post

Auto-sabotagem: por que atacamos a si próprios?

Uma das coisas que mais me intriga na vida é a capacidade que cada um de nós tem de se auto-sabotar. De uma maneira ou de outra cada um de nós já fez algo que seria maléfico para nós mesmos, desde pequenas transgressões como comer aquele pedaço de chocolate proibido que iria arruinar a dieta, até coisas mais destrutivas e complexas, como por exemplo se envolver em um relacionamento que certamente nos faria mal. Isso sem mencionar coisas mais extremas em termos de destrutividade, como auto-flagelo, comportamentos arriscados ou mesmo vícios.

Talvez a auto-sabotagem tenha sido uma das grandes razões que me fez querer estudar a mente humana, na medida em que quis entender a habilidade que temos de por vezes minar nossa busca por uma vida boa suficiente. Como psicoterapeuta eu vejo o quão difícil é quando meus pacientes percebem este aspecto agressivo de si próprios, quando entram em contato com a destrutividade que se manifesta nos padrões de auto-sabotagem. Esta percepção dolorosa geralmente vem acompanhada de um sentimento de confusão, angústia e impotência.

Mas por que fazemos isso com nós mesmos? Por que de tempos em tempos escolhemos o que nos faz mal, decidindo por algo que vai arruinar aspectos das nossas vidas que tanto lutamos para cultivar e desenvolver? Por que muitas vezes nos prendemos em ciclos que não são saudáveis, seja em relacionamentos, comportamentos ou em como nos sentimos? Logicamente não faz sentido buscarmos algo que nos vai trazer ainda mais sofrimento e angústia. Mas ainda assim o fazemos. Então por que?

Bom, a primeira coisa a se considerar se refere a um conflito que existe dentro de nós, uma batalha entre o esforço natural de se desenvolver, crescer e sobreviver, que bate de frente com uma força oposta que vem para atacar e destruir este ímpeto. Freud descreveu este conflito ao propor que cada um de nós é governado por duas pulsões (ou instintos) opostos: pulsão de vida, que contém os instintos que promovem o desenvolvimento e o crescimento (ex: instinto sexual, criatividade, instinto de sobrevivência); e pulsão de morte, a força oposta que busca a destruição (de si próprio ou de outros), a quebra do desenvolvimento e um retorno à morte, a um estado inorgânico. Freud descreveu o conceito de pulsão de morte ao observar questões como o masoquismo, e também algo que ele denominou como ‘compulsão à repetição’, um movimento inconsciente que leva a pessoa a se colocar repetidamente em situações dolorosas, como réplicas de experiências passadas. Não tão distinto da auto-sabotagem então.

Se nós prestarmos atenção nesta dualidade entre a pulsão de vida e pulsão de morte, perceberemos que este conflito permeia a maneira como nos sentimos, nos comportamos e nos relacionamos uns com os outros, e isto pode nos ajudar a entender como a auto-sabotagem funciona.

No meu trabalho como psicoterapeuta em Londres eu tenho contato frequente com as variadas maneiras pelas quais a auto-sabotagem se expressa na vida dos meus pacientes. Estas manifestações são majoritariamente inconscientes, e é parte da análise ajudar o paciente a se tornar consciente e assim elaborar as ramificações da destrutividade que cada um de nós carrega.

Eu vou elencar agora alguns exemplos de como a auto-sabotagem se manifesta, e tentar relacionar seus respectivos significados e funções inconscientes

Fidelidade Neurótica: algumas pessoas consideram seu pai ou sua mãe (ou outro ente próximo) como um fracasso na vida, e os tem como impotentes, fracos, frágeis. Assim, esta pessoa pode inconscientemente jurar um tipo de ‘fidelidade neurótica’ a este pai ou mãe falho, e assim se sabotam para garantir que nunca serão superiores a eles. Sendo assim, crescer, se desenvolver e se tornar melhor se constituiria como uma traição, o que resultaria em um sentimento de culpa insuportável, à espera de um castigo. Neste sentido, estar bem é uma afronta à proibição interna de superar os pais, que é reforçada por uma parte destrutiva e cruel da mente. Todavia, não se resumindo a isto, algumas pessoas acreditam que se elas se desvincularem destes pais derrotados com quem elas se identificam, ou seja, se tentarem desenvolver uma vida separada, própria e independente destes pais, elas estariam de fato matando-os ou contribuindo para sua destruição (ex: que o ente próximo de suicidaria, ou beberiam até morrer, etc). E assim uma vida de auto-sabotagem se estabelece, para previnir a destruição da pessoa caso a pessoa quebre esta aliança neurótica.

