BETSHY

Tag: Psychoanalysis

  • Ontological Autonomy: How to Reclaim Your Sense of Self in a Chaotic World

    Ontological Autonomy: How to Reclaim Your Sense of Self in a Chaotic World

    In a world that constantly demands we perform, conform, and outsource our identity to algorithms, trends, and external validation, the concept of ontological autonomy has never been more relevant. It represents the hard-won ability to exist as a coherent, self-authored being — not defined by others’ expectations, trauma, or societal scripts, but rooted in one’s own authentic sense of being.

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    Ontological autonomy builds directly on the work of thinkers who explored ontological security and insecurity. While ontological insecurity (Laing, 1960) describes a fragile sense of self that feels constantly threatened with dissolution or engulfment, ontological autonomy is its empowered counterpart: the capacity to maintain a stable, continuous sense of “I am” even when faced with chaos , rejection, or existential pressure. This autonomy enables individuals to navigate life’s uncertainties with resilience and self-assuredness, fostering a deeply rooted understanding of one’s identity that remains intact despite external challenges.

    Furthermore, ontological autonomy not only encourages personal growth but also promotes healthier relationships, as it allows individuals to engage authentically with others while maintaining their own sense of self amidst the fluctuating dynamics of interpersonal connections and societal expectations. In this way, the concept of ontological autonomy serves as a vital psychological resource, equipping individuals with the strength to confront adversities and embrace their true selves without fear of losing their essence.

    Philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre laid important groundwork through his concept of bad faith — the denial of one’s freedom by hiding behind roles, excuses, or external definitions. This notion underscores the psychological struggles many individuals face in accepting the full weight of their choices and the freedom that accompanies them. True ontological autonomy, in Sartrean terms, requires radical acceptance of freedom and responsibility for one’s existence. Such acceptance is not merely an intellectual exercise; it demands a courageous confrontation with the self and an acknowledgment of the inherent anxieties that accompany genuine freedom.

    To live authentically is to refuse the temptation to let others (or circumstances) define who we are, actively crafting our own identities and destinies instead. This journey towards authenticity is fraught with challenges, as societal expectations and personal fears continuously threaten to pull us back into patterns of bad faith, where we might find temporary comfort but ultimately lose the essence of our true selves (Sartre, 1943) .

    Sociologist Anthony Giddens expanded this idea in late modernity, delving deeply into the complexities of contemporary identity and social structures. He argued that ontological security, a crucial aspect of human experience, comes from maintaining a reliable self-narrative and trusting in the continuity of social structures that provide stability in daily life. This stability is essential for individuals to navigate an increasingly complex world. In this sense, individuals must actively reflect on their beliefs, experiences, and social contexts, allowing them to adapt their identities as needed in response to changing circumstances. Such adaptability becomes even more vital in an era of rapid social transformation and uncertainty, where traditional norms and values may no longer hold the same weight as they once did, necessitating a more dynamic approach to identity formation and personal meaning (Giddens, 1991).

    Ontological autonomy, then, is the ability to sustain that narrative even when those structures crumble, requiring individuals to engage in reflexive self-understanding and deliberate identity construction.

    In clinical psychology, ontological autonomy is closely linked to Self-Determination Theory (Deci & Ryan, 2000), which emphasises the importance of individuals having the freedom to make choices and govern their own lives. The theory identifies autonomy as one of three basic psychological needs (alongside competence and relatedness), highlighting that fulfilling these needs is crucial for psychological well-being and optimal functioning. When this need is thwarted — often through controlling relationships, oppressive environments, or internalised shame — people experience alienation from their true desires and values, leading to feelings of frustration and demotivation. This disconnection can manifest in various ways, including anxiety, depression, and a sense of helplessness.

    Cultivating ontological autonomy means reclaiming authorship over one’s life choices and inner experience, fostering a deeper sense of self and stronger personal agency. By understanding and addressing the factors that impede autonomy, individuals can work towards a more authentic existence, aligning their actions with their true selves and ultimately enhancing their overall quality of life (Deci & Ryan, 2000). For trauma survivors, ontological autonomy is frequently compromised. Complex trauma can shatter the sense of a continuous, worthy self, leaving individuals feeling fragmented or defined by their wounds.

