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Tag: Trauma model of mental disorders

Categories
Alice Miller Child abuse

Remarkable

sentences of Alice Miller’s
Breaking Down the Wall of Silence:

 

______ 卐 ______

 

“…the wall of silence behind which society has sought to protect itself from the truth about cruelty and abuse in childhood”. (Foreword, page 5)

“Parents are indeed capable of routinely torturing their children without anyone interceding”. (Chapter 1, “Eve’s Initiative”, page 14)

“…remained completely repressed in me for almost sixty years. As a result, I betrayed that little girl [the inner girl that still inhabited in Miller’s heart]… There was no one to help me condemn cruelty”. (Chapter 2, “Out of the Prison of Confusion”, page 20)

“Hard as it is to believe, in the entire world there is not one single faculty in which a degree is offered in the study of psychic injuries in childhood”. (Ibid., page 25)

“So psychiatrists have… chosen not to know how psychoses develop”. (Chapter 3, “The Psychiatrists’ Campaign Against the Act of Remembering”, page 32)

“…that voice [of Miller’s inner wounded child], because it has taught me more than all the books I have ever read”. (Ibid., page 33)

“My justifiable anger makes me strong and aware. I can see through the lies because I have stopped forgiving, stopped praying or speculating, stopped laying the guilt on myself” (Ibid., page 35)

“…how damaging it is to preach forgetfulness and forgiveness. Isn’t that just what your patients have done their whole lives, and is that not why they have remained disordered?” (Ibid., pages 36-37)

“…what was previously regarded as a sin—criticism of our parents—is, in reality, our only chance of becoming healthy”. (Ibid., page 38)

“Psychoanalysis does not distort the truth by accident. It does so by necessity. It is an effective system for the suppression of the truth about childhood, a truth feared by our entire society. Not surprisingly, it enjoys great esteem among intellectuals”. (Chapter 4, “Blindman’s Buff and the Flight from the Facts in Psychoanalysis”, pages, 42-43)

“…fear of the truth about child abuse is a leitmotif of nearly all forms of therapy known to me”. (Ibid., page 48)

“Hate that we have experienced is not a poison, but one way out of the trap…” (Chapter 5, “The Media and the Wall of Silence”, page 61)

“To dismiss such people as ‘self-pitying’ only says something about one’s own early experiences…” (Ibid., page 71)

“And why, anyway, do human beings go on worshipping such horrific gods? (Chapter 6, “Child Sacrifice as ‘Tradition’”, page 77. Miller is referring to the god of the Jews. See also pages 193-199 of my book Day of Wrath.)

“The danger does not lie with individuals, however criminal they may be. Far more, it lies in the ignorance of our entire society… Teachers, attorneys, doctors, social workers, priests, and other respected representatives of society protect parents… Even the child protection agencies insist that this crime, and this crime alone, should go unpunished”. (Chapter 8, “The Monstrous Consequences of Denial”, page 87)

“The majority of therapists fear this truth. They work under the influence of destructive interpretations culled from both Western and Oriental religions, which preach forgiveness… they offer traditional morality… Forgiveness does not resolve latent hatred and self-hatred but rather covers them up in a very dangerous way”. (Chapter 9, “The Liberating Experience of Painful Truth”, page 131)

“By refusing to forgive, I give up my illusions. A mistreated child, of course, cannot live without them. But a grown-up therapist must be able to manage it. His or her patients should be able to ask: ‘Why should I forgive, when no one is asking me to? I mean, my parents refuse to understand and to know what they did to me. So why should I go on trying to understand and forgive my parents and whatever happened in their childhood, with things like psychoanalysis and transactional analysis? What’s the use? Whom does it help? It doesn’t help my parents to see the truth. But it does prevent me from experiencing my feelings, the feelings that would give me access to the truth. But under the bell-jar of forgiveness, feelings cannot and may not blossom freely’. Such reflections are, unfortunately, not common in therapeutic circles, in which forgiveness is the ultimate law”. (Ibid., page 135)

“This ideology is indivisible with the command ‘Thou shalt not be aware’ [of the cruelty your parents inflicted to you] and with the repetition of that cruelty on the next generation.