Punição: a auto-sabotagem pode ser também uma forma de punição, de castigo. Mas punição pelo quê? Pelo crime de ter desejos, sentimentos, pensamentos e fantasias proibidas (e destrutivas), que devem ser banidos da consciência para assim aliviar a pessoa de ter de suportar aspectos destrutivos de si mesma, aspectos estes que são frequentemente voltados aos entes mais próximos. Todos nós temos na nossa mente uma parte de nós mesmos que age como um tribunal interno, que faz com que nos sintamos culpados se fizermos (ou pensarmos, ou sentirmos) algo que vai de encontro a uma espécie de lei interna. Freud chama esta instância de Superego, uma versão internalizada dos nossos pais (e da sociedade) que nos supervisiona e pode nos castigar caso façamos algo proibido. A auto-sabotagem então pode se constituir como um castigo deste superego, que pune a pessoa por ser culpada de algo internamente errado que cometeu (que nem sempre corresponde à moral externa).

Onipotência: algumas pessoas se sabotam para se proteger de um medo inconsciente de se tornarem (em fantasia) potentes demais, o que inconscientemente poderia desencadear aspectos destrutivos (ex: sentimentos de inveja, ódio ou cobiça). Por isso algumas pessoas permanecem impotentes e desmoronadas por medo de machucar ou danificar os entes mais próximos. A auto-sabotagem funciona então como um sistema de segurança interno com a função de proteção.

Refúgio: alguns padrões de auto-sabotagem funcionam como um refúgio contra sentimentos angustiantes que podem emergir de relacionamentos. O padrão serve como uma maneira de nunca ter de sair de uma ‘zona de conforto’ inconsciente, onde as falhas são conhecidas e familiares. Ou seja, é uma proteção contra se expor aos perigos dos relacionamentos de verdade, onde sentimentos de perda, frustração e angústia são sempre possíveis. Auto-sabotagem é então dos males o menor.

Controle: Freud entende a compulsão à repetição como uma tentativa de se dominar situações dolorosas do passado, um esforço para se ter controle de circunstâncias ou experiências angustiantes e traumáticas. A auto-sabotagem neste sentido se manifestaria como um esforço de se dominar a dor e o sofrimento, talvez semelhante à auto-flagelação. É portanto uma derrota manejável, talvez como quando a pessoa termina um relacionamento por antecipação, ou quando trai o outro antes de que seja traído.

Proteção: por mais destrutiva que a auto-sabotagem seja, às vezes se sabotar tem a função de poupar os nossos entes próximos de impulsos destrutivos. Esta destrutividade é então voltada para dentro, para a própria pessoa, protegendo então o outro de ser machucado. Este é geralmente o caso da depressão, já que o ódio e hostilidade são vertidos contra si próprio ao invés de voltados para o outro. Em casos extremos de dinâmicas auto-destrutivas, coisas como auto-flagelação (ex: se cortar, se mutilar) ou até mesmo com o suicídio, surge uma pergunta pertinente: ao atacar a si próprio, quem na verdade a pessoa deseja (mas se sente incapaz de, ainda que inconscientemente) machucar? Neste sentido, ao se auto-sabotar, quem estaria sendo poupado?

Medo de se desintegrar: para algumas pessoas, uma estrutura mental frágil é tudo o que têm. Mesmo que estejam sofrendo na vida, algumas pessoas fazem de tudo para resistir qualquer mudança que venha ameaçar a maneira que se organizaram (que certamente os ajudou a sobreviver até este momento), não importa o quão disfuncional ou frágil seja tal estrutura. A auto-sabotagem neste sentido se torna então como um mecanismo de defesa, parando tudo que venha perturbar ou transtornar este sistema. É também uma tentativa de se retornar a um ‘equilíbrio’ prévio, por medo de um desmoronamento ou desintegração ainda maior.

