To Say Something

Just finished another session of psychoanalysis. Analysis is by far the thing I least enjoy every week. I mean, it works, at least for me, but it’s definitely not something I look forward to. Because it demands me to say the Thing.

What’s the Thing? No one knows. Is there even a Thing? Probably not. But its non-existence doesn’t mean that it has no effects. Structurally, the analyst occupies the position that demands you to say the Thing. How you react to this feeling is the basis of the analytical relationship between you, the analysand, and the analyst.

I’ve spent entire sessions speaking to fill the air. I made sounds with my tongue and mouth which were somehow intelligible to the analyst, but they didn’t have any substance in them. I spoke just to get through the session. What I said didn’t go anywhere, didn’t unfold into anything, didn’t resurface something forgotten. The worst part is I said them knowing I was not saying anything important.

Sometimes I managed to say something. It was not the Thing, of course, but wrestling with the impossibility of saying the Thing made me say something important. I usually don’t know that I’ll say something substantial until words come out of my mouth. I love those moments. How can I have these kinds of moments more, rather than the hollow talk above? I don’t know.

But there’s one thing I am sure of: Hollow sessions aren’t wasted time. Without the frustration of that hollowness, I never would have said anything. There are “one shot, one opportunity” moments in life where you really ought to say something, and those moments come to those who are in the game.