Behind every person, there is a story worth hearing. This belief is what led me to psychology and continues to guide my professional path to this day.

Hello, I am Evi Katara.

My path towards psychology began from a deep desire to understand the human being, their experiences, and the ways in which their psychological reality is shaped. For several years, I worked in the field of Public Administration as a civil servant in the Urban Planning Department.

A year-long programme in child psychology became the turning point that transformed both my professional and personal journey. It was there that my interest in human behaviour, psychological processes, and the factors that shape the way we think, feel, and relate to others finally found its natural place.

I decided to pursue the academic study of psychology, completing my undergraduate studies at the Université de Strasbourg. During this journey, I developed a particular interest in issues related to identity, self-image, psychological resilience, and psychosocial adjustment.

During my undergraduate studies, my research focused on highlighting the experiences and challenges of women living with alopecia. My research paper, entitled The Lived Experience of Women with Alopecia, was published in the Open Public Health Journal and was based on qualitative methodology and in-depth interviews.

This study contributed to a deeper understanding of the lived experiences of women living with alopecia and further strengthened my interest in issues of self-image, identity, and psychological empowerment, which remain central to my scientific and professional orientation.

My first meaningful contact with the clinical field took place through my internship at the Athena Therapeutic Centre, Psychiatric Clinic of Vrilissia. There, I had the opportunity to observe the therapeutic process closely, become familiar with the work of mental health professionals, and understand the importance of the therapeutic relationship.

This experience confirmed my desire to pursue the field of clinical psychology with consistency and respect for the human person.

I subsequently completed postgraduate studies in Applied Clinical Psychology at the University of Central Lancashire, deepening my knowledge of clinical assessment, mental health, and contemporary therapeutic approaches.

As part of my postgraduate training, I completed my clinical placement at the ELIZA Child Safety Care Unit of the Attikon University General Hospital. This experience offered me valuable knowledge in child protection, the understanding of psychological trauma, and the importance of interdisciplinary collaboration in supporting children and families.

Today, I work at the Vamvakareio and Arogi for People with Disabilities facilities of the Municipality of Acharnes. Daily contact with people with disabilities and their families is a constant reminder of the strength hidden within every person, even under the most demanding circumstances, as well as of the need to create and strengthen robust safety nets through mental health services for people who need support.

At the same time, I participate in podcasts and awareness-raising initiatives aimed at sensitising and informing the public on issues related to mental health, interpersonal relationships, self-awareness, and emotional regulation.

I believe that knowledge of psychology is not limited to the therapy room. Within the possibilities and limitations of popular science, it can serve as a valuable tool for initial exploration, understanding, and empowerment in everyday life.

Guided by continuous education, scientific development, and personal growth, I continue to explore new ways of understanding human experience, believing that behind every difficulty there is always the potential for greater awareness, connection, and change.

The desperate Man

Gustave Courbet seems to have deeply understood the magnitude of despair when it overwhelms you. In his self-portrait, he accurately captures this despair, revealing his fear in the face of “uncharted waters.”

Think of it this way: Every crisis, every moment of despair, is essentially a cry asking you to listen to yourself.

What is it that scares you so much?

Is it time to face it head-on and move forward?

In any case, as Carl Jung said: “Within the darkest despair lies the possibility of light.” In any case, as Carl Jung said: “Within the darkest despair lies the possibility of light.”

Le Blanc Seing

Στο Le Blanc Seing, René Magritte challenges our logic. A woman and her horse are moving through nature, but the image is fragmented and something is missing—or is it?

Our minds automatically fill in the gaps to find an explanation. So, is what you see always just half the truth?

Think of it this way: Reality is never as simple as you think.

Look again, beyond the obvious. You might discover what lies hidden.

As Magritte himself reminds us: “Everything that is visible conceals something that is invisible.”

Escaping Criticism

Στο Escaping Criticism, Pere Borrell del Caso challenges our perception. A boy breaks free from the painting, shattering the confines of the frame.

Are the limits we see real, or do we ultimately set them for ourselves? Think of it this way: Could it be that these limits exist only in your mind? If you knew that nothing was holding you back, how far would you go?

The limitations you see around you begin within you.

Yes, you can step outside your own frame of reference! As Jung said: “Whatever you refuse to see within yourself, you see in the world as a limitation.”

Philosopher Reading

Ο Rembrandt, στο έργο του Philosopher Reading, it captures a sense of contemplation and how it can illuminate the soul. And yet, we often fill our moments of silence with “noise”: scrolling, work, going out, etc.

We fear abstraction because it forces us to confront ourselves. But isn't that where our whole truth lies?

Think about it this way: Could it be that the “noise” you choose is simply a way to avoid hearing what you really need?

As Rollo May said: “It is only in silence that you can hear your deepest truths.”

Medusa

Στη Medusa In Caravaggio’s painting, her terrifying figure draws us in, while at the same time “challenging” us to look her straight in the eye. The danger beckons: will we plunge into it, or will we hold back?

Think of it this way: Could it be that fear doesn't destroy you, but instead reveals hidden parts of yourself?

Maybe that's why it affects you so deeply.

You meet yourself!

As Carl Jung said: “Whatever you’re afraid to face is usually the truest part of yourself.”

The Day After

In “The Day After,” Edvard Munch focuses on loneliness and emotional distress.

A woman is depicted looking exhausted after a night of excess, surrounded by bottles of alcohol. The work captures the aftermath of an intense experience and the emotional crash that follows the euphoria.