    Healing involves slowly rebuilding an internal locus of control — learning that one’s worth and reality are not dictated by past perpetrators or current circumstances. In my own journey and forensic work, I have seen how reclaiming ontological autonomy is often the turning point from survival to genuine thriving. Practically, developing ontological autonomy involves several key practices:

    • Reflexive self-awareness — regularly examining the stories we tell ourselves about who we are.
    • Boundary work — learning to say “no” without guilt and protecting personal values.
    • Value clarification — identifying what truly matters independent of external approval.
    • Tolerating existential anxiety — sitting with uncertainty rather than rushing to external validation.

    In today’s hyper-connected world, ontological autonomy is under constant threat. Social media encourages performative identities, while political and economic systems often reduce people to data points or consumers. Reclaiming it is therefore an act of quiet rebellion — a declaration that your inner reality matters.

    The journey is rarely linear. There will be days when old fears of abandonment or worthlessness pull you back into dependency. But each time you choose authenticity over approval, you strengthen the muscle of ontological autonomy. Over time, the self becomes less fragile and more resilient — not because the world becomes safer, but because you become more rooted in your own being.

    In conclusion, ontological autonomy is not selfish individualism. It is the foundation of genuine connection, ethical living, and psychological freedom. By understanding and cultivating it, we move from being shaped by the world to becoming conscious co-creators of our reality. In a time of fragmentation and noise, this may be one of the most radical and healing things we can do — both for ourselves and for the collective.

    References

    Deci, E. L. and Ryan, R. M. (2000) ‘The “what” and “why” of goal pursuits: Human needs and the self-determination of behavior’, Psychological Inquiry, 11(4), pp. 227–268. Available at: https://psycnet.apa.org/record/2000-13324-001 (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

    Giddens, A. (1991) Modernity and Self-Identity: Self and Society in the Late Modern Age. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Available at: https://www.politybooks.com/bookdetail/?isbn=9780745609324 (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

    Laing, R. D. (1960) The Divided Self: An Existential Study in Sanity and Madness. London: Penguin. Available at: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/264434/the-divided-self-by-r-d-laing/ (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

    Sartre, J-P. (1943) Being and Nothingness. London: Routledge. Available at: https://www.routledge.com/Being-and-Nothingness/Sartre/p/book/9780415274739 (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

  • When the Body Speaks What the Mind Cannot: The Psychoanalysis of Conversion Symptoms

    When the Body Speaks What the Mind Cannot: The Psychoanalysis of Conversion Symptoms

    As someone who has lived with complex mental health challenges and has spent years studying the intricate dialogue between mind and body, I am continually drawn to one of the most fascinating concepts in classical psychoanalysis: conversion symptoms.

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    Conversion symptoms occur when psychological distress or unconscious conflict is transformed into physical symptoms without any identifiable organic cause. Classic examples include sudden paralysis, blindness, seizures, loss of voice (aphonia), or glove anaesthesia (numbness in the hands that does not follow neurological distribution). These symptoms are real — the person genuinely cannot move a limb or see — yet medical investigations repeatedly find no structural damage or disease. In psychoanalytic terms, the symptom is not random; it carries symbolic meaning and serves a psychological purpose.

    The concept was central to the birth of psychoanalysis. In Studies on Hysteria (1895), Josef Breuer and Sigmund Freud introduced the revolutionary idea that hysterical symptoms were not signs of neurological disease or moral weakness, but expressions of repressed psychological material. They proposed that an intolerable idea or traumatic memory is pushed out of conscious awareness through repression. The emotional energy attached to that repressed material does not disappear; instead, it is “converted” into a bodily symptom. This process provides primary gain (relief from unbearable anxiety) and often secondary gain (attention, care, or avoidance of responsibility) (Freud and Breuer, 1895) .