”But the demand for forgiveness that I often encounter can pose a danger for therapy, even though it is an expression of our culture. Mistreatment of children is the order of the day, and those errors are therefore trivialized by the majority of adults. Forgiving can have negative consequences, not only for the individual, but for society at large, because it can mean disguising erroneous opinions and attitudes, and involves drawing a curtain across reality so that we cannot see what is taking place behind it.

”The possibility of change depends on whether there is a sufficient number of enlightened witnesses to create a safety net for the growing consciousness of those who have been mistreated as children, so that they do not fall into the darkness of forgetfulness, from which they will later emerge as criminals or the mentally ill”. (Ibid., pages 135-136)

“How much unnecessary suffering [emphasis by Ed.] would I, my children and their future children, have been spared if I had been able to read this book when I was young…” (Ibid., letter to Miller, page 157)

“If one day the secret of childhood were to become no longer a secret, the state would be able to save immense sums that it spends on hospitals, psychiatric clinics, and prisons maintaining our blindness. That this might deliberately happen is almost too incredible a thought”. (Ibid., page 143)

Categories
Autobiography Child abuse Sponsor

Selfish heirs

I finally have internet service after a few days without it due to moving from Yautepec, in the state of Morelos, to Mexico City.

After living alone in the house in Tlalpan my parents left behind, so large it had three pianos in various locations, my siblings decided to sell it. Since the money from the sale was divided among six heirs, the modest sum I received was only enough to rent a tiny place in the neighbourhood of Mexico City where I lived as a child and teenager.

Before my move from Yautepec, a town where the only white person was my dentist, where I had gone after the selling of my parents’ house in search of cheap rent, I had been talking on this site with Benjamin. We both have in common not just the fourteen words, but the four words (never, ever torment animals or children, which I summarise under the motto “Eliminate all unnecessary suffering”).

It’s curious how those who—unlike the distorted image Hollywood deceives us with—have been tormented by their parents to the point of psychic breakdown can, in their lucid states, see things that normies are incapable of seeing.

For example, when looking for an apartment in the capital, I had to pay for hotels because my brother, who inherited the family business, only let me stay in his apartment for one day, even though there was one room empty since his only son moved out. On the other hand, my old friend Marco, whom I’ve talked about on this site in several posts to illustrate what many YouTubers call “narcissism”, a condition that sometimes borders on psychosis, allowed my beloved family furniture into his home until his death. If it weren’t for Marco, I would have been dealt a terrible blow: the furniture that reminds me of the time when my parents hadn’t yet abused me would have been lost (Marco also offered me a room in his house to live in for a few days while I sorted out my affairs, although I declined his generous offer).

That’s the world! No one among the heirs of the Tort family after my parents passed is aware of what happened (my sister Corina died suddenly in 2016, and by law, her share of the inheritance went to her son, who now lives in Barcelona). Due to the torment my parents inflicted on me I was left unable to pursue a career, and wages in Mexico are so low that I couldn’t work either. If my siblings had been aware of what had happened, they would have left me the house so that I, who turns 67 next month, could live there for the rest of my days.

But they wanted money and now my future has become precarious…

My late sister Corina was fully aware that our parents murdered our souls, but no one who inherited the house has any conscience, and the same could be said of the family’s relatives and acquaintances. I am writing this entry because I owe the moral support, or the storage of my furniture, to people who have suffered psychotic breakdowns. Those I know who haven’t had these breakdowns don’t sympathise with me, nor with the new generations of children whose souls are being murdered at home; or with the animals being tortured in slaughterhouses and other sinister places.

I will use the little money I had left from the inheritance to translate into English my books where I narrate the tragedy that befell my family: a tragedy that not only destroyed the lives of Corina and me, but is repeated by millions of other abusive parents, with the difference that unlike me the victims do not write their autobiographies.