Masoquismo: o termo ‘masoquismo’ aponta para a dinâmica de se obter satisfação no sofrimento. A auto-sabotagem seria então o ato de se obter um prazer perverso através de atacar a si próprio, or de colocar a si próprio em situações que causarão dor a angustia.

Apesar das devidas nuances, todos os significados e funções mencionadas acima, observadas no contexto do meu trabalho como psicoterapeuta e através das minhas leituras, apontam na direção de dois fatos: auto-sabotagem é destrutiva, mas também defensiva. Todavia, até que a pessoa se dê conta do custo que os padrões de auto-sabotagem acarretam, e busque ajuda para mudar, a tendência é que a auto-sabotagem se perpetue na vida da pessoa.

Neste sentido, a psicoterapia pode ajudar a pessoa a entrar em contato com os aspectos mais destrutivos de si mesma, para que sejam então entendidas e elaboradas. A psicoterapia provê um espaço para que a destrutividade seja vivenciada, contida e transformada no relacionamento paciente-terapeuta. Padrões de auto-sabotagem podem então ser manifestados no contexto da terapia, para que sejam desemaranhados e reorganizados na maneira como o paciente se relaciona, se comporta e se sente. A psicoterapia pode ajudar a balancear a dualidade entre pulsão de vida e pulsão de morte, atenuando o ímpeto destrutivo na medida em que se manifesta do trabalho terapêutico.

 

Allan GoisPsicoterapeuta em Londres

post

Understanding self-sabotage: Why do we undermine ourselves?

One of the things that most puzzle me in life is the capacity we all have to sabotage ourselves. In one way or another, all of us have done things we knew would be bad for us, from small transgressions like eating that forbidden piece of chocolate that would ruin our diet, to more destructive and complex things, like getting involved in a relationship we know is going to end up badly. Not to mention the more extreme self-destructive actions, things like self-harm, risky behaviour and addictions.

I think that the dynamics of self-sabotage is perhaps one of the main things that lead me to want to study the mind, as I wished to understand the ability we have to undermine our pursuit of a good enough life. And as a psychotherapist, I see how hard it is when patients realise such aggressive aspect of our human nature, when they come in contact with their own destructiveness expressed in patterns of self-sabotage, which can take different shapes and forms. This painful realisation is often accompanied by confusion, hopelessness, and sometimes even more destructive resentment.

But why do we do it? Why is it that from time to time we choose what’s bad for us, things we know will mess up aspects of our lives that we so much want to grow and develop? Why do we find ourselves locked into unhealthy and destructive cycles, be them in relationships, behaviours or feelings? It just doesn’t make sense to pursue something that will lead up to more suffering. But we still do it. So why?

First thing to consider is that there seems to be a conflict in the mind, a battle between the natural endeavours to develop and grow, countered by attacks that serve to undermine these efforts. It feels like an internal version of Newton’s law, that for every action there’s an opposite reaction of equal measurement. Except each opposite side has their own instinctual force.

Freud can help us understand this conflict a bit more. He proposed that we are all governed by two sets of opposing instincts: life instincts, which contain the drives that lead to development and growth (i.e. sexual, creative and survival instincts); and death instincts, the opposing force that seeks destruction (of oneself or others), breakdown and a return to death, to an inorganic state. Freud developed the concept of the Death Instincts from observing and analysing things like masochism, and also what he called ‘repetition compulsion’, an unconscious compulsion that leads the person to put himself repetitively in painful situations, like replicas of early experiences. Not so different from self-sabotage.

If we believe that the duality between life and death instincts permeates the way we feel, behave and relate to one another in every level, then it can help us understand how self-sabotage works.

self-sabotage

In my psychotherapy work I come across different expressions and meanings to the undermining dynamics of self-sabotage. These are often unconscious, and it is part of the therapy for the patient to realise and then work through how anxious they feel about them.