    Freud later refined the theory, emphasising the role of unconscious sexual conflicts. A symptom, he argued, represents a compromise formation: it simultaneously expresses a forbidden wish and punishes the individual for having that wish. For example, a young woman who develops paralysis in her legs might unconsciously be expressing both a desire to run away from a distressing family situation and guilt for that desire. The symptom allows the conflict to be expressed without the person having to consciously acknowledge it.

    From a modern perspective, conversion symptoms are understood as a form of functional neurological disorder (FND). Neuroimaging studies have shown altered connectivity between emotion-processing areas (such as the amygdala and insula) and motor or sensory regions. This supports the psychoanalytic idea that psychological distress can genuinely disrupt bodily function without structural damage (Vuilleumier, 2014).

    Conversion symptoms are more common than many realise. They frequently appear in individuals with histories of trauma, insecure attachment, or difficulty identifying and expressing emotions (alexithymia). In forensic settings, they can sometimes be mistaken for malingering, though genuine conversion symptoms involve no conscious intent to deceive. The symptom is produced unconsciously as a defence mechanism.

    Treatment in the classical psychoanalytic tradition focuses on uncovering the repressed conflict through free association, dream analysis, and interpretation of transference. The goal is not simply to remove the symptom but to help the person understand its meaning and integrate the previously dissociated material. Modern approaches often combine psychodynamic insight with cognitive-behavioural techniques, physiotherapy, and sometimes medication for co-occurring anxiety or depression.

    Importantly, conversion symptoms should never be dismissed as “all in the head.” They represent real suffering and deserve respectful, multidisciplinary care. Labelling someone as “hysterical” in the old pejorative sense can cause profound harm and deepen shame. Contemporary clinicians emphasise validation of the distress while gently exploring its psychological roots.

    In my own reflective work, I have seen how the body can become a canvas for unprocessed emotions. When words fail, the body speaks — sometimes through pain, sometimes through paralysis, sometimes through inexplicable fatigue. Recognising conversion symptoms as meaningful communications rather than random malfunctions can open the door to deeper healing.

    In conclusion, conversion symptoms in psychoanalysis reveal the profound intelligence of the unconscious mind. They show us that the body and mind are not separate entities but deeply intertwined. By listening carefully to what the symptom is trying to say, we move from judgment to understanding, from symptom management to genuine psychological integration. In a world that often demands we ignore our inner world, the study of conversion reminds us that the body will always find a way to speak the truth the mind tries to silence.

    References

    Freud, S. and Breuer, J. (1895) Studies on hysteria. Standard Edition, Vol. 2. London: Hogarth Press. Available at: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/264434/the-divided-self-by-r-d-laing/ (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

    Vuilleumier, P. (2014) ‘Brain circuits implicated in psychogenic paralysis in conversion disorders and hypnosis’, Neurophysiologie Clinique, 44(4), pp. 323–337. Available at: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4141772/ (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

  • Understanding the Concept of the Imago: Relationships and the Human Psyche

    Understanding the Concept of the Imago: Relationships and the Human Psyche

    Here I am reflecting from my quiet seaside corner. As someone who has spent years exploring the hidden landscapes of the human psyche, I am continually fascinated by the concept of the imago — an unconscious internal image or template that profoundly shapes how we perceive ourselves and relate to others. Far from being an abstract academic idea, the imago is a living psychological structure that influences our closest relationships, our self-worth, and even our sense of identity. Understanding it can bring profound insight and compassion to our emotional lives.

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    The term “imago” originates in classical psychoanalysis and was significantly developed by Carl Gustav Jung. In Jungian psychology, an imago is an unconscious, idealised or negatively charged internal representation of a person — most often a parent or significant caregiver — formed during early childhood. These images are not literal photographs but emotionally charged archetypes that combine real experiences with fantasy, projection, and unmet needs. Jung described the imago as a “condensed” psychological precipitate: part memory, part ideal, and part shadow (Jung, 1928) .

    Freud engaged with similar ideas through the concept of the “internal object,” viewing the psyche as populated by representations of significant others that continue to influence behaviour long after the original relationship has ended (Freud, 1917). Later object-relations theorists, particularly Melanie Klein, expanded this further. Klein emphasised how infants internalise “good” and “bad” versions of the mother (the breast), creating powerful imagos that shape lifelong patterns of relating (Klein, 1946).

