- Fuck! - shouted Alice, once again finding herself in a room with a small crystal table and many doors. She kicked in a rage the third door that had closed behind her. - Fuck all of you, I did not order psychoanalysis, fuck your mother!
Anger raged in her as an ocean storm, she nervously paced the room, muttering the most vile curses at the owners of this strange place, stopping from time to time to kick one of the three doors that she had previously entered. The doors were closed. Alice did not dare to kick any of those that she did not look into.
- Do you think I don't know all this myself?! - she muttered, addressing someone in dark. - What kind of idiotic circus are you setting here?! It's none of your business, what I have with my ex-husband! I'll decide who I sleep with! This is my own business! Idiots!!!
Of course, no one answered her. The room was still empty and quiet, and only a small crystal vial sparkled with its edges in the darkness scattered by burning candles.
So, opening the door with soberly head without a sip of magic cognac, was definitely a bad idea.
Alice nervously grabbed the vial, in which there were still two or three gulps of brown liquid, and drank everything to the end.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she sat wearily onto the floor. The dress was not a pity, it was still not useful: it is clear that she will not come today to any corporate party.
Training, fuck. Alice has visited many of them in her real life. Having received her degree in psychology at the beginning of this century, she happily and enthusiastically joined the local professional hangout. Practical psychology in Russia then took its first steps, hastily forged newly psychologists who trained in express retraining courses . Usually they were former teachers who ran with their eyes burning with delight from training to training, mastered new psychotherapy technologies but all this was very superficial, everything was done in great fuss and in a hurry and in fact, no one had the time and money to master at least one specialization normally and deeply. Everyone wanted everything at once. For ten years Alice had a box at home with a bunch of colorful certificates that were given to her at various trainings. Then, somehow, in an attack of irritation, she threw them all out at once: the colored pieces of paper meant nothing.
The trainers arranged enchanting shows, each by virtue of his talents, demonstrated miracles of healing from mental trauma. The most talented managed to create such a powerful group emotional effect that all participants caming out from a training were absolutely happy, euphoric, full of confidence that from this very day their lives will be wonderful transformed... And after a couple of months they were coming to the same training again, to the same psychologist... For a new dose of euphoria...
The psychotherapist would open up a mental wound to anyone who wished, like a surgeon cuts a body with a scalpel, dissected it, examined it from all sides. The person was crying, after tears was feeling relief. The psychotherapist «sewed» the wound back with the help of suitable words for the case, the patient received anesthesia in the form of group support and felt completely healed... In order to come to another coach after a while with the same problem, with the same hopeless dead end of his soul... Alice saw such people more than once. Over time, an understanding came: deep wounds do not really heal, it is impossible to heal them with any modern psychotechnics, even if breathe holotropicall, even if used Hellinger system constellations with your family to the fifth knee: the result is the same - there will be temporary relief, and then the wound will fester again, inflame, as if the surgeon forgot to apply antiseptics during the operation and did not prescribe antibiotics after. Psychology has no antiseptics or antibiotics. We will always carry our emotional wounds in ourselves, like a cripple wears his prosthesis, hiding it under his trousers. It is possible to buy a little time from a neurosis... but not a whole life. Coaches, therapists continue to actively pretending they can rid you off your deeply hide pain but that's not true. This is clearly why. Who will pay money to the one who tells the unpleasant truth?
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Doors are always open
General Fiction«Oh, if only, if only» ... Here's life would be if only... And what would life be like if we dared to enter those doors that were never locked for us? One thing is certain - by entering the open door, you will no longer remain what you were all thes...
