Diary 1936-1942

See notes about this project and the translations on the Diaries home page. 

July 28, 1936

I read Zweig's "Die Heilung durch den Geist"[1] yesterday. It made a colossal impression on me. On the one hand, as proof of what people have been able to achieve (Baker-Eddy), and on the other: what a failure I am! I keep thinking about what exactly is causing me to fail at so many things, and I'm convinced that it's fear, always and everywhere only fear. A few days ago, I noted fear as one of the sources of social feelings – I'm convinced today that this is very true. From this, I can trace the source of a lack of authority – a lack of fear that is implanted – and this, in turn, comes from a lack of binding between character traits. I am a jelly, as Albert Willner said. The same Strammheit [toughness] that is necessary for a well-adjusted body is also necessary for the spirit. Only this Strammheit has an effect on others, as I discovered in Krakow some time ago. Despite all my efforts, I still can't muster the same sense of self-empowerment I had back then. That was 30 years ago.

I'd also love to write a decent piece of work that would finally give me a real name and a true brand as a psychologist.

Notes:

[1] “Mental Healers: Mesmer, Eddy and Freud” by Stefan Zweig.

August 3, 1936

Julek's fate is being decided at this moment. He's about to get an excellent job. I pray to all the forces in the world, and to my mother, that they won't abandon him and that he will finally dig himself out of his misery. Perhaps this miracle will happen – like with Fela.

August 4, 1936

Today Julek wrote that the company's decision has been postponed, but they're taking a smaller apartment – ​​two rooms! What does this mean for Lidia, what does it mean for Piotruś! The rock is rolling unstoppably downhill! What will this cost me in terms of my health?)[1] 

 Notes:

[1] Short lived optimism from the day before!

August 7, 1936

Of course, nothing good is happening with Julek – supposedly there's no final answer yet, but the minister is scribbling something again: "I'm on the right track" – I'd like to add... to the madhouse.

When I read today about Hitler's reception during the Olympics and all the royal guests who were there, I was horrified by the lack of character in these people. "Schwedischer Kronprinz" – what a humiliation, if he's not ashamed! [1] 

One question: how can we make people better? How? In the past, they thought about rewards in heaven and the satisfaction of revenge: the other will be punished, he will go to hell. Now no one believes these tales. What can we do?

One thing still seems very important to me: ……………….. in man and his falsehoods will allow for decency. Because our cultural ideals are and will remain for a long time, but their realization at this stage is hypocritical. Question two: why doesn't a person have "aŭswirken" (as anger)? Why does he have to restrain himself? ………… gives him the right, ………..?

If we were so arranged that all evil Eigenschaften [“characteristics”] lead to Mißerfolgen [“failure”], then people would be decent from a rational perspective. But is that so?

Spinning Wheel: virtues were established by those who want to become strong, thereby defending their weakness. If I now cultivate these virtues, then I increase the strength of the strong one. Virtue benefits me nothing, only the other. Perhaps that's why people aren't virtuous… because it doesn't benefit them.

A strong spirit can say that it's not for its own good, but in the name of culture. What does culture matter to us?

There remains one more lifeline: the so-called …………….. …………….. something we consider great a) because it's rare, others don't have it, it can be boasted about like a painting; b) or to say, as Freud did: “Seit ……..deublichen zeufen nicht sich uber die menschkein der P….. der kulturentrichtung kein.” [2] 

 Notes:

[1] Seems there was a famous photograph of Hitler with Swedish Prince Gustaf Adolf (who was an Olympics participant) at a VIP affair on August 5.

[2] Haven’t tracked down the quote.

August 12, 1936

Of course, Julek was not accepted there. I will have to keep sending him money. I wrote him, as Fela says, a “revolver letter.” But what will come of it? It would be good if he went to Poland and did something for that Geni Blan. But will he? As for Fela, she wrote to Rózia that she is unwell. What a fine family!

Simonettowa sent me a check!

August 14, 1936

Yesterday there was quite a disgrace at that Bally’s! I was dressed like a cat. They ought to have utterly despised me, so inappropriately was I attired. And how much thought I had wasted on it! And how unnecessary it all was, how everything went for nothing! Where does the mistake lie? I act in secondary matters, not in the primary ones. I never think about what is needed first, what is more important, and it was the same when buying my wardrobe this summer. I didn’t buy the essential things, only the incidental ones—hence the main flaw in me. This is what one must think about.

My head aches badly. Still, no doubt, from that accident. Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I had the feeling of nausea after riding in the car; in the evening I didn’t eat supper because of it.

When I received a card from Felka yesterday, I threw it straight into the toilet the moment I got it. Such disgust seized me.

August 16, 1936

All evening yesterday and all day today, I've been doing nothing, dwelling on this matter with Julek. One moment I think I did the right thing by writing to him so openly, the next I think I should have spared him. And so it goes. And it's making my life so miserable.

Should Lydia have been invited or not?

August 17, 1936

I received such a terrible letter from Julek this morning that I couldn't come to my senses until now, until 4 p.m., my heart was pounding so hard. The despair over this "despicable wretch" was so terrible that I couldn't cope. What will come of all this? It's literally killing me.

11 in the evening

Tr. took it upon himself to finance Julek. I feel lighter. Tr. is a good man—like an angel. I sometimes begin to adore him for his wonderful way with people and situations. I have a good feeling about Julek now, too.

August 18, 1936

Today I carried out that coup d’état with Julek—I hope that this lesson will have an effect. And even today my heart still feels unwell. In spite of everything, I keep making mistakes: yesterday, that I talked too much with Ullman,  I didn’t write to Khn., etc. Always some mistake or another. Worst of all, lately I am doing nothing. My work, once begun, lies unfinished.

August 20, 1936

From a distance I can sense that Julek is furious and will probably never in his life forgive me for my letter. At times I feel terribly sorry for him, and at other times I say: “Notwehr” (self-defense). Of course, I am a “harmonica,” as Tr. says; within me pity for him and disgust at such a mentality are constantly at war. It seems that with Madzia something bad has indeed happened. And so it goes round and round and round.

Yesterday a reply arrived from “Shenik”: it looks as though I will be able to accept their conditions. That would therefore settle the matter with those “Jews.” If only. Somehow, I felt a sense of calm yesterday when I thought about this work. I will wait then for the reply from Prague and decide depending on the “cheapness” of the printing.

August 21, 1936

I am torn by conflicting feelings because of Julek. Yes or no? Did I act rightly with Julek or not? Will it help him in his crisis, or not?

5 in the afternoon.
And still he has not written. But a curious thing—the few days of calm have allowed me to return to my work again.

And yet I could have done the same with less cost to myself. A pity I did not make use of Tr., to have him write those few words to him. It seems that “zucklers” are needed not only for business. Verschiebung der Affekte (displacement of emotions).

Yesterday I read through my novel. In fact, I had wanted to set it aside, but after reading what I had written so far, I had not the slightest desire to do so—on the contrary, I set to work on my “character ….. G…..schaft.”

August 22, 1936

I worked a bit yesterday, and today my head hurts so much I can't do anything. Besides, I'm incredibly depressed about Julek.

I'm actually constantly blaming myself for not handling the matter with Julek well in Paris. I should have asked two questions:

To Lydia – what does she want me to do with Julek?

To Julek – what does he imagine our help will be?

I didn't do that – and it's backfiring. I should have also told myself to tell him my current plans and use them to show him his mistakes, not to talk about the past. He would have taken advantage of that. After… today, I thought to myself that this energetic tone was actually beneficial to him: this constant indulgence from Lidka and me didn't lead to anything – maybe now that he feels a more energetic hand, he'll feel better.

However, I should have managed my Paris mission better. These constant musings on one topic aren't helping my mood. I'm incredibly depressed. What will happen next? Will he perish or will he rise again?

August 28, 1936

I was in Zurich on Tuesday and Wednesday. I went to…….interest Schocken in my Jewish business, to see the women. It was a terrible flop. I didn't get anything done. But the way it wasn't handled is terrible, and now I understand all too well my failures. When I saw how these women knew how to organize, I realize how much talent I lack. I can't, I can't, I can't. My hearing is a disaster. What good is it if I can't understand anything within a few steps? How can I get my bearings? I simply don't want to dig through the trash of my failures. One thing – this relief with Julek. He was killing me internally with those letters. Now he'll learn some respect.

August 31, 1936

I was at a meeting of these "naturforscher" [natural scientists] held at the SM. My ear is getting worse almost every day. Besides that, I've been making a lot of purely social and conversational mistakes. Why didn't I tell Ernstowa that her reading was good? Why did I tell Isenschmidowa that she was German when she insisted she was a democrat? In that sense, I could list a thousand things.

September 5, 1936

Schocken doesn't reply – phew, shocking!

Julek has made some kind of contract with Moroccan eggs – he might very well succeed. I wish he could earn a lot and show that... boor Soiffer that you can get by without them, and that they misjudged him.

I was in Bern yesterday for the Kurst-histor congress. Well, I made a few organizational mistakes again (I could have better planned my evening visit to the hall), I was carrying a trumpet, etc. The worst part, of course, was my ear. I was very angry with myself for being able to do so little. If only I could finally write some good work that would bring me a little money!!

I sent the manuscript to Phenix yesterday. I'm willing to go to any lengths to finally get this thing printed. The invaluable Simonett mentioned something about the English language. I hope it can be implemented and that I can finally earn some little money. This is really eating me up!

I'm simply terrified by my lack of talent – ​​if I can't write anything, I can't finish anything. This way, I can't get anywhere.

My soul is filled with dread. A feeling of utter loneliness. I can't maintain relationships with people. No one invites us, and it's awful. How can I get over this?

September 9, 1936

From Schocken it was a refusal. A disgusting feeling. Yesterday that Boden from Chicago was at our place. He said that Baley had told him that my book on lying was considered “classical.” Hm. I see that nowadays there is no other way to get one’s work published except by paying for it. What a fine state of affairs!

As for Julek — again I’ve had days when I reproached myself for not inviting him to us in the summer, but today I think that I must, above all, think of Tr. Once again there is the matter of the mortgage, and I am outraged at how Julek behaved with me in Warsaw some 18 years ago. Because he entangled me in an affair to which I would never have agreed had I actually known what it was about. And one wonders that this trickster never succeeds at anything! Life’s torment with him! 

September 14, 1936

Julek wrote that L. wants to leave him. Thank God. I was so happy about that! I don't know why, because it's true, and on the other hand, that she was clinging to him in some way, and now he might just fall apart completely. That's also possible! In any case, financially, this whole thing bothers me a bit. One person can't seem to get over it and doesn't need to shout about their responsibility for the child.

Interesting: he writes telling me not to worry, but I'm happy, as if it were a celebration for me. A nice act of kindness on his part.

These days, I've been thinking that all the help for Julek was just an extension of the agony.

September 16, 1936

Tomorrow we are going to Genoa, or rather St. Margherita. I should actually be glad, but deep down my soul feels terrible. I am simply tormenting myself over the fact that things are going so badly for this Julek. Constantly, without pause, I think about him. I reproach myself for not agreeing to his visit in the autumn, for not handling everything in Paris as well as I needed to, for him not coming to us in the summer.

But then again, since April he has received over 1000 francs from us; nothing with him has moved forward one bit, and on top of that Tr. goes about so crushed and quiet. How am I supposed to present such a guest in our home to him, so that our house won’t become utterly repulsive to him—a childless house, a deaf wife, and such a brother-in-law. I am simply ruining my own happiness. It’s a second edition of the situation with Mama.