Think of it this way: The feeling of “emptiness” we experience after the holidays, known as the “post-holiday blues,” is highlighted through art.

This is when our need to reconnect with everyday life emerges.

What do you think art teaches us about these moments in our lives?

The Pleasure Principle

Ο René Magritte στο έργο The Pleasure Principle calls on us to question “visible reality.” Edward James, featureless but with a head made of light, reminds us that human existence transcends mere image.

What do you see when you look at a person?

Think of it this way: Personality, thought, and truth are not reflected in your face, but in your thoughts and your inner light.

These things define you. They are the truest part of who you are.

"A person is what they think about during the day." — William James

"The Birth" by Piero della Francesca

Piero della Francesca’s *The Birth* does not merely depict the beginning of life, but has become a symbol of transformation and renewal in the Christmas narrative.

It is a moment that calls on us to pause in the presence of the Miracle, to observe, to reflect.

An opportunity for a vision filled with light.

Think of it this way: Just as birth marks the beginning of a new life, so too can a change in our thinking mark the beginning of a new self.

A self that is more self-aware and more open to growth.

Every time we see things differently, we are reborn with new possibilities.

What about you? How often do you feel reborn?

The Birth of Aphrodite ,Botticelli

As Carl Rogers points out, “Love is the act of self-acceptance in the midst of chaos.” In the The Birth of Aphrodite The goddess of love, newly born atop a seashell, stands vulnerable yet steadfast, while the sea, full of movement and chaos, sets her off.

This image reminds us that love—whether for oneself or for others—is not merely a feeling, but a force.

Think about it this way: Could it be that love isn't just a feeling?

It is a force that allows us to rise above chaos and remain steadfast even when we feel vulnerable.

What if, like Botticelli’s Venus, you let your vulnerability shine through instead of hiding it?

Ανθρωπάκια

The sculptor and painter Yannis Gaitis, known for his expressionless, identical “Little People,” used his work to protest the homogenization of modern humanity.

This particular work personally reminds me of the striking depiction of the multiple self.

A concept that has been explored by psychological theories, such as that of Donald Winnicott. Winnicott spoke of the “true” and “false self,” highlighting the aspects of the self that we express in different situations.

The multiple “layers” of our selves may be distinct, but they are always interconnected, seeking acceptance or trying to protect themselves.

If you've ever felt like you become "someone else" in certain situations, you might see a bit of yourself here!

Ρόλοι και η Θεωρία του Carl Jung Μέσα από το Θέατρο

Carl Jung, a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, developed the theory of the Persona archetype — Persona — arguing that we all wear a “public mask” in order to adapt to social expectations and accept the roles assigned to us.

His theory also describes the “Shadow,” which represents everything we repress and refuse to acknowledge within ourselves.

🎭 Theater is not merely an art form; it also serves as a mirror reflecting not only this concept but also human nature in general.

The actors wear “masks” and take on roles on stage. Thus, on the one hand, the audience watches the actors portray their roles, while on the other hand, the actors themselves are people who, during the performance, must hide aspects of themselves behind the mask of the Persona.

Ask yourself: What is your role on the stage of life?

🎭 Is it a role that offers you freedom and self-awareness ✨, or a mask you want to shed?

Love :

Στο Love :Klimt depicts love as a deep need for connection. The vulnerable woman symbolizes trust. The man, hidden in the shadows, evokes the mystery of love.

In the background, the ethereal figures emphasize that love is not only personal but also part of the cycle of life—an experience that connects us to the human condition.

Think of it this way: Art becomes a mirror of our emotions.

It brings us face to face with our deepest needs and invites us to reflect.

What about you? How do you experience love? How do you connect with others?

Narcissus, 1597–1599

In Caravaggio’s painting, Narcissus gazes at his reflection and is “enchanted” by it. However, the reflection is nothing more than a distortion of reality.

Could it be that, behind the filters and the “perfect” images, we are living out our own version of the story of Narcissus?

So are we, too, losing touch with our truth?

Think of it this way: Beauty doesn't need filters, and neither does the truth.

#nofilter isn't just a trend that's keeping pace with the changes.

It’s also a choice to show ourselves as we truly are: unique. ✨

Giorgio de Chirico — The Enigma of a Day, 1914

As we grow up, we learn to make decisions based on logic, experience, and our desires.

But when uncertainty and anxiety become part of our daily lives, those decisions start to feel like a mountain to climb.

Thoughts such as: “What if I take the wrong path?” “What if I regret it?” “What if I let others down?”

So, where does that leave us? Postponing our decisions, getting caught up in a maze of doubts, and, above all, remaining inactive.

It's no coincidence. Our brain fears loss and failure, even when standing still costs us more.

Psychologists call it “choice paralysis” — choice paralysis — when overanalyzing leads not to wisdom, but to inaction.

Giorgio de Chirico used to say that his works should raise questions rather than provide answers. Perhaps life works that way, too: not as a chain of right or wrong choices, but as a journey through life.

Change doesn't come when we find all the answers, but when we finally decide to move forward, even in the face of… uncertainty.

Could it be that, in the end, the biggest risk is standing still?

Romeo and Juliet’s Last Kiss, 1823

Love or romantic delusion? February 14—how many times have we confused love with the passion of romance that burns brightly and then fades away?

With the longing for someone who seems irreplaceable, but who ultimately leaves a void in our lives?

