It was a refusal of ventriloquism. One could say it was Didion’s “failure of nerves.” It also coincided, alas, with Reeducation’s distortions, Reeducation’s idea that nerves should fail. But far more fundamentally it was a refusal of ventriloquism. My attempt to interpret it as a “failure of nerves” in the sense of that senseless Reeducated concept “fear of success” complicated the matter very greatly, as did the consideration I gave to Reeducation’s concept that a failure of nerves would be a sign of health.
This is to say that if it was a failure of nerves it was not that tout court in the sense indicated above or in the sense of performance anxiety; it was a failure of the nerve to refuse ventriloquism in a strong way, and that may be precisely what Didion means. And yes, Reeducation had clouded my sight and thus contributed a great deal to my weakness at that time. So I succeeded at refusing ventriloquism, but did so in such a way as to pay an almost unbearable price.
Once again, I do not think I had a choice; the refusal came from below and it was good. It would have been ideal to have been in a position to handle it better, but I was not. This is the best interpretation of the matter I have now, and it has taken years of thought.
I am so tired from and of trying to think myself out of that hole and of working with the material results of having fallen into it. But I want to understand what happened so as to know how I fell and what my positive goals were, so I can know what I am climbing from and how to recognize the exit from this trench. I want to know how it will feel to walk through that gate. I want to begin incorporating that feeling to myself, and walk in the direction it seems strongest.
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I am also so tired from and of putting disordered personalities first, giving them special status, catering to them. This last fatigue is causing me to snap at people. That is a bad thing but I have the odd feeling it is a necessary phase. I am tired of being solicitous and polite in a way that lets disordered personalities too far into my life. My goal is to ignore disordered people or laugh kindly — to be pleasant but not give them center stage.
I have tended to think traffic with such people was required because they were the ones who shared with me certain kinds of trauma and were able and willing to talk about it. But I think there are people with those trauma levels who aren’t disordered; those are the interlocutors I should seek on these matters.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 
And: work builds confidence; this is true and I know it. But: since Reeducation I’m often too weak to work.
Having tried to cure that with discipline and time management, or trying to say I was now suffering from fear of success, just compounded it all.
I have a lot of shame though about not being able to work to capacity and a lot of conflict about the fact that if I get out of town, into any sort of positive atmosphere, all my energy and focus come back. This would be fine if I could afford to be gone more, but I cannot, so I am ashamed about not being able to accustom, and so it goes on.
I have to address this even more directly because the shame itself is so disabling.
You can write me any time. I went through it, but I’m not disordered. And lots of my friends are the same. We saw opportunities and we took them and that’s how we climbed out.
OK, I am nixing the other post in case my parents read this blog. Some of the things they said, and that I had put in their place but that Reeducation wanted me to live in, so that now I have as flashbacks.
Post was called: SOME OF THE THINGS THEY SAID.
“We had you, but it was with doubts and then, misgivings.”
“We cannot easily afford you, and we also know you are scheming to get our money.”
“You are perfect.”
“We do not believe you can be competent.”
“You are the most intelligent person in the world.”
“We love you because we have to, but we do not like you at all.”
“Play the piano and try to look pretty; then, with luck, some man will step up to take care of you. Otherwise, the way you are, you will be out on the street.”
“I love you so much. All I ever wanted was you.”
“If you think this is cruel, just wait to see what I could do to really make you cry. In the Congo they chop children right to pieces.”
“We know you very well.”
(I don’t know why I keep thinking about this, the question of “en que momento me jodi” … as though I could have stopped it; I will feel better when I realize I could not have stopped it, did all I could to stop it; I think about it though because I still have the negative part of the results; and so on and so forth; I wanted to leave the scene of violence and did not have the wherewithal to do so … the emotional strength to do so without any moral or financial support, the emotional strength to do so while also handling heavy opposition to my leaving.)
(I want to forgive myself for having been raised as I was, for having been as fragile as I am because of it, and so on, but it seems I do not forgive myself for not having overcome it and I also do not give myself credit for having overcome as much as I have.)
And again: what I did not like about Reeducation was the way they made you live in, relive, make as real as possible, your worst moments; everything else was false.