psychoanalysis

/psychoanalysis37

free-flowing mind

About our relationship with time
Reality comes to us in a raw and unprocessed form, often too intense, complex, or overwhelming for the mind to fully grasp. The mind processes reality, softening it through thought production.

Grotstein: What we believe we experience is a kind of virtual reality.
a "virtual reality"—a Reality that is "virtued/laundered" by the refractions of light created by fantasy, imagination, illusion, and symbolism.

Thinking is a tool for thought production. Sometimes no matter how much you think, nothing comes out of it. Because it is still raw and has time to cook.
"Leiblichkeit" is a way of looking at the body as more than just something physical—it’s part of how we live and experience the world. Imagine your body as the lens through which you experience everything around you. Your thoughts aren’t separate from your body; they’re shaped by what you feel, touch, and sense. This means your body and mind are always working together. So, in simple terms, the way you experience the world with your body plays a big role in how you think about it.
In the creative process, holding in mind what something will become and feeling the passion and dedication towards it, can be the most pleasurable aspect of creation.
"There is an early communication from skin to skin; the skin is the first organ of meaningful exchange. Acts of mirroring movement and words can only develop on the foundational ground of mirroring rhythm, warmth, and touch."

Anzieu
The pain a person feels does not come from the thoughts they think, but from the thoughts they can't think. The thoughts they believe are causing their pain are not the cause, but the result. The thoughts that rise to consciousness take on the emotions of the ones that can't. It's believed that once these thoughts are resolved, the emotions will go away. But they don't. Even when problems are solved, they remains.
One sees in others the flaws they repress in themselves.
Psychoanalyst Yolanda Gampell's concept of radioactivity offers a powerful metaphor to help us understand the destructive effects of sociopolitical violence on individuals. Radioactive particles spread through the body, gradually accumulating and causing damage over time. Similarly, the effects of sociopolitical violence can be observed in the human psyche, much like the effects of radioactivity on the body.

The first generations directly experience this damage, and the traumas are passed down to future generations. Just as radioactive waste spreads and creates serious problems over the long term, the violence leaves lasting scars on the fabric of society, affecting collective memory and identity.
does suffering exist outside of resistance?
"The world judged is not a product. It is the judging alone that is the product. A judgement about the world is a finding, sometimes in the form of a shaping, but what is found is not the finding."

Justus Buchler
No matter who or what we talk about, there is a sense of inevitability that the topic always circles back to us. In a way, we put parts of ourselves out into the world, and in the end, those parts come back to us.
"Infantilisation takes an acute loss of agency and control and transforms it into a state to be desired and enjoyed."

https://www.dazeddigital.com/life-culture/article/58408/1/why-everyone-except-me-is-an-immature-little-baby-james-greig-adult-babies
One of the new symptoms in today's world is engaging in genuine (?) conversations with AI. This phenomenon seems to be connected to the deepening sense of loneliness. While many people long for intimate relationships where they can open up as they truly are, they also experience profound insecurity and seem hesitant to invest in forming such relationships. AI serves as both a balm for this loneliness and a defense mechanism against forming connections with real people.
The early development and vulnerability of a human infant lead to a fundamental sense of helplessness. This helplessness stems from the need for others to survive. This need persists throughout life, mostly reemerges in challenging situations, encouraging us to seek external support and a helping hand. This is one of what directs us towards others and relationships. However, to avoid confronting our vulnerability and dependency, we strive to create conditions where we don't experience it. We attempt to overcome it through wealth, success, high status, and power.
When I was a child, there was a place my family went to every summer, and I was forced to go along. I developed a strong aversion to there. However, in one day, I realized there was actually something I liked about going there. We didn’t have satellite TV at home, but the houses there did. It was my way of connecting with the world because I loved watching foreign channels: music, movies, even the news.

It’s interesting how the mind works. When you no longer need to be defensive, lost pieces of memories start to resurface.
In the essence of life, there is an endless desire and a force of resistance. From infancy, our endless desires face obstacles, and we fight to keep them. For example, when we need to stop breastfeeding, we resist and cry as babies. In this situation, a pacifier is given to compromise, but eventually, we need to stop using it as well. We might pretend to stop using it while still using it secretly, or we might quietly give up our desire to eat as a form of protest. We encounter countless conflicts like this, and express our resistance and protest in various ways.

How do you resist and protest?
The new language brings a new culture, identity, and way of life. When learned to cope with being dislocated and fitting into a new society, it can also deepen many losses.

It creates a sense of disconnection from both old and new languages and cultures, leaving one feeling caught between them without a strong sense of belonging. As Kristeva said, between two languages, silence becomes a way to express the pain of being in-between.
Psychological growth,
Ogden / Why read Fairbairn?
Today, a friend pointed out that I struggle to directly ask for the emotional support I need. Instead of clearly expressing my need, I often end up talking more about the emotional weight it brings. This was an eye-opening moment for me. I realize that I often feel a sense of shame tied to my need, which I experience physically—I feel small, weighed down, my mind freezes, and words just don’t come. The body always keeps score.

This seems like a core emotional issue for me. My choice of profession is meaningful in this context. Being in the position of giving support rather than receiving it is always more comfortable. And this is shameful. Perhaps this is why my analyst once told me, "You are the patient here." Even in a setting where I seek support, I couldn’t step out of my professional identity and needed to recognize where I was sitting.
"I'm walking down a path, picking up flowers and thorns."
When the thorns prick my hand, I drop everything. But in getting rid of the thorns, I also lose the flowers.
I truly appreciate the Japanese sensitivity to creating words for every specific situation. This desire to name even the smallest nuances of emotions and nature reflects, perhaps, a deep awareness of the essence of life. One term I particularly love is mono no aware.

The quiet streets at the end of summer, the falling leaves, and the fading light... All of these remind me of the fleeting things in the world. I see them, hear them, and experience them, yet at the same time, I feel in my heart the essence of these things and their inevitable passage.
Witnessing the transformation over time makes me deeply feel the value of what I have and have experienced, and it makes me feel like part of something that is evolving. It also brings about the loss of some things, and witnessing the loss creates a sense of grief.
The Divided Self
R. D. Laing