👉 Romeo and Juliet’s Last Kiss : Francesco Hayez’s painting captures exactly that: a love that seems absolute, yet lives in the shadow of its own end.

We often confuse love with intensity, drama, and the feeling that we can't live without the other person.

But true love is not that. It is not a fire that burns, but a warmth that endures over time. It is devotion by choice, closeness, and sharing. A uniquely authentic connection, nourished by its very nature.

Instead of searching for our “other half,” let’s learn to love in a way that unites us with the other person, without making us lose ourselves.

As Erich Fromm pointed out: “Love is an activity, not a passive experience. It is a continuous state, not a momentary impulse.”

Love or passion? Choice or impulse?

Food for love thoughts…

Le Modèle Rouge 1935

Στο Le Modèle Rouge The shoe-skin-foot breaks down the boundaries between the body and external impositions

Is it a shoe, or perhaps a role?

t certainly means speed and plenty of shoes to fit us all.

How often do we listen to others? Yes, to a parent, a partner, a child, a friend, or a coworker?

I wonder how much we really see them?

In this age of speed and efficiency, we forget to stop and feel. Do we put ourselves in someone else’s shoes, or do we simply walk past them without pausing?

When time is tight, understanding takes a back seat, and “you have to perform” takes precedence over “you have to listen to me.”

Could the project highlight the call to resist and awaken:

Who do I truly want to be, and what roles are imposed on me by society? Does the fast pace of life make us forget to pause?

If we did that, we might even discover that most shoes aren't our size.

We've heard it described as: "Show empathy." Solidarity.

Perhaps it could also be called personal growth. As Carl Rogers pointed out: “Empathy is the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes without losing sight of your own.”

Take a break. Take a breath. Put yourself in the other person’s shoes—and, most importantly, take a look at your own.

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, 1797–1799/ Springtime, 1873

Francisco Goya : The slumber of reason breeds monsters., he is depicted hunched over his desk, lost in a sleep that is anything but peaceful.

All around him, bats, owls, and felines appear—strange creatures that symbolize fear, irrationality, and the dark aspects of the human mind.

With this work, Goya wanted to show that when reason sleeps, irrationality takes the reins. The unconscious is unleashed and brings fears, obsessions, and hidden truths to the surface.

Freud would add to the above: “Dreams are the royal road to the unconscious.”

Dreams that can become either a gateway to self-awareness or a dream trap, where the same repressed beliefs and roles continue to define us.

So I wonder: Are we truly free in our dreams, or is that where we encounter our deepest chains?

“The key lies in the interpretation of dreams…” Freud would have replied.

La persistència de la memòria, 1931

In Salvador Dalí’s painting, The Persistence of Memory :The melting clocks seem to wink at us knowingly: “Relax, time is stranger than you think!”

It therefore invites us to reflect: How do we experience and manage time in our everyday lives?

Have you ever noticed how painfully slowly time passes when you are waiting in a queue, yet disappears when you are having a good time?

Our mind does not measure time in numbers, but in emotions. Dalí knew this well—that is why his clocks melt.

It reminds us that time is not fixed, it is not fair, and—perhaps worst of all—it waits for no one.

And our memories? They are perhaps the most deceptive of all. Like Dalí’s clocks, they become distorted over time.

Neuropsychology would tell us that this is due to the phenomenon of memory reconstruction.

Simply put, something you remember from your childhood may never have happened exactly as you picture it today.

A little imagination, a little later experience, a little “come on, you’ll forget about it with time…” and—poof—the experiential memory gets rewritten.

Dali's art, like all great art, as a mirror of the soul, does not provide answers; it asks questions.

He looks at you and asks, “Are you really living, or are you just watching your life melt away, like a watch in the sun?”

Sacrifice of Isaac, 1603–1604

In the painting The Sacrifice of Isaac :In The Sacrifice of Isaac, the shocking Caravaggio captures the moment when faith and fear collide.

👉 Chiaroscuro : It emphasises the anguish and intensity of the moment: Isaac’s sacrifice seems inevitable.

What would you think if that head, with its look of terror, were your own?

In modern life, sacrifices do not begin this way. They begin as devotion, become duty, and eventually turn into identity — into a symbolic beacon of life.

“You are not enough — sacrifice yourself!” Fine, we do not hear it exactly like that, but we feel it in the whispers around us.

We work relentlessly for recognition. We tolerate less than we deserve.

We place others above ourselves, along with many other things that you, too, can bring to mind as your own sacrifice for a “good cause”.

What a strange word, then: “self-sacrifice”.

It conceals something heroic, something boundless, but also a trap of aversion. It can turn you into a figure of admiration, such as: the self-sacrificing mother, the tireless worker, the compassionate daughter, the good child who has never burdened their parent, the partner who has it all.

Or it can boomerang and become the stigma of your devaluation: “Who, them? They are just a victim… poor thing!”

Psychologist Martin Seligman described this as the phenomenon of “learned helplessness”: a state in which someone gives up every attempt to change their reality because they have become convinced that nothing can change.

Like Isaac. He does not fight. He accepts his sacrifice — fatalistically, we might say — as though it were his destiny. Some impose the sacrifice of others in order to rise, while others sacrifice themselves in order to belong.

Both believe they have no choice. Self-sacrifice may seem like a one-way path, but it is not.

Our worth is not defined by how much we sacrifice ourselves.