The topic is relevant even for racialists. A few years ago, one of them contacted me because he had serious mental health issues, and in my anti-psychiatric writings he found an oasis in a desert of incomprehension. And there’s a well-known racialist who has a website that he started even before The West’s Darkest Hour appeared. Many years ago he had such severe mental health issues that he was once labelled schizophrenic, if I remember his testimony correctly.

The topic of how abusive parents murder the souls of their children is fundamental, although it remains taboo in our societies. If Alice Miller weren’t anti-Nazi I would recommend her book, Breaking Down the Wall of Silence.

Categories
Child abuse

Lidz

I want to expand on what I discussed yesterday with Benjamin about the trauma model of mental disorders because the topic is a universal taboo, including in the racialist community, to the point that catastrophes like those of William Pierce and Don Black’s children are incomprehensible. (My working hypothesis is that, had they been treated well as children, they would have followed in their parents’ footsteps instead of betraying their ideals.)

It all has to do with the omnipresent taboo, and I’d like to illustrate it with the first reading I ever did of a mental health professional who, unlike bio-reductionist psychiatry, which is pseudoscientific, was one of the pioneers in talking about parents who schizophrenized their children.

Theodore Lidz

It was 1983 when I was broke precisely because of the abuse I had suffered at home the previous decade. At the famous Gandhi Bookstore in Mexico City, I read the interview with Dr Theodore Lidz in the book Laing and Anti-Psychiatry, edited by Robert Boyers and Robert Orrill. Back then, there were no comfortable armchairs like those found in Barnes & Noble bookstores, and I had to read that long interview standing up because the subject fascinated me. It was the first time in my life I had read someone who came close to what I believed had happened in my family.

Seven years later, I managed to buy a copy of Boyers and Orrill’s book, translated into Spanish by Alianza Editorial of Madrid, which was the same edition I had read at the Gandhi Bookstore. Since I don’t have the original English version, I can’t quote a passage from the interview with Lidz verbatim, but I can restate its content.

When the interviewer asked if Lidz was surprised that books on schizophrenia, like those by Ronald Laing, had become popular among young people (this is a 1971 book and reflected the mood of the 1960s), Lidz replied that he was surprised that Laing wrote for the general public and not for a professional audience. What struck me as I reread that interview yesterday was that Lidz added that it wasn’t the public’s business to know what happens in these families, even though Laing might have altered the details to make his cases anonymous. Lidz added that, in his work on cases of schizogenic parents—that is, those who drive their children mad—he wasn’t able to publish the reports of most of the families because some of the parents were quite well-known, and even with pseudonyms, they could have been recognised. He added that some of the cases ran to 50 to 80 typewritten pages, ‘truly precious documents’, but that they couldn’t be published.

This struck me greatly because in my Letter to Mom Medusa, I cite a case in which Lidz violated what he said above: the case of Mrs Newcomb (a pseudonym) and her extremely passive husband, who helped me so much in understanding my parents.

On the next page I reread yesterday, Lidz, with whom I spoke on the phone in the 1990s when he was already quite old, surprised me again because he wrote that he didn’t believe the schizogenic parents had done anything wrong; that they hadn’t meant to harm the child, and that this contrasted with what Laing wrote, for whom the parents’ intentions were often malicious. Lidz added, and here I retranslate it again from my Spanish copy into English, that ‘parents do the best they can—they can’t be different from what they are’.

This goes against the thesis of my autobiographical books, where I say that my father could have chosen the good: not to be influenced by the lies his wife told about me, but rather should have communicated with me in my adolescence (cf. both the final pages of Hojas Susurrantes and the first chapter of ¿Me Ayudarás?).

It’s been forty-two years since I first read the very lucid interview with Lidz standing in the Gandhi Bookstore, an interview that was a turning point in the research I did on my parents. It’s only natural that after so many years, my thinking has matured, largely due to the work of Alice Miller: the first psychologist in history who, unlike her predecessors (like Lidz), unequivocally took the side of the victimized child. (Despite what Lidz said, Laing didn’t completely side with the victim either, as we see in the middle chapter of my Hojas Susurrantes.)