That joy I felt at first, when I learned that Lidka wanted to leave him—vanished. It turned into despair, because when he loses that support, he will plunge completely into the abyss.

October 5, 1936

Yesterday we returned from our holiday trip to Italy. I saw quite a bit of the world—but hardly any people. I was lonely, but the loneliness did not hurt me because of the fact itself, but because of Tr., who suffered greatly from it.

The stay was poisoned by: 1) the matter with Fela, 2) the fact that several times I did not behave as kindly toward people as I should have (the incident with the seller of the coral brooch; whenever I don’t act kindly, it always backfires on me), 3) the fear about my eye, which has worsened.

On the other hand, the matter of publishing Heimat und Schicksal has finally been settled, and it will be printed at the end of this year. Whew! May it bring me some money, and bring the Jews some honor, and a little less hatred against them.

October 7, 1936

Yesterday I was at that Hegg's. Who can describe my terror when he told me his diagnosis! And what am I to do now? And what kind of life is this? And what awaits me?

I lay there like a log at night – and today I'm devastated inside. "I can stay like this for the rest of my life," says Tr., "but what remains stationary with me? All evil is always progressive."

And what will happen with the money for this purpose? Poor, poor Tr. I feel so sorry for him! This sword of Damocles over my head!

I've never feared anything so much in my life as evil eyes! I understand people who take their own lives after such a diagnosis.

I no longer want to live at all. Trŭbe, trŭbe, trŭbe. Now my teeth are bothering me again (also progressive!), and this unfortunate ear. We should really start thinking about how to relieve Tr. Today I voted – I don’t want to think about writing this damned novel anymore and let me keep my eyesight.

October 23, 1936

When today I received a letter from Julek again with the same “I have nothing for lunch,” “they cut off my gas,” I was simply seized by a kind of disgust. I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling of repulsion, as if I wanted to push something vile away—away, away, far from him.

Not the slightest pity for such a conceited idiot. Only this longing to be far, far away from him.

A hundred things I still don’t do as I should. Why did I speak to Tr. today about Fela? I know he doesn’t like it, and I don’t have ……… that subtbekenschŭng…[ Selbstbeherrschung (self-control)?] 

October 27, 1936

I'm somehow completely incapable of working, I can't do anything – and I'm ashamed, terribly ashamed in front of others that I'm accomplishing nothing.

I think I was doing some kind of Milchrechnung [Milchrechnung metaphorically it can mean a “naive calculation” or “childish reckoning.”] with this Jewish thing. The lack of a response from Phenix after paying 400 fr is telling. This deeply depressed me.

And most of all, I'm completely incapable of coming up with anything of my own – my own theory, my own conviction – Nothing! My career looks great – there's no point.

October 29, 1936

I can't get over my worries. It seems I've gotten into a terrible mess with this Phenix. 400 francs from that Simonett seem to have vanished like nothing. And what further unpleasantness will come of this, only God knows.

Julek was writing another letter. It seems it's almost the end of everything. What can I do about it? I absolutely can't work. I've been doing nothing all day and coming up with nothing.

The last few days have been difficult for Tr. Fortunately, this article arrived in his Classics. Yesterday he had an attack of rheumatism.

I woke up today feeling dizzy. Nice Zettel! And what else is to come!

7 p.m.

Phenix - Beday called. I spent 50 ch on marks unnecessarily. And my mood was low! And I wrote Julek a completely unpleasant letter – damn his spiritual wounds. The worst part is that I can't get up to work. My brain is completely drained. It's been a while since I've had such a stuffy head. What happens now?

November 2,  1936

Werner Wrett was here for 2–3 days, and I am crushed by this visit. Not only by the force of youth that he possesses, in which I see my own nothingness, my lack of scientific and practical ability, but also by that dreadful side of competition—even intellectual competition.

And when he left, I thought to myself: none of my colleagues will come here to visit me again anytime soon—Jews, for example—and with ………. the relationship is entirely different: easier for me. And I also feel how rooted I already am in this one place, how shifting elsewhere would be uncertain, and would reduce me to nothing.

And all the while, a dreadful feeling gnaws at me about Julek—that I should have brought him here. Why did I not do it earlier? Last year, or in the summer—now it becomes more and more difficult. At times I feel as though I am in a strange house, not my own.
Above all—desperately—that pain in my eye!

November 7, 1936

This evening, this awful conversation with Tr., about how he feels so bad, how he feels so bad about himself...

I'm completely numb. Our entire family is clinging to this man. With him, everything will come crashing down on us.

November 12, 1936

Tr. was in a bad mood yesterday when I went to the Polish Legation. Was stient du nich so an? [dialect, “Why are you staring at me like that?]

Hegg admitted that the eye has gotten a little worse. He noticed it already in 1932! In general, I am inwardly completely as if frozen—everything has turned to ice, but at the same time has also become indifferent. I accept everything as if it simply had to be. With Julek I reproach myself for not treating him more gently in Paris. Poor, poor man, although it was all his own fault.

What can one achieve with a mood like mine? That Bachcki also didn’t reply to my request to speak with him. Neither Rudolf nor he—charming, isn’t it? And what kind of life plan is possible now? With so, so many failures!

November 15, 1936

This morning I woke up and suddenly my mind cleared: that whole subject “Charakter und Gesellschaft” suddenly lay before me as if in the palm of my hand. Perhaps at last I will manage to write this work, perhaps the most important of all. If only I could finally get down to it properly. It had paralyzed all my work in general. For the first time I would be starting a piece of work where I know everything in advance.

No news from Julek. How many heavy sighs I send his way! If only I could already earn something with a short story, with some kind of novel!

November 17, 1936

The other day that Gagg was at our place. She undoubtedly made an impression on Tr. again, though strangely, I felt nothing at all about his attitude toward her. I forced myself to see this visit through to the end—what will come of it? Of this “granzŭgzekeit” of mine in this regard? He said that he cannot get this woman out of his head, how she has changed, that she is so lifeless—“das Haar so kraftlos” [her hair so powerless]. Is this truly an expression of his state of mind? The future will show.

Yesterday, after that Rosly Sekw. left—when I heard so poorly—it weighed terribly on my soul. I truly saw no other way out for myself than to abandon the house, to hide away somewhere far from everyone. The whole matter with my eye and ears looked tragic. I searched for Tr.’s gaze, then went upstairs to my room. I sat here for 3 hours, then went back down smiling as if nothing had happened; later I “entertained” Tr. with stories about various things and put him in a good mood—and life once again looked different.

So it is clear that one must hold life firmly in one’s grasp.

November 18, 1936

And today was a completely different day – I'm consumed with fear for Julek, who must be in a terrible situation. And worst of all – my own incompetence! Reading my collapse about Menschenkenntein, I'm overcome with shame. I can't do the reading, and I can't organize absolutely anything. There are piles of smeared paper – but nothing is actually done; nothing is ready for printing, and what's ready never gets printed. And I'm a brute. I can't, I can't do this Sekluntendem. So what can I be? I don't have a penny to my name from all this.

November 22, 1936

I was at Vogt's yesterday with my eye[1]  – he seemed to calm me down a bit, but actually, it was something else. What a silly dream I had all night long afterward. Ridiculous. But if it came true, it would be a fairy tale – a reunion of academics. Maybe it went better than I thought. You have to use people. Nur…

Notes:

[1] A noted Swiss ophthalmologist Alfred Vogt, practiced in Zurich.

November 25, 1936

Tears are choking me. I feel them in my throat. This treatment I've received these past few days is simply awful. When I went to Zurich, I felt something inside me thaw out after long, long hours, and something like good humor came over me again. It's heavy, heavy, this hand rests on me, spooning nourishment.

November 27, 1936

Birthdays... the years roll by... No change for the better. Financially, it's a mess. This thing with Phenix isn't progressing – it's the only way to make money.

Tr., of course, forgot my birthday. Nice, huh? Quite by accident, I received some flowers from Mr. Lesseli yesterday. Christosen [Christmas roses]... They're sitting nicely on my desk.

November 28, 1936

Tr. was very kind again yesterday, and everything has become clearer to me again. It's strange how dependent I am on his mood. Besides that, however, my misery remains. That vile Verlag Phenix, having received my money, mocks me and doesn't dream of printing this thing. I find it incredibly difficult to work. Nothing more comes out of my head. The lecture for Radio cost me ………… new efforts, and I have few listeners: Menschenkenntein is one-third of what it was three years ago. I can't earn anything: I have a crazy shortage that I don't know how to fill. And these difficult problems: Julek and Rózia's hopeless condition. There's something to keep my head full of – and that eye!

December 1, 1936

Yesterday I lost 20 francs – today the maid told me off. I walk around with this feeling as if something bad had happened, as if I were dying, maybe as if Julek or Rózia, or all of us were dying together. And to top it all off, there's this radio lecture that I'm completely failing at. I have this feeling of inferiority that I'm failing at nothing, that I'm wasting time, that I can't do anything. What am I supposed to do, what am I supposed to do?

December 7, 1936

This whole Mrs. Simpson thing made a huge impression on me.[1] A woman who knows what she wants and knows how to get things done. What am I? Buying a few shirts is a disaster for me. I don't have a little money. I have a real ………….. that nothing works out.

But I have to get back to my own business. Shame, shame overwhelms me.

Vogt wrote me back ………. and "Ur Vogt" in his own handwriting.

Notes:

[1] Fascinating that Wallis Simpson and Edward VII’s abdication should make any impression on her! At least my mother was living in England, when she wrote about it to her mother.

December 12, 1936

This love affair with the King of England shook me to the core. That a woman could be so loved! That there could even be such a woman who lived her life so well, that there were still men who knew how to love, and that love existed at all!

Julek's letters are killing me morally. I've been moping with him all day. Yesterday I tore up a letter I'd started several times; you have to write to him carefully so as not to hurt him.

Rich people don't need to feel pity or worry. They give money, and that's it. I'm more tormented by the awareness of my powerlessness to give than by his condition. What would he care about if I could give him thousands?

And this inability to earn money! I have piles of paper lying around, piles of things I've written, and nothing, nothing, nothing comes of it all. What am I supposed to do to earn money? And now this matter of this print run and this faux pas with this letter, in which I don't threaten a lawyer. In general, tears were coming to my eyes all day long – bitter tears.

December 15, 1936

I went to a concert with Hub yesterday and went to his clothes shop. He received me well, although my manner of speaking was flawed. However, I made a big mistake by going with Tr. to his place – by then he was completely ignoring me and Tr., which affected us both deeply. I didn't know how to behave properly at all – for example, I didn't offer him a meeting with me today, Tuesday, which could have easily been done, etc. I'm very awkward socially. I made a big faux pas with him yesterday – I'm incorrigible.

I received a letter from Nic. yesterday. He's alive and in a high position.

December 19, 1936

That Baumgartner wrote to me today that he's accepting this thing about "Jugendliche und Berŭf" for publication. It seems like three years have passed since I wrote it, and it's been in so many publishers! Finally! I'm really happy about it. If only it weren't like with that vile Phenix.

I felt so bad, but today I feel a little better – knowing that things are moving forward.

And now the genesis of this "success":

I was in Neuchâtel at a convention.

a) I learned there that this printer was making concessions, and it occurred to me whether I should try him…

b) I also had that happy conversation with Jŭsher there – I reconciled with him, and this is the result, because he was Jubachter and recommended this work.

Is this called coincidence, or is it skill?

December 21, 1936

Glory, glory to God! Today they sent me back my entire Heimat und Schicksal corrected. Phew! I breathed a sigh of relief that I don’t have to conduct a lawsuit with them. Perhaps at last I will have a little money for poor Rózia!

