Quotes from an interview with psychoanalyst and writer, Adam Phillips:

"I'm not on the side of frustration exactly, so much as the idea that one has to be able to bear frustration in order for satisfaction to be realistic. I'm interested in how the culture of consumer capitalism depends on the idea that we can't bear frustration, so that every time we feel a bit restless or bored or irritable, we eat, say, or we shop.

"It's only in an initial state of privation that you can begin to have thoughts about what it is you might want, to really imagine or picture it. It's very difficult to know what we're frustrated by. In making the case for frustration I want to make it more interesting, such that people can talk or think about it in different ways."

For him, psychoanalysis is a set of stories that we tell ourselves and each other, a way of redescribing our experiences. "To begin with, one needs to understand," he says, "but I think the final project is to relieve oneself of the need for self-knowledge. It's not that it's useless – in some areas of life it's very useful – but there are lots of areas in which it isn't, and in some areas it's actually pre-emptive and defensive, and this is where psychoanalysis potentially fails people, by assuming there is an infinite project and that the best thing you can do in life is to know yourself. Well, I don't think that's true."

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/jun/01/adam-phillips-life-in-writing


"I believe in what you see being most of what there is… and that life's passed on to us empty. So, while significance weighs heavy, that's the most it does. Hidden meaning is all but absent."
:: Richard Ford (from the novel 'Canada'.)

Hello,

Well for starters I wanted to say that I'm a Seventeen year old girl who has recently been diagnosed with GAD. I have always feared a lot, and would always obsess over a certain thing/thought. I never really thought much of it, but now that I look back, it all makes sense. When I was around Seven years old, my older brother had came home from school one day and told me about germs, he explains how they were all around us. I quickly became obsessed with the thought that I would catch all these germs and catch a deadly illness and die. Every time I touched anything or anyone touched my hand, I would run to the bathroom and wash my hands. I was washing my hands up to 15 times a day and I didn't want to touch anything at all... Well like I said, I never thought much about that.. Until recently during summer break I had nothing better to do, other than watch TV, and everything I saw had to do with murders and people going insane. Well I saw this episode on a Hispanic show about a lady who had some type of Multiple personality disorder, who ended up killing her boss. She took medication for her disorder, but that day she forgot to take it. She didn't realize she had killed her, until the memory of her kept haunting her. She would see her everywhere, and she would speak to her telling her "You did it, you killed me" much later she got the clue that she had committed that murder. Well I quickly became obsessed with the thought of me going insane or sleep walking and doing such thing. I actually started putting things against my door so if I did sleep walk, I wouldn't be able to get through. The thing is there hasn't been a time where I have slept walked. The thoughts used to be much worse, but I've been seeing a therapist since the moment I realized I had a problem, and I've been feeling much better. There's days where I feel completely fine and happy and then there's those other days where I completely panic and feel like my world is falling apart. I would much rather kill myself than to ever hurt anyone in anyway. The thought of doing such thing causes me so much emotional pain, because I know that I wouldn't hurt anyone. Sometimes I cant help but feel so hurt and upset with myself because of those thoughts, that I just want to end my life. I try to talk to the people who I love about this and try to explain it to them, but they don't really seem to understand. They say "Oh everyone has those types of thoughts, just get over it" although, everyone might have those types of thoughts, I cant seem to just "get over it". I basically want to know, is there hope for me? How many others can relate to the way I'm feeling?

Until recently, I never viewed my introversion as much of problem. I was told at work that I "need to be more social". This really struck a cord with me because I never thought that as I began my adult life my introversion may limit my success . So I decided to start this blog and chronicle my journey of becoming 'more social'.

Why are you so quiet? He must me hiding something...

Now this is easier said than done of course. My whole life people have been telling me, 'you're so quiet', 'you should talk more' or my new favorite 'be more social'. It's gotten to the point where some people feel uncomfortable around me because I'm so quiet. What is it that makes them so uncomfortable? Is it that my behavior or lack there of, is so unusual they just can't stand it? Is it that I'm some psycho who's going to snap at any moment? Is it the natural human tendency to be afraid of someone who's not like you? Not my problem right? They should be more understanding. Well unfortunately in a world of extroverts it is my problem. As much as I would love to live in a world where everyone accepts each other the way they are, that's just not reality. It's an extroverts world and if I'm going to thrive and not just survive, I've got to get to work and figure something out. So I'm going to be more 'social'. I'm not sure what that will look like, but in the following months, if not years, I will try and look deeper into the complex relationship that introverts and extroverts have and attempt different strategies for becoming more 'social'.

Why is it that quiet people make others feel uncomfortable?

Please share your thoughts.

Ok, so I'm pretty sure there is something wrong with me. I have had this feeling toward my stepmother since I could remember. Like a desire. I know it's wrong, it's not right because she is married to my father and she is my stepmother. My father cheated on her and I just wanted to tell her so bad how I felt about her, and how much she deserved better but they got back together. My father married her without telling her he had a vasectomy. And all these years later she really wants a kid, I wish I could help her have a kid...
I am 21 years old, and I moved back into their house about a year ago because my roommate moved out of state and left the bills all on me. I go into their room sometimes when they go to work and I smell her freshly worn panties, and masturbate to them. I found a box of her toys(dildos) and I masturbated to them and licked them. I also found their sex tape and watched it so I could see what she looks like naked. Sometimes when my dad leaves to go to work, I hear her getting into the shower and I fantasize going in there and joining her, or going into the room and waiting on her to get out.
I have control enough to never do anything to crazy, but what should I do? Should I just get help, or tell her what I have done/ how I feel, or nothing? Please don't comment how sick I am, and how I need to find god.. I know I am sick, I just can't control myself sometimes.

----Every new day can change one's life; Every new experience can deepen the realm within ones world. These notions run parallel, to the story of Johnny and The Cupcake Girl----

(Character Background. If looking for eroticism, skip to next chapters.)

Prelude: Aromatic Cupcakes

The sun was beaming through the cracks of the curtains - Johnny woke up, always curious as to what the day would entail. Getting ready for work at the store was a very systematic process for him. Every slight movement, down to the way he dried off his vascular body after a steaming shower, was replicated with exact precision.

Coffee and cigarettes. The fix of the morning, yet today they seemed ever so weak. Bitter sensations on the tongue - Johnny needing something new.. Something sweet.

His inner world was intense. Always maneuvering, always watching - ever changing. Those simpletons who he sped by on the inter-state know no sensation similar to the ones concocted by Johnny's dis-inhibited mind.

Many are curious, but few truly venture. Today was the day, like so many before, that one curious, light-hearted being, would accept any contingencies within coffee shop: The Cupcake Girl. After all, what was life for the young girl without knowledge of the unknown? She was so full of life, full of energy, but being virgin to many experience which she knew exist, felt like a ghost on a winding path.. She was so confused about the world.. People and their intentions.. What she wanted.. What she stood for.. The Cupcake Girl needed something stable - Something definite. Something, to hold on to.

Unbeknownst to the depths of the labyrinth, The Cupcake Girl took the leap of faith that was so intrinsic to her nature, and necessary to develop her ever curious mind regarding that of which she had no experience.

Her name was Pricilla. And she smelled exactly like she looked.