In the previous thread, Benjamin complained that the racial right couldn’t care less about the issue, to which I responded that the German woman who received the mantle after Alice Miller died said that blaming parents is the most potent taboo in the human psyche. I’m posting this entry because, I see now, the taboo was present even in the works of my admired mentors, whom I read decades ago. The abysmal difference between them and us is that, in siding with the victim, we don’t care about what Lidz and company feared: that the public would realise which families the clinical material refers to, those ‘truly precious documents’ he didn’t dare publish (and which would have done enormous good for our cause had they been published!).

Do you now understand the new literary genre that people like John Modrow, Benjamin and I want to inaugurate? By siding a hundred per cent with the victim, not only do we not care about people recognising the abusive families, but we write using their real names!

Only revenge heals the wounded soul, even though we’re talking about literary revenge.

Categories
Benjamin (commenter) Poetry

A poem

in memory of the German war dead

Only thanks to the help of an old friend, who offered me his house as storage, yesterday I managed to save the furniture that accompanied me in my home during my childhood and adolescence. Now I need to complete the long bureaucratic process to rent a modest flat in a decent area of the capital.

While I settle in, a helpful way to spend the time would be to listen to this poem, and also these audio clips from Benjamin’s books.

Being a ‘man against his time’ not only means revaluing the values regarding the heroic National Socialists who died in the war, but also inverting them equally when it comes to other lies accepted by society—such as psychiatry and what really causes mental disorders.

If the racialists understood what Benjamin and I have written in our autobiographical books, things like the grotesque betrayal of Don Black’s son, or the betrayal of William Pierce’s son, wouldn’t have happened; and I dare say David Irving’s daughter wouldn’t have become schizophrenic.

It’s time for contemporary racialists to stop believing the System’s lies (psychiatry is taught in every medical school). A good way to do so is to start familiarising onseself with the literature of those of us who have survived truly hellish adolescences.

Categories
Psychohistory

Zero

Lebenskraft ! (last entry)

 

Frankfurt

4th May

My trip to Europe ends with my visit to Dachau. I had to go to Frankfurt only because that’s where I was flying back across the Atlantic.

This city was almost destroyed by the Allied bombing, and what we see now are new buildings and ugly skyscrapers that didn’t exist before. It is striking that, as soon as I got off the bus in Frankfurt, I saw one more monument that reminds me of the self-harmer women: but now a pathology in the collective unconscious of the German people. I am referring to a church that had been destroyed but, instead of blaming the Allies, the Germans blamed themselves:

The reconstructed church.

As seen in the image above, on the left is a plaque with the profile of a woman. Here I include a close-up:

‘To the citizens of Frankfurt who resisted the barbarism of National Socialism’.

In the first image you can also see some inscriptions, and it doesn’t hurt to zoom in:

The Nazi concentration camps!: Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa aterna: what I have been calling ‘ogre of the superego’!

As soon as I saw this monument I was in no mood for sightseeing in Frankfurt and headed straight to the hotel to eat, rest, sleep and wait for my flight home. But it is important to clarify what I meant by the term ‘ogre of the superego’ in my essay on St Augustine.

Due to the colossal collective trauma of not only having lost the war, but by the very aggressive de-Nazification imposed by the Allies, and the ubiquitous anti-Nazi propaganda of the traitorous government the following decades, this ogre of the superego has completely taken over the soul of the German people.

We can understand my psychoanalysis through a home lecture by Richard Grannon, who doesn’t use my term but other words, although we mean the same thing. Grannon speaks of the inner critic or crap injunctions: a toxified, trauma-based superego, or simply a toxified superego.

