All is About Timing - Good and Bad

I am a real fan of Karl Jung and his principle of synchronicity. I do believe that very often experiences which seem to be coincidences due to chance in term of causality must be the manifestation of parallel forces or circumstances in terms of meaning.

Until then, my life had been an emotional mess and I couldn’t figure out why that was. I went through life in a comatose state of mind: perfectly aware of what was going on around me yet unable to do anything about it. It frustrated me and baffled my friends. But that morning when I woke up, something was different. I could feel it deep inside. I had had enough and sincerely wished for a change. So I was not exactly surprised when later on that day I was introduced to John, the man who would help me figure it all out.

It is certainly as hard to talk about psychotherapy as it is religion. Either way, there must be something not quite right with the talker. With religion, you ought to be some sort of a zealot ready to brandish a bible and preach the words of God to all sinners; while psychotherapy necessarily suggests that you must be crazy. Was I crazy? Had it all - affected my mental - ? Hard to say. Regardless, I embarked on this quest with enthusiasm. I had questions; he had a way to help me find out the answers. That was good enough for me.

I had done my homework over the years, so it was not exactly empty handed and clueless that I started – a therapy. I had a good fifteen years of written dreams and diaries from which I was able to extract a clear pattern of misery. I knew that the mystery resided in my childhood. I also knew that somehow my mother was responsible – aren’t they always? It had always been very clear that she had no love for me, but can one really jeopardize an entire life based on such a fact? I hoped not. It sounded too trivial, too weak. There had to be more. Other than that, my father was rather absent and ostensibly insignificant, and my brother, well, I had no opinion about him. I abhorred him, but I would be damned if I could tell you why. That’s how it all started.

I will spare you the chronological discoveries, although numerous and absolutely fascinating, to make a leap to a more recent time. A determining moment in this venture. Let say, last January. At that time, I felt like I was stalling. John is a brilliant therapist, he would never try to influence the pace of my recollections or provide me with inside information that, as an experienced therapist, he would spot right away, even if I begged him to. It was my job to discover about my past at my own rhythm. Whenever the mind is ready, the information would surface. But what if – the mind – is never ready? I wanted to know and that in spite of its lack of readiness. My level of frustration had risen exponentially. There was something eating at me and I could not figure it out. For years we had worked my life on the same principle as a spider wed, removing all the little knots from the periphery onward. But we had not managed to get to the core of it which remained excessively elusive. Was there even something to discover? With time, the mere possibility that there might be nothing at all was becoming just as disturbing an outcome.

That’s when I decided to do the most radical and ultimately decisive thing of my entire therapy. I went, without consulting John, to see a hypnotherapist. Well, that was no John I assure you. There was not much of a therapist either. It was mainly a – hypnotist. A mere circus performer for he had the look and the disposition of mind. I won’t insult clowns in general by assuming their lack of professionalism and integrity but if they were all so disposed, so was he. Yet, his incommensurable lack of decency or principle is precisely what pulled the rabbit out of the hat.