Who would study psychology unless they had some issues?! Chapter 562: 544: Subconscious

Chapter 562: Chapter 544: Subconscious

Nan Zhubin didn’t speak, just putting on a suitable expression for the mont.

A son, after mustering up his courage for a long ti, tears open his festering wound anew, begging his parents for complete healing, only to receive a response of “I don’t see any wound on you.”

That effect is absolutely catastrophic.

Then the visitor smiled again. It wasn’t the kind of smile ant to ease inner emotions through bodily behavior, but a smile from the heart.

The content of this smile is very complex, and its direction is also complex. It seems to point to the visitor himself, to the story he’s telling, or perhaps to sothing else altogether.

“At that ti, I just felt… very absurd.” After finishing the smile, the visitor closed his eyes and shook his head, “I… really don’t usually talk about this kind of stuff with my parents, and it took so much determination, only to get this kind of reaction.”

“All my preparations and brewing, I suddenly felt… I didn’t know what the aning was anymore.”

The visitor took a deep breath: “Actually, I have communicated with them not only these two big things but also so small things, usually trying to talk to them in a joking manner.”

“For example, my father wanted to join the army when he was young but didn’t pass the test, so when I was a child, he used so ‘military training plans’ he had no idea where he cobbled together to train . He would make hang on a horizontal bar, even if I couldn’t do a pull-up, just hang there, hang until my hands were sore, then soak them in cold water to ease the pain, and then continue hanging for more than an hour at a ti, leaving the bar covered in blood. That probably happened when I was in elentary school…”

“I once told them I got into a fight with soone, but my father always taught to be kind to others, so he punished by making do 300 push-ups…” the visitor smiled, “At that ti, I was also in elentary school, I did it for a whole night, probably four or five hours. At first sets of ten or so, resting when tired, then a set of one or two… My father was just lying on the recliner, playing on his phone, watching …”

The visitor clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

He said: “When I told them these things, they all said they completely didn’t rember, it never happened. After many tis, there were monts I would wonder if there was sothing wrong with my head, I thought if I was being too paranoid or extre? As if I substituted the experiences of the protagonists in the novels or animations I read with my own…”

In Nan Zhubin’s heart, sothing solidified. This is not a good sign.

“Luckily… when my father taught a few tis, the scene was sowhat big. When I sought verification from others, they rembered, so I knew there was nothing wrong with my mind…”

Nan Zhubin breathed a slight sigh of relief.

The visitor started laughing again, with that “heh heh heh” laugh.

After his final laugh, the upward curl of his lips stayed on his face for a long ti without change, but his eyes quickly turned blank, staring straight ahead.

Nan Zhubin was silent for a while, waiting for the visitor to process his emotions, also to brew the atmosphere.

About three breaths later, when the visitor finally averted his gaze and began to look back at Nan Zhubin.

Nan Zhubin said: “So, you talked to your parents in various forms about what you felt weren’t very good childhood experiences, right?”

The visitor nodded: “Right?”

Nan Zhubin continued: “When you started these conversations, did you have any preconceived outcos you hoped to achieve?”

The visitor opened his mouth, but said nothing.

Nan Zhubin looked into the visitor’s eyes: “It sounds like each conversation with your parents ended unhappily. Yet you continuously initiated many conversations.”

“Does this an that actually, in your heart — at least at that ti — you hoped to receive so kind of ‘apology’ from them; even further, to ease and improve your relationship with them?”

…

This counts as a kind of [confrontation].

But unlike a general confrontation seeking language loopholes, the current technique, in [psychoanalysis], is a deeper layer of [subconscious presentation].

It digs out what the visitor is hiding beneath the surface through the visitor’s expressions and ways of speaking.

Letting the visitor face the self that was hidden away.

Then seeing the visitor tug at the corners of his mouth, as if wanting to smile. But halfway up, his mouth corners inexplicably fell, failing to form a normal “smile” expression.

Then the visitor attempted a second, third ti.

After the fourth attempt to smile without success, the visitor finally gave up.

He exhaled a long sigh and said: “Yes, I guess…”

“No, there’s no ‘guess.'”

The visitor slightly adjusted his sitting posture and said earnestly: “Yes. I do have desires.”

The visitor looked into Nan Zhubin’s eyes: “Honestly, which child doesn’t wish to get along well with their parents… After going to college, discussing families with others, I found out that in so families, the children aren’t hit or scolded;”

“So children can cry, and when they cry, they are coaxed and comforted;”

“So children can express directly to their parents that they felt hurt by their actions, and can even receive an apology…”

The visitor said wistfully: “I am very envious.”

His expression cleared completely, all those negative emotions disappeared, replaced by a sense of helplessness.