December 28, 1936

I feel great satisfaction in having completed the revision of this "Heimat und Schicksal." [1] So there are prospects of realizing those "Kŭkuer" dreams of earning money! How I wish I could finally somehow determine Rózia's fate, so that she could finally be a human being. And how I wish I had a few spare pennies for us, so that Tr. would be in a better mood! I wish his Zeitschrift could exist for this money, and that he wouldn't have to go around with his eternal resentment.

As a psychologist, I simply wonder how successful such a thing will actually be. Sometimes I think it will be torn apart by Jews and non-Jews – at least that's what it is. I dream of 25,000-30,000!! Isn't that presumptuous?

Hauptmann's "Die Weber" [2] has sold 210,000 copies, not including translations. Why shouldn't I dream of a tenth of that?

10:30PM

How distraught I am over his condition! He comes in the evening so beaten, so tired, so apathetic, so taciturn. He clutches his head in his hands that I really don't know what to do, what to say. Everything freezes on my lips – I remain silent and sit with two stumme Juhlen. How can I get him going again? I invite people everywhere, I feel so sorry for myself, but it doesn't help much. I'd like to help him with his mood!

 Notes:

[1] Don’t know what this is. If it is a play (as suggested by her reference to Hauptmann below, it is not listed in her archives.

 [2] Known in English as “The Weavers”, the most important drama by Gerhart Hauptmann.

December 31, 1936

I've had a good feeling since yesterday. I don't know why.

11:30 at night: For the first time since I've been in Sol (13 winters!), we went out on New Year's Eve – to the cinema to see Anna Karenina – Gr. Garbo. [1] 

The year is ending. Balance sheet?

Health – average

Marital affairs? – changes here

Academically? – no progress

Publishing house? – two bombs : a) Home and School

b) Lehringe

We'll see the result of these "bombs" next year. Hopefully, for happiness – for my family, my husband, and myself. I'd like some love.

Notes:

[1] 1935 MGM adaptation.

10 at night [Janaury 1, 1937]

And Tr. felt the bitterness of loneliness during these New Year holidays, because today he mentioned to me again to take the child home. And again I felt sad in my soul because of the emptiness in my soul and outside of us.

Because of Kwiak Langnerowa: why didn't she address it to her husband, and N. addressed the telegram to me? I tell about how Kamelia is supposed to be a pink dot in this fog: why didn't she say it herself? …… …. die ….. zwischen nur …. der au…… - How poor he is!!

January 2, 1937

Tr. is coughing. He is in a bad mood, and I am so helpless! I cannot brighten his moments, and above all my bad hearing prevents me from hearing him and having conversations with him.

His life is more important than mine. I should stand completely in the shadows, so that he can develop, so that he can be happy. How poor, unhappy he is, my heart breaks.

I feel sick in my soul.

January 3, 1937

I went to bed earlier yesterday. I listened to Tr.'s snoring like the most beautiful music! Poor, poor man! I have to do everything to make him feel as good as possible. The worst thing is this loneliness - that we finally find some better company - people close to us...

I have the impression that I have matured psychologically and that I can now express my various views.

January 5, 1937

It's interesting that I'm thinking a lot about what I'll do when I'm rich. Wealth, its possibility, has somehow moved into the sphere of proximity of some kind. I wonder if it will work. I'm thinking about buying various things, about trips, making Tr. happy by getting rid of the debt and paying it off. ………...etc. In the meantime, however, this Ikeux has not sent any corrections. Until that happens, it's not possible for any earnings ………..

January 8, 1937

60 copies of "Ck.s ch.bzl" were sold after this article Amste... in the Bund. How I wish it had sold a few thousand copies! I am terribly glad that the copies were sold at all!

This joy interferes with work, I see that one cannot be too joyful!

January 13, 1937

I have convinced myself once again that I am not able to work systematically every day. When one day I am very busy with some power, I am not able to get down to it the next day. This is undoubtedly the phenomenon of der "sattisung". But this sattisung, or rather ubersattisung,[1] is probably also because a person does not finish at the right time. I can …… ……… work one day and then do nothing for 5 days.

I cannot express at all how sorry I am for Julka.[2] I do not know what to do for him…

Actually, when we talk about someone's or someone else's ……… it is a certain "participatern", taking part in this thing. I do not know whether admitting guilt does not at the same time mean our participation, we are involved in it; it is perhaps also a certain Eitelkart.[or Eitelkeit?]

For this novella to finally come out and with it some money to come. I am again impossibly squeezed.[?]

Notes:

[1] “satiation” and “oversatiation” or “oversaturation”

[2] Presumably, Julek.

January 17, 1937

I am terribly upset—this evening Tr. again started saying that he won’t last much longer… He saw that he had distressed me terribly and began to explain that he has been saying that for years, but still I cannot calm down, all the more so because today that ………… came to us.

January 20, 1937

Tr. birthday... Yesterday evening again this horrible conversation about "sich schonen". I cried for a long time. Sleepless night. In the morning I congratulated him, he stayed in bed for 15 minutes longer. I couldn't speak, I was choking on tears. What will I suffer because of his Erstellung. How much strength I use to adjust to him and relieve him!

11 o'clock in the afternoon

I can't calm down - I still have tears in my eyes, they choke my throat. However, I think I have to overcome myself and be calm, although what does it cost me. Completely ………. grave. Horrible, horrible. And how can I work, concentrate?

January 21, 1937

When I was at Monday's lecture by Zbu.... I Gr I couldn't hear at all, ... I had the impression that the world had become a pantomime for me.

February 4, 1937

Now, when the corrections are coming and so much money has already been invested, now I have great doubts whether I should have made them at all, for the sake of Tr., for myself, for the Jonases[1]. I feel very, very sick in my soul... So much risk in these times, will it pay off? I will try to soften what I can, but still? There will be too much left.

It is unfortunate that I can never speak openly with Tr. I never know what the motives are for his aversion to publication. One thing is important - publishing neutral, scientific things - awareness too late.

This impulsiveness of mine has often caused unpleasant experiences - I should absolutely wean myself off it. I cannot restrain myself at all: yesterday, for example, in front of that Rangwer, I spoke so rudely several times. I did not let her talk like that, but I talked myself. What a chatterbox I am!! disgusting. I can't, I can't improve from my mistakes!

Notes:

[1] At this time her niece, Janine Jonas, had finished her schooling in England, and had not yet started university in Geneva, so would have been with her parents in Berlin.

February 8, 1937

My nervousness is beyond belief. I am very worried that I have let myself be carried away by this novel. Such a sword of Damocles is not for our nerves and our situation.

And now this money matter. They keep wanting something from me. Now this Rózia with these trifles, Felka with... and so on and so forth. I refuse myself a blouse for 4.65, but I send her books that cost more, creams, letters, etc. I am simply nervous about these trifles.

I see my future today in the darkest colors. This ear of mine! How ashamed Lusky is today! And so on and so forth. What will happen next?

February 15, 1937

I had such a small lecture yesterday with these students. Few people came, although the discussion was great. Kathenjammer stayed.

I want to improve more and more, but I still don't manage. Something always seems to come out of the bag.

Today this unpleasantness with this goldsmith. I decided that if I ever had some spare money (if I earned some money from my "works" I would absolutely order 2 silver goblets for someone like Bachtler and Buchmann at Wyrs's, to show him how to behave towards the public.

However, I don't have this "Klebestoff" - Büchler wrote today, that this little bravado doesn't spread. So few people show up for my lecture, and now such a separate fact with this problem makes me think. What is inside me?

March 1, 1937

We were in Adelboden[1]. from 19 to 26. It was nice, but the boarding house was full of slops. I didn't know how to approach one of those women with that fabulous girl properly. I don't know how to behave at all.

This month I became more energetic towards Julek and sent him only 50 fr. My heart ached for him in Adelboden, today I am indifferent. In general, I go up and down with my feelings. After dinner I had a good feeling, now it's worse again, etc.

I talked to Tr. about this Jewish novella. The fact is that I have spiritually outgrown it, that it doesn't interest me any more. It's strange - just as I was yelling for months ago to finally have this thing printed, I have not only become indifferent, but I would even gladly withdraw from this affair. Because only now do I think about what consequences it might have for me. One becomes practical and more cautious. Influence of Tr!

Notes:

[1] A village in Switzerland.

March 13, 1937

Again yesterday such a terrible conversation with Tr. He has no more reserves of life - he says - and he thinks that he should lead it this way until the end. He does not tell me everything about himself, but I can see the whole tragedy of the future without words. What to do? I am completely crushed. How hard my life is!

I am now working on this survey about midwives. For the first time, I can probably not mentally occupy myself with anything else - not even write a letter - when I am concentrated on this topic. I wonder. Why is that? Maybe it is just a desire to hurry? Or maybe it is just the influence of that faintly appeared …...ad from a few days ago?

March 14, 1937

Thank God that Tr. has had some success lately and was in a better mood yesterday and – I feel a little better in my soul with this awareness, although I don’t know why, I still walk around with bad premonitions.

I thought again today about the content of her “Heimal u. Schichsal – Man …… mir der arbeit”. But spiritually. Actually, I have grown out of all this. I have become convinced that hatred leads nowhere. “Wende dich ab nur …. Benerei”. That’s all.

I would like to know what the future will be like. I have never wanted it, but now I do. I don’t know why. To know, maybe to be certain that this ……….. can work out.

March 18, 1937

Yesterday, they printed my little article in the "Bund" about "……………...". I have to admit that I did it very skillfully, that is, I sent it at the right time. It was a good "combination".

This expression reminded me of Julek, who, for a change, is getting divorced. I can't say that the fact that L.[1]  is leaving the family was pleasant to me. But maybe it will be better for him!

In the meantime, yesterday I got terribly irritated by all this, by his megalomania, because again he has "great" prospects - the whole psychological issue is more important than the material side - he doesn't let anyone live in peace and he literally murders me. I already feel sorry for him, I would beat him up for his recklessness, although maybe it's just an illness. I simply want to have more joy in life, and each letter from him pushes me away from the possibility of some kind of joy. This man is a psychological monster, he doesn't understand people that much. It would be extraordinary if he could ever get out of this situation

Notes:

[1] Lydia Baumgarten nee Lowenstein.

March 22, 1937

Yesterday I spoke with Tr. again about this Heimal at Schichsal's. In spite of everything he advises to print it, with which I do not yet entirely agree.

But another thing: yesterday I was seized by a terrible regret that at one time I did not give F. my drama to Moura in Geneva[1] . It would have been staged as if nothing had happened and my life would have been absolutely different. Now everything is lost!

Various issues are up for discussion: psychologically because of this thing done. First of all I can even harm such a Schlesniger – in general things I did not think about at all: kauseg…..Deuhen!

Notes:

[1] She wrote about a drama in 1932; not sure what she is referencing.

March 30, 1937

Yesterday was another awful evening of chatter – pouring from empty to empty. I am actually to blame for this, because I should have invited that little doctor at least, but this forcing people to come to us is already making me sick. I can no longer see anything before me, sometimes only despair.

April 3, 1937

Br br br br

This is the feeling I have now. Deep disgust for the character of my sister Fela... What a "scab" she is, as we can say in jargon - most likely she is a stupid, disgusting person. If only people would finally learn to think logically! There is no way to convince this little doctor that she is wrong. The fact that she, having such capital, could have been taking money from me for years is disgusting to me - I can no longer overcome this disgust in myself.

An egoist to the highest degree, she only talks about how selfish others are to her. Today I am disinheriting her from everything. The day before yesterday she wrote me a letter, as if I had been buying silver for myself without her knowledge, as if I had caused Rózia and M. not to write to her.