And you? What do you think? How many more pieces of yourself will you sacrifice?

Springtime

👉 Springtime Pierre-Auguste Cot’s work captures the magic of youthful love.

A couple sits on a swing, wrapped in the freshness of spring, in a fairytale landscape filled with light and harmony.

Can you remember the moment when the world seemed ideal, as you saw it through the eyes of love?

Psychologist Robert Sternberg described this psychic state through a theory: the Triangular Theory of Love.

According to this theory, romantic love consists of passion and intimacy, while commitment is simultaneously absent. At this stage of idealistic love, the neurotransmitter dopamine and the hormone oxytocin “dance” in our brain. We experience an inexplicable euphoria, similar to that produced by addictive substances.

Suddenly, in other words, we become… users of love.

That is precisely when our brain begins to play games. We think: “We have fallen in love. I am living a dream — do not wake me! I have found the ideal love!” Romantic bias has already been set in motion.

We see our partner as more perfect than they truly are. We focus only on their strengths and overlook their imperfections, shaping an idealised image of them. This is a crucial phase for connection, but it does not last forever.

At some point, the “glasses of love” are removed, and objective vision returns.

Ultimately, can we remain forever in the springtime of love? Perhaps I am ruining the idea of the love you are living… or perhaps I am reminding you of the phrase: “How could I have been so blind?”

And you? Do you remember when love made you feel fearless, full of energy, ready to give everything? Are you still living in Spring? Have you moved into another season of love, or are you preparing to bloom from it? 🌺

“The Lovers” του René Magritte

📁 The Lovers : René Magritte’s work depicts two figures between whom some kind of relationship exists, yet their faces are covered with white fabric. Through this particular work, the artist makes reference to the memory of his mother, who died by suicide in the Seine. When she was recovered, her nightdress was wrapped around her head. This striking and deeply mysterious work could pose a question: How truly connected are we to others?

💭 Messages, video calls, voice notes, and so on. We are constantly in a state of connectivity with others. And yet, why do more and more people feel alone? Could it be that we too, like Magritte’s lovers, touch one another without being able to remove the “veils” that separate us from true contact?

📌 Sociologist Sherry Turkle speaks of “loneliness among the crowd”. The illusion that frequent communication is equivalent to true connection makes us forget that meaningful communication requires something deeper than texting, a brief voice note, or a video call.

🔍 The paradox? In a world where we can speak to anyone, at any moment, we struggle to say what we truly feel and to connect. Quick replies, emojis, likes. Are they ultimately enough, or do they intensify emotional distance?

🧠 Sigmund Freud once said: “Human communication is full of misunderstandings.” In other words, the invisible walls between us symbolise the silent or psychological distances and internal barriers that people maintain between one another, despite frequent “contact”.

🤔 True connection is a choice. As in the painting, we often cover ourselves in order to protect ourselves. In encounters between lovers, which are now also described as situationships, the distance between them is sealed by the veils that cover them.

👉 Closeness is not created through constant contact, but through the choice to be present, to listen, to understand, and to remove the veil. To reveal our true thoughts and feelings.

✨ And you? Do you remove your veil when you communicate, or do you live in the illusion of frequent and supposedly intimate communication?

Doménikos Theotokópoulos — Christ Carrying the Cross (1580)

In Christ Carrying the Cross, El Greco depicts a Christ who does not resist pain. He carries his cross in silence, as though he has made peace with the inevitable. Perhaps because true strength is not found in the denial of pain, but in its acceptance. That is where catharsis begins…

✝️ The Symbolic Cross is not merely a burden. It is a purpose imbued with existential meaning. Whether we choose it or not, we all carry one upon our backs. It defines the direction of our path. That is why, before we lift it, we must first have given it its meaning ourselves.

🧠 The philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre emphasised that “we are condemned to be free”, powerfully declaring that freedom is an inescapable individual responsibility. Perhaps this is why, when we are called upon to make the most critical decisions of our lives, we feel so alone. We are called to carry the cross of a decision.

📌 Psychotherapist Irvin Yalom reminds us that existential anxiety and responsibility for our choices go hand in hand. This is why the feeling of loneliness is not always the result of isolation, but may be experienced even when we belong to a “large group of friends”.

🔍 Clinical psychologist Ann Masten, with hope, states: Psychological resilience does not mean never bending, but finding meaning in what weighs upon you. As though she were telling us: Do not be afraid before the cross, when it is the one you have chosen…

✨ And you? Which cross are you carrying? 🧐 Did you choose it? 🤔 Did you endure it? 🫢 Or are you simply getting used to it?

Peter Paul Rubens — Prometheus Bound : (1611–1612)

🎨 In Peter Paul Rubens’s painting Prometheus Bound, the myth of Prometheus is captured: he is eternally tormented because he dared to give humanity fire. Knowledge. Light.

👉 In a way, though, does therapy not sometimes resemble this? A psychic process that promises liberation and healing. At first, it may feel like punishment. Memories and conversations we wish we could forget ever happened, which we would rather, as people say, “sweep under the carpet”.

🧠 Becoming aware of trauma can hurt more than the wound itself. Thus, at times in therapy, Resistance emerges. ✨ So, what is Resistance in therapy? Freud was the first to describe resistance as an unconscious defence — not against therapy itself, but against a truth that still hurts. Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis, 1917. Psychoanalysts Anna Freud and Otto Kernberg emphasised that resistance is not an obstacle, but a message. A part of the self is saying: “Do not unsettle me yet.”

