tonytan4ever · February 17, 2022 13:51 · tonytan4ever · Feb 17, 2022
diff --git a/Dictation 2021.02.16 b/Dictation 2021.02.16
 One of the saddest and most puzzling phenomena of psychological life are the incidents commonly known as breakdowns, in which 
 people find themselves suddenly unable to carry out their normal duties, and fall silent, take to bed, and cannot stop crying.

 It can look mysterious form the outside, but what is almost always happening is an attempt to untie a lie that someone else has
 surreptitiously knotted into our lives. Beneath the breakdown, a long repressed truth is trying to break through layers of de-
 -ception. A person is unable to function 'normally' because 'normality' has grown riddled with something incoherent, mean, and im-
 -possible. The break down is a logical bid for health and truth, masquerading as an illness. 

 What has made us ill tends to be a variety of perverse injunctions, under which those we trusted may have made us live. For example,
 I'm ostensibly asking you to succeed, but I won't love you if you do; or you must fail in order that I can bear my disappointments;
 or you must feel terrible about yourself to shore up my sense of worth; or worry all the time so that I can be carefree; or you
 can never be happy for it would make me too sad. 

 We have probably been trying to make sense of these paradoxical messages for a long time, but now rightly so, we can't take it
 anymore. We are compelled to untangle the perverse position we have been placed in. Our illness acts as our conscience; it won't
 let up until we have figured out the truth. It can't tell us the truth by itself, but it is urging us to make the effort to find
 it out. The twiching paranoia, or despair are theer to keep us honest. 

 The illness's contract with us is: udnerstand me, and I will leave you alone; ignore me, and I will upset normality to prevent
 you from deceiving yourself any longer. Illness is the midwife of truth. The fortunate ones among us mangage to decode the 
 riddle. We begin to get a sense of who may have aggressed us, and how odd and sad it is that they should have done so, (not 
 least because they might be our parent or our spouse.) We have fallen ill because we have been victims of a cruelty which we
 needed the cover of 'madness' to be able to look at. 

 We aren't really ill at all. We may be closer to sanity than we have ever dared to be. 

 One of the trickiest tasks we ever have to face is that of working out who we really are. This book is designed to help us create
 a psychological portrait of ourselves, with the use of some unusual, oblique, entertaining, and playful prompts. Click the link
 on screen now to find out more.
	One of the saddest and most puzzling phenomena of psychological life are the incidents commonly known as breakdowns, in which
	people find themselves suddenly unable to carry out their normal duties, and fall silent, take to bed, and cannot stop crying.

	It can look mysterious form the outside, but what is almost always happening is an attempt to untie a lie that someone else has
	surreptitiously knotted into our lives. Beneath the breakdown, a long repressed truth is trying to break through layers of de-
	-ception. A person is unable to function 'normally' because 'normality' has grown riddled with something incoherent, mean, and im-
	-possible. The break down is a logical bid for health and truth, masquerading as an illness.

	What has made us ill tends to be a variety of perverse injunctions, under which those we trusted may have made us live. For example,
	I'm ostensibly asking you to succeed, but I won't love you if you do; or you must fail in order that I can bear my disappointments;
	or you must feel terrible about yourself to shore up my sense of worth; or worry all the time so that I can be carefree; or you
	can never be happy for it would make me too sad.

	We have probably been trying to make sense of these paradoxical messages for a long time, but now rightly so, we can't take it
	anymore. We are compelled to untangle the perverse position we have been placed in. Our illness acts as our conscience; it won't
	let up until we have figured out the truth. It can't tell us the truth by itself, but it is urging us to make the effort to find
	it out. The twiching paranoia, or despair are theer to keep us honest.

	The illness's contract with us is: udnerstand me, and I will leave you alone; ignore me, and I will upset normality to prevent
	you from deceiving yourself any longer. Illness is the midwife of truth. The fortunate ones among us mangage to decode the
	riddle. We begin to get a sense of who may have aggressed us, and how odd and sad it is that they should have done so, (not
	least because they might be our parent or our spouse.) We have fallen ill because we have been victims of a cruelty which we
	needed the cover of 'madness' to be able to look at.

	We aren't really ill at all. We may be closer to sanity than we have ever dared to be.

	One of the trickiest tasks we ever have to face is that of working out who we really are. This book is designed to help us create
	a psychological portrait of ourselves, with the use of some unusual, oblique, entertaining, and playful prompts. Click the link
	on screen now to find out more.