Last night she dreamed she was still in graduate school and had not yet become Doc Bubbles. One of her professors was angry with her and said she should not continue, even though the dissertation was practically complete. Not-yet-doc was devastated. She found her way to a reception desk at health services and asked what they could do for an emotional emergency and they shook their heads and said they had no time for that. Continuing to despair, she tried to decide whether being a perpetual ABD (all but dissertation) was good enough but mustered up the strength to fight, and sought out her other committee members to argue her case.
Hmm, perhaps she feels the catechumenate is like the process of initiation required for the lofty states of education. Or perhaps she feels that this process is stripping her of these markers of her worldly accomplishments and identity. Or both.
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