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  •  When I was 17-18 or so (18+ / 0-)

    I first heard of Sylvia Plath when some publisher came out with a re-issue of "The Bell Jar." This was in the 1980s. I had a troubled home. I'd been told, basically, I didn't deserve happiness, because I wasn't perfect. You know, I had let people down, by not being perfect, so I deserved the abuse and neglect that came my way.

    But over-achiever Sylvia Plath was described in a review as a "perfect 1950s specimen." She had everything I was supposed to attain, to be perfect. Her life wasn't golden. She had at least one mental breakdown. Her husband was an abusive philanderer. She ended up killing herself.

    I nearly had a mental breakdown in my late teens, reckoning with the failure of the myth of "perfection," to keep its own promises, the myth I'd been taught to chase.

    And then I was free.

    It's here they got the range/ and the machinery for change/ and it's here they got the spiritual thirst. --Leonard Cohen

    by karmsy on Sun Mar 17, 2013 at 07:10:44 PM PDT

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