My Own Struggle
January 20, 2012 § 3 Comments
“I didn’t turn to Peter. This was my own struggle, and it was too profound, too wholly and intimately mine, to turn to anyone else. Had I been in a city, I might have sought out an analyst, but I wasn’t in the city, and as it was I knew this was a labor I had to complete myself, in my own way and on my own terms. It was not something Peter had ever gone through; I suspected that if I told him, he wouldn’t be able to understand because his own life was so clear, so satisfying and psychically untroubled. Possibly I was a little ashamed of my own pain, which was taking place in the midst of the abundantly good life that I had been fortunate to find but with which I wasn’t satisfied, because I was too inadequate a human being.
During all of this I never considered leaving, or rather I considered leaving every second of every day and always found such a departure unimaginable. Returning to my old life was no longer possible, but when I looked around and told myself, This is my home; this is my home till I die, that, too, seemed equally unimaginable. ”
Sharon Butala, The Perfection of the Morning