She has a complete persecution mania. It will end just as badly as with Julek, who, by the way, hasn't replied to my money express for a week.

April 9, 1937

Yesterday I was with Tr. in Trachselwald at Midli Bähler's all day. Tr. was an expert in the court case for this little criminal. I had the opportunity to observe this little girl. What did this poor child do that fate created her like this? Nature is cruel. We saw her after that on the train - at the station I bought her 2 bars of chocolate - this little girl burst into tears. And that's what you call a "criminal".

We had a good day with Tr. - I had a very nice time with this good Milli - Tr. had a lot of success in court - and very well-deserved. He speaks brilliantly - and so sensibly. They respect him greatly. So we had a very nice feeling - I call it "Lebensgefühl". And at the same time you have a feeling of gratitude, as if you wanted to do something good for someone. Błachowski will print Charakter u Ch….. - in Polish (Bravo!) I print “…………” without a fee - Hurray… if only this “Lekrlinge” comes out as soon as possible – I can’t wait! If only my siblings are doing well!!

April 13, 1937

My eyesight is getting worse, my teeth are cruel and my nervousness is awful. Poor maid. I simply can't keep my cool.

Porter sent me an article about "Telephonieren". At first he seemed to like it, now after a year he's back. Nice economy.

There's so much talk about kaufmainische ……… Why isn't there talk about Lebensrechnung? Or sociale ………? Is it worth reproaching someone?

April 30, 1937

Janka and Madzia's stay last week.[1] Now this terrible lack of humor Tr. - I am completely crushed by this and my bad hearing. And this poor eye of mine. Inside I feel like a Lazarus.

However, I feel that the most important thing is Tr.'s humor - I am completely crushed by his "alien" behavior.

Notes:

[1] No insight into visit from her sister and niece; no diary entries for the prior week. Given following entry, this must have been when Janka was being taken to Geneva. 

May 11, 1937

Madzia was here again for a week on her way back. There was one quarrel. She left a strong bad taste in her mouth. She is very practical. Clever. She has her charm. But is she better than Fela? Because basically I am disgusted with everyone.

I am stunned by this visit and everything is spinning in my head. I could not do anything[r1]  for almost the entire 10 days because of it. Nus, Volldampf[1] now.

Notes:

[1] “full steam ahead”.

May 13, 1937

Madzia gave me a hard time with this Janka – I had a terrible night because of it. She is supposed to come – she is not. How can I protect her from all accidents? This Janka's proximity, which I was so happy about, is becoming a nightmare. A person is infected with all evil. I am not infected with health, but with disease.

May 14, 1937

She received Hudencki's book on character testing - I was mentioned there many times. Nice advertisement for me.

May 17, 1937

Today marks 13 years since I got married[1] . Tr. of course forgot about the date, but when I congratulated him in general, he immediately remembered, later he came, congratulated me and gave me 20 fr. It was very nice of him.

Bählerowa gave me a 4-leaf clover she found in front of the house[2]  . An hour later the post brought me a copy of my Lekreinge – so Tr.'s happiness and decent behaviour is also relatively happy.

Notes:

[1] First thing I have found showing the date of their marriage.

[2] Which she pasted onto the page in the diary.

May 19, 1937

Janka was here. This stay ended in such a terrible dissonance and I am so sorry. The atmosphere was charged to the point of impossibility.

I reproach myself a lot – as always after the delay. I don’t know how, I don’t know how to use myself with people. I didn’t know how to behave properly. I didn’t stand the role. This young girl showed more tact than I did. I started a notebook of mistakes – but what good will it do? The source of misfortune is in me – this poor hearing and lack of love.

May 21, 1937

Julek finally made a deal! Nur – my sacrifice must have paid off. Villa nu cote d’Azure, as he writes. Du Himmel …….. Touller Geigen. [1]

I was in Zurich yesterday. I visited Maidla G. Oberkoher. She has a divine apartment and a beautiful boy. But compared to her I am a beauty. What a physical ruin!

However, out of all my colleagues, she is the only one academically so far. Also a record.

Notes:

[1] h Heaven .. full of violins

May 27, 1937

I spoke terribly at the lecture today. What a shame. I just want to howl with shame.

May 29, 1937

On Friday, the 28th, the car accident of Tr. I had experienced enough when I received the call. Thank God, better. I think there will be no complications. I am writing this on the page where Klacklatt is stuck! Can this illness have any good outcome? The accident happened just before the day we were supposed to go to Münsingen, I had made myself some beautiful dresses, I was happy that everything would be so nice and elegant, meanwhile... everything has become a mess.

Questions arise: If I had called Tr. about this Edith, asking her to stay with us, would he have left in that car a few minutes later and the accident would not have happened?

And why didn't I call? I didn't want to have this other unpleasant girl with me, or I didn't want to satisfy this wish for a child - and besides, what held me back the most was that Tr. said that the girls should see each other as soon as possible. So it was as if I was listening to Tr., that I didn't want to bother him with this issue.

After all, how I torture myself with this "if". You can't do that. Now this child has left for Paris - what if it stayed here and would be sad with longing? So what? Maybe it's better for the child that it returned to its mother.

And at night, without closing my eyes, I only thought about why, why is there so much anger in me? And I came to the conclusion that this is a reaction to the lack that I feel in myself. Well, okay, but you can react to this lack in various ways: with anger, resignation, understanding, etc., and my reaction is therefore wrong. So I decided to hold on.

And ……….. came to my mind: ………….. what does it mean in ……….. how do you react to it.

June 10, 1937

Today there were 3 people at the lecture + 2 zaungäste[1] . So they don't like my lecture. What to do? What to do?

Notes:

[1] “onlookers” – audioras?

June 14, 1937

Br… Br… Br… How many mistakes are made every day. The eloquence with the maid, the speeches with Julek. And this terrible loss of hearing. The question of the hearing aid is becoming urgent. And I am discouraged with myself.

June 17, 1937

I had a "black day" today with my lectures. No one came to my lecture. I don't think that's ever happened to anyone before. I was incredibly depressed. A sign that my lectures are not liked.

There's no way to improve, because I think I should say what I say, but apparently I'm saying it wrong.

June 20, 1937

It struck me yesterday, like a thunderbolt, when Tr. said what a dangerous symptom Rafał's leg was.[1] Poor, poor man, if only it were so! What will happen next? The further, the worse. What will happen to us next? What a terrible facade, our whole life. As I recall, my blood runs cold in my veins. Is such a terrible thing really possible with him? Unthinkable!

Notes:

[1] Presumably, her brother-in-law, Rafal Jonas. However, I know nothing about any leg issues.

June 28, 1937

My work isn't selling. Despite glowing reviews, Bŭckler sold seven copies in two months. Francke has stopped corresponding with me because the book isn't selling at all. What should I do? My name means nothing to the public.

Drukocki was here yesterday. He told Tr. that Buqeleisen speaks of me with admiration and that it's an honor to be introduced to me. Read above!

July 5, 1937

Winterthur. A terrible night. A terrible day. I don't feel like writing about anything. How can I change my character? How can I bring about change? How can I be kind to people?

July 12, 1937

The maid is leaving. I'm racking my brain, wondering why these quarrels are breaking out again, why I can't make myself useful to people.

Aronowska was here yesterday. She knows how to talk to people. She told me a few words about how she deals with the maids: she demands little, perhaps that's the key to all these quarrels. You don't have to demand much.

To live means to give, to give, to give endlessly!

July 14, 1937

How spiritually exhausted I am from living with people! Today, I had this conversation with the maid – she claims I'm not aimable – but if she treated me badly, no, that's fine. I think the seamstress was also offended (I blurted out a word that might have offended her, that one girl said she didn't want to take money, like a waitress) – but what can I do – I always, always run into someone, and as a result – it's a shame, I have more enemies than I deserve. I think Bursztyn pinned it on me, saying about Toundury that he "laist kainen neben sich gelsen." I'm talking about poor Julek, and the same thing happens to me. I feel very unhappy about it, because all my efforts in this direction are to no avail.

July 16, 1937

Today, while reading Pieron,[1]  the thought came to me that I had been searching for so desperately for the congress in Prague—that psychology can serve as objective evidence for all racial “предрассудки” [prejudices]. What can be done—wise Pole after the damage.

Yesterday, only one Jacobi came to my last lecture. However, at the “exam” lecture, five people showed up!

Notes:

[1] Louis Charles Henri Piéron, a French psychologist, one of the founders of scientific psychology. Chaired the 11th Congress (see August 2).

July 17, 1937

I feel terribly, terribly bad when I look at how terribly bad Tr. looks. I just want to cry. How unreal life seems to me. As if I were outside of life itself.

Janka is here. What a delightful young creature! How will her life turn out? How I always fear for her!

August 2, 1937

I came from Paris – from the congress.[1]  My main feeling – dissatisfaction. I made many mistakes – on the other hand, there were also many failures. I will take stock firsthand.

1. I didn't notify Dagma either – I couldn't participate – in writing or orally about my arrival – I couldn't participate in this invitation to a biotypological evening.

2. I didn't prepare an interesting paper – I couldn't interest other people in it, for example, on critical vision.

3. I didn't listen to Meyerson – so I didn't have a presidium at the congress.

4. I never participated in the discussions – so, je ne comptais pas.

There were probably other mistakes as well. However, it is undeniable that this congress demonstrated how little recognition I had from Pieron and his clique. They didn't give me a good lecture slot, didn't invite me to any important conferences, didn't accept me as a member of the Psychological Society, even though they hired Autipoff, Baley, etc., who certainly didn't work harder than me, …………… they didn't invite me to their reception where the "Pronimenten" were present. In short, I think the congress humiliated me greatly. I was also very depressed. I see that nothing will help me; I'm not liked by people there, and they don't evaluate my merits. However, I must admit that my constant "muteness" at congresses doesn't make a pleasant or impressive impression. I can't speak (of course, hearing plays a major role here).

Positive results of the congress.

1. I learned some new scientific methods.

2. Improved relations – with Pinquet, Antipoff, meeting a few people, resolving disputes with Zbrams and Kužera;

3. Evt. - traveling to the Netherlands to give lectures (via Bigiel)

4. Job posting about Ferry (via kahor).

5. Invitation from Michotte, thus enabling the creation of the Psychology and Behavioral Sciences.

6. Better relationship with Tramer[2] 

7. My furniture was used with Beige

8. Possibility of selling tests in America (Maller)

9. Dagma's words convinced me that I look so bad, that there are things in my appearance that present me in a bad light, hence the opportunity to improve. I'm absolutely harming myself by doing so.

Perhaps one balance will even out the other.

Notes:

[1] The 11th International Congress of Psychology, delayed a year from Madrid, and last one before WWII. See this on politics and the Congress.

 [2] Unclear, but he may have been there, too, as the First International Congress on Infantile Psychiatry appears to have run concurrently in Paris.

August 16, 1937

Only now, almost three weeks after the congress, did it occur to me that I could have spoken up in the discussion with Pear – I shouldn't have been afraid to speak French. It was a risk, but an ear?

In general, when I think of Paris – it was a lost institution, my behavior there was that of an idiot. I'm very concerned about Janet's non-invitation; I don't know if, for example, they wrote to the hotel and I didn't receive their letter. In short, it was a complete mess. Something good could have happened if they had invited me to lecture in the Netherlands, but will it actually happen? A failed, unsuccessful trip.

I have the impression that Dagma actually made a faux pas with that invitation; she should have sent it to Sol – or asked when I would arrive. After all, it was "Biodypoloyn" – an evening not planned at the last minute?