I will give some examples of such unconscious meanings for self-sabotage, and their respective functions:

Neurotic loyalty: some people, for whatever reason, regard their mother or father (or other ‘loved’ one) a failure in life, an impotent and weak person. They may then unconsciously pledge a sort of neurotic allegiance to the failed parent, and thus sabotage themselves to make sure they will never rise above them. To grow, develop and become better may then be constituted as a betrayal, with unbearable guilt and punishment awaiting as a consequence. Being well is faced with an internal prohibition, enforced by a destructive and cruel part of the mind. Not only that, but some people believe that if they were to let go of the defeated object they are identified with, if they try to develop a separate better life, they would be killing them off or contributing to their destruction (i.e. the loved one would kill themselves, drink themselves to death, etc). And so a life of self-sabotage takes place, to prevent the greater destruction that the person fears would take place should they break this neurotic loyalty.

– Punishment: self-sabotage can also be a form of punishment. But punishment for what? For the crime of having forbidden (and often destructive) desires, feelings, thoughts and fantasies, which need to be pushed away from conscience and so relieve the person from having to bear particular destructive aspects of themselves, which are often directed towards loved ones. We all carry in our minds a part of ourselves that acts as an internal judge and jury, which makes us feel guilty if we do (or think, or feel) something that is against a sort of internal law. Freud calls this a superego, an internalised version of our parents that supervises and can punish us if we are ‘out of order’. Self-sabotage then is the act of a crushing superego, punishing the person for being guilty of something internally wrong (which not always corresponds to external morals, laws, etc).

Omnipotence: some people will sabotage themselves as a way of defending against an unconscious fear of rising too high and becoming all-powerful, which in phantasy [the ‘ph’ stands for unconscious fantasy] could unleash very destructive aspects of themselves (such as feelings of tremendous envy and greed). So some will remain collapsed and impotent for fear of hurting or damaging their loved ones. Self-sabotage then is like an internal safety system that functions as a protective measure.

Retreat: sometimes patterns of self-sabotage work as a retreat against some troublesome feelings that can result from real relationships. The pattern then serves as a way of never having to leave a zone of familiar defeat, a protection against exposing oneself to the perils of real relationships, where loss, frustration and hurt are always a possibility. So undermining oneself becomes the lesser of many evils.

Mastering: Freud links the repetition compulsion to an attempt to master painful past situations, an effort to take charge of circumstances that were hurtful and traumatic. So self-sabotage sometimes takes the form of an endeavour to take control of the suffering and pain, much like self-harm. It’s a manageable defeat, like when someone breaks up in anticipation, or cheats before he/she is cheated on. No less destructive though.

Protection: as destructive as self-sabotage can be, sometimes undermining oneself can act as a defence against destructive impulses towards loved ones. The extroverted kind of impulse. So the destructiveness is turned inwards, protecting the other from potentially dangerous unconscious impulses. This is often the case with depression, as hatred and anger is felt towards oneself and not others. In case of extreme self-destructive dynamics, things like self-harm or even suicide, a pertinent question would be: by attacking themselves, who is the person wanting to hurt in their mind? And in this sense, who is being spared in the external world?

Fear of disintegration: for some people, a weak mental structure is all they have. Even if they are struggling in life, they will resist change and so attack anything that may disturb the organisation that helped them survive until then, no matter how flimsy it is. So self-sabotage in this sense acts again as a defensive measure, stopping anything that may unhinge and threaten the system. It can also be an attempt to return to a previous ‘balance’, for fear of disintegration or major collapse.

Masochism: masochism points to the satisfaction in suffering. So self-sabotage in this sense draws a perverse pleasure that can be achieved by attacking oneself, or putting oneself through situations that will cause hurt and pain.

Despite its nuances, all of the meanings and functions that I mentioned above, observed in the context of my psychotherapy work and gathered through my readings, point towards two simple facts: self-sabotage is destructive, but it’s also defensive. However, until the person realises the cost of patterns and cycles of undermining oneself and seeks help for it, the likelihood is that self-sabotage will continue to take place over and over again.

In this way, psychotherapy can help the person come in contact with the more destructive parts of themselves, which can be then understood and worked through. Psychotherapy provides a centre-stage for destructiveness to be lived through, contained and transformed within the therapeutic relationship. Patterns of self-sabotage are brought forward in the context of therapy, so they can be untangled, unpacked and reorganised within the patient’s way of relating, behaving and feeling. Psychotherapy can help balance out the duality between instincts of life and death, attenuating the destructive impetus as it is expressed in the therapy work.