Note that in his talk in the video ‘Understanding the importance of healing your super ego after narcissistic abuse’ Grannon refers to mothers or partners as narcissistic as the one Augustine had. When Grannon mentions the acronym NPD he is referring to narcissistic personality disorder, which I exemplified with the mother of the most influential doctor of the Church.

We can use this psychoanalytic paradigm, originating from those who now elaborate on the trauma model of mental disorders, to analogize it to the German state inducing a toxified superego in its people through ubiquitous propaganda. For example, the monument I photographed in Frankfurt is one more voice, like the paranoid voices the schizophrenic listens to, of the omnipresent inner critic: those negative messages that have been forced deep into the heads of the German people.
 

______ 卐 ______

 
I will not go back to Europe.

And now I fully understand the Greek commenter ‘Irrelevant Nobody’ who told me he was going to commit suicide.

A few days ago Adunai, who shouldn’t comment here because he approves of tormenting animals, sent me an email informing me that a Romanian who used to comment here committed suicide on April 26 (the day I was visiting Prague by the way). Regardless of what the Romanian did, only now do I understand perfectly the Greek commenter who couldn’t tolerate living in a Europe where, in his words, Hitler and Himmler lost.

Only an apocalyptic cataclysm will be able to cure the Westerner in general, and the German in particular, of the ogre of the super-ego that self-destructs him; say, a nuclear exchange between the US and Russia. Unfortunately, this opportunity has already been lost with Donald Trump, as it was the Democrats who wanted war.

Now only energy devolution, the result of peak oil whose Bell curve will start to fall this decade, will be able to save us…

Categories
Psychology So-called saints

Augustine, 6

BOOK IX: With his mother and friends he returns to his native Africa

‘…where I had offered you as a sacrifice, my old self’ Augustine writes in this chapter. He didn’t realise that his ‘new self’ was what psychologists today would call the false self: his relationship with his god, to whom he speaks in the second person singular, was a maternal introject—not his true self! But now imbued with his false self, the absorbing mother within him, he writes: ‘My heart was fire’ and ‘now I was disgusted by those who rebel against the Scriptures’: a preamble to the destruction of the works of Celsus and Porphyry ordered by Emperor Theodosius II.

After his ‘conversion’ Augustine wrote to Ambrose and signed up to be baptised, so he, his mother and Alypius, who would also convert to the cult of the Galileans (Emperor Julian’s term), returned to Milan.

We also brought Adeodatus, my natural son, born of sin. You had gifted him well. He was barely fifteen years old… His intelligence left me speechless.

A little later, Augustine devotes some interesting pages to how his grandparents had educated his mother, and how they had turned her into a puritan: through mistreatment. I was especially struck by these words, which are understandable if we imagine the African heat, where the family grew up: ‘Apart from the hours when they ate soberly with her parents, she wasn’t allowed to drink even water, even if she burned with thirst’. But I find it very strange that in his book Augustine didn’t tell anecdotes about his siblings. What did he want to hide from us? What we do know is that his mother had fulfilled her mission:

She said to me: ‘My son, as far as I am concerned, I no longer find pleasure in this life… There was only one reason why I wanted to stay a little longer in this life. I wanted to see you as a Catholic Christian before I died. My God has fulfilled this desire even more fully than I wished. I see you his servant, who despises the happiness of the earth. What am I doing here?’

I don’t remember my answer well. What I do remember is that, barely five days later—not many more—she fell into bed with fevers… At fifty-six years of age and thirty-three years of mine, that pious and holy woman was released from her body.

It is very significant for those of us who research mental disorders to read, a couple of pages later, a retrospective recollection when her mother was still alive:

And she also reminded me with emotional affection that she had never heard a harsh word or insult against her come out of my mouth.

But he would take out his pent-up rage with his theological pessimism, so opposite to that of Pelagius. The following year Adeodatus died (had the great doctor of the Church treated his son well?) and the narrative part of his Confessions ends. The rest of the next four chapters are mere homilies for new converts.