It breaks my heart to think about it all. Everything was poorly planned for me.

August 19, 1937

I gave Rafał[1]   this book, "Heimat und Schicksal," to read. He ridiculed it in the most awful way. The result was, "What a waste of 600 francs for that Simonett." He would have put it down immediately after five pages. Interestingly, Jani [Janka?] thought those first two chapters were good. So... even though Rafał is very pessimistic, etc., such a judgment is absolutely decisive in not promising this book the slightest success. I see how poor my literary skills are. Should I really not publish this book, but release it into the world anyway?

That maid thing again. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know how to deal with people.

Notes:

[1] Presumably, her brother-in-law Rafal Jonas. Suggests he was in Switzerland then.

August 27, 1937

I managed to go to Zurich[1]  – I was on that Youth Alijah. I met Rabbi Ehrenpreis[2]   – I saw how graceful that Marchioness Reading[3]  is. I had a lot of impressions.

But on the other hand, I also realized how inappropriate I still am:

a) with people

b) with myself, in the matter of clothes, or rather, shopping.

As for people, I'm starting to improve a bit, because I'm realizing how off-putting cold people are. I always have to find a philosophical basis for certain behaviors. I often don't understand this search for cheaper things in my own home. And I have to change that. After all, I want "Qualitahsachen" – so I want less – so.

Notes:

[1] Presumably, in connection with the 20th World Zionist Congress, held in Zurich in August 1937.

[2] Presumably, Mordecai Ehrenpreis, chief rabbi of Stockholm.      

[3] Presumably, Eva Violet Mond Isaacs, Second Marchioness of Reading.

September 4, 1937

Rafał was only here for half a day again. He'd lost even more weight, though he'd gained a tan. My soul felt terribly heavy after he left. I don't know why. And perhaps his open way of speaking opened my eyes to how empty our house was and how much it needed rejuvenation and refreshment. I need to address this issue at Aseon.

September 7, 1937

Yesterday we visited Sagg. She made a great impression on Tr. Indeed, that image upon leaving: children in colorful sweaters playing on the grass in the sun was charming. He left there deeply impressed – I was in many ways overwhelmed. But strangely enough, when I left, a great wave of "eine Trohes" surged within me. Well, I won't give in. Some force entered me, and this force surged like something that spurred me on. I won't give in. Somehow I felt my own worth. A strange, strange feeling. I see what "Troh" means.

September 8, 1937

I had a fight with the maid today, and I was wrong. I can't, I can't change my nature. I always lash out unnecessarily in a fit of anger. If only I could restrain myself! How wonderful it would be! I can't express myself. And that's the real misfortune!

Friendliness, friendship, friendship!!

Now, let's praise others!!

October 14, 1937

In the meantime, there was Ascona – with some eye problems, but everything passed, so to speak. But after arriving, hell broke loose. My teeth – some kind of inflammation – had to have a tooth extracted, which I'm afraid of. But the worst thing is my ear. I can't hear well anymore; in fact, it's getting worse by the week. I'm incredibly distraught over my condition and think with terrible trepidation about my future. So many expenses await me, and what income? What will become of me? I feel terribly sorry for Tr. Terrible, terrible! Poor man. It's so hard to bear your fate!

October 19, 1937

I had a disgusting day today. Aside from the tooth extraction, which was a real pain in the ass, I received a letter from Julek, which unsettled me again. That man will die miserably.

Then I literally did nothing all day after lunch. It's embarrassing, embarrassing, embarrassing – comparing myself to Tr. disgusts me.

October 25, 1937

Everything in me is rattled to pieces. Yesterday I simply thought I would go mad. Janka was here. And she already has her own misfortunes, conflicts—Julek wrote—I was shattered. He will surely go under. He will not pull himself out again.

And I? Constant new illnesses. New misfortunes. An ulcer on ……….. Good thing it isn’t ………… Some kind of pain in the groin. Always something new. My hearing is disappearing completely. A tragedy with getting a hearing aid and the lack of money!

October 30, 1937

Yesterday, I had my first lecture of the semester. Six students, out of... five in the lecture. It's atrocious. It doesn't change the fact that two or three more will show up. It's a disaster; this shouldn't have happened.

It's a sign that I failed, that I didn't make the most of this thing. To take Bükler and me. What a monstrosity! I should have actually learned the lessons from all this, and if it weren't for those Zurysians! I'd have ruined something I could have made something great out of.

November 1, 1937

I had a disgusting night. My ear was buzzing. I didn’t know what to do. I cursed all the doctors.

I am impossibly bored. I don’t know myself what to do with myself. Since Berlin (I had it for some time, in 1923) I have not been bored in this way.

November 3, 1937

Yesterday's conversation with Tr. was probably one of the most decisive in my life. In any case, I was and am very impressed by it. His reluctance to go with him to the Congress – his desire to leave Sol, to somewhere completely empty – all of this is symptomatic. His wish for me to get a professorship in America, etc., etc. He always feels, despite everything, overlooked, outdone by everyone. These Minderwertigkeitsgefühl [feelings of inferiority] seem to be insurmountable.

I feel incredibly sick. Materially, physically, morally.

November 4, 1937

Spearmann will print this article about Ch.erg. I'm very happy. Finally. I'm in a slightly better mood because of this and yesterday's visit to the "Bund" editorial office, where they accepted my stories.[1]  Finally, maybe something will come of me.

My ears are a little less buzzing.

Notes:

[1] Have to see if there were earlier mentions of Der Bund, but she does have articles printed there over the years.

November 5, 1937

Another letter from dear Julek asking for money. Tr. had a large audience yesterday, which on the one hand made me very happy, but on the other hand, it proved that my incompetence had brought about a lecture disaster. Tr. was still in a bad mood. His second good tooth had started to loosen terribly. How can he endure all this?

November 7, 1937

I had a few more listeners yesterday. Maybe everything will go well this semester. Today in "Bund" they published the story about bread[1]  and that fairy tale,[2] plus a report from "Jugendliche."[3] Maybe  it will be for the best.

I haven't sent Julek any money yet. For the first time in my life, I've refused him, and I don't feel guilty. I have to save Tr. – and after all, that's the only thing that will do him any good if he doesn't rely on me.

It's strange that I've always had a simple urge to send him money, but not at all this time. Maybe because………. L. earns, and he's also made some money. And I'm in terrible debt because of him. I wonder if that feeling was justified.

I finished my paper today about…….. Something's pushing me to finish things now… Old age!

Tr. wanted to go to Z. alone. So I'm alone – it's nice today, but it's awful to be alone!

 Notes:

[1] Signed T.B.F. See here.

[2] The November 7 issue has a fairy tale, but signed “Lea” so can’t be sure it is hers.

[3] See "Meine wackere Mutter" (“My Brave Mother”).

November 25, 1937

Last night (as a corollary to the "satisfaction" above [24.XI]) I had a terrible conversation with Tr. – he's in such an unbearable mess here, and he blames me for staying. I held him back when he wanted to give up everything. Now it's too late. He's truly fading, fading like a candle. I didn't sleep almost all night. On top of that, Julek's kind note, which unsettled me, and those painful eyes. We're both at the end of our rope. I haven't thought about him enough, too little, that's a fact. Poor, dear man.

November 28, 1937

My birthday the day before yesterday went better than I expected. Flowers and money from Tr. He's generally nice. Felka's card is beautiful: "may you still not realize what life can be." It's a pity Mars u.wert didn't accept my work Psych.u. Dem……… I'll send it to England.

December 5, 1937

I was at the Studentenfest yesterday with this throne. I didn't really benefit from this "trip" at all, as I met absolutely no one. It went completely unnoticed. I organized my participation very poorly. Somehow, no one "sticks with me." It's an old, old cliché.

It seems to me that human progress lies in breaking the "law of retaliation," especially for evil deeds. That's why I understand Christ's command to turn the other cheek.

December 11, 1937

Brrrr... how I feel. Forgetting this "pain" is painful, because now, a week later, I see that I should have fulfilled the duty I once took on better. Perhaps then I would have had more sympathy from these ladies. How I never know how to fulfill my duties – Haltŭng! Haltŭng!

Tr. is in a terrible mood. Irritated beyond measure. Yesterday at the Langners', he was really bothering me with ironic excuses. Boredom is eating me up. Somehow, I can't "pick on" anyone. Always alone.

And everything – and everything... If only I could at least win people's love! Tr.'s love – somehow it's always not the way I'd like it to be.

I'm bored.

December 12, 1937

I was very happy that Murchoson would finally print this work about Dankb in English.[1] . So the money for the translation isn't wasted. I deeply regret that I haven't managed to publish any of my books in English so far. So I could earn at least a little for Rózia.

Notes:

[1] Published as “"Gratefulness" in children and young people” in 1938.

December 15, 1937

The maid gave me notice today, and this time she's serious. I won't keep her, because she's not worth much. Sick, snappish. But I'm talking about something else: why shouldn't she develop an attachment to me? Why didn't she see me as good, only bad? But I didn't inspire any good feelings in her. I racked my brain today on the way to Bern, wondering why these maids are being so damned? And it seems to me that this constant dissatisfaction I display is to blame. In relationships with people in general, this dissatisfaction is the cause of many unpleasant relationships. Theory—my dissatisfaction—means humiliating the other person. Therefore, I absolutely must avoid expressing this dissatisfaction. This is the source of my many failures so far. Don't show your dissatisfaction. This shouting, this harshness, etc.—all of this goes hand in hand with this one terrible mistake.

Self-bekensobung over dissatisfaction—this is……….

I read Curie's biography yesterday and I'm crushed. So much work and effort—so much energy. What am I compared to her! But what a brave, brave woman she was! I'm afraid of changing servants. What a shame! It's not for nothing that she is great and created so much. She knew how to work and had the courage to live. I'm not brave at all—I must admit that to myself openly.

December 26, 1937

Lichtenstein was there yesterday. How can anyone feel good about another human being? This whole thing with the maid proves how much I don't know how to deal with people. And it hurts me. It shouldn't be.

Besides, my left eye hurts, and I'm distraught about it. Everything annoys me.

December 27, 1937

I spent all night thinking about the maid's case today. Where is

I) my mistake in general, and my mistake in this particular case in particular?

And it's interesting that I've come to the conclusion that the fault lies in the fact that I wasn't consistent in my actions. I thought about giving Olga the sleeves for that unfortunate "veste" and letting the girl sew more useful things, because while I'd only pay 2 francs for the sleeves, she could make me things worth 20. However, I didn't follow through with this completely logical reasoning. At the last minute, I regretted the 2 francs, and disaster struck.

I've noticed more than once that the whole misfortune often lies in not carrying out my projects, what I reasoned out. I should stick to my own reasoning.

II) Then, the second thing. I now know (after long and difficult suffering) how to deal with my boss, with my peers, with other people's subordinates, but not with my own subordinates. My flaw –

1) Ankerz-sch…… - too little insight into these people – clearly a relic of their "servitude" in Poland. I'm not interested enough in them as people.

2) I can't keep my cool with them as I do with others. I'm not dealing with a situation as stupid as the servants' work.

Well, this whole thing might have a positive side, in that the whole issue of servants is spiritually relevant to me again. Disgusting.

December 28, 1937

I had another very bad night tonight because I kept thinking about that affair with the maid. It finally occurred to me that my entire negative attitude toward people is based on some kind of hostility. I think they're hostile to me, and I react to that. A whole theory of social relations arose overnight based on this. The fact is, the "Deuter" of everything, in the sense that "he" is hostile to me, brings disaster. Because, perhaps, the other person isn't as hostile as we interpret it to ourselves. So I decided to think positively of other people now. This is Kucera's system, after all, and it's working well for me. I should have weaned myself from my "bad attitude" a long time ago.