⛓️ Prometheus knew what he was doing: he chose knowledge. In therapy, however, this is not always the case. Many resist. Some leave before they have even begun. Not because they do not want to change, but because change hurts.

🔍 As a clinical psychologist, I see resistance not as stubbornness, but as a turning point. Something important is located there. Resistance says: “This is where it hurts. Do not rush.” And this requires respect — certainly not pressure.

🔥 Prometheus was not punished because he was wrong, but because he evolutionarily illuminated humanity. Perhaps this is why, every time we touch the light of our own truth, we fear that we may not be able to withstand the flame.

🤔 Ask yourself: what do you hide from the light, because at some point you learned that illuminating the darkness hurts?

Frederic William Burton — The Meeting on the Turret Stairs : (1864)

📁 The Meeting on the Turret Stairs : Frederic William Burton’s work presents a scene in which she, a royal daughter, and he, her silent guardian, live a hidden love that could not withstand the weight of the world. A love that is not enough.

💔 In the painting, this final moment is full of tension: he caresses her tenderly, yet she turns her face away. Not out of indifference, but because she knows that love is not always enough to keep a relationship alive. Some relationships are deep and true, yet they are not sustainable or balanced. Heartbreaking, but not redemptive.

🧠 Psychology describes this condition with the following term: Sunk Cost Fallacy — the sunk cost fallacy. When we have invested time, emotion, and parts of our identity in something, we find it difficult to let it go, even if it wears us down or hurts us. We do not hold on to the reality of the present; we hold on to what we have already given.

📚 Nobel laureate in behavioural psychology Daniel Kahneman explains that the human brain avoids loss in a way that often exceeds logic, persisting in painful situations because it fears grief and change.

🌘 Yet leaving is not failure. It is a sign of maturity and growth. To love, but not to become imprisoned. To touch, but not to invalidate yourself and your own desires in order to stay.

🔗 If you are holding on to a relationship tooth and nail, could it be that you are not holding on to the person, but to the fear of being alone? And if, in the end, you allowed it to go, could it be that you would then create space for something real?

Henry Fuseli — The Nightmare : (1871)

📁 In Henry Fuseli’s painting The Nightmare, a woman sleeps, surrendered. Upon her chest, a demon. It is her desire weighing upon her. In the deep darkness, a horse with wide, staring eyes. It is the night that has become… a nightmare!

✨ It is not merely a dream. It is the existential moment when desire touches its wound. The fear of surrendering to the wrong kind of love. 👉 Because a love that does not set you free weighs you down. And a love that does not heal will certainly make old wounds reopen.

💔 When passion is not connection, but a wound searching for a role, it plays in the same drama, the familiar script, with a different protagonist. ❤️‍🩹 You do not fall in love with the one who suits you, but with the one who resembles you in pain. Your psyche recognises them. Not because they are “the one”, but because, at some point, they hurt in the same way.

📌 Trauma therapist Gabor Maté put it clearly: “We fall in love with the person we believe will heal us.” 🤔 And I would add: who does not long to be healed? Yet if your wound is still bleeding, the other person does not become therapy. They become… your sweetest nightmare.

🧠 Psychotherapist Esther Perel, an expert in the dynamics of romantic relationships and desire, warns: “Attraction is not proof of truth.” It does not necessarily mean connection. It may be the trauma recognising its familiar script, the one that has successfully been played out before in the past.

🔍 Think about it: are you drawn to someone, or are you… repeating yourself in your relationships? Could it be that you describe it as “destiny” or “karmic attraction”, while in reality it is your own role with a new face?

✨ True love does not weigh upon your chest. It does not lull you to sleep. On the contrary… it awakens you. Unexpectedly, it unsettles you. Not so that you may continue the same dream, but so that you may wake from the nightmare.

Gustave Courbet — The Wounded Man (1844–1854)

Perhaps… how many encounters of the soul have we avoided, hidden behind a resounding, insurmountable alibi, with fear as its bottom line? A bipolar alibi that makes us, at once, heroes of self-protection and prisoners of loneliness; justified before our own mirror, yet distanced from our truth and from the point of encounter with the Other.

🎭 According to Jung, when the fear of authentic contact with the Other activates the mask — the persona — the individual contracts the potential of their psyche, yielding to an internal alibi that preserves order, but excludes transformation. Thus, the psyche avoids the encounter with the Other, which is ultimately the encounter with the Self itself.

✨ Is “surrender” the only solution for a head-on, deep, decisive encounter with the Other? Perhaps… some may think so. In the dive into the unknown, with an unmanageable inner heartbeat for whatever is about to happen, a moment of doubt is, after all, worth something.

💯 For the evolution of the Self, however, the courageous would immediately say: Yes. And yet, I dive. Not because I am not afraid, but because I cannot bear to exist without living.

🌿 Perhaps it is in this decision that the redemption of the psyche begins. Because, in the end, whatever does not define you does not “seal” you. 🔐

The Accolade του Edmund Leighton

In Edmund Leighton’s painting The Accolade, the figure of the knight bows before a woman he does not know. Yet he recognises her. Not as a person, but as a sign. A moment that makes no sense. And yet, something within him knows:

🎯 “You were the calling.” 👥 So it is in life. Some people appear suddenly. Without noise or warning. They stop us with their presence, and our path changes, without any logical explanation.