If we ignore them (books X to XIII of his Confessions), it seems very significant that Augustine ended his book with this great account of his mother. As my father told me, ‘Faith is suckled’. And as Monica told her son: ‘Where I was’, in her dream of the rule, ‘there you were’. The rest—the coming theology of Augustine—followed from there.

No wonder that the year Augustine died, 430 c.e., was the year in which the Dark Ages began. When I see the astronomical damage done to the white man by the Imperial Church, that Church of which Augustine was its great architect, I increasingly admire Nietzsche’s The Antichrist. Unlike Cervantes, Goethe, Dante, Shakespeare and Augustine himself, the German philosopher was a ‘man against his time’, a poet against the Christian Age. Now, thanks to new ways of refuting Christianity besides Nietzsche’s—Richard Carrier’s mythicism and the autobiographical genre I want to inaugurate (which precisely shows that faith is indeed a programme installed in us by our parents)—, the mental virus for the white man implanted by deranged theologians could, potentially, cease to infect us.

Giovanni di Balduccio, Tomb of St Augustine in Pavia, Italy.

Categories
Child abuse Psychology So-called saints

Augustine, 2

Augustine and his mother Monica (1846) by Ary Scheffer.

BOOK II: Spends a year at home before going to Carthage

I want to remember now my past uglinesses and the carnal dullness of my soul… In my adolescence I burned with desire to be filled with the baser things… Your anger against me was increasing… burning in the flames of my concupiscence… At least, I should have paid more attention to the voice of your clouds warning those who marry that you will suffer the tribulations of the flesh, but I forgive you [1 Cor 7:28].

This poor devil, elevated to the greatest Father of the Church for all Christendom (Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant), already believed that sex was sinful even within marriage! On the next page Augustine continues:

Made a eunuch for the kingdom of heaven, I would have sighed happily for your embraces [Mt 19:12]… I was lost at sixteen.

And here it is clear what it means to be a slave to the parental introject (in his case, a mental slave to his mother’s engulfing mind), and why I say that the idea of the deity is but a sublimation of the maternal (or paternal) image:

She wanted me—and I remember how insistently she asked me in secret—not to fornicate… The words, however, were yours, though I didn’t know it. I thought you were silent and that it was she who spoke. Therefore, I despised you, her son, the son of your servant [his mother] and your servant [Augustine], who didn’t cease to talk to me through her.

With such an ogre of a super-ego it is no wonder that further down on the same page he added about his nascent libidinous impulse:

I wallowed in my slime as if it were balm and precious ointment, and to mire me…

 

BOOK III: Going to Carthage

To love and be loved was the sweetest thing for me, especially if I got to enjoy the beloved’s body…

He was already nineteen years old and his pagan father, the only one who could have saved him from his wife’s abrasive behaviour, had died.

But you know very well, O light of my heart, that I had no knowledge of the counsel of your Apostle at that time.

In a sense he did, as we saw in the previous section. Augustine was unaware that the self is a structure, and that it can be programmed at the whim of one’s parents, either for good or for evil.

What only delighted, excited and kindled me was to love, seek and embrace strongly not this or that sect, but wisdom itself, whatever it might be. These were the words that excited and burned me, and the only thing that dampened my ardour was not to find the name of Christ there. For this name, Lord, the name of my Saviour and your Son, I drank it piously with my mother’s milk, and by your mercy I kept it engraved in the depths of my heart.

By the way, I will never forget my father’s words: ‘Faith is suckled!’ in a tone of assertive gravity. And here is how the unconscious of Augustine’s mother had already perceived that her son, although he would flirt for a short time with Manichaeism and other pagan sects, was at heart a good Christian:

My mother, your faithful servant, wept for me, shedding tears… She dreamt, in fact, that she was standing on a wooden ruler all sad and afflicted and that there was coming towards her a young man with a bright, cheerful and smiling face. He asked her the reason for her sadness and her daily tears, not because he didn’t know it, but because he had something to tell her, as in such visions. When she had answered that her tears were for the loss of my soul, he told her to take courage and to look carefully and be attentive, for where she was, there I was also [my emphasis]. She looked and saw me standing beside her on the same ruler.

