Yesterday I stumbled across some letters I’d written to my deceased grandmother in 2008. At the time, I wrote to her because I was sworn to “school” secrecy, but torn about my illustrious tenure.
It was really something to look back on my “school” induced state of turmoil. Cult experts and mental health professionals call this state cognitive dissonance. Those readers who’ve been inside the hallowed halls, or those who’ve been in other cults, will likely recognize their own versions of cognitive dissonance in letter #1; letter #2 makes it even clearer, which is the next post:
Dear Gran,
Since I can’t talk to anyone one but K about “school”, I am going to talk to you.
What the fuck am I doing?
Or should I say, “am I doing what I’m supposed to be doing?” God knows I wouldn’t have a job that pays me 50K/year without “School”. It’s possible that I wouldn’t be married either. In fact, I would probably still be stuck in the same loop I’d been in for so many years and feeling more and more ashamed of myself for it — which, of course, would perpetuate everything.
I find myself thinking, though, what if I were putting that $350/month into my violin lessons instead of going to class. Would I? Have I been suckered into a cult? or is this a real thing? Is “school” exactly what I have always sought?
You know the old saying, “Be careful what you wish for, you might get it.” Is this a classic case? I feel so far away from me, or who I believe “me” to be – – which could quite possibly be an illusion anyway.
But I’m sworn to secrecy and sometimes, often times, talking in class, or talking with K isn’t enough. So I talk to you. You are beyond this world and your perspective is way beyond — seems silly to even say so. But my point is who would know. Maybe Sharon’s right — I shouldn’t be wasting my time, their time and yet before Sharon’s appearance (with her big, scary presence) I felt I was getting some real help, some deep understanding, something I can’t get anywhere else, or in any way.
I can’t talk to Chris about it — it wouldn’t even be fair. I can’t talk to my friends. Who do I talk to? How do I possibly know what’s right. Is this “school” good for me? Is it making me more neurotic? Who is this woman and what is she doing with her life?
Well, I can’t even write about it, Gran … I hope that you can give me some guidance from whereever you are.
Love and miss you,
Your granddaughter.