🧲 It is not always romantic love. It is, however, the subterranean love of the unconscious. You may meet someone and not understand why you feel so much. You feel as though you have known them forever. As though you carry together a memory you have never lived, yet one that somehow concerns you.

⏳ It may last only briefly. Perhaps not at all. But it will leave behind something that was not there before: 🔐 an activation, 👁️ a revelation, 🔥 or a trial. It is the moment when the Psyche moves into another evolutionary stage.

🔮 The psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Carl Jung called this “synchronicity”: when an external event resonates with your inner state. It is not coincidence. It is not luck. It is the moment when the Unconscious chooses to express itself through an Other.

📚 Psychiatrist Jean Shinoda Bolen wrote: “In synchronicities, the Psyche recognises paths before the Ego can even see them.” And when the Ego is bewildered, the heart takes over. It shivers without reason. It remembers without an image. It opens a window within you that you did not know existed.

🧠 Psychiatrist and psychotherapist Irvin Yalom, speaking about the great existential questions — love, meaning, death, and loneliness — acknowledged that the psyche often encounters the Other where the mind cannot reach. ✨ And then someone appears. They “randomly” speak about what burns within you. They look at you as though they have read you. Without knowing what they are doing, they do something decisive for you.

📌 In psychotherapy, synchronicity can function therapeutically. In sessions, it is not uncommon to hear: 🗣️ “I don’t know what happened, but something within me led me,” or “My instinct spoke. I could not ignore it.” Jung believed that such moments are psychic keys. It is the Psyche reminding you that you are not alone. ✨ And you? Can you remember having lived a similar moment of synchronisation with an Other?

🔍 An encounter that came when you were not ready, but had to happen? 🧭 A gaze that showed you something before you could understand it? 🤲 A “coincidence” that became a mirror? Remember: 📣 Do not always search for logic. Some things cannot be explained. Perhaps they do not need to be. Because when synchronicities appear…

🌀 The return to the Self is the only path. 💫 And then, nothing is ever the same again. 💕 And when synchronicity is love? Then it is not merely the course that changes, but the entire navigation system.

 

Phaedra Racine

 Alexandre Cabanel, in his work Phaedra, depicts the tragic heroine of Greek mythology at a moment of inner tension, as her internal drama consumes her. Her eyes turn inward. Love and guilt in conflict…

💔 Ancient tragedy is always profoundly moving, precisely because it functions as a safe mirror: you can see dark truths without having to live them.

🧐 Psychology calls this cathartic projection. You grieve, you fear, you are redeemed through the heroes. You, too, confront within yourself the passions that remain unspoken, the thoughts that are not expressed, and the moments that remain in silence. All through the heroes. In this way, the timelessness of the psyche is revealed, along with everything it carries.

🧠✨ Racine writes Phaedra, a tragedy that, in essence, pushes you to look at what is weak and passionate within yourself. Psychology today, especially existential psychology, focuses precisely on this: how we stand in relation to mortality, love, guilt, and freedom.

⚡ Phaedra is not merely a queen trapped in her love for her stepson, Hippolytus. She is the embodiment of guilt, of passion overwhelming reason, and of shame leading to self-destruction.

 

Ophelia

 John Everett Millais painted Ophelia, inspired by the Shakespearean heroine who, after rejection and loss, surrenders herself to the water. The artist sought to capture the delicate moment between life and death, rather than to focus on the act of drowning itself. Ophelia’s face does not show terror. It shows resignation. The despair on her face is painted in the colours of absolute passivity.

❤️‍🩹 From art to the psyche, then: some of us, at certain moments in life, may have experienced the freeze before the sinking. When pain was unbearable and escape impossible, the psyche froze in order to survive. Psychic immobility then resembles death. Although it is experienced as an ending, the mechanism of survival has already been set in motion. Just as the water embraces Ophelia, so too the psyche temporarily wraps itself in an illusion of calm.

🧠 What is really happening? From “freeze” to “being”, neurobiology both describes and explains this process. The freeze response is the third stage of the fight–flight–freeze mechanism: when a threat cannot be confronted, the body and mind “freeze” in order to conserve energy and protect themselves.

📚 Winnicott called this the “dead self”. It refers to the psychic numbness that emerges in order to protect the true Self. Rollo May saw in this paralysis the “pause of Being”: the point at which existence does not die, but waits to be reborn.

🤔 Perhaps, in the end, psychic immobility is not death, but gestation. A pause in which the psyche begins to breathe again, slowly, before returning to life. ❔ Think about it: when did you feel that your psychic silence was not an ending, but… a beginning?

 

The Labyrinth of Pleasures

A sea of small figures, animals, and strange objects. At first, they seem playful and luminous, as if inviting you to relax. Yet the more you observe, the more you begin to see something else: each one appears to be pursuing their own pleasure, and while some enjoy their own joy, they simultaneously disturb the demons of others.

🤔 Does this feel familiar? Does this thought remind you of something? It is because it touches on psychic mechanisms such as: “I play with your mind and take pleasure in the discomfort I create in you,” or “Hmm… I see your fears dancing, because I know exactly which buttons to press.” Every movement or word of one person becomes the other person’s doubt. Were you shaken by the realisation? Even better… now that is pleasure.