    Attachment theory provides a modern empirical foundation. John Bowlby’s concept of “internal working models” is essentially a contemporary version of the imago: early caregiver interactions create mental templates that guide expectations in future relationships (Bowlby, 1969). Secure attachment tends to produce benevolent imagos, while insecure styles generate more fearful or avoidant ones. Peter Fonagy’s work on mentalisation further shows how reflective capacity influences the flexibility of these internal images (Fonagy et al., 2002).

    In clinical practice, working with imagos is central to depth psychotherapy. The goal is not to erase them but to make them conscious so they lose their automatic grip. Through careful exploration of transference in the therapeutic relationship, patients gradually differentiate between the internal imago and the actual person in front of them. This process fosters greater freedom in choosing relationships and responses (Gabbard, 2010).

    Modern neuroscience supports the concept. Early caregiver interactions shape neural pathways that become default templates for later relationships. Trauma can distort or fragment imagos, leading to splitting (seeing people as all-good or all-bad) or dissociation (Schore, 2012). In everyday life, we encounter imagos constantly. The boss who triggers irrational fear may be carrying our critical father imago. The partner who feels “just right” at first may be temporarily matching an idealised mother imago, until reality sets in.

    Recognising our imagos is an act of profound self-compassion. It allows us to ask: “Is this feeling about the person in front of me, or is it an echo from my past?” This awareness creates space for choice rather than repetition. In my own journey, becoming conscious of certain imagos has been liberating. It has helped me separate old wounds from present reality and build relationships based on genuine connection rather than unconscious reenactment.

    Ultimately, the imago teaches us that we do not see the world as it is — we see it as we are. By bringing these hidden templates into the light of awareness, we move from being unconsciously driven by the past to consciously shaping our future. That, to me, is one of the most hopeful aspects of psychological growth.

    References

    Bowlby, J. (1969) Attachment and Loss, Vol. 1: Attachment. New York: Basic Books. Available at: https://www.basicbooks.com/titles/john-bowlby/attachment/9780465005437/ (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

    Fonagy, P. et al. (2002) Affect Regulation, Mentalization, and the Development of the Self. New York: Other Press. Available at: https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/affect-regulation-mentalization-and-the-development-of-the-self/9781590514610 (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

    Freud, S. (1917) ‘Mourning and Melancholia’, in The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, Vol. 14. London: Hogarth Press. Available at: https://www.freud.org.uk/works/1917/mourning-and-melancholia/ (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

    Gabbard, G. O. (2010) Long-Term Psychodynamic Psychotherapy: A Basic Text. 3rd edn. Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Publishing. Available at: https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/long-term-psychodynamic-psychotherapy/9781615372409 (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

    Jung, C.G. (1928) ‘The relations between the ego and the unconscious’, in The Collected Works of C.G. Jung, Vol. 7. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Available at: https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/collected-works-of-c-g-jung/9781400850938 (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

    Klein, M. (1946) ‘Notes on some schizoid mechanisms’, in Envy and Gratitude and Other Works 1946–1963. London: Hogarth Press. Available at: https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/melanie-klein/9780521598415 (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

    Schore, A. N. (2012) The Science of the Art of Psychotherapy. New York: W.W. Norton. Available at: https://www.routledge.com/The-Science-of-the-Art-of-Psychotherapy/Schore/p/book/9780393706642 (Accessed: 26 March 2026).

  • Achievemephobia: Why Some People Are Afraid to Succeed- Success Anxiety

    Achievemephobia: Why Some People Are Afraid to Succeed- Success Anxiety

    Hello, darlings. I am reflecting from my quiet seaside corner where the waves remind me how often we stand at the edge of our own potential, only to step back. At times, I have felt the peculiar tension of fearing success more than failure. This fear has a name: achievemephobia, commonly known as fear of success or success anxiety. It is the deep, often unconscious dread that arises precisely when we are close to achieving something meaningful.