I'll write this theory down. Maybe all this will have a positive effect on me. One is always learning. It simply seemed to me like psychischer Rad—finding that element in people that holds everything together (rad shines, while the (psychic) ​​one dims everything).

January 11, 1938

9 PM

This year's misfortune continues – last night and this evening, my left eye hurt badly. I'm terrified. The misfortune with my right eye started with pain.

Today, Tr. was in a terrible mood and coughed a lot. He went to bed at 9:00 AM, leaving the room very rudely. I was terribly upset by this. I wonder if it wouldn't be better to be alone a hundred times over than to be treated like a dog.

How poor he is. And perhaps I haven't thought about him enough. I'm just as selfish as Julek.

January 12, 1938

The cough is a little, a little better. It's like I'm coming back to life. But I simply have an enormous, insurmountable drowsiness. And a wish to please Tr. somehow, to finally make him feel better in every way.

I was sent a photograph today, taken in Paris during the congress. What a terrible, tortured face I have there? How terribly tired and unpleasant I look! This photograph is a simply repulsive image of myself. Horrible!! I have to do something to look different.

But this face reflects all my torments. This is what it looks like inside me, and I wish I could return to my former mental state!

19.I. [January 19, 1938]

Naturally, naturally – today, that S. was taking him to Bern. Tomorrow, to Alten. When he told me this, I admittedly said I wasn't in favor of a beginner traveling so far, which naturally earned me a scolding. I wanted to react, but I thought to myself: "vogue la galere." Whatever will be, let it be. Later, I thought about that story "Der den Tieren gebetet."

Disgusting, disgusting human nature. What else is it like, but Fuchs of his time? And just as I tolerated him with contempt back then, that same contempt and tolerance is within me today. And inside, it howls.

I sit and reproach myself. Today I read about that Bishop of Söderkloem, who hated nothing so much as "Begnemlich keit nur gedaukenlosigkeit." Perhaps this is linked to a weak heart, so it can't be condemned so completely; perhaps it's a pursuit of a certain kind of work—but the fact remains that I didn't establish an institute in Bern at one time, not only because of the feeling that I didn't know enough, but also because those trips to Bern terrified me. This had a very, very negative effect on both of us.

And when Tr. ordered us to move to Bern in 1934, I was the one who didn't support it—out of that same Begnemlichkeit. Now I'm being punished enough for it. Perhaps for that same B. I don't treat Tr. well at all; I'm too apathetic, I don't go anywhere in the evenings. I'm generally reluctant to go to anyone's house—perhaps my hearing plays a role here, too, because interacting with anyone is torture. But on the other hand, I'm too lazy to learn lip-reading—I was too lazy to learn German. In reality, a certain apathy lives within me, which has already partially ruined me, and perhaps even completely ruined me.

I don't feel like doing anything, because I don't consider anything worth doing. Even the press has become indifferent to me. Not because I'm getting in trouble from Tr because of it, but I feel like I need to get my act together again.

From December 17, 1937, to January 17, 1938, I simply did nothing. Now, for three days, I've been writing an article about seamstresses.

I don't have the strength to get around to correspondence.

And if Tr. is in the same apathetic state, and this S. is stimulating him, giving him pleasant moments, then what?

In any case, I should have been less "………." in my menage - the fact remains.

January 24, 1938

Yesterday, I had a conversation with Tr. about moving to Bern. I told him not to take any kind of advantage of me, that is, the fact that I'd be earning a salary; I should do everything to make him feel good.

After this "sacrifice," I felt a sense of relief and told myself it was good – one should always give something of oneself. I thought Tr. would be better for me now that he knew what I was willing to do for him. This morning? The same disgusting, disgusting House.

January 26, 1938

Last night, Tr. looked so awful that I told myself that whatever sacrifice I could, as quickly as possible, should be brought to get him out of here. Although I'm not convinced his life satisfaction will improve, I will have peace of mind.

If only I had more control over my fate, or indeed over all other matters!

January 26, 1938

I mysteriously lost 90 francs today. I still can't understand it. This is the first time I've lost so much money. But it's strange how much money I've lost and broken lately. It's awful.

1. I lost (or forgot $2 in December)

2. I lost a silver brooch

3. I broke a box of chocolates

4. The maid broke a large plate to... and so on.

It's interesting that I have absolutely no idea where I could have lost it, because I'm extremely careful with money these days. I didn't let go of my purse and opened my wallet very carefully. Did someone steal it? And the worst part is, I can't remember the last time I saw the money in my wallet.

Why carry it around? I was so happy to have some money!! I was wondering how much to send to Julek—and now I'm getting my money's worth. God's punishment that I didn't want to help him.

January 29, 1938

It's already internally decided for Tr. that I'll break up with Sol and move to Bern. What kind of change will that be? For the better? For the worse? In any case, it's a difficult task for me.

February 2, 1938

The circle is tightening. Next week, on Wednesday, Tr. is supposed to go to Die…. On his own behalf. My heart sank.

Perhaps this will be for the better for both of us, although it will be a very difficult time for me. We need to grit our teeth and think seriously about life. A Nobel Prize would be nice. For what?!

February 6, 1938

The extent of my bad memory is demonstrated by the fact that I can't remember, for example, whether or how much I received from Wander this year. I have a feeling I did, as I vaguely remember his letter about my fee for my work, but I have no idea whether it was 300 or 400 francs. My memory is strangely failing me.

February 7, 1938

1) Worry about Julek. How is he managing? I torment myself constantly over how he is. Does he not write because I am repulsive to him, because I don’t give him money, or rather because he doesn’t want to trouble me in vain?”

2) I'm constantly thinking about how I'll be in these cramped living conditions. I'm constantly, constantly reminded of this future, yet so near-term poverty. What will life in Bern be like?

3) Par force, I'm now thinking about the job that would earn me money. Today I have an exceptional theoretical project on Tordera. Now I have the entire theory of "Charakter und Ge...". I should hurry to finish it before the move.

It's an unpleasant time – and yet what will the future hold?

February 20, 1938

It went well. Cosmetically, it looks better than before. I still haven't come to terms with having to wear a prosthesis. Meanwhile, the situation with our *Sol.* is in a terrible state due to Tr.’s mental condition. I am trying to instill strength or the will to live in him; I spent the whole evening yesterday talking to him about it, but it helps very little. I truly don’t know what will happen. What is to become of us?

Naw wrote that he had given that English piece to an agent for a major publisher. As always at moments like this, my thoughts wander far into the realm of dreams. If that piece takes off—if my work finally takes off—then what? All the financial difficulties facing me and my family could be successfully resolved. And it is so very possible, after all!! How deeply happy that would make me.

March 3, 1938

I had the satisfaction yesterday of learning that the "Volksbank" in Bern had distributed that little article of mine—"Comment faut-il travailler?"[1] —to its employees (or rather, had it reproduced for them). They sent me a copy with the inscription: *Édité par la Banque Populaire Suisse à Fribourg à l’intention de son personnel*. I truly hadn't expected that!

Notes:

[1] Have not found this article.

March 5, 1938

Tr. and I are both in the foulest mood. We are bored to death. No one comes to see us. We are very lonely. If I don’t call someone, no one calls me first. Despite all my successes, not a single piece is selling—there is a desperate lack of money. Hence the agitation: I can’t help Jania, I can’t do anything for Julek, and I can’t manage to do what I need to do here myself. I dread the thought of the summer suit and coat. Buklerowa’s diamond-studded pieces are selling out, whereas mine are all "nouveautés." It is a completely hopeless situation.

March 6, 1938

The weather is extraordinary. It is completely quiet and peaceful in the house—in such a beautiful apartment—and there is plenty of excellent food—yet, despite all this, life feels unspeakably empty, dull, and wretched. Tr. is terribly agitated, dissatisfied with himself, with life, and with me. And I do not know how to create the kind of life he needs. I ought to gather more people around me—yet, unfortunately, I am utterly unable to draw anyone in. I am not appealing or magnetic. I make many social blunders. I am not well-liked. Loneliness is eating us alive. Our work is going very poorly; that project for F………….. is a terrible burden, etc., etc.—I cannot even ease Tr.’s situation financially. I feel like nothing but a huge burden to him.

That is why my heart is heavy, even though I realize I may never be as well-off materially as I am now. I have—aside from a lack of *Anregung* [stimulation]—ideal living conditions; if only… if only I knew how to make the most of them—that is, if I were up to the task.

March 12, 1938

The die is cast, in a way. The situation with Austria[1] has exacerbated matters here. I feel as though I am on the verge of leaving. Tr. walks around looking terribly grim—as if we were already being thrown out. For a long time now, I have felt an urge to finish everything as quickly as possible, to write as fast as I can. I think of nothing but finishing the work... and starting the work for *Lekolnyskouferen*. Everything seems to burn under my hands; I just want to hurry, hurry—for the time will come when nothing more can be done.

Poor, poor Tr.—how he looks! I pity him so; it breaks my heart to see him like this.

One goes about with the feeling that tomorrow will bring something new—something good? Or bad? We are living through a historic moment.

Notes:

[1] The “Anchluss” (annexation of Austria into Nazi Germany) occurred on March 12.

March 17, 1938

Austria, Austria, Austria… I can’t wrap my head around it. Tr. cried today. What will become of things? Julek reported that he is separating from Lev. – and that he intends to leave Madzia[unclear} again.

What will become of that man? Madzia isn’t writing—what is going to happen, anyway? I am living in a terrible state of mind, despite a life that is objectively so good.

April 10, 1938

So, the conference took place yesterday.

Terrible mistakes:

1. I didn’t deliver the speech I had written for Prezon [Pierina?] yesterday. A terrible *faux pas*.

2. I failed to include the ending of my speech—the part that was essential.

3. I also lacked that essential smile that characterizes every "president’s wife."

Despite this, it seems to me that my standing in Bern improved somewhat.

The first of these mistakes was Tr.’s fault—something I hold very much against him.

W. Stern has died.[1] What a loss that is for us!

I am thinking seriously about America—the land of free speech.

Prezon captivated everyone with his charm, and I felt a desire to possess charm myself. It is something one can develop to a great extent. It is a pity—such a pity—that I thought too little about this in my life.

When I saw the hall full of people yesterday, I simply lost my nerve. I wondered why. It is merely a matter of the wrong *Einstellung* [mindset]. When I imagine all those people as my enemies, or at least ill-disposed toward me, I naturally freeze up; yet when I see others as friends and well-wishers, I feel a desire to share something of myself with them. I should never forget that.

It is interesting: if I think that our girl hasn’t been working, I feel angry with her. Our relationship suffers. More than once, I have realized that I was demanding too much of her. At those moments, the resentment vanished. Our *Forderungen* [demands] provoke similar resentment, and that, too, is something I need to change in myself.

Notes:

[1] William Stern, a German-American psychologist, died March 27.

April 28, 1938

Tr. and I spent eight days in Montreux and Geneva. It was a successful holiday. I also visited B… and hope to earn some money from it. I am terribly worried about my eye, which is getting worse by the day.

May 8, 1938

Yesterday was the annual meeting of the Swiss vocational counselors (*Berufsberater*).[1] I felt terribly heavy-hearted. Jucker and Bolmy looked away from me as best they could; Venenschwander barely greeted me, and so on. The one "win" was getting to know Koch better.

