Throughout the long history of mankind no one has written a thorough and comprehensive analysis of his or her parents.
But how is this possible? In my fourth book of Whispering Leaves (WL) we saw that, over the existence of humanity, parents have killed thousands of millions of their children, literally. Recall the chapter “The infanticidal psychoclass: references,” which served me greatly for adding a hundred or so references to Wikipedia and Citizendium articles on infanticide.
Why no one of the surviving children of these parents who killed one of his brothers or sisters analyzed his parents? I don’t mean savage tribes, but the more developed societies with knowledge of writing. Was it such an infinitely devastating experience for the surviving sibling? Was it because it would be a crushing inner experience to process in one’s mind what the parents did?
Once talking about infanticide with Luz, a former high school friend who read my Letter to mom Medusa (the first book of WL), she made the astute observation:
“Infanticide is no longer done that way. Now parents are murdering their children’s souls.”
Never mind these are not the exact words of friend Luz. I had no booklet on the street and didn’t write what she said. But that’s exactly what she meant.
Unlike the ancient world—cf. again my fourth book of WL—modern society prohibits parents to kill their children. But the fact is that neither in the ancient civilized world, say, Greece and Rome, nor in the modern world has a dissident mind of parental behavior left a comprehensive biographical record about the dynamics of his or her family. Why then, if parents have committed literally thousands of Holocausts with their children, killing either their bodies or, as Luz said, murdering their souls? Why no one of the surviving children of these modern parents who have schizophrenized one of his brothers or sisters analyzed the schizophrenogenic parent? True: in their books John Modrow and Alice Miller advanced the basics of how their parents murdered their souls. But a thorough autobiographical analysis, not just a basic autobiographical sketch such as Modrow’s or Miller’s has not been written.
It is not clear that I can do it in this blog. As I’ve confessed elsewhere, my position in life is pretty precarious. But if nothing interrupts me while I write up entry after entry the time will arrive when, along with my WL, this blog [I meant the one in Spanish] might become the first complete record of a family who behaved horribly with some of their members, to the extent of partially destroying their minds and lives.
I feel very strange at this writing, that I have to be the first in history. But to my knowledge, there is no man or woman on earth who has carried the legacy of Alice Miller to its ultimate consequences.
Slightly edited from the original in Spanish