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Family of Origin
I miss my sister...for the first time in say 55 years.
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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 654873" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>When I was 34 or so, I did another audacious thing. I left a secure but stultifying good enough job to go to graduate school. In a beautiful, magical place this graduate school was part of one of the best universities in the world. There were only a handful of fellow students, who had came from the world over to study here.</p><p></p><p>Finally I have shed my caterpillar skin, I thought. Only those students who had been chosen for the program attended seminars around large tables, except one retired man who was interested in the subject area, I forget what it was.</p><p></p><p>One afternoon before class, out of the blue this man began to chat. "There is something damaged and vulnerable about you", he said. "As if you have been severely injured by something in your past. You have been traumatized, I think. I see it in you."</p><p></p><p>My presence in this place, this program, had signified my belonging to a beautiful world. Promise and becoming were now me. I had believed that I was living my butterfly life.</p><p></p><p>In this moment, I had been revealed by this stranger for what I thought I had left behind, but in fact was still: damaged, defective, victimized.</p><p></p><p>My secret to him was no secret. He had seen it, in me, that mark. My shame at that moment was wordless. As if he had pinned me down dead, that stranger had named me. Metamorphosis ended.</p><p></p><p>Ten years later caterpillar me received the graduate degree. The promise of transformation.. of leaving degradation behind...had long been been extinguished.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 654873, member: 18958"] When I was 34 or so, I did another audacious thing. I left a secure but stultifying good enough job to go to graduate school. In a beautiful, magical place this graduate school was part of one of the best universities in the world. There were only a handful of fellow students, who had came from the world over to study here. Finally I have shed my caterpillar skin, I thought. Only those students who had been chosen for the program attended seminars around large tables, except one retired man who was interested in the subject area, I forget what it was. One afternoon before class, out of the blue this man began to chat. "There is something damaged and vulnerable about you", he said. "As if you have been severely injured by something in your past. You have been traumatized, I think. I see it in you." My presence in this place, this program, had signified my belonging to a beautiful world. Promise and becoming were now me. I had believed that I was living my butterfly life. In this moment, I had been revealed by this stranger for what I thought I had left behind, but in fact was still: damaged, defective, victimized. My secret to him was no secret. He had seen it, in me, that mark. My shame at that moment was wordless. As if he had pinned me down dead, that stranger had named me. Metamorphosis ended. Ten years later caterpillar me received the graduate degree. The promise of transformation.. of leaving degradation behind...had long been been extinguished. [/QUOTE]
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Family of Origin
I miss my sister...for the first time in say 55 years.
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