After all, it’s all about ‘parents’?
Just finishing all the sessions of counselling, interestingly we came to a convincing interpretation of my problem(s) based on my memories about the relationship between my parents and I.
‘Because they are first persons you met in life,’ he said.
The way I handle my supervisors, the view of procrastination and ‘being productive’, my heavy reliance on people I love, my negative attitude towards sleeping, and the strong fear of dying are seemingly linkable to what happened to me in childhood.
This is very ear-catching, ‘Is this psychoanalysis?’ I asked. ‘Sort of, but not necessarily,’ he responded.
‘How can I fix it though?’ I further asked. ‘There is nothing in need of a solution unless you problematise the issue,’ he said.
Why I identify those issues that matter with my anxiety about my research progress is another interesting question, now at hand.
Between rebellion and obedience, I attempted to find a middle ground, but what I hold ‘unconsciously’ (the word he kept utilising in the conversation) deserves an exploration.
From memories, a dream, a feeling and anything seducible, I embed myself in an elusively illusionary dialogue with my parents (and perhaps also others) in a metaphoric and analogical form, as there is always someone that I have to fight against – with saying ‘yes’ – although it is just me and myself.
He calls it ‘internalisation’, of domestication and conformity, and of ‘being myself’ and ‘just do it’, and after all it is all like a process reflecting my parents and me, my‘self’ and me, me and ‘I’.
I didn’t expect the conversation would go up to a philosophical level, but this recalls lots of readings that I did recently, and I sort of seeing the inseparability between psychoanalysis and schizoanalysis.
They are on the both sides of a mirror. One reflects your ‘lack’ and the other rewrites your ‘want’, and standing in between you are of your own, in your own right, with your own words, but without your own self.
Out of a desire, deeply in my mind against the body, it is mingled with a manner of showing subordination along with an intent of preparing subversion (at all times?). It is like a reflexivity of ‘being a child’, perversely enjoying harm and pleasure simultaneously – a type of sadomachism, I wonder?
Anyway, I found the session today worth a note, because it is the last and a summary one.
When it comes the last minutes, I pondered a while, looking down in the air. When I wanted to say something, it was with a long breath.
He looked at me, as tenderly as usual, he wanted to make a conclusion, but he did not. He left questions, those I brought to him at the first place.
‘You’re probably not as conflicting as you think.’ After a brief pause, ‘it’s not a question that you need an answer to, at least not from me, if it is something that you actually feel comfortable with,’ he continued.
Those problems remained and vanished at once, as if they never existed but they are rooted somewhere. ‘I hate analysing, and those theories trying to explain me’, I murmured, ‘but the fact is that I hate more to take “things” for granted, even myself.’
After saying thank-you to the counsellor, I walked around on campus and took the last sip of coffee left in the cup. With a cigarette, ‘what a sophisticated relief in the end,’ I came across.
This is the first time for me not to run immediately and directly to work after counselling. I think I may need a break, at least for now, even just for one moment of writing this down.
Just finishing all the sessions of counselling, interestingly we came to a convincing interpretation of my problem(s) based on my memories about the relationship between my parents and I.
‘Because they are first persons you met in life,’ he said.
The way I handle my supervisors, the view of procrastination and ‘being productive’, my heavy reliance on people I love, my negative attitude towards sleeping, and the strong fear of dying are seemingly linkable to what happened to me in childhood.
This is very ear-catching, ‘Is this psychoanalysis?’ I asked. ‘Sort of, but not necessarily,’ he responded.
‘How can I fix it though?’ I further asked. ‘There is nothing in need of a solution unless you problematise the issue,’ he said.
Why I identify those issues that matter with my anxiety about my research progress is another interesting question, now at hand.
Between rebellion and obedience, I attempted to find a middle ground, but what I hold ‘unconsciously’ (the word he kept utilising in the conversation) deserves an exploration.
From memories, a dream, a feeling and anything seducible, I embed myself in an elusively illusionary dialogue with my parents (and perhaps also others) in a metaphoric and analogical form, as there is always someone that I have to fight against – with saying ‘yes’ – although it is just me and myself.
He calls it ‘internalisation’, of domestication and conformity, and of ‘being myself’ and ‘just do it’, and after all it is all like a process reflecting my parents and me, my‘self’ and me, me and ‘I’.
I didn’t expect the conversation would go up to a philosophical level, but this recalls lots of readings that I did recently, and I sort of seeing the inseparability between psychoanalysis and schizoanalysis.
They are on the both sides of a mirror. One reflects your ‘lack’ and the other rewrites your ‘want’, and standing in between you are of your own, in your own right, with your own words, but without your own self.
Out of a desire, deeply in my mind against the body, it is mingled with a manner of showing subordination along with an intent of preparing subversion (at all times?). It is like a reflexivity of ‘being a child’, perversely enjoying harm and pleasure simultaneously – a type of sadomachism, I wonder?
Anyway, I found the session today worth a note, because it is the last and a summary one.
When it comes the last minutes, I pondered a while, looking down in the air. When I wanted to say something, it was with a long breath.
He looked at me, as tenderly as usual, he wanted to make a conclusion, but he did not. He left questions, those I brought to him at the first place.
‘You’re probably not as conflicting as you think.’ After a brief pause, ‘it’s not a question that you need an answer to, at least not from me, if it is something that you actually feel comfortable with,’ he continued.
Those problems remained and vanished at once, as if they never existed but they are rooted somewhere. ‘I hate analysing, and those theories trying to explain me’, I murmured, ‘but the fact is that I hate more to take “things” for granted, even myself.’
After saying thank-you to the counsellor, I walked around on campus and took the last sip of coffee left in the cup. With a cigarette, ‘what a sophisticated relief in the end,’ I came across.
This is the first time for me not to run immediately and directly to work after counselling. I think I may need a break, at least for now, even just for one moment of writing this down.
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