![]() The little boy licked the bit of wood expectantly, looked at it, threw it away, wanted to pick it up again but did not do so, and a deep sob of loneliness and disappointment shook his small body. When his father had completely finished his ice cream, he gave the stick to the child and walked on. It made them laugh, and they hoped to humor him along with their laughter, too: “Look, it isn’t so important, what a fuss you are making.” Once the child sat down on the ground and began to throw little stones over his shoulder in his mother’s direction, but then he suddenly got up again and looked around anxiously, making sure that his parents were still there. The more the child cried, the more it amused his parents. Time and again he held out his little hand for the whole ice-cream bar, but the adult hand with its treasure was withdrawn again. Soon he came back again and gazed enviously and sadly up at the two grown-ups, who were enjoying their ice cream contentedly. He cried in despair, and soon exactly the same thing was repeated with his father: “There you are, my pet,” said his father affectionately, “you can have a bite of mine.” “No, no,” cried the child and ran ahead again, trying to distract himself. His mother said affectionately, “Look, you can have a bite of mine, a whole one is too cold for you.” The child did not want just one bite but held out his hand for the whole bar, which his mother took out of his reach again. ![]() The two had just bought themselves ice-cream bars on sticks from the kiosk, and were licking them with evident enjoyment. I think this story exemplifies the anecdotes presented in the book, the value of empathy with children and their perspectives, and how these feelings can propagate across generations: On the other hand, I can understand my suicidal ideas better now, especially those I had in my youth-when it seemed pointless to carry on-because in a way I had always been living a life that wasn’t mine, that I didn’t want, and that I was ready to throw away. Perhaps this is because, for the first time, I have the feeling that I am really living my own life. Nevertheless, for the first time I find life really worth living. There is so much evil and meanness all around me, and I see it even more clearly than before. This experience was followed immediately not by visible relief, but by a period full of grief and tears. Pia, age forty, after a long depressive phase accompanied by suicidal thoughts, was at last able to experience and justify her long-suppressed rage toward her father, who had severely mistreated her. His passion for his false self makes impossible not only love for others but also, despite all appearances, love for the one person who is fully entrusted to his care: himself. Narcissus was in love with his idealized picture, but neither the grandiose nor the depressive “Narcissus” can really love himself. When they are understood, they open the door to our inner world that is much richer than the “beautiful countenance”! These feelings can be experienced in therapy. It is not only the “beautiful,” “good,” and pleasant feelings that make us really alive, deepen our existence, and give us crucial insight, but often precisely the unacceptable and unadapted ones from which we would prefer to escape: helplessness, shame, envy, jealousy, confusion, rage, and grief. This death is the logical consequence of the fixation on the false self. In trying to be at one with the beautiful picture, he gave himself up-to death or, in Ovid’s version, to being changed into a flower. Narcissus wanted to be nothing but the beautiful youth he totally denied his true self. Accepting only positive emotions is to deny your true self. Without these experiences, you aren’t experiencing your true self. “True Self”īeing emotionally true to yourself means being willing to accept the “bad” emotions and allowing yourself to experience helplessness, jealousy, rage, shame, envy, etc. If we say that we love an adult unconditionally, we only prove our blindness and/or dishonesty. But to pretend to love an adult unconditionally-that is, independently of his or her deeds-would mean that we should love even a cold serial murderer or a notorious liar if only he joins our group. We must be able to love and accept them whatever they do, not only when they smile charmingly but also when they cry and scream. Only a child needs unconditional love-we don’t love adults in the same way: This book describes how cycles of trauma are perpetuated through generations, and what emotionally unhealthy parent/child relationships look like Notes Unconditional love
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