Monica’s unconscious captured her son perfectly, as he was: a good Christian.

When she told me the dream and I tried to interpret it as a message that she shouldn’t despair of one day being as I was at present, she promptly and without hesitation replied: ‘No, he didn’t say “where he is, there you are”, but “where you are, there he is”.

This sharp reply of my mother’s impressed me very much… I was more impressed by this reply than by the dream itself.

But as Augustine had not yet devoted himself body and soul to being a champion of Constantine’s still young faith, his mother ‘returned to the charge with greater entreaties and more abundant tears’ as he confesses in his Confessions.

Monica was a clinical case of what some YouTubers call a narcissistic mother: a phallic, possessive mother without ego boundaries between her and her son, whom she treats as a mere egoic object (cf. my Letter to mom Medusa).

Categories
Autobiography Literature

Last day!

There is something I would like to say about a commenter on this last day of the year.

Exactly four years ago Irrelevant Nobody (I.N.) posted a comment that impressed me so much that I later cited it as an important entry. On 31 December the following year I.N. did the same: a comment also promoted as a special entry. He was one of the commenters to whom I dedicated in this now-dying year an entry in ‘On commenters of WDH’, where I mentioned that I.N. had sent me an email telling me that he was planning to commit suicide.

Sometime later he sent me another email telling me that he hadn’t committed suicide yet but had postponed that plan, and I have not received any more emails from this European, although I confess I haven’t written to him either.

It is not the first or the last time I have noticed that those who say the most lucid things have had mental health problems. It reminds me of what I wrote about my sister Corina in my books on my family, which I have promised myself I will start translating tomorrow. The chiaroscuros of the only honourable member of my family (may she rest in peace) were striking: enormous psychic insight and then dense darkness!

But in fairness to my sister and to commenters who have struggled with mental issues, we must concede that the entire West is in a state of madness at present. As far as the country that since 1945 has captained the West is concerned, on Saturday I mentioned some horrible murders. And yesterday I saw another YouTube video of an American who had decapitated his mother, and put her head in a bag which he left in a stranger’s truck.

I am convinced that to understand the folie en masse suffered by the West, it is imperative to understand the trauma model of mental disorders (which is why tomorrow, the first day of 2025, I will begin the formal translation of my trilogy). This is a model that is never taught in universities because Big Pharma dominates not only the psychiatric profession, but ideologically wields considerable influence in the faculties where clinical psychology is taught. The power of corporations today is such that we can only understand it if we compare it to the power that the Church wielded in the Middle Ages.

The last of my three autobiographical books, which I finished this year.

I hope that I.N. has survived his suicidal depression. I advised him to write his own trilogy (which made me see the light) and that he will return to his habit of commenting here on the last day of each year…

Categories
Child abuse Sponsor

Soldier

I haven’t finished what I said yesterday in ‘Emergency’: a word I put in inverted commas because what I mean is an emergent condition of the human soul, in the sense of developing great compassion for animals tormented by those I call Neanderthals, as well as a religious attraction to great art (virtues Adolf Hitler had).

These days I have reached my financial nadir. I have never been in such need of funds as I am now. And of course: it’s all related to my radical worldview.

Since Lulu Press de-platformed my account of our books in English, a very important source of income for me collapsed almost to zero insofar as almost nobody buys my books in Spanish.

True, two generous sponsors give me a fixed monthly amount and have done so regularly for some time now. If I had more sponsors I could cover my expenses.

In the last few days I’ve basically been interacting only with Benjamin. Why?

He has confessed in several threads of this site to the abuse he suffered at home as a child and the psychological havoc that abuse wreaked as a teenager. This is similar to what another commenter has confessed, Joseph Walsh, who is now serving a seven-year sentence in the UK for thoughtcrime. The difference between these two Englishmen, Joseph and Benjamin, is that the former was seduced by the dark side by admiring Charles Manson, while the latter tries to cure himself by staying on the light side, as he has also confessed on this site by reading the authors of the trauma model of mental disorders and also those who refute the pseudo-scientific medical model of those disorders.

