I wrote yesterday about how my recovery feels strong, but I feel… shaky. One of the main reasons for this is that the issues with my grad school professor surfaced again after a couple decades, I know. So, I decided to do something about it.
When he sent the “apology” letter a couple weeks ago, I asked my therapist for a quick Zoom session, just to talk it through with her. I had decided not to “do anything” — that any reply would have been stimulating to him. And so, I didn’t.
But, then I got the tearful call from one of my former students revealing that she is another victim of this same shit, many decades after my own experience, and at the hands of someone entirely different–someone of a different generation and cultural experience. I called one of my mentors (she is also a former teacher of mine), and she was equally disheartened.
We have put together a plan of action that includes a letter calling for systemic change in our field, which after we edit a bit more, we will send to colleagues asking for signatures. Then, we hope to send the letter to the major journals in our field.
This feels like the right next step. I’m amazed at how many people want to tell their stories, even decades after the incidents. I shouldn’t be surprised at all.
What IS surprising is what a toll it is taking. I feel so, so tired. I feel almost lethargic and it take me a few beats before I can open the emails in my inbox about this. I care deeply, but I can’t go too fast with this work. It takes something out of me that surprises me. I feel tired in my workouts and like I’m even walking slower across campus… I am just weary of it all.
Day 391.
I Quit: Giving up Bulimia 