🧠 This “dark pleasure” touches upon Jung’s Shadow: the parts of ourselves that take pleasure in displays of power, control, or even in the disturbance of others. When pleasure arises through the instrument of domination, it certainly does not illuminate; instead, it traps the mind and the psyche. Yours, and that of… whoever happens to be caught in its path, as people would say.

💡 Pleasure can be sweet or toxic. Positive, enjoyable, or manipulatively aggressive. Directed towards inner freedom, or towards the control and disturbance of others. 👉 In the labyrinth of the mind, this choice is crucial: what do you choose?

👉 In the labyrinth of the mind, this choice is crucial: what do you choose?

 

Cupid with a Pistol on Top of a Mountain of Skulls

🖤 “In love, we do not seek only life, but also the repetition of loss.” Sigmund Freud

📁 This work does not idealise love. On the contrary, it reveals it. Here, Eros does not appear to us as a saviour, but as a child: impulsive, unconscious, fateful, and utterly unaware of the consequences of his actions. He sits carelessly upon a mountain of skulls, and this is by no means accidental. Skulls that symbolise relationships, expectations, and versions of the self sacrificed in the name of love. Eros holds a gun instead of an arrow. He does not “wound” romantically. He traumatises instantly.

🧠 Freud, in Beyond the Pleasure Principle, speaks to us about the coexistence of Eros — the life drive — with the death drive, Thanatos. Love is not always directed towards life and connection. It often unconsciously repeats losses, abandonments, and old wounds.

🤔 When does this happen? When we love through confusion, dependency, or idealisation, love ceases to serve life and begins to take away pieces of the self. The skulls are not “the others”. They are you yourself. They are everything that was lost in order for the bond to be preserved.

💫 Mature love does not belong to Thanatos. It does not require the disappearance of the Ego. It belongs entirely to Eros, which unites without destroying you or… your love itself.

🔥 Perhaps, then, the question is not: “Does he/she love me?” But rather: Am I loving in order to connect, or in order to lose myself?

 

Edward Hopper - Morning Sun (1952)

A woman sitting on a bed looks out of the window. The light touches her, yet she remains motionless, as if frozen. I wonder: ✨ What might someone see when looking at the painting?

📍 Someone who feels disconnected from themselves might say: “I see a woman in the light. Perhaps she is bored, perhaps she is thinking.”

📍 Someone in contact with their psychic life could see and feel at the same time. They might therefore say: “This posture reminds me of my own silence in the morning, when I wake up and do not know what to do with myself. The light calls me, but I remain there, as if I cannot bear to move outwards.”

👉 Same painting, different people and different gazes… inhabited in entirely different ways!

🧠 So what is “psychic life”? It is not “having feelings”. It is not “remembering”. It is not “talking about oneself”.

💡 A psychic life with a pulse means: a moment you do not simply pass over. A moment in which you sit with the question. In which you are able to feel, to see, to stay. An inner space that can endure, contain, imagine, remember, and create.

🔍 What, then, is the structure of psychic life? 💫 It is the capacity to tolerate your emotions. Not to hide them. To bear them without collapsing or acting them out onto the outside world.

📌 Bion: psychic digestion. If it cannot be tolerated, it is evacuated. 💫 It is your inner world filled with imagination and memory. Not simply what happened, but what it means for you.

📌 Winnicott: an inner world that accompanies the outer one. 💫 It is the internal relationships that reside within you. If you were held with care, you can also hold yourself.

📌 Fairbairn – Klein: internalised objects. The mother within us. 💫 It is the transitional space: the zone of creation. The area between the “I” and the “world”. This is where play, art, and dreams are born.

📌 Winnicott: transitional space, where the true self lives. 💫 And, of course, the unconscious: the shadow of our psyche. Here, psychic life means being able to tolerate the fact that you have parts of yourself that you do not control.

📌 Freud: the unconscious is not simply “hidden”; it is active.

🔑 Psychic life is not a privilege. It is an achievement. It requires effort, time, and continuous work. It is built within relationships, inner dialogue, therapy, and art. It is cultivated when you allow yourself to feel, to symbolise, to endure, and to create. And perhaps one day, standing before a painting, you may feel that someone sees you before you have even said a word. Because art does not answer. It holds you. Just as psychic life does.

🤔 Think about it: what do you see in this painting?

 

The Metamorphosis of Narcissus

In this surrealist composition, on the left, Narcissus bends over his reflection. He falters and becomes paralysed, absorbed in an egocentric mirror — a figure severed from life. On the right, a hand holds a cracked egg, from which a white narcissus blooms. A new life emerges through the act of breaking. From death to creation.

Only art could render this profound opposition in visual form: ⚪ Death – ⚪ Life.

And I find myself wondering: 🌀 What does it mean to die psychologically without losing one’s life? 🌸 Yet, through the egg, the flower blooms, Dalí metaphorically emphasises.

A transformation closer to You. In every darkness, there is also a crack through which the light can pass. And then come words such as these: 💬 I feel as though I have been reborn from my ashes. I did not know that what I became was who I had always been. I do not want, under any circumstances, to return to my old self.

Dalí’s painting is not merely a depiction of Narcissus.

It is an alchemical transformation, as Woodman describes it: a dark, inner death required for life to be reborn within you.

Remember: 🕯️ Sometimes, in order to live, you must first die.

 

Melancholy

In Munch’s Melancholy, a man stands alone on the shore, while two figures disappear into the distance. We do not see the rupture. Yet we see, directly, the pause that follows an encounter. A heavy silence, like the one left behind by the gaze of love that promised something and then, suddenly… withdrew.

