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Katherine de Vos Devine's avatar

Jessica Dore wrote about the difference between cognitive behavioral therapy and narrative therapy in her newsletter (“Offerings”) this week. She posits that the former puts all of the blame and responsibility for maladaptive behaviors on the individual, while the latter acknowledges the role of other actors, communities, and social structures - and does so through re-telling one’s story to oneself.

This piece gave me the foundation for a new story about my decision to pursue a PhD, do a million self-destructive things to earn it, but ultimately take a different path.

There should be no shame - the different path is a thriving legal practice that allows me to think about the thing that “feels nourishing and explosive and electric all the time” AND comfortably support my family. It’s great, I’m grateful, there but for the grace of grantors go I, etc.

Yet, there is still so much shame. I ultimately didn’t make it work, and that means I wasn’t as “good enough, smart enough, potential-filled enough” as everybody thought. Right?

Or maybe I “left an emotionally and financially exploitative system,” in an act of self-care, strategy, and emotional maturity. Maybe I stopped hanging out in all the wrong places and asking for affirmation from all the wrong people. Maybe I deliberately got out, and just can be grateful for the freedom and opportunity to do so, which isn’t available to everyone.

That’s a hell of a new narrative. Thank you.

Cate Denial's avatar

I wonder about the class dimensions of academia as a MLM, too. When I was in graduate school I lived on a maximum of $17K a year, which had to cover research trips and conferences etc. I couldn't get another job because I was an international student, and I couldn't get loans for the same reason. But I couldn't wrap my head around the exploitation, because I grew up without money. To get paid (something) to sit and read books of an afternoon blew my mind. I wasn't working a physically demanding job (my dad was a tire fitter), or on a job site for hours and hours (it didn't occur to me that I was actually working hours and hours, because so much of it was from home). I was the equivalent of the Steve Zahn character in "That Thing You Do" who goes, "a man in a REALLY NICE camper wants to sign us to a label!" It felt like abundance. It absolutely was not.

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