An atmosphere of hatred is killing. What is to be done? I chose the wrong path for my academic work. That "coziness" (*Gemütlichkeit*)—which I recommend to others (like Julek)—is something I should apply to myself.

It is very unfortunate that Tr. told Sylvia Schn. that Koch’s wife had only heard bad things about me before meeting me—and only realized I was nice once she actually got to know me.

The upshot is that I am sitting here at home alone—when I could have spent the day pleasantly among nice people, either yesterday or today.

Naturally, I was also put on trial there. So be it—I’ve completely botched the whole affair.

The worst part is the lack of students attending my lectures. That cuts the very roots of my existence at the university.

I should have gone to that social gathering yesterday. I should have spoken with them (Jucker and Bolmy) and tried to reach an understanding—like the English did with the Italians. Otherwise, a war will break out between us, and I will certainly lose it. Either way.

Actually, not having a proper dress stood in my way, too. Still, I should have just adorned my blouse with some bright pink flowers, pushed up the sleeves, and left it at that. One has to know how to make do. I’m sure no one there pays attention to my outfits. I’m a fool.

Instead, here I sit, writing an article titled "Psychology as Martyrdom."

Notes:

[1] I found several articles about this meeting, but no mention of the names she writes about. There were 160 attendants from around the country.

May 16, 1938

We spent two days in Zurich. It was pleasant. I visited Vogt; he found no deterioration in my eyes. That is good, even though subjectively they don't feel right.

But today I told Tr. about Schabelith—that he is of Jewish descent—whereupon Tr. started talking again about his plans to leave Sol. 

May 26, 1938

Yesterday I received three letters that were highly characteristic:

1. From Felka L., saying she burst into tears upon reading my letter in which I informed her I could not pay for Ninka’s[1] education. She claimed she hadn't even expected me to do so; she doesn't want to be seen as a beggar. Why did she write to me about it twice, then? And wouldn't she have jumped for joy if I *had* done it? Would she have turned it down, insisting she wasn't a beggar? By no means.

2. A letter from Rózia claiming she is so busy she can't remember whether someone gave her a blouse or not (an allusion to the blouses I had sent her). So, my efforts on her behalf amount to a mere trifle—something of no consequence at all.

3. Madzia wrote asking me not to mention how hard it is for me to do things for Rafał. She told me to look at Szwenkowa’s letter to see how much others are doing. It’s her usual tactic—always reproaching me by pointing out that someone else is doing a lot, too.

I see, then, that my deeds for others go completely unappreciated. It will end the same way it did with Fela—with everyone. I am trying to arrange for Madzia to come to Geneva. Once that happens, she’ll find other things to hold against me.

From the constant no………… and Tr.—from my entire way of life, which yields no social connections, and from my failure at the university—an almost absurd lack of students—I can see that something about me isn't right. But what? A screw is loose somewhere. Which one? This failure in life is matched by a failure in my literary career. I ought to be in a different position today. Financially, I earn almost nothing; in terms of reputation, I lack recognition.

Notes:

[1] A first reference(?) to a Ninka—a daughter to Felka?

May 28, 1938

What truly depresses me is how poorly our social life here is shaping up. We have no close friends. No one calls us, no one really invites us over; we always have to drag people to our place. And when we do call someone, it is seen as an intrusion. It makes me lose all desire to be around people; were it not for Tr., I wouldn’t lift a finger to reach out to anyone.

I ponder the reasons for this a great deal. Surely, it isn’t just my deafness. It is a fundamental social question: what draws one person to another? Why does one person get bored in another’s company? If only I knew what I was doing wrong in this regard. There must be something to it.

June 1, 1938

Tr. looks terrible. Yesterday he looked like a dying candle. I keep wanting to cry, cry, cry. What will become of us? I am in such deep despair inside.

I am in such a rush with my work now.

June  6, 1938

A crushing critique in *N.2.2. der Dankbarkeit*. [1] Perhaps it can still be salvaged and will turn out for the best. But it is a sickening feeling.

A conversation with Minkowska (Ab. found something better in her than in our Fela). The topic was Jewish aggressiveness. Perhaps that was the mistake of my life. I felt terribly uncomfortable with her yesterday, as Tr. was likely comparing her to me. It will only work to my disadvantage. She is stylish, pleasant, pretty, and young—and he is, after all, a hundred times worse than Tr.

Why does Tr. always have such an abrasive look on his face when he speaks to me? I must remain pleasant nonetheless, in keeping with my current views on how to treat people. That is the hardest thing for me. Anka Mink worked for years to support her family. How inept I am, unable to earn a thing. I have such a strong aversion to constantly working with my pen. I would like to have some sort of practical profession. I simply have to force myself to work; I have absolutely no desire to do it.

Notes:

[1] Presumably, a reference to a review of an article she published in 1938 about gratitude in children.

June  8, 1938

My health is taking up half my life. It looks like something very bad is brewing. It looks terrible. I went to see Du…..ka. I don’t know if I didn’t make matters worse by doing so. It’s a terrible ordeal for me.

June  10, 1938

Sgamini{?] wrote me a letter today stating that he has a poor opinion of me; the fact that I do not take his side is one thing—and that in itself wouldn't be bad—but the fact that I cannot point to any development of my *Abteilung*, that I have done nothing to turn this Institute into a real center of activity—that is my own fault. Of course, I was held back by Sg. himself, by Soloflum—but still, despite all that—I am, was, and will be a zero.

I am wasting a terrible amount of time and doing nothing. At bottom, I am a brute. But I have decided to accept Sgamini’s proposal—and change my way of working.

It is awful. Awful how little success I have with people. How I fail to carry through on anything I intend to do. It is simply shameful. I must pull myself together and constantly overcome this.

June  14, 1938

Dzi...cki called. I feel humiliated by today’s call—and, in fact, by my entire campaign on Tr.’s behalf.

I spoke up for Tr. on three occasions:

1. With Monakow and Ulszak—in Zurich; I didn’t achieve anything, but I lost Monakow’s goodwill.

2. With Rudolf—he accomplished nothing. I lost Rudolf’s goodwill, too, which became evident in his unpleasant attitude toward me from then on.

3. With Dzi...cki—it seems I did harm to both him and myself.

So today I am in a terrible mood, feeling that nothing is going right and that I might have ruined Tr.’s career!

June  16, 1938

Bad, bad, bad.

Our house is like a coffin. Silence. Boredom. Emptiness. It’s awful. Awful. I haven’t lived like this in ages. Could someone tell me

a) why people ………. ………. don’t read

b) why I have no social success

c) why I have no success at the university

d) why my husband doesn’t love me?

It all stems from a single root. But what is it? That is the riddle of my life. Why is Hugo Simon so well-liked, while I bore everyone? A riddle, because I try so hard to do things right.

June  24, 1938

I have to admit to myself that I am a failure.

1. I am not popular with the students.

2. I failed to win Tr.’s affection.

3. My academic success falls short of what I had hoped for.

4. I failed to establish a social standing for myself.

This is very, very bad.

June  25, 1938

I attended that *Kedpadag Tagung* in Bern. I realized once again how little people like me. I had gone in such high spirits, thinking the world was my oyster. Yet later, I sensed a barrier: Minakówna’s greeting was lukewarm, and Simsen—she went off to see an acquaintance. On the way, I had been sitting next to an Italian woman, but as soon as we got off, she immediately walked away from me without even saying goodbye. In short, no one felt drawn to me. Since there were difficulties regarding the visit to the Czech embassy—something I had been particularly looking forward to—I slipped off home. That makes it the second time I’ve fled a social gathering, fearing failure or a sense of emptiness.

People leave me cold; I find them terribly boring. Yet why was I so well-disposed toward them this morning? It took only a few people not acting the way I wanted for me to become agitated and behave foolishly—when I really should have stayed the course (stuck it out and tried to connect with the people there).

If only I knew how to be pleasant to people! My habit of ingratiating myself led nowhere. Should I try a different approach?

That emptiness—the terrible emptiness at home.

I am such a hopeless failure—good for nothing.

July  5, 1938

I’ve simply ruined the peace of my day with that visit to Mrs. Abelin. I don’t know why I always strike such an unpleasant tone with her. No matter how often I resolve to act or speak differently, nothing helps. It is as if I sense that, deep down, she bears me no goodwill—that she is somewhat envious—yet I... I am the one who constantly provokes that envy. I see that I must maintain boundaries—always, everywhere, and with everyone.

July  9, 1938

On the 7th of this month, I had an interview with Kefti ​​regarding hats. To my great surprise, she told me not so much about hats as about herself. She belongs to Christian Science. Yet she impressed me with qualities that Tr. and de Vigier also possess—qualities that are not about making a scene:

1) adherence to principle

2) discipline.

She always asks at every opportunity: what is the rule? The principle is: "das genstigt prinzip" she actually means what is agreement.

But I concluded, comparing her and myself, that she had something that I did not have - namely: this inertia, this indolence. In fact, I constantly have to hold on to my ears and force myself to work. I have to keep pushing myself. I actually have a lot of apathy in me. I don't really want to do anything honestly. Actually deep feelings except for Tr. I have nothing for anyone - and when he is apathetic, I simply have to force myself to "learn my life".

I often get incredibly bored during lectures, and it's understandable that others get bored too. Now I've pulled myself together, when I'm bored, I tell myself: overcome it, otherwise I have a crushing effect on others, even on Tr., who feels it in a special way.

July  23, 1938

I’ve reached a fine state of brutishness. Yesterday I went to the dentist and forgot to show him that other tooth—the one that had been hurting me so much lately and worrying me. What can I say? I’m truly in despair, especially since funds are terribly tight—despite my earnings (?).

July  24, 1938

That biography of Frau Curie keeps me up at night. I can now clearly see the *Leitgedanken* [guiding themes] of my novel *The Female Student*. Everything there must be different (for it *is* different from Curie’s case)—

a) not just a desire for learning, but also for life (she lacked this—learning *was* her life)

struggle

desire for synthesis

impossibility—little success in life as a result

b) a completely different husband—with Curie: collaboration

with *The Female Student*: constant struggle

August 8, 1938

I’ve been going through a terrible time lately. Nothing specific happened, but spiritually I felt—and still feel—dreadful. Madzia and Rafał were here. I feel uneasy around them—especially Rafał. There is something standing between us. I’ve just learned that she’s had a good few years recently without telling me—all the while, I was pitying her. I tried to arrange various things for him—or at least made an effort in that direction—but the contempt with which he received it... the same contempt Tr. feels for me. They don’t want me.

I can’t—I simply cannot get along with people; I’d love nothing more than to fly off to a desert island. I think about Australia—America is my dream—to be alone somewhere, to start life over. I don’t even think about having a man of my own anymore; I’ll never have one. My ear bothers me so much that no one will ever feel affection for me again (and then there’s old age). And I know I’ll never love anyone again, either. It’s over.

There is only one thing I want. To be *charmante*. To rise above people so I don’t feel their anger—it is so terrible. Kindness... And to avoid conflicts with them—it’s awful, just awful. I still can’t find the self I was during that one semester in Kraków. But I feel I must find that path back to myself. It seems to me that the sense of being cut off from people was the same then as it is now. Right now, that is my only inner salvation.

I asked Tr. today about that *poz.* — The answer: *nicht verewigt werden*.

August 21, 1938

Marrin, who arrived yesterday, said that while in Adelboden she had instructed the hotelier to forward her mail to our address. Dr. Tramer? *Das ist der berühmte Irrenarzt und...* ...is a distinguished lady? I hadn't expected such a compliment.

I received rejections:

1) from *Organisator* (*Veak u. Schuld*)

2) from *Bund* (Mme Curie)

This hurt me deeply, for these are editorial offices that only refuse a piece when it is truly poor. So?