 

Allan Gois – Psychotherapist in the City of LondonPsicoterapeuta em Londres

post

The perfect imperfections of love

Inspired by St. Valentine’s day, a date which seems to provide more reasons for couples to break up than to stay together, I wanted to post a little reflection about perfect love.

Today millions of people throughout the world will do their best to provide a perfect celebration of romantic love, showing affection and appreciation for their loved ones by sending flowers, taking them out for dinner, buying them a present and who knows what else. Valentine’s day, however, seems to promote an ideal version of what romance should be like, whilst at the same time highlighting the very disappointments and imperfections of real love that it so much tries to obliterate.

The disparity between one’s wishful ideals and the imperfect reality of relationships can bring about painful issues, the kind that populate many psychotherapy sessions. But when is it that we bought into the illusion that somewhere there is a perfect someone who will fill every gap of my soul, who will understand me, endure me, listen to me, give me undivided attention and attend to my every need? You may say that’s an exaggeration, that no one really wishes for that. Well, maybe not consciously, but this narcissistic fantasy is often expressed in the disappointments and frustrations that I deal with in my psychotherapy practice, day in and day out.

imperfections of love

Jacques Lacan, the French psychoanalyst, once wrote: “Love is giving something you don’t have to someone who doesn’t want it”. Complicated and controversial, just like Lacan! But I believe there’s real truth in this. Let’s think about it.

The first part of the sentence – “Love is giving something you don’t have” – points to what real relationships are about, the exchange and interaction between fallible, lacking and incomplete people, giving one another exactly their imperfect self. There is no greater love than to allow oneself to become vulnerable, inviting the other to participate in what we try to give but we don’t have. The complications of love begin when we start layering this raw reality, defending against mistrust and disappointment to the point of believing we actually have something to give to the other. This is when relationships become funded by what is given and received in exchange, misrepresenting the reality that love is, in fact, perfect in its imperfection.

The second bit of the quote – “to someone who doesn’t want it” – points to the asymmetry of love. It means that even if I let go of the narcissistic fantasy that I possess what the other desires in order to be complete, the other may still not want my imperfection, and in fact carry on projecting and demanding a fulfilment for what they lack. Complicated, I know. But my understanding of Lacan’s quote is that, inasmuch as I can reach an acceptance that I do not have what the other may want or wish for to become whole, the other may still project their neediness and not actually want my imperfect self. In this sense, there will always be demands and disappointments in love. But this imperfect equation is what makes it beautiful.

Freud once said that love is the great educator. And indeed, love teaches us about the facts of life. It is perfect in its imperfections, springing from the conflict between our narcissistic self and the imperfection of the other – and vice-versa. So the illusion of perfect love, nurtured in films and TV shows, celebrated today in the fantasy of completing one another, instead of drawing couples closer together serves as a defence against real love, and perhaps constitutes itself as an obstacle towards real relationships.

I end this messy post with another quote, this time by C.S Lewis, a paragraph which, I believe, doesn’t require further extrapolations. Lewis brilliantly said:

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

Happy Valentine’s day!

 

Allan Gois – Psychotherapist in LondonPsicologo em Londres

 

post

How to find a psychotherapist

‘Do you know how hard it is to find you guys?’ – asked a patient I once saw for an initial consultation. By ‘you guys’ he meant us psychotherapists. And the answer I had to his question at that point was ‘no, I don’t!’ In fact, in a big city like London where there are so many therapists, of all experiences and approaches, I used to assume that finding a therapist was the easiest thing. Just google: ‘Psychotherapist London’ – I thought. You’ll find one in almost every corner!

However, for me to fully appreciate the ‘how hard’ part of his question, I had to first think about the verb ‘to find’. What does it mean to find a psychotherapist? Is it simply getting a number off the internet? Or a name from your GP? Does that mean that the therapist was then found? Maybe it’s not that simple.

What I came to understand is that finding a therapist means finding help. And this is a long and difficult process, one that begins when the person realises they have issues they can’t work through alone, thus accepting the need to ask for help. This painful realisation sometimes happens long before the person actually starts searching for a therapist.