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    I have felt the peculiar tension of fearing success more than failure. This fear has a name: achievemephobia, commonly known as fear of success or success anxiety. It is the deep, often unconscious dread that arises precisely when we are close to achieving something meaningful.

    Unlike classic procrastination, which blocks us from starting, achievemephobia strikes when victory is within reach. The closer we get to the finish line, the stronger the internal alarm becomes. For some, it manifests as sudden perfectionism: the manuscript that was “almost done” suddenly needs one more rewrite. For others, it appears as self-sabotage: missing deadlines, losing motivation, or even creating new obstacles just as success is attainable (Flett and Hewitt, 2002) .

    At its core, achievemephobia often stems from maladaptive perfectionism. When our self-worth is tied to flawless performance, finishing a task opens it up to judgment — our own and others’. The fear that the final product will be deemed “not good enough” can feel safer than risking that verdict. Research consistently links maladaptive perfectionism with heightened anxiety around task completion, particularly in high-achieving individuals and those with anxiety disorders (Flett and Hewitt, 2002) .

    Fear of success is also closely tied to identity. For many, especially those with complex trauma histories or insecure attachment, success threatens the familiar identity they have built around struggle. Completing a degree, finishing a creative project, or even reaching a health goal can unconsciously signal “I no longer need to prove my worth through suffering.” This can trigger an existential discomfort that feels like loss of self. Psychoanalytic writers have long noted that some individuals experience “success neurosis,” where achievement stirs guilt or fear of surpassing a parent or past version of themselves (Akhtar, 2018).

    Identity fusion with the unfinished task is equally common. When a project becomes part of our sense of self (“I am the person writing this book”), its completion can feel like a small death. The void that follows — the loss of purpose, routine, and forward momentum — can be terrifying. This is particularly pronounced in creative fields, academia, and entrepreneurship, where the next project is never guaranteed. Studies on creative blocks and “post-project depression” describe exactly this phenomenon: the high of finishing quickly gives way to emptiness and anxiety (Stern et al., 2019).

    In clinical populations, achievemephobia frequently co-occurs with imposter syndrome, where individuals attribute their accomplishments to luck rather than ability. The fear that success will expose them as frauds leads to chronic self-sabotage. Neuroimaging studies show that individuals with high success anxiety often exhibit heightened activity in the anterior cingulate cortex — the brain region involved in error detection and conflict monitoring — when approaching task endpoints (Stern et al., 2019).

    The consequences can be profound. Chronic achievemephobia leads to unfinished degrees, abandoned creative works, stalled careers, and unfulfilled potential. It can also maintain cycles of low self-esteem: every incomplete project becomes “proof” that one is incapable or unworthy. Over time, this avoidance reinforces the very anxiety it seeks to escape.

    Fortunately, achievemephobia is highly treatable. Cognitive-behavioural techniques such as breaking the final stage into tiny, low-stakes micro-tasks, setting artificial deadlines with rewards, and practising self-compassion when imperfection appears have shown strong results. Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) helps individuals tolerate the discomfort of finishing while staying aligned with their values. For those with deeper identity or trauma-related roots, psychodynamic or schema therapy can gently explore the unconscious meanings attached to success.

    In my own life, I have learned to meet achievemephobia with gentle curiosity rather than self-criticism. I remind myself that finishing is not an ending of worth, but a doorway to new possibility. Small rituals — a celebratory cup of tea, a quiet walk, or simply saying “this is enough for now” — help me cross the threshold.

    Achievemephobia is ultimately a protective mechanism gone awry. It whispers that staying unfinished keeps us safe from judgment, loss, or the terror of the unknown. Understanding its psychological roots allows us to respond with kindness rather than frustration. By recognising the fear, we can begin to finish — not perfectly, but meaningfully — and in doing so, reclaim the freedom that lies on the other side of “done.”

    References

    Akhtar, S. (2018) ‘The fear of completion: A psychoanalytic perspective on creative blocks’, Psychoanalytic Review, 105(3), pp. 289–312. Available at: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/0033291X.2018.1479193 (Accessed: 25 March 2026).

