So, my second class back after San Francisco, the professor hands me a paper back and says I need to rewrite it or get a failing mark.
!
Ouch.
I felt nothing, and expressed gratitude for the opportunity to rewrite it.
It was in the car on the way home when the universe caved in. I felt embarrassed and ashamed and frightened. The old tape of "I'm not actually smart, I can just bull-shit really well and nobody has figured it out yet," started playing loud and clear. "They are finally seeing through you. You don't have a good mind at all. You can't possibly earn a masters. A PhD? Hah! Just go home and do the dishes and laundry and be grateful somebody even married you...."
Hmmm. A case of "all or nothing" thinking?
So I had a good cry, and Phil said all the right things and was very wonderful.
The truth is, I don't know why I get A's in school. Yes, I work hard, but mostly it seems as if my brain just knows what to write and teachers like it. I just live in the same body and watch the show. I'm certainly not the brightest and best, but I do okay. So, if my brain ever stopped performing, I'd be sunk.
The experience made me realize how much of my worth I place in my academic ability. It was an eye-opener to see how quickly I felt completely worthless because of one academic "try again." Perhaps I haven't experienced enough "failure" in school to develop more of a resiliency and pluck.
And it made me reflect on pride. I haven't encountered much discussion of pride in my Swedenborgian context, though we do have buzz-words like "selfishness" and "proprium" which are basically the same thing. But it seems to me that I struggle with pride a lot. Pride is a brittle thing. It doesn't take much to shatter it, and it shatters. All or nothing. I think it is connected to my craving for perfection. I feel anxious if I don't do every little thing possibly expected of me, and then a little extra credit. It has been a spiritual exercise NOT to seek perfection, but just aim to be "good enough." It brings up so much fear, and I feel like achievement is meaningless, if it isn't "my best."
So my pride took a real hit when this loved and respected professor told me I did the worst in the class. How appalling that he should see me being glaringly inadequate! It doesn't matter that this wouldn't be a basis upon which I would stop liking or respecting someone, I leapt instantly into the fear that he could never respect me again.
But it was more than that, it was a fear that attached my human worth to my academic performance. Somewhere inside, I felt a fear on a scale appropriate to a life or death situation. Maybe it traces back to my cave-man, or rather cave-woman genes, when belonging in a group ensured survival far better than isolation from the group.
Who knows.
It was a bad moment.
Anyway, since this blog is meant to be a historic record of what theological school can look like for a General Church raised woman, it seemed apropos to announce my failures as well as my successes. I wouldn't want any subsequent seekers to have a warped view of what this process can look like.
(Though it is debatable whether anything I could write wouldn't be a little warped....)
Thoughts and reflections on life, the universe, and everything, from a fifty-something Canadian goddess....
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