La tristesse — lo que pienso para mí

HMMM, I think I should undergo EMDR to get rid of precisely this problem: guilt over having hurt my mother so by doing the Ph.D. I see that this is some way I now torture myself rather than recognize how I was tortured for doing the Ph.D. Instead of recognize how much that hurt, I feel guilty about the pain I allegedly caused by just being someone who did that. The other issue is the pain of having to try so hard not to be who I am, repress my actual intellectual interests and more, in the present situation.

OR I should just start saying it is not a crime to be me or to be like me. This idea that I should not have done the Ph.D. because it hurt people, and that I must therefore atone for it now, is so obnoxious. Anway, the post said this, when I was in a painful state:

Once again I will speak of all those dire warnings about how doing a Ph.D. would mean living where it snowed and having to be research oriented and publish, and how I would not like it and not be able to do it. I probably wanted to teach sweet little classes and play the guitar, and did not understand that teaching at a university would not be like that.

Teaching at a university is living in the humid suburbs far from anything, including libraries, and giving basic courses I was glad to graduate out of teaching after I finished the M.A., and sitting in the office in tears between classes because of the cognitive dissonance and the research dreams, and other high level dreams, one has renounced to atone for having done the Ph.D.

I realize this is the punishment for not having been the society girl my mother wanted to have. I did not mean to hurt her and my brother so badly by doing this Ph.D., or my father for that matter. I know I owe them a lot of suffering, I know it hurts them that I did this and that later it hurt them more to think that I would do anything else, get degrees less genteel than this one, so I could work at a higher level than this.

So I am doing as they thought I should, teaching sweet little classes and playing the guitar, and it hurts. Smash my fingers, do whatever you must do to me to feel better, I am just so sorry. I wish my mother had killed me when she wanted to, back then.

And do not be alarmed by this. It was just always so important  that we not hurt our mother whom we knew we had already hurt so much. And my efforts in that direction did me so much harm, and I am so angry about it, and sad about it. And it is that Reeducation said that these things were true, I really was too intimidating.

I wish I could stop going through this. Break through to what is behind it. What is behind it … just the pain, perhaps. It is as though I were trying to change roles, perhaps, identify with the other person, not with myself. Before psychotherapy I had not internalized these things, had not learned to “accept” that it really was hurtful to others that I was intellectually oriented and that I needed to change.

Axé.

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Filed under Banes, What Is A Scholar?

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