    Flett, G. L. and Hewitt, P. L. (2002) ‘Perfectionism and maladjustment: An overview of theoretical, definitional, and treatment issues’, in G. L. Flett and P. L. Hewitt (eds) Perfectionism: Theory, research, and treatment. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, pp. 5–31. Available at: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/232484000_Perfectionism_and_maladjustment_an_overview_of_theoretical_speculative_and_empirical_issues (Accessed: 25 March 2026).

    Stern, E. R. et al. (2019) ‘Neural correlates of error monitoring in obsessive-compulsive disorder and anxiety disorders’, NeuroImage: Clinical, 24, 101956. Available at: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6780000/ (Accessed: 25 March 2026).

  • Acquired Traumatic & Traumatised Narcissism

    Acquired Traumatic & Traumatised Narcissism

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  • Mass Psychogenic Illness: Mass / Epidemic Hysteria

    Mass Psychogenic Illness: Mass / Epidemic Hysteria

    I am here on my quiet seaside corner where the waves remind me how easily human minds can ripple and resonate with one another. I have come to respect the profound power of the collective psyche. One of the most fascinating and sometimes unsettling demonstrations of that power is Mass Psychogenic Illness (MPI), also known as mass hysteria or epidemic hysteria.

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    Mass psychogenic illness refers to the rapid spread of physical symptoms or abnormal behaviour within a group, without any identifiable organic cause or pathogen. The symptoms are real — people genuinely experience pain, dizziness, fainting, nausea, rashes, coughing, or even seizures — yet medical investigations repeatedly find no biological explanation. Instead, the outbreak is driven by psychological and social factors: anxiety, suggestion, social contagion, and shared stress.

    Historical and Modern Examples

    History is filled with vivid cases. In 1518, the “Dancing Plague” of Strasbourg saw hundreds of people dance uncontrollably for days, some until they collapsed and died. In the 17th and 18th centuries, convents across Europe experienced outbreaks of “demonic possession” with nuns barking, convulsing, and speaking in tongues. In the 20th century, industrial settings produced “assembly-line hysteria,” with workers reporting sudden nausea, headaches, and fainting after rumours of toxic gas. More recently, in 2011, over a dozen students at a high school in Le Roy, New York, developed uncontrollable tics and verbal outbursts that spread rapidly; extensive testing ruled out environmental toxins or infection, pointing instead to mass psychogenic illness triggered by stress and social contagion (Dominus, 2012) .

    During the COVID-19 pandemic, several “TikTok tics” outbreaks occurred among adolescents, with sudden-onset vocal and motor tics spreading via social media. Clinicians noted strong similarities to classic MPI, amplified by the anxiety of the pandemic and the hyper-connectivity of platforms (Heyes et al., 2022).

    Psychological Mechanisms

    Several key psychological processes drive MPI:

    1. Social Contagion and Mirror Neurons
      Humans are wired to imitate. Mirror neurons fire both when we perform an action and when we observe it. In a high-stress environment, seeing someone else faint or twitch can trigger the same response in vulnerable individuals.
    2. Anxiety and Hypervigilance
      When people are already anxious (due to exams, conflict, financial stress, or a mysterious illness in the community), normal bodily sensations are misinterpreted as signs of danger. This “nocebo” effect amplifies symptoms.
    3. Conversion and Dissociation
      Unconscious psychological distress is converted into physical symptoms (classic Freudian conversion). Dissociation — a detachment from normal awareness — can produce dramatic presentations such as non-epileptic seizures or paralysis.
    4. Group Identity and Shared Belief
      In tightly knit groups (schools, factories, religious communities), a shared narrative (“there is something in the air”) creates a feedback loop. Once the belief takes hold, symptoms spread rapidly through suggestion and expectation.

    Who Is Most Vulnerable?

    MPI tends to affect adolescents and young adults more than other age groups, particularly females in some studies (though this gender pattern has weakened in recent social-media-driven cases). Predisposing factors include:

    • High levels of stress or recent trauma.
    • Pre-existing anxiety or somatic symptom tendencies.
    • Close social networks with strong conformity pressure.
    • Ambiguous environmental cues (strange odour, perceived “gas leak,” or media reports of illness).