I am so weary of these rejections that I have decided to devote myself exclusively to scholarly work from now on and stop sending out these small pieces—which only come back to me and are humiliating.

September 6, 1938

I was in the Netherlands from August 30 to September 4. Going there for just a few days was quite a bold move. But it worked out. Despite the trouble with my ear and the fact that my eye is causing me increasing worry (and what worry it is!!), I felt truly at peace.

The reason? A different attitude toward people. I could see this most clearly at the conference; back in 1929, I was very stiff and didn't really form close ties with anyone, whereas this time I was friendly with everyone. This is the result of my *Gemeinschaftsgedanken* [thoughts on community]. I hope it lasts. That’s all for now. My eye is worrying me terribly. God, why are You punishing me so severely?

Absolutely no good news from Julek and the family. And it is high time things started going better for that family.

October 16, 1938

I am making such huge mistakes that I am bewildered by them myself. For instance, even though I knew I ought to go to the *Künstlerzimmer* and congratulate that Rizla woman, I didn’t do it because I was with Tr., who was in a bad mood. Consequently, I failed to meet people who could have been very useful to us and expanded our circle of acquaintances.

That girl—that nasty brat—has left. My maid wants to quit. My ear is bothering me; it’s getting worse. Not a shred of financial luck. Indecision about what to do with *Psych. S. Demokratie*. And this terrible, terrible loneliness of ours. Things are bad for Julek, terribly bad for Rózia; Madzia doesn’t know where or how they’ll end up; Fela remains stubbornly silent, having cut off all ties with us.

Quite a balance sheet. I feel so bitter, so utterly drained. There is nothing left in me of life’s smile.

October 17, 1938

Dearest Langier has once again refused to accept my work for his *Travail Humain*. He is taking revenge because I didn’t become his mistress—or at least because I wouldn’t let him kiss me. Fine. Perhaps this will hasten the founding of my own journal. Today I received a coherent letter from Kahnloser stating that I must not stop Sganzini. I feel him becoming increasingly vicious, like a dog. People are unkind to me. Yet I do them no harm; and still—there must be something about me that makes me so disliked. What is it? Just my outward appearance, or something else?

With every such refusal, every blow, my anger grows—though practically speaking, it ought to subside, or things will only get worse.

I also fail to see things through to the very end—to the bitter end. And the root of all this misery is my lack of marital love. I feel utterly wretched inside.

Someone ought to write a novel about the erotic upbringing of people—that’s what’s needed.

October 24, 1938

I saw Hegg last week. The eye condition looks worse than I had imagined. Consequently, I want to see Vogt. In the meantime, the fact that it has worsened has left me terribly depressed. I am barely living. I hide everything from Tr., but how long can I keep that up? But there is something else, too: this constant, unending despondency. I simply have to get it out of my *mentalité*. I like cheerful people myself—why am I so terribly downcast? I look awful; I simply scare people away. How can I not be ashamed? So many people are worse off.

Only now have I begun to fully realize what a bad effect Sol[othurn] has had on me. This silence in the house and all around me does me no good at all. What I said to myself when we arrived at Sol after the wedding—"Here is my prison"—is coming true. It *was* a prison. But I bear a great deal of the blame. I shouldn't have held Tr. back from leaving this place. After all, he had wanted to leave for over four years. Now I am paying the price. By now, I would likely have had a thriving institute.

We are planning to leave for America. It seems like a superfluous decision to me—something that will never actually happen. But the most important thing for me right now is to find peace of mind. Not to be weighed down. To always show kindness to others. I really don't know how to cultivate that in myself. I keep dwelling on the same old things—on this feeling of being weighed down. Roosevelt, despite being so gravely ill, always manages a smile—an artificial one, perhaps, but a smile nonetheless. If only I had that kind of willpower. That’s already half the victory.

November 25, 1938

In the meantime, complications have arisen: the matter of Rafał’s transport[1]  and a conflict with the university—or rather, the faculty. Both issues are taking a heavy toll on my health. That scoundrel Sganzini[2]  has been making my life miserable, especially these past few days. By any human standard of justice, Sganzini ought to be taught a harsh lesson. But where has the word "justice" gone these days? It has vanished... completely.

I’ve learned my lesson. After all, there was no need for me to ask him for that extra lecture. What for? It only led to a nasty confrontation. I don’t know how to navigate these difficult times—I should have just kept quiet and been grateful they were leaving me alone. I should have stayed in the quietest hole imaginable and avoided everyone—anyone who could possibly be avoided.

Notes:

[1] No diary entries for a month, during which her brother-in-law was deported to Poland (in the run-up to Kristallnacht). The diary also includes a postcard from her sister dated November 24.

[2] Carol Sganzini, full professor of philosophy with a specialty of psychology at the University of Bern.

November 26, 1938

Today I turned 55. It just seems funny to me. Tr., of course, forgot the day—only Madzia wrote, because she needs me most right now, while Felutka had already expressed her wishes in a dreadful card full of... well, nonsense.

The clash with the faculty is very unpleasant, but the consequences might be agreeable. It reminds me of that Kenbren affair—which, though very unpleasant, had the upside of keeping me in Berlin so I didn't go back home. Perhaps Sganini will fall into the trap he’s setting for me.

But something unpleasant always happens to me in November.

And yet, and yet—the bottom line is always the fact that people don't like me. What is it about me? Whenever I think of someone, the same thought always comes up in the end: he doesn't like me, I’ve crossed him, nothing can be done with him. Why don't people like me? Admittedly, I don't like them much either, but still, still—liking, where is it? Somehow, I always end up offending someone somewhere.

December 5, 1938

I must add: on December 5th, I went to Vogt’s clinic—the time spent with Vogt was quite an experience, though I don't know what will come of it. In any case, it was something very intense and astonishing—astonishing simply that it could happen at all. What kind of person is he, anyway? It’s all a mystery to me!

January 3, 1939

January 3

It was a complete surprise that V. wrote back right away—though he probably does that with all his patients.[1] 

Notes:

[1] There is a note from Vogt with best wishes tucked in the diary.

January 15, 1939

A strange, strange time. A loathsome time. Yesterday, a conversation with Sganzini. I have ostensibly retained my *docent* status, but I am no longer permitted to appear publicly as *Leiterin*. Actually, I am glad things turned out this way. It frees me from various obligations, from the strain and effort of teaching. I have a good excuse to withdraw into my work.

Relations with Tr. are strained. He is going through a very nervous time. I keep thinking about V. It is unhealthy. What is to be done?

The family issue became less pressing following R.’s note, but now there is Madzia, who is making a play for Tr. That will sort itself out.

I feel an unbearable heaviness—I derive no satisfaction from life. Just to stay away from people. Withdrawn into myself. The only solace—if one could live like that, indifferent to everyone and everything?

I am writing my novel. It seems to me that, in doing so, I am settling accounts with life, as it were. It is like the final act I always intended to perform—but what remains after it?

January 17, 1939

Nothing is going right for me materially, and I am deeply in debt. I have no desire to work—because so many things fail to work out. If only one major success would come along! That piece on democracy, for instance—nothing, nothing, nothing.

Everything comes back to haunt me painfully.

January 22, 1939

A terrible scandal involving Madzia—one that cost me dearly in terms of emotional strain. I have but one desire in life: to know how to play the comedy well. Unfortunately, I have not yet learned how! Yet this is something I must learn in my old age.

A thought occurred to me today at dinner: I shall not make my family my heirs—perhaps only Rózia. Let the money—if there is any—be used to publish those poor works of mine; they still afford me a moment of satisfaction. My family has not given me that.

January 24, 1939

January 24

I realize that I lead a very comfortable life. Materially, my meals are assured, and I have the whole day at my disposal. Yet, within this favorable framework, my soul feels very, very heavy.

Madzia has left. A terrible rift has opened up between us. She gives nothing more to her husband and is looking for a replacement; she wouldn't hesitate to take mine—or anyone else who happened along—if it meant securing her future.

She is unfortunate herself and has suffered a great deal. She has a difficult temperament. She repels me just as much as she draws me in when she is kind.

With Tr., it is the same old tragedy. He is terribly, terribly harsh with me. He offers nothing but reproaches and accusations; nothing I do helps. The image of V. has faded completely (what distance does!), and often I can no longer recall the things I once dreamed of.

I know I am full of faults, but I also know I want to improve. Madzia infuriates me:

1. because she always claims that this "other man" has no needs;

2. because she refuses to engage with others herself (she won't even speak to Julek about the factory!);

3. she is not truthful—she is always whining—and often drives me to the end of my tether.

I am constantly plagued by a guilty conscience (or is it merely distress?) at being better off than she is. What more could I possibly do for the family than I have already done? She is always holding up other people to me as examples of those who do more than I do—it is constant dissatisfaction. That, too, often drives me to distraction. Perhaps the fault lies in my own character? Yet, how many sisters never look after their siblings at all, whereas I have devoted my entire life to mine.

February 25, 1939

My financial situation is delightful: I have nearly 2,000 francs in debt—and what income to show for it? It is entirely my own fault that I don’t know how to earn money—or rather, that I don’t know how to work. After all, that work ought to have yielded both more cash and greater scientific standing. I have neither. There is a flaw in my work, rooted in my thinking, which is disastrous.

Torgler was here yesterday with his instruments; it turns out I can harbor absolutely no hope of finding a decent instrument. Science hasn’t advanced that far yet. I am very disheartened, all the more so because that wretched eye is still bad. I really must pull myself together!

March 4, 1939

Day after day, I make mistakes that should not have been made. Yesterday, regarding the hairdresser’s tip, and with that Calabresi woman—not stopping her. These mistakes stem from a flawed attitude toward people—or, in truth, from my own lack of kindness.

I am going to Zurich on Tuesday. I am so, so excited (I’ve gone completely mad). Is it just ordinary *Vorfreude*?

March 8, 1939

If one were to devise a way for everything to go wrong, one couldn't come up with anything better than my stay in Zurich. The conversation with Vogt was the most chaotic I’ve ever had. My stupidity surpasses my failure—that probably says it all. The golden dream… is likely over. Everything that happened—that brief consultation, rushed under the pressure of the crowd waiting outside, containing none of what I wanted to say—it is all just further proof of my boundless stupidity. With a mindset like this, one can achieve nothing in life.

The conversation with Estera devastated me. Rózia is in a terrible state. I cannot help her without money. And, for all my efforts, I simply cannot earn any. The realization of my own helplessness has hit me. I clench my fists in anger and frustration.

And now this eye—this eye—rendering me utterly incapacitated.

March 12, 1939

My dearest little brother has honored me again with a ………. “revolver-style” demand. “Cough up the cash.” I sent him another 100 francs (poor, poor Tr!), but after sending the money, I experienced a strong reaction. Above all, I saw the utter baseness of this man who—heedless of anything, of my health, of my situation regarding Tr, or the fact that I have to help Rózia and Madzia—still dares to ask for loans. This man is a true moral monster. In him, I have the opportunity to study boundless moral anarchy.

This Tuesday proved that: 1) I am not *Schlagfertig* [quick-witted/ready with a retort]; 2) I have lost that “…………….” demeanor I used to have with him; 3) his is the kind of mind that suits me extraordinarily well. Now I must do one thing: try to create something great, something worthy of me. Nothing comes to mind. I cannot think.

A new spiritual era. I will shake Julek off. Internally, I have written him off. I have become convinced that he desires nothing but his own well-being, even at the cost of my ruin. 2) I must channel all my strength into my work.