A Culture of Introspective Captivity - by P.E. Moskowitz
A few months ago, I ended therapy. I had been seeing a psychologist for six years. And he is, for sure, a large part of the reason I am still alive. But then, within a few months, after many years of usefulness, therapy began to feel not only not-useful, but potentially harmful to me. I don’t know exactly when I realized this—perhaps it was the umpteenth time we’d talked about my fear of accomplishing my desires, my fear that that would somehow make people angry at me. Repetition is a necessary component of analysis. You return again and again, reframing and finding new angles each time. But this repetition felt different; less like we were uncovering, and more like we were digging a hole. Instead of solving the issue at hand, I was concerned we were actually exacerbating it—finding more and more reasons I was scared of accomplishment, and thus almost justifying them, instead of me, well, just doing the things I want to accomplish. It was as if through professionally-assisted introspec
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