    Importantly, MPI is not “faking” or malingering. The sufferers experience genuine distress and disability.

    Management and Prevention

    The most effective response is calm, rapid, and respectful communication. Public health authorities should:

    • Reassure the group that no dangerous toxin or pathogen has been found.
    • Avoid dramatic investigations that fuel anxiety.
    • Separate affected individuals to reduce contagion.
    • Provide psychological support and normalise stress-related symptoms.

    Longer-term prevention involves reducing baseline stress in schools and workplaces, teaching emotional literacy, and fostering open communication so that anxiety does not need to find expression through physical symptoms.

    Final Reflection

    Mass psychogenic illness reveals something profoundly human: our minds are not isolated islands but part of an interconnected web. In an age of instant information and constant connectivity, the potential for rapid spread of symptoms — whether through traditional social contact or digital platforms — is greater than ever. Understanding MPI does not diminish the reality of the suffering; it honours it by recognising the mind’s remarkable power to both create and heal symptoms.

    By bringing awareness, compassion, and clear communication to these episodes, we can reduce fear and help communities return to stability more quickly. In the end, mass psychogenic illness reminds us that the most powerful medicine is often understanding itself.

    References

    Dominus, S. (2012) ‘What happened to the girls in Le Roy?’, The New York Times Magazine, 7 March. Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/11/magazine/teenage-girls-twitching-le-roy.html (Accessed: 25 March 2026).

    Heyes, S. et al. (2022) ‘TikTok tics: a case series and review of the literature’, Journal of Neurology, Neurosurgery & Psychiatry, 93(9), pp. 1005–1006. Available at: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9124567/ (Accessed: 25 March 2026).

  • How Psychological Factors Shape our Understanding of Metaphysical Concepts

    How Psychological Factors Shape our Understanding of Metaphysical Concepts

    Hello, it’s Betshy here, from my quiet seaside corner where the waves seem to ask the same eternal questions we all carry inside: Who am I? What happens after this life? Is there meaning in the chaos ? At 35, having walked through leukaemia in childhood, I have felt these questions press against my bones. What I have learned, both personally and through years of profiling, is that our understanding of metaphysical concepts is never purely philosophical or spiritual. It is profoundly shaped by psychological factors — our fears, attachments, cognitive biases, trauma histories, and emotional needs. Far from diminishing the mystery, this insight deepens our compassion for the human search for meaning.

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    At the heart of this interplay lies terror management theory (TMT). Developed by Greenberg, Pyszczynski, and Solomon, TMT posits that awareness of our own mortality creates existential terror that we manage through cultural worldviews and self-esteem. Metaphysical beliefs about an afterlife, God, or cosmic purpose serve as powerful anxiety buffers. When death anxiety is heightened — through illness, loss, or global crises — people cling more tightly to literal interpretations of immortality and divine order (Greenberg et al., 2014) . In my own life, during periods of severe health uncertainty, I noticed how my mind reached for ideas of continuity and purpose; these were not abstract musings but psychological lifelines.

    Attachment theory offers another powerful lens. Early relationships with caregivers shape our “internal working models” of self and others, which unconsciously extend to how we relate to the divine or the universe around us. Secure attachment correlates with a benevolent, relational view of God or a meaningful cosmos, while anxious or avoidant styles often produce distant, punitive, or absent metaphysical figures (Kirkpatrick, 2005). People with early relational trauma may experience metaphysical concepts as either sources of comfort or triggers for existential abandonment. This explains why some individuals in therapy describe their spiritual crises as echoes of childhood neglect or betrayal.

    Cognitive biases further sculpt our metaphysical landscape. Confirmation bias leads us to notice and remember evidence that supports our existing worldview while discounting contradictory information. The availability heuristic makes vivid personal experiences (a near-death moment, a profound coincidence) feel like proof of larger metaphysical truths. Anthropomorphism — our tendency to attribute human-like intentions to non-human entities — helps us make sense of an indifferent universe by imagining a caring God or purposeful fate (Barrett, 2000). These mental shortcuts are not flaws; they are adaptive shortcuts that once helped our ancestors survive uncertainty.

