Chaise Scene
ADB-250223#498
So…am I done now? Am I fixed?
I say this after every breakthrough with my therapist. She arches an eyebrow. She smirks. She gives me a very knowing look that says, ‘funny, not funny.’
If I were more cynical, I would suspect she is trapping me in a cycle of dependency. Why can’t I be done? But I am not cynical (and I am not done).
Why does this have to be so fucking hard, sometimes? (Sorry for swearing.) When does this end? (Wait, don’t answer that…)
She effortlessly shifts from amusement to empathy, like an emotional racecar driver. Pain doesn’t end, she explains. Instead, it’s about how you experience it. She doesn’t say this, of course. But I learn it. Slowly. S — l — o — w — l — y. She listens, she asks questions, she offers her observations, and a picture begins to emerge — like a Fujifilm INSTAX mini, except the exact opposite of instant.
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I was born in 1972, the same year Luis Buñuel’s French surrealist film, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, came out in theatres. The same year that David Rosenhan sent pseudopatients to psychiatric institutions feigning mental illness and inspired his field-shattering paper, On Being Sane in Insane Places.
In the former, a group of wealthy friends attempt to dine together but are continuously thwarted by illogical events (terrorist attacks, a bishop’s confession, sex in gardens), which are treated as usual. Dreams are happening within dreams. Everything is accepted.
In the latter, a group of knowing participants pretend to hear the word “thud” and admit themselves to institutions. Seven are diagnosed with schizophrenia, and one with manic-depressive psychosis. Their normal behaviours are interpreted by staff as pathological: pacing is considered ‘nervousness;’ note-taking is considered ‘obsessive.’ Labels create their reality.
The absurd is normal. Normal is the absurd.
Whenever I learn something about myself, I see the world a little differently. And every time I see the world a bit differently, it slows the world down. I take more time to reflect on the strangeness of it all, the improbability, the miracle. Novelty begets memory, and memory creates time.
My working theory is that if I stay in therapy, I might live forever — or at least as long as my therapist…
Amusant. Pas Amusant.
All-Day Breakfast is a daily reflection on creativity and the human condition in the modern age – an unflinching journey through the intersection of art and technology. This is issue #498 of 555.
