You wanted me to chase you inside but the house is too haunted.
Everything I hold dear resides in those eyes, I’m outrunning the darkness.
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
Marcus Tullius Cicero: “A room without books is like a body without a soul.”
Carl Rogers: “When I look at the world I’m pessimistic, but when I look at people I’m optimistic.”
They’d had difficult lives, suffering from horrors that had driven them to retreat into the no man’s land of mental illness; their journey was etched on their faces, impossible to miss.
‘As Winnicott said, you can’t practise therapy in a burning building.’
We are never so defensless against suffering as when we love.
I became a psychotherapist because I was fucked up.
“What drew you to psychology?” She asked, peering at me over the rim of her owlish glasses.
“I wanted to help people, I suppose,” I said, with a shrug. “That’s it really.”
Which was bullshit. I mean, of course I wanted to help people. But that was a secondary aim – particularly at the time I started training. The real motivation was purely selfish. I was on a quest to help myself. I believe the same is true for most people who go into mental health. We are drawn to this particular field because we are damaged – we study psychology to heal ourselves.
Warfare reaches into the most secret places of the human heart.