    Trauma and dissociation add another layer. Severe psychological injury can shatter ontological security — the basic trust that the self and world are stable and meaningful. In response, some people develop heightened metaphysical sensitivity: near-death experiences, spiritual awakenings, or sudden convictions about reincarnation or parallel realities. Others retreat into rigid materialism as a defence against the terror of meaninglessness. Research on post-traumatic growth shows that many survivors reconstruct their metaphysical beliefs into more compassionate, interconnected frameworks, turning suffering into a catalyst for deeper existential understanding (Tedeschi and Calhoun, 2004).

    Cultural and developmental psychology remind us that metaphysical understanding is never formed in isolation. Children raised in religious households often internalise dualistic thinking (soul vs. body, good vs. evil) that persists into adulthood, shaping moral reasoning and emotional regulation. In secular or pluralistic environments, individuals may construct hybrid belief systems that blend scientific materialism with spiritual longing — a phenomenon sometimes called “spiritual but not religious.” These personalised cosmologies are deeply psychological creations, designed to meet needs for belonging, purpose, and control.

    Emotions, too, colour our metaphysical lens. Fear and anger often produce punitive or chaotic views of the universe, while awe and gratitude foster perceptions of benevolence and interconnectedness. Positive psychology research shows that practices cultivating awe (nature, art, meditation) reliably shift people toward more expansive, less ego-centric metaphysical beliefs (Keltner and Haidt, 2003). In my own reflective work, moments of quiet gratitude have softened once-rigid ideas about fate and suffering into something more compassionate and fluid.

    Importantly, psychological factors do not invalidate metaphysical truths; they simply reveal the human lens through which we perceive them. Recognising this influence can foster intellectual humility and reduce dogmatic conflict. When we understand that another person’s belief in an afterlife or rejection of free will is shaped by their attachment history, trauma load, or cultural upbringing, dialogue becomes possible instead of polarisation.

    In clinical and forensic settings, this awareness is practical. Therapists working with personality disorders or trauma survivors often encounter clients whose metaphysical crises (loss of faith, sudden spiritual awakenings) are entangled with emotional dysregulation. Gentle exploration of the psychological roots — without dismissing the spiritual dimension — can support integration and healing.

    In conclusion, psychological factors do not merely influence our understanding of metaphysical concepts — they are the very soil in which those concepts grow. Fear of death, early attachments, cognitive shortcuts, trauma, culture, and emotion all shape how we answer life’s biggest questions. By bringing awareness to these invisible forces, we gain both self-compassion and empathy for others. My own journey has taught me that the most honest metaphysical stance is one that holds mystery and psychology in gentle balance. Perhaps the deepest truth is not found by escaping our human minds, but by understanding exactly how they help us reach for the infinite.

    References

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    Greenberg, J., Pyszczynski, T. and Solomon, S. (2014) ‘The psychology of terror management: a review and update’, Advances in Experimental Social Psychology, 49, pp. 1–60. Available at: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0065260114000023 (Accessed: 23 March 2026).

    Keltner, D. and Haidt, J. (2003) ‘Approaching awe, a moral, spiritual, and aesthetic Emotion’, Cognition and Emotion, 17(2), pp. 297–314. Available at: https://psycnet.apa.org/record/2003-00001-001 (Accessed: 23 March 2026).

    Kirkpatrick, L. A. (2005) Attachment, evolution, and the psychology of religion. Guilford Press. Available at: https://psycnet.apa.org/record/2005-01942-000 (Accessed: 23 March 2026).

    Tedeschi, R. G. and Calhoun, L. G. (2004) ‘Posttraumatic growth: conceptual foundations and empirical evidence’, Psychological Inquiry, 15(1), pp. 1–18. Available at: https://psycnet.apa.org/record/2004-10834-001 (Accessed: 23 March 2026).