Therapy and Philosophy

  Am I a Narcissist Too? On Doubt, Relationship, and the Art of Living Well It is not easy to live with a narcissist. But often what turns out to be even harder is the question that appears later—quietly, without drama, yet with enormous weight: am I a narcissist too? This question is not born out of vanity or a desire to feel special. It is born of exhaustion. Of living for a long time in a relationship where your experience has been constantly questioned, relativized, blurred. Where it has become increasingly difficult to tell what is truly your reaction and what is someone else’s narrative imposed upon you. It begins almost imperceptibly. With a moment of hesitation. With the instant when something that had always seemed obvious suddenly stops being so. A person realizes they are no longer certain of what they see, feel, or think. That their reactions no longer provide a sense of support. That the world—though it looks the same—has somehow lost its weight. A question appears...

  On Doubt That Pulls the Ground from Under Your Feet It usually begins quietly. With a moment of hesitation. With the instant when something that had always seemed obvious suddenly stops being so. A person realizes they are no longer sure of what they see, feel, or think. That their reactions no longer give them a sense of support. That the world—though it looks the same—has somehow lost its weight. A question appears that hurts more than any specific symptom: “What if I can no longer trust the way I experience reality?” This is not yet a loss of contact with reality. It is not madness. It is the moment when something very delicate, yet fundamental, cracks: trust in one’s own cognition. Trust that what I experience has the right to be a point of reference. That I can rely on myself. In therapy, I meet people who say: “I know I feel something, but I don’t know if it’s real.” “I see what’s happening, but I don’t know if I’m interpreting it correctly.” “I have the sens...

  Therapy Through Philosophy Can philosophy be a form of therapy? This question usually returns when simple answers run out. When conversations no longer bring relief, and familiar strategies for coping with reality begin to crumble. In such moments, an intuition appears that the problem is not limited to emotions or “symptoms,” but concerns something deeper — meaning. We go to therapy because we are suffering. Because something has fallen apart, or perhaps was never stable to begin with. We feel that something is wrong and we want to get out of it. But very quickly we discover that what hurts most is not always easy to name. It is not only anxiety, sadness, or tension. It is the question that keeps coming back: why? Why am I going through this? Why should I keep trying? Why maintain relationships that wound us, or work that offers no sense at all? Why live in a way that increasingly feels unlike living? We are looking for meaning. Sometimes the greatest one — the meaning of ...