Over the years, I have noticed that the mere mention of the word "
psychoanalysis" strikes
fear in the hearts of many. It is equivalent to Harry Potter's Lord Voldemort--it is the profession whose name shall not be spoken!
I am reminded of this idea whenever I attend a dinner party with new people. Inevitably, the dreaded question is asked of me..."so what do you do for a living?" I gulp. I look for an escape route. I wish I were a teacher, a television editor, a software engineer, or even an IRS agent. Because I know how intimidated people feel about psychotherapists--and psychoanalysts in particular. They have fantasies that we have x-ray vision and can see the deepest, darkest secrets of their minds. They expect harsh judgment and a kind of detached superiority from us. They wonder if we are always psychoanalyzing everyone in the room.
So, in the face of the question, I try to smile and come across as casually as possible. "I'm a head-shrinker," I say. It's the least intimidating way I know how to describe it. They usually laugh. A good sign. Usually they give me a chance. Another good sign. And then after awhile, as they get to know me, they seem to relax...and so do I!
While these anxieties tend not to last very long, it is important to admit there is some basis in reality for them. Intuitively, we know that psychoanalysis is a model for thinking about people that is deep and insightful. We feel kind of vulnerable in the presence of someone who is listening so intently, thinking so carefully, and wholly dedicated to understanding our inner world. When we feel vulnerable like that, we try to protect ourselves. We become suspicious.
It's natural to feel a bit defensive. We worry that we are going to be harmed in some way--that the powerful insights of psychoanalysis and the skills of its agents will be used against us. Because of its presumed power, we assume that psychoanalysis is a dark art. Better to keep it at a distance. Better safe than sorry.
But if things go reasonably well by the end of such dinner parties, my new-found friends often express their farewells by saying, "It was so nice to meet you. You're so easy to talk to." I might respond with a wink and a smile and say, "See, I told you that I try to use my powers for good and not evil!" I hope that experiences like these are corrective for people, giving them a chance to challenge their stereotypes and have a positive experience with a real, live, decent psychoanalyst. My profession sometimes has a bad reputation, and I hope to help restore its good name.
In my experience on both sides of the couch--as patient and analyst--I have discovered that psychoanalysis is not dark magic, as even I had once feared. In fact, it is not magic at all. What analysts "shrink" are these very illusions--the illusions that there is some magical, powerful way to be in the world that allows us to transcend ordinary human struggles and life. Psychoanalysis, like life, is just plain hard work.
As I hope to show in future posts, psychoanalysis is indeed one of the most penetrating, insightful, and useful models for understanding the psyche and making meaningful and lasting changes in life. But it isn't magic. And it doesn't bite. It's just psychoanalysis!
