Un blog interesante que acabo de encontrar de una artista, Ph. D. candidate, y paciente de analisis.
The couch is decidedly one of the weirdest experiences I have ever had. I do not think I can even begin to explain its strangeness without getting into theoretical frameworks around transference and the blind gaze or just plain cliches. I cannot say I liked it wholly, but I felt something intense after the experience and I am curious to continue. The silence of the analyst is one of the things that disturbed me the most. I almost forgot he was there and when he intervened, I kind of startled. Yet, I was not exactly talking to myself. Who was I talking to?
The idea of complete freedom is also quite disconcerting. What do I talk about? How do I start something circular though something linear? I wish I could talk about many things at one time, have many voices, keep various strands going at the same time, make a 3D picture of what I want to say.
A third disturbing element is the fact that there's no time to wind down. When J��� S��� told me "this is all our time for today" I was in a kind of trance and cannot quite picture how I got to the train station. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonataand recalling what ballet reverences felt like helped me to let go.