And then it raises other questions: who would be able to help me? To whom can I entrust my most vulnerable and needy bits, my most intense and complex feelings? Who will be able to understand me, and withstand the most ambivalent parts of me? Those who search for a psychotherapist may not be consciously asking these question, but that’s what they’re hoping to find.

When a person seeks the help of a therapist they may be unconsciously looking for a sort of a perfect parent, one who is wise, caring and containing, patient and accessible, someone who knows best and will give them the right answers. But in the process of looking for a therapist the patient will hopefully end up finding a therapy, and that means facing the internal reality of what they make out their therapists to be. So in this journey this ideal of a parent will most inevitably become another ‘just like my father, or mother, or boyfriend, etc’ figure.

But fear not, this is what happens in psychotherapy, and it is how therapy works. By being able to inadvertently re-enact and relive versions of other relationships with the therapist, the patient will have found their therapy, that is, the treatment they so much require. This will allow them the opportunity to understand feelings and behaviours, so they can work through the patterns they may be stuck on in life. And the found psychotherapist is there to allow this to happen, to accept the patient’s projections and most disturbing feelings, in a way that he is able to help the patient digest and make sense of what is going on in their internal world.

So the process of searching for a psychotherapist is in fact the journey of finding help. I could of course list some practical advice on how to find the ‘right’ therapist’. But in the risk of being vague, my wish with this post was to reflect on my patient’s question in the hope of understanding what finding a psychotherapist really means. And in the meaning that I found, I came to realise that it is a very hard journey indeed, but one that can lead to deep and thorough transformation.

 

Allan Gois

Psicologo Brasileiro em LondresPsicoterapia em Londres

post

Have you failed your New Year’s resolutions yet?

New Year's ResolutionsNew year. Again. Resolutions. Again. Failed… again!

It fascinates me the power attributed to the passing of one year to the next. The New Year clearly brings about a sense of new chance, a start over, a clean sheet, pointing perhaps to the cyclical nature of endings and beginnings in life. And with the New Year comes the ritual of trying to let go of the failures and shortcomings of the past, and the desire to focus on the promise of an ideal future as if we’re given another chance. Then comes another set of New Year’s resolutions (how much do they resemble the ones from the year before?)…

But who are we kidding? Isn’t a new year’s resolution an enlarged version of the ‘I’ll start my diet on Monday’? And when Monday comes and you can’t help but eat that piece chocolate that tastes like heaven but makes you feel like hell, the rest of the week is written off and you promise to start again next Monday, or the next, or the next… So really a new year’s resolution is but a statement of the procrastination we exercise yearlong.

We all know what we are lacking, what we need improve and look after in our lives. We know we need to lose weight, and for that we must eat more healthily and exercise more. We know the people in our lives we must pay more attention to, and the relationships we must work harder to improve. We are fully aware of the books we wish to read, the courses we want to take, or the bad habits we have to change in order to become a better person. But why don’t we then? Why wait until the New Year to make a promise that will be broken with the same easiness and speed as they are spoken. If we know what we need to work on, why not do it now?

Easier said than done, isn’t it? The reality is that we carry in our minds an ideal version of ourselves, crafted throughout the years, created in the image and likeness of those we admire, love, envy and fear. This Ego Ideal, as Freud called, is an image of our perfect self towards which we aspire, but it can acquire both an inspiring and tyrannising purpose. Our inner ideals can lead us to a healthy pursuit for the better, but it can also crush us under the cruel reality of our failures and shortcomings, be them real or imaginary.

So really, why punish ourselves every year with ideals we know we won’t achieve? Because we can’t help it. It’s within our nature to have things to aspire, and to have things to feel guilty about. We have in us instincts that lead to improvement and development, and instincts that lead to self-defeat and destruction. The challenge then is to stop attributing responsibility to a calendar, and take ownership of the fact that in life there will always be things to improve, to work on, as much as there will always be things to feel bad about within ourselves. But there will also be numerous chances to learn from our failures, shortcomings and to work towards developing the bits of ourselves that need improvement. And this is a minute after minute chance, not just every New Year. So, what stops you from starting now?

If you’re tired of starting over, stop giving up.

Happy New Year!

Allan Gois – Psychotherapist LondonPsicologo Brasileiro em Londres