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elsewhere.”

      Gilda paused in her story telling for a moment of reflection, then spoke again, “you know, you could never imagine the burden that was lifted from me in that discussion with my parents. I didn’t have to go to university in order to retain their respect. I told them I’d sleep on it and think about it. Actually, it was late before I slept that night, because I did much thinking beforehand. I lay there, with my light on. I was looking at the ceiling as though it was the sky. I felt so light and free again. My parents loved me no matter what! No obnoxious teacher would ever again make me feel they didn’t. I felt like a butterfly again - for whom the sky was the limit.”

      “Indeed the sky is the limit I thought to myself again and again, until abruptly another thought penetrated deeply into my mind. The sky is not really the limit if I can’t go to university. I didn’t only go to university to please my parents. I wanted to myself. And if I can’t do what I want to, then I’m back in a cocoon of sorts again. No way, I thought. I mulled it over in my mind some more. For the first time since my grade five days, I was fully conscious now that I didn’t have to do well at studies to retain the respect of my parents, but, and it was a big but - I wanted to go on to university myself.

      It seems at that point I became fully aware that I had always wanted to study and do well academically because that is the life I liked for myself and now wanted to continue. The fact that it pleased my parents was just an added bonus, and would be in the future as well, no doubt. That’s what I wanted for myself, regardless, to continue my education. If I can’t go on to do what I really want for myself, then the sky isn’t the limit. I’d be letting those hawks drive me right out of the sky, and I can’t do that. But then, there are obstacles. Oh Gilda it’s late and you are tired now, I told myself, go to sleep and think about it tomorrow.”

      “I slept late next morning, and all that day I just sat and lay around the house resting my body and letting my mind go through the process of restoration. When evening came, my father was home in plenty of time for dinner at seven. This wasn’t always so with him, but he was making a special effort now to be with mother and I in this time of difficulty.

      “It was mostly small talk at dinner and around the house that evening; talk about how nice it would be if my brother was near home to join us, incidentally he is doing post-graduate study at a university far from home; how when my father was just another accountant in his firm he had more time at home, carefree time; how hard work and promotion had brought prosperity to the family, but also brought its responsibilities, and these were not left behind at the office at five o’clock but tagged along with him. We discussed the pros and cons of this life of responsibility and decided it was very worthwhile overall, because it was fulfilling.

      “Because of the spontaneous way that conversation evolved that evening, I feel sure there was no intention on my parent’s part to spur me on to higher goals, yet it did set me thinking about fulfillment. As we watched television together that evening it kept popping into my mind. However, mostly I wanted rest and relaxation, so I kept it to myself. I slept well that night and well into mid-morning. I awakened feeling refreshed and restored, almost fully restored. My mind was active again now, and thinking about the problems of life. The thought foremost in my mind all day long was the dreadful thought of defeat that would come over my life if I did not return to university. I became more fully conscious that day that I had had two incentives spurring me on to university. One incentive was the example and desire of my parents all right, but, a second was that I really and truly wanted to for myself. I pondered and came to the conclusion that the second reason was indeed the more important to me. Whatever influence the first incentive had over me was gone. It didn’t matter whether my parents wanted me to or not, I wanted to go to university for myself, and not to go would be a dreadful and shattering defeat. As I look back now, I see it would have been a very traumatic defeat.

      “I surveyed my high school performance in dealing with problem teachers - and students - and felt that, contrary to what the psychiatrist at the hospital thought, I had done well. My downfall had been that I had let down my guard because I had led myself to believe there would be no need for such guard at university as there had been in high school. Now I was becoming reconciled to the fact that it may be the same all the way through-through university, perhaps through life. I was now prepared to dig in my heels and press on through university as I had through high school. Not to do so was to let those obnoxious ones rob me of life as I wanted it for myself. The thought of allowing that to happen was devastating to say the least. I thought over these things again and again all day long, and the more I thought of them the stronger my desire became to return to the fray at university.

      “That evening at dinner the conversation was light for awhile, as it had been the previous evening. It was mostly my father talking about some of the interesting things happening in his business nowadays. I did wonder, at the time, if he had a hidden motive in this, trying to arouse my interest in a business career. He told me later it was not so, it was just sociable conversation. Nevertheless at a convenient time I interrupted that conversation with a rather abrupt and excited statement. ‘Mom and Dad, I’ve decided what I am going to do from here on! I want you to know.’

      “My father was always the first to take me up on anything I came out with in the line of ideas and suggestions. “You’ve decided already?” he asked. Have you thought it through carefully, whatever it is?

      “‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’ve thought it through carefully, and I’m going back to university, next week.’

      “‘O-h-h-h!’ replied my father in a non committed manner. But then after a brief pause he added in positive tones, ‘You feel that well already?’

      “‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I do.’

      “‘You don’t have to go back you know,’ my father said affectionately. ‘There are plenty of other roads in life to choose from.’ He paused, then continued, ‘but if you want to....’

      “‘But dear,’ my mother interjected, ‘the doctor says that perhaps you shouldn’t go to university, it may be too much for you.’

      “I looked at them in wide eyed surprise at that statement. Then I felt determination asserting itself in my mind. ‘Mom,’ I said, very emphatically, ‘I do not intend to listen to that doctor now any more than I listened to him in the hospital. I’m going to university, and in four years time I am going to graduate!’

      “My mother was awestruck. My father arose from his chair, walked around to my side of the dining table to the back of my chair, put his hands firmly on the sides of my shoulders, squeezed them together, placed his cheek against mine for a second, then kissed me on the face and said, ‘Gilda, you go right ahead if that’s what you want to do, and any way I can possibly help you I will.’

      “‘Thank you Dad,’ I said, ‘but this is something I have to do on my own. Your morale support is welcome. You’re financial support I will need, and I want to live at home and commute as I have been doing. Other than that, the struggle is mine. I have to do it on my own.’

      “My father rubbed the palms of his hands together with enthusiasm as he returned to his place at the table and began eating his dinner in hurried excitement. It was not often I had seen him that way. My mother was stuck for words. ‘But your health, Gilda - the doctor -.’

      “My father spoke up to reassure her, ‘Mother dear, in this case, I have much more faith in Gilda than I have in the doctor. The doctor meant well, but he doesn’t know Gilda like I know Gilda. I think she can do it.’

      “Mother quivered a smile. ‘Okay,’ she said, in rather musical tones that were in complete submission to my father’s persuasion.

      “I was on my way in life again - like a butterfly. Only this time I would be wary of the hawks who are ready to peck me out of the sky and send me crashing to the ground.

      Gilda paused, took a deep relaxing breath, as though a marathon had just ended. Telling the kind of story that most people, including psychiatrists, are not familiar with is stressful indeed. Gilda had no idea of how Dr. Eldren was taking her story. For all she knew, she could, as often

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