Absurdity and Therapy
I've hunted and hunted for the exact quote, but I've lost my "The Myth of Sisyphus" book, so I'll just paraphrase Camus. (I mean, what's the point of being an existentialist philosopher if you don't have people misquoting and oversimplifying your points, really?) He notes that it isn't people that are absurd, or the world that is absurd, but our relationship to the world that is absurd.
I'm sure Camus had some deep reasons for thinking this (if he did!), but for me it comes down to this: Sometimes it just feels like a crazy fucking world, and sometimes I feel like a crazy fucking person, and sometimes those feelings are spot on.
On the other hand: I've been thinking about therapy and about how people are trying to be very supportive about it, but they are sort of shy to talk about it, are supporting me (I think) because they think they ought to, but it's sort of like telling people that you've finally stopped drinking when you're an alchoholic. They want to be supportive, but they don't quite know what to say. "Good job!" doesn't quite fit the bill, because wouldn't it have been better to not have been an alchoholic (or a person in need of therapy) in the first place? Sure, people in need of therapy may not be like alchoholics in important ways, but the feelings I've gotten from people make the analogy hold, for me, to a certain degree.
But the thing is this: This is a crazy world sometimes, and it would be sort of strange if some of us (?) didn't just freak out sometimes about it. For instance, I'm reading a book on Rwanda right now, and that stuff is just freaking crazy. In a way, of course, it's not--there is a good causal history leading up to the massacres of the 90's. If Belgium, France and others had behaved differently, if the Rwandans themselves had built a different culture, if lots of other things had gone differently, perhaps that massacre woudln't happen. But that massacres happen is also in some way just really, really strange, and should cause some important, strong reactions in people. Reading about terrible wrongs done in the name of [whatever] makes me anxious. It both helps me understand the world better and at the same time makes things just seem absurd. To be slightly trite: It's no freaking wonder that I get depressed and don't clean my house sometimes.
Point being, it would be crazy to not be crazy sometimes, given the person I am, and the world that I live in.
Clean
Which brings me to another, related, point. Made a good connection in therapy the other day--my therapist, upon hearing about my worries of becoming the shut-in-packrat that my uncle (who died a few years back) had become, and hearing about my fear of rejection by people in the world in general right now brought on (in part) by my feelings of rejection that I'm still feeling from The Breakup(tm), pointed out that maybe part of the reason I make my home pseudo-inhabitible at times, and maybe the reason I'm doing it more now, is that I want to push people away on some level.
Ding!Ding!Ding!We have a winner!
One reason I haven't bought a couch, for instance, is that I'm sorta poor--but another reason is that it isn't a priority because it's not a priority to get people to come over to my house; and that's not a priority, in part, because I'm afraid to invite people deeper into my life.
It's keen/obvious/in-my-blindspot little insights like that which will probably keep me going to therapy for as long as I can afford it.
Filed under:Philosophy and Therapy
I've hunted and hunted for the exact quote, but I've lost my "The Myth of Sisyphus" book, so I'll just paraphrase Camus. (I mean, what's the point of being an existentialist philosopher if you don't have people misquoting and oversimplifying your points, really?) He notes that it isn't people that are absurd, or the world that is absurd, but our relationship to the world that is absurd.
I'm sure Camus had some deep reasons for thinking this (if he did!), but for me it comes down to this: Sometimes it just feels like a crazy fucking world, and sometimes I feel like a crazy fucking person, and sometimes those feelings are spot on.
On the other hand: I've been thinking about therapy and about how people are trying to be very supportive about it, but they are sort of shy to talk about it, are supporting me (I think) because they think they ought to, but it's sort of like telling people that you've finally stopped drinking when you're an alchoholic. They want to be supportive, but they don't quite know what to say. "Good job!" doesn't quite fit the bill, because wouldn't it have been better to not have been an alchoholic (or a person in need of therapy) in the first place? Sure, people in need of therapy may not be like alchoholics in important ways, but the feelings I've gotten from people make the analogy hold, for me, to a certain degree.
But the thing is this: This is a crazy world sometimes, and it would be sort of strange if some of us (?) didn't just freak out sometimes about it. For instance, I'm reading a book on Rwanda right now, and that stuff is just freaking crazy. In a way, of course, it's not--there is a good causal history leading up to the massacres of the 90's. If Belgium, France and others had behaved differently, if the Rwandans themselves had built a different culture, if lots of other things had gone differently, perhaps that massacre woudln't happen. But that massacres happen is also in some way just really, really strange, and should cause some important, strong reactions in people. Reading about terrible wrongs done in the name of [whatever] makes me anxious. It both helps me understand the world better and at the same time makes things just seem absurd. To be slightly trite: It's no freaking wonder that I get depressed and don't clean my house sometimes.
Point being, it would be crazy to not be crazy sometimes, given the person I am, and the world that I live in.
Clean
Which brings me to another, related, point. Made a good connection in therapy the other day--my therapist, upon hearing about my worries of becoming the shut-in-packrat that my uncle (who died a few years back) had become, and hearing about my fear of rejection by people in the world in general right now brought on (in part) by my feelings of rejection that I'm still feeling from The Breakup(tm), pointed out that maybe part of the reason I make my home pseudo-inhabitible at times, and maybe the reason I'm doing it more now, is that I want to push people away on some level.
Ding!Ding!Ding!We have a winner!
One reason I haven't bought a couch, for instance, is that I'm sorta poor--but another reason is that it isn't a priority because it's not a priority to get people to come over to my house; and that's not a priority, in part, because I'm afraid to invite people deeper into my life.
It's keen/obvious/in-my-blindspot little insights like that which will probably keep me going to therapy for as long as I can afford it.
Filed under:Philosophy and Therapy
posted by Jeff Pollet at 8:59 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home