Incarcerated as it were, imprisoned in images from long ago, I have been trying to think my way out of it. As children we were not allowed to develop any skills seriously — we should perform well for others, yes, but only as long as we remained amateurs. As adults, can we not go further?
1. Because we were children, we were defective. Not valid and incapable of becoming valid are the key points.
2. School and teachers believed it was completely possible to do things well. They did not worry unduly about what was wrong or might be wrong, and they let things become good.
3. In Reeducation one was to discover and confess one’s defects, according to a certain rubric, over and over again.
4. Meanwhile at work we were constantly exhorted about eschewing the perfectionism of which we had been accused — not because there was any evidence that we were engaging in the sin of perfectionism but because we must be guilty, given our ages and stations.
5. You must not simply walk along — you must be tripped up and then handle it, be tripped up and then handle it — each time with injuries a little more permanent, in the hope you would never grow strong enough to leave home. “You are defective, but we will tolerate it.” “You are defective, and only we will tolerate it.”
If our beings could not confirm and supplement theirs more perfectly, they did not want to see us again.
The depth of their pain was a terrible thing to see, knowing that our separateness from them was the cause and being powerless to merge so they could feel some relief; being organisms that were separating further and being unable to change this even for them.
I see who it is they wanted me to be, who it was they essentially tried to blitzkrieg me into being. Reeducation thought one should make the gestures of such a person, but I do not agree.