’s all go and beat them up, weeeeee, what great fun, gee with love our Great Leader - we love our parent. Yeah, and it’s all probably our great fantasy parent, not our own flesh and blood parent that we hate, yet we are so terrified of that we can’t ever say it to their face.
Fuck Terry, imagine if I could say I hate you to mum and dad, looking them square in their faces, fuck I couldn’t, I’d shit myself. I couldn’t do it, that’s like trying to stand up to and overturn all my bad parenting, all the trauma, all the abuse, fuck, no way, all I can do is keep trying to please them so they will keep liking me and won’t be nasty and mean to me and won’t punish me, won’t send me to my room and not allow me to have any dinner, so they won’t banish and reject me making me feel like they hate me and I’m a low-life and piece of shit.
Fuck Terry, it’s deep stuff isn’t it, and it never ends. Where is the end to it all, to my demolishing my relationship with mum and dad? All this truth, it coming up in me and I feel it’s all true and right; and even if it’s not, like all that stuff I said about those people supporting the Hitler types, I don’t care, as it’s all how I feel.
And it keeps coming Terry, you’ll have to hit me on the head to stop it.
No Ann, it’s good stuff, keep going.
Oh fuck I think I’m running out of steam, I’m coming to the end of it, I can’t keep going, I have to have a rest. It’s too much.
It was all very good what you were saying, it sure painted a bad picture of your relationship with them.
Yes well it’s how I feel. I can’t even remember half of what I said. But I don’t care about that either. I know it’s all in me, it’s all what I feel. And look, those two little cuties slept through it all.
Yes, they weren’t upset or frightened at all with your ranting and raving. Even when you banged the door, they hardly flinched.
They must know it’s all what’s meant to happen, and they can feel I’m not angry with them, animals know those things far more easily that we do. We’ve got so many layers within layers all fucking us up, and we’re so cut off from our true feelings, we hardly have a clue, that much I’m becoming more aware of these days.
Oh fuck Terry, I feel like I’m calming down now. I still feel very angry, very pissed off with mum and dad and with everything - with it all. It’s all such a farce, such bullshit untrue lives we all live. And we’ve got no fucking idea. All I said I’ve read about other women feeling similar things, but still not in the same context as I am, and not with the underlying intention of using all their bad feelings to uncover the whole truth of their negative state and the truth of their relationships with their parents - with everything, and including themselves.
I feel a headache now coming on. That would be right, just to rub it in, there’s no getting away from it. I’m not allowed to be free of it, to express out of me all my anger and then feel good.
No Ann, now that you’ve made more room inside yourself, having got rid of that cartload of bad feelings, so you can change, so you need your headache to break the circuits - that’s how I see it all happening.
I don’t know about any of that, but you might be right. I just see that I’ve expressed myself through one layer of it, and so now my headache can come to help bring up and present me with the next layer.
Fuck I still feel so angry, I feel as if it will never end, that I’ll always be angry... and really when you think about, that’s how I should be, at least always feeling angry until my healing is finished if there is ever an end to it. Because it’s all wrong how we life; and I’m all wrong, look at how much of this shit is in me. And as you’ve been saying Terry, had I been a mother I would have put all this shit on my children as mum and dad did on me. I’d be just like them even though I’d tell myself I wasn’t like them, that I was in many ways better than them, being more broad and openminded and all that - being of a more modern generation. And yet it’s all such crap, as I am them, they are within me, I’m of them, so how can I be different to them. And all of this helping me see that I am far more of them that I had any idea. There are so many layers of them in me. And all mixed up and intertwined. And it all makes sense because just to think about forming in my mother’s womb: was it the most perfect, true and loving place I could have developed in?
No it wasn’t, and far from it, so I am mega deformed really, only I’m now showing such deformities like other people do. But in my soul or in my spirit or wherever the fuck the real me is, I am mega fucked up and deformed, I can feel it. And all my healing is my trying to straighten myself out.
So do you think those people who are born deformed are because of their parents unlovingness?
I don’t know Terry, it’s not for me to say, but that’s how I feel about myself. I have no idea, and I would imagine those retarded people will find out the truth of why they were born retarded one day when they do their healing, just as I would imagine their parents when they do their healing, will, if it’s true, come to see just how badly they fucked up their children. I think that we humanity have no real idea about any of the deeper stuff, and every day we move along in our healing I’m feeling more convinced about that.
But I sure feel more retarded and fucked up by they day. I used to believe I was okay, fine, even very capable; but at what, capable and good at being untrue to myself, really good at denying my bad feelings, really great at being evil. Hey great, I can say I’m really good at being evil, how about that everyone, I should get a medal: And First Prize goes to Ann for being the most evilest of us all. Gee that’s quite an achievement Terry, you are living with someone who is evil, as I am living with someone who is evil. And we’re both fucked up and retarded in our natural and true self-expression because we were never allowed to be our true selves.
So hey, just because my arms and legs aren’t all spastic, just because on the outside I look all right, doesn’t mean on the inside I’m not a twisted, dribbling mess.
Fuck Terry, I feel so bad, to think that mum and dad are so pleased with themselves in their conceited belief that they did a good job, that they were good parents, all because on the surface of it, it would seem like their children grew up normally and well. And yet we’re all deformed and retarded, all fucked up, just as they were. It’s as if we’re living in an institution for the fucked, and within it we all go around patting ourselves and each other on our backs congratulating ourselves and each other for being good. Good, true and perfect specimens of the human race. And we just have to keep turning a blind eye to the fact that we’re fucking up nature and the world faster every day. And that we’re feeling more and more displaced and out of touch with ourselves, having to use more and more ‘devices’ to ‘keep in touch’ with each other. All so we can keep racing around having our busy lives of self-importance, and all for what Terry? All so we can keep blocking out and denying our pain, what our true selves are really feeling - how unloved we feel.
It’s all so fucked, we’re all so fucked and I had no idea.
No. But how can we have any idea.
I know, and we never will so long as we keep pretending we’re all right when all we feel is not all right. It’s all so fucking sad, so tragic, we’re such a miserable lot living in our self-made ghastly world, one that is anti us, anti the truth, anti life, all whilst we pretend we’re making improvements on God’s perfection. If we’re not insane, the whole lot of us, then I’d sure like to know what insanity is.
Oh fuck me Terry, I feel exhausted.
You’ve covered a hell of a lot.
Yes, and it’s only what I feel.