“When the new psychologist puts an end to the superstitions which have so far flourished with almost tropical luxuriance around the idea of the soul, he practically exiles himself into a new desert and a new suspicion. It is possible that the older psychologists had a merrier and more comfortable time.”
—F. Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, §12 (edited excerpt).
The last time I saw her she was blooming like daisies, wearing a weary smile, cloaked in hopeless gown of despair. She told me she was scared of something -or someone. Her dreams caught the best of her, fell down trying to fly so high. She told me she had left God behind and she was ashamed. The last time I saw her, she was fading but she was alive. They killed her. Piece by piece. Second by second. The last time I saw her I could hear her breathing ashes of her broken soul.
Note that eyewitness testimony is, by far, the weakest form of evidence that a person can present in support of a claim. In spite of its high value in the court of law, in the “court” of science, eyewitness testimony is essentially useless. Psychologists have known for quite some time how ineffective the human senses are as data taking devices. Note that the pedigree of the observer is irrelevant here - as long as he or she is human, the fallibility of observation is manifest.
- Neil deGrasse Tyson in ‘Letters from an Astrophysicist’
When a client tells me they don’t believe in taking prescription medication, but they continue their drinking habit of blacking out weekly…Im just like,
Quando nos conhecemos, aquela psicóloga linda e inteligente fiquei encantado com a maneira como equilibrava perfeitamente a doçura daquele tipo de mulher que um homem sempre quis apresentar aos pais e os braços lindamente tatuados que me faziam imaginá-la sendo despida por um grupo de motociclistas que se revesariam transando com ela enquanto seus braços, apoiados sobre a moto de um deles e apertando os seios siliconados, serviria de moldura àquele rosto que eu tinha vontade de encher de beijos toda a vez que a encontrava.
Apesar de nos olharmos encantandos um com o outro e de até nossa respiração ficar diferente quando nos aproximávamos, nada aconteceu: ela morava com o namorado [que resistia a chamar de “marido”]. Mas naquela tarde quente de verão em que nos encontramos casualmente no café do centro da cidade e não conseguíamos ir embora mesmo depois de conversar por horas, ela aceitou vir até o meu apartamento: mal entramos e começamos a nos agarrar. Depois de transarmos por horas com a paixão e a intensidade de duas pessoas que há muito tempo esperavam para ter um ao outro, finalmente consegui sentar e ficar admirando-a tomar o capuccino que preparei com carinho para ela. “O que você fez comigo, menino? Como vou voltar agora para casa e olhar para o meu namorado se tenho vontade de ficar aqui com você para sempre?” disse ela sem tirar os olhos de mim.
“Eu sabia que mais cedo ou mais tarde não resistiríamos um ao outro - mas o que me enche de alegria é saber que você foi infiel ao seu namorado. O que me enche de esperança de um dia de ter para mim e saber que você não terá pudores de ir para a cama com outros homens se assim seu corpo desejar” confessei. Percebi que ela estava supresa, mas não decepcionada; e, aproximando-me dela para beijar-lhe, completei: “Volte para casa e transe a noite toda com seu namorado - faça dessa a sua primeira infidelidade ao sentimento que você tem por mim”.
I’ve changed so much in the past few months that I don’t know where to begin, but I’ll try.
I have a wonderful psychologist, Rhiannon, who is very encouraging and accepting of my chronic illnesses. I broke off my several year relationship with my toxic psychiatrist and no longer feel the need to have one in my life.
I’ve had a well needed health overhaul. I now exercise everyday from Monday to Friday. I portion control, I drink herbal teas to keep my cravings at bay. I weigh myself only once a month, the week after my period, and reward myself with a cooked breakfast.
I’ve gone from debilitating agoraphobia to learning to run small errands and considering returning to finish my degree at university. I would say that my anxiety is mild now, I’ve learnt from daily meditation and through living by the ACT principle to put my worries in order.
I was in a position where I hadn’t been outside with my husband for several years, but now I go everywhere with him. He accompanies me on my swims and walks, and we have recently started going to the shops together and plan to expand. I have the idea of sharing a coffee with him while out and going on a small bus ride together in the not too distant future. I rely on him more while also feeling more independent and I trust him more than I thought I could.
I’ve lost 2-3 dress sizes and at least 25kgs in the past year. My health is much better as is my sleeping. Despite my arthritis, I am on less medication and am feeling less pain and stiffness.
I have a stronger relationship with my sister and am appreciating my relationships more. I’m a more reasonable, calm person. I am stronger than I ever have been. I am content with my life, I cherish it, and I look forward to the future.
Trailer and stills for Yang Zi, Jing Boran’s healing romance Psychologist
Trailer and stills for #YangZi, #JingBoran’s healing romance Psychologist
Psychologist stars Yang Zi as He Dun, the psychologist who is able to solve all her patients’ problems except her own. Jing Boran costars as a radio host and her love interest. [Extended Synopsis]
I think we’ve finally hit on what annoys me most about the commercialization of self-care: the idea that if we just take enough soothing actions then we won’t be tormented by the horror of being alive. This is a fucked-up expectation to set up for any depressed person, not to mention a way to cause further shame when taking these actions doesn’t work. Depression is an illness. No one would tell a person with cancer that if they just “inhale an upbeat smell” or “do a mini de-clutter” they are on the road to complete healing. So let’s maybe let the depression sufferers, and our doctors, address the depression. And the self-care bloggers can stick to $75 cashmere socks.
Annihilation:The map had been the first form of misdirection, for what was a map but a way of emphasizing some things and making other things invisible?
x
Moby Dick: It is not down on any map; true places never are.