In previous years there have been other smart commenters who sometimes hinted that they too had been abused. But their testimonies were only a glimpse of what could have happened: they didn’t speak out. I am convinced that chronic neuroses and even psychoses are directly proportional to burying the traumatic past without having processed it properly. It is precisely because of this universal tendency to repress that past that some fall to the dark side. If those who were tormented as children or adolescents were able to say it all, in an orderly way in lyrically polished texts, they wouldn’t have psychiatric symptoms nor would they be in jail. But that is the work of the gods because if there is one thing that hurts horrendously, it is precisely remembering the psychic tortures to which our crazed parents, and their sold-out psychiatrists, subjected us when our tender age prevented us from fleeing such hellish homes.

Lágrimas (Tears, the last book of my trilogy).

What is all this about what I was saying yesterday, the discrepancy between National Socialism and white nationalism? I have noticed that only those of us who have been so horribly beaten by life that we couldn’t lead normal lives have been able to embrace the National Socialist cause to the extent of rebelling against Christian ethics and atheistic hyper-Christianity. I think that’s why I don’t get the donations that white nationalist sites get. If adolescent suffering didn’t reach the levels it did in the lives of Joseph, Benjamin and myself, why pick a fight with society to the extent of transvaluing all its values?

Virtually all whites suffer from a universal trance: the trance of believing that Hitler was the bad guy of the 20th century (in reality, he was the noblest politician in all of Western history). Those of us who observe the herd mentality, that collective hypnosis that is now being called ‘mass formation’, know that it can only be broken if the System crucified you (as it crucified Joseph, Benjamin and myself). Otherwise one simply falls into the trance of the herd. In other words, of the commenters who have commented here, I know of no one who has been treated fairly by family and society and rebelled against the demonisation of National Socialism. Even Tom Goodrich, the author of Hellstorm, has confessed publicly that he was abused as a child (in his case, sexually abused).

My existential problem is that once I can see that many families murder the souls of their children with the help of so-called mental health professionals (as Jeffrey Masson rightly saw, any therapeutic intervention paid for by the abusive parents themselves is iatrogenic), I am also able to see other social lies. But the vast majority of racialists have not suffered hell caused by their parents and the psychiatrists hired by them (‘licensed slanderers’ the late Thomas Szasz used to call these child psychiatrists). If my observation is correct, that only the crucified ones can be ideologically resurrected, I will be condemned to monologue on this blog until the convergence of catastrophes that will unfold in this century starts to awaken some Aryans—if they awaken!

It’s a terrible situation, but I don’t think it admits another interpretation. The alternative interpretation would be that I am completely deluded and that the Christian question is in no way more serious than the Jewish question. But as I have already said in another article this month, if that is true white nationalists have been unwilling to argue this point on solid grounds. They simply ignore us.

Given that what I get in donations cannot pay all my bills, the easiest thing to do would be to give up The West’s Darkest Hour. But I won’t. I am like the proverbial Roman soldier who didn’t abandon his post even when the war was already lost.

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Daybreak Publishing

Schizogenic

These days, I am making final corrections to my trilogy before continuing the English translation, which, barring an accident*, I intend to devote myself to in earnest from next year onwards. It seems that commenter Benjamin is the only one who is paying attention to this aspect of my work: how maddening parents drive their children’s mad!

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(*) Ever since my younger sister died of what was apparently a sudden heart attack, I’ve been very alert to the fact that this can happen to any of us in unpredictable ways, so I urgently need to find someone to take care of this site if something similar to what happened to Corina were to happen to me (remember that when Eduardo Velasco passed away, his Evropa Soberana site disappeared after a while). I don’t mean that the custodian will add new entries if I should have a heart attack, but that he will continue to pay my hosting provider if something should happen to me.