💌 Relationships and contradictory romantic messages In neuropsychology, the phenomenon of cognitive dissonance describes the mind as it struggles to reconcile two conflicting elements: the spark it recognised in the other person’s gaze and the sudden withdrawal that followed.

❗ These are neural pathways that have already been formed, from the very first spark of familiarity between two people who moved towards one another with romantic intent. Connections built within their particular moment, which do not disappear immediately simply because one of the two suddenly withdrew. This imprint seems to freeze time, keeping the memory alive in the there and then.

📚 Cognitive Dissonance. The mind begins to wrestle with the undefined. It tries to reconcile two romantically contradictory signals: the flame of the first contact and the silence that followed. The twist in the narrative triggers overanalysis in the person who eventually finds themselves saying: “What just happened here, my friend?”

📍 Exactly! According to psychoanalyst Peter Fonagy, this is mentalizing under uncertainty. And the mind continues doing what it knows well in ambiguity: it interprets endlessly. So, when the other person does not explain, we try to enter their mind ourselves. Thought becomes analytical, but also tormenting: “What happened? What did I do? Did I imagine it all? Did I push too much? Did I say something wrong?… What if… What if…”

🤯 Somewhere here, the time has also come for self-gaslighting. Doubt turns into an internal attack. We minimise our own experience in order to tolerate the other person’s ambiguity. We become interpreters, accusers, and advocates all at once, until we eventually… burn out.

📌 If you have been on the receiving end of contradictory romantic messages, if you have felt withdrawal after connection, if you heard “I want you” followed by “I’m not ready”, and if an embrace opened and then closed without explanation…

💫 Remember: the connection existed. Your body registered it, because you lived it. Your desire was real. If the other person simply did not continue it, this does not invalidate your own experience. Doubt is a natural response to emotional ambiguity — not proof that what you felt was wrong, nor that it happened in some parallel universe with a different protagonist.

 

We’ll always have Paris

At an airport against the backdrop of the Second World War, Rick says goodbye to Ilsa. No, the lovers do not leave together. The fairytale is not affirmed. Instead of holding on to the woman he loves, he gives her the freedom to leave with her husband. For something greater than their love. For the resistance. For the world.

Maslow’s concept of self-actualisation illuminates the choice made in the film’s narrative. In the midst of the Second World War, Rick sacrifices his personal desire for a higher value. Instead of saying, “I want us to be together,” he chooses: “The world needs something more.” Sometimes, self-actualisation emerges when we let go of the egocentric “I want” in favour of a deeper meaning. Emotional maturity in their separation defines the quality of their love.

Their relationship does not end in disillusionment. It becomes a frame from the past. A memory that does not fade, because what they lived authentically is not distorted by harsh reality. “We’ll always have Paris,” he told her, with eyes full of longing and unspoken love… A phrase that carries not only romance, but also existential density.

Because unfulfilled love often remains within us not as a loss, but as Ideal Love. It is then that its memory becomes a defence, a consolation, and a refuge. 

Retrospective idealisation, or rosy retrospection, describes our tendency to remember a relationship as more beautiful than it actually was, because at the time we felt closer to the version of ourselves we longed to become. Paris becomes a symbol of our ideal. 

This is a cognitive bias, as described by Tversky and Kahneman: memory and judgment are shaped not only by facts, but also by our emotional needs. Rick, as Yalom might also explain, makes an existential choice. He does not simply abandon love. He chooses to stand for something greater. He chooses meaning.

There, love is not only an emotion. It is a way of being. It is a position. I think: sometimes, instead of holding on to the person, you hold on to the moment. Paris. Preserving a relationship in the imaginary realm of its ideal form is not merely a memory. It is an internal construction that protects us from the raw truth of absence.

A “Paris” to which we return in our minds whenever the world around us is not enough. What about you?

In which relationship did you say, “We belong in Paris,” when in reality you did not fit within the same path? 

 

Vincent van Gogh

Could it be that you see the world differently… and have not yet named it? In the painting The Starry Night In Vincent van Gogh’s painting, the sky is never still. It swirls, pulsates, and feels with heightened intensity.

And yet, within this intensity, there is an order of its own and an inner harmony that is not immediately visible. Perhaps some people function in a similar way. They experience stimuli more intensely.

They need time to process emotions. They prefer structure within chaos, or withdraw in order to protect themselves. This does not mean that “something is wrong”. It may simply mean that they function differently, at their own rhythm.

Contemporary research on neurodevelopmental disorders shows that autism and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) often co-occur. Indeed, they do not always need to be viewed as separate categories, but rather as spectra that give rise to unique ways of perceiving, expressing oneself, and connecting with others.

The brain does not always fit into labels. It is multilayered, multidimensional, and alive. Here, psychology offers us a bridge.

Carl Jung viewed individuality as a synthesis of opposites. Different ways of being are not wrong and, above all, do not require “correction”. From this perspective, the autistic and the neurotypical person do not stand in opposition to one another. They stand within the same continuum of human experience.

Understanding begins where the need for labels ends. Intensity may be sensitivity. Distance may be a need for protection. On the occasion of World Autism Awareness Day, on 2 April, let us remember something simple and profoundly human…

You do not always need to name it. You do not always need to explain it. It is enough to begin seeing the other person, and also yourself, with greater kindness.

Because the human being is not a single word. 

It's a spectrum.