Lack of love and security lead me to antisocial tendency

Lack of Love:

Mother always hated, abused me with her lack of love. Why didn’t she abort me? it would have been easier for her and for “no-me”.

The light of Winnicot about the concept of holding and anti-social tendency, helped me to confirm my says.

https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Donald_Winnicott&action=edit&section=3

I found a terrible echo in this amazing portrait of a child soldier during 39-45 war. His distress was mine in another world.

{Concept of holding

Out of Winnicott’s paediatric work with children and their mothers developed his influential concept of the “holding environment”.[1] Winnicott considered that “the foundations of health are laid down by the ordinary mother in her ordinary loving care of her own baby”,[2] central to which was the mother’s attentive holding of her child;

Winnicott considered that the “mother’s technique of holding, of bathing, of feeding, everything she did for the baby, added up to the child’s first idea of the mother”, as well as fostering the ability to experience the body as the place wherein one securely lives.[3] Extrapolating the concept of holding from mother to family and the outside world, Winnicott saw as key to healthy development “the continuation of reliable holding in terms of the ever-widening circle of family and school and social life”.[4]

Anti-social tendency

Connected to the concept of holding is what Winnicott called the anti-social tendency, something which he argued “may be found in a normal individual, or in one that is neurotic or psychotic”.[1] The delinquent child (Winnicott thought) was looking for a sense of secure holding lacking in their family of origins from society at large.[2] He considered antisocial behaviour as a cry for help, fuelled by a sense of loss of integrity, when the familial holding environment was inadequate or ruptured.[3]}

I became anorexic, different, lonely child. My anorexia was a cry for help, my mother failed to hold me and failed to secure me.

I used to prefer solitude and became shy and anti-social person with addiction for kleptomania.

My passion for dolls helped me to identify suffering and sorrow felt inside me as a child unable to tell my mother how she was hurting me with her huge lack of love toward me.

At an early age, I had very strange empty feelings even she was in the same room than me, always busy and occupied with cleaning or anything else “very important”.

http://www.antablog.com/anorectic-mother-mother-of-anorexic-person/

As I was addicted to this fairy invented love, I demanded, guilty and ashamed, “my” bottle-feed, (being 3 years old), before sister and brothers woke up. Mother was used to this ritual and hold it out to me without any eye-catching. She ignored me, despised my entire zero person. I dived in a well of death.

http://www.antablog.com/anorexia-helps-to-survive/

I went on a cold green leather sofa, and in a corner, I drunk this “poison” elixir; hungry as I was, of something which not existed between her end me. Those moments never left me released, even today.

All my life I knew she won’t be there for me, never; discouraging me, disrespecting me. This abuse left no physical traces but destroyed my happiness, my self-esteem making me dive into deep melancholy and silence. The only trace of her was her rejection and unability to consider me.

I knew she would lie to me one day or another, I depicted her as “DANGER”.

http://www.antablog.com/betrayal-to-betrayal-artist-life-residue-of-solitude/

Dolls had joined my secret world since the beginning, and knew all of it, helping me to never give up, and invited me into her fantastic eyes and perfect faces. I believed in her; never they would betray me.

Her beauty and strong phallic presence protected me against the dark mother.

Dolls saved my life and my Teddy bear as well. But one day, coming back from school I discovered mother had strowed my dear friend to the bin, and it was too late as the garbagemen had passed.

All my dolls have been cherished and never forgotten. I remember their smell, their soft skin and their sparkling hair.

I still in love with dolls. I’ve made many serials of pics about dolls in situ.

Akoya, my first Korean doll, travelled a long time with me as my model and friend. After I adopted Lutèce and Lisbonne. They still live here in my home, hidden from bad influenced persons.

Post to be revised.

Alice ODILON 25 DECEMBRE 2017.

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