Updated: Sep 22
Perhaps you've come here with a vague sense that something is missing — not a crisis, not a clear answer, but a quiet feeling that there is more to understand about yourself and your life. That feeling is the beginning.
Explore — what insists beyond what is said
Much of who we are plays out in a discourse we don't fully control. Our decisions, our reactions, our ways of connecting with others — all of this is threaded through by a desire we don't always recognize as our own.
-What do you think, feel, and desire that perhaps has never found the words to be spoken?
-What causes you to act, even when the reason escapes you?
-What foreign discourse guides your actions and shapes your closest bonds?
-How do you present yourself — and what kind of subject do you become — before the gaze of those around you?
Analyze — the feeling that something is missing
You may have achieved a great deal. And yet, something feels incomplete. That ache — that quiet longing — is not a flaw. It is a signal worth listening to.
-Why does that feeling persist despite your accomplishments?
-What are the spaces inside you that no experience seems to fully fill?
-Why do you keep reaching for something you can’t quite name?
-What do those moments of longing tell you about what you truly need?
Examine — patterns that keep repeating
Some situations seem to find us again and again. The same conflicts, the same frustrations, the same painful moments in new forms.
-What patterns keep appearing in your relationships, your work, your inner life?
-What do you find yourself doing, even when you wish you wouldn’t?
-Why do certain experiences draw you in and also cause you pain?
-What happens when you face parts of yourself you haven’t yet met?
Recognize — the power of your own story
The words you use — the stories you tell yourself and others — shape your entire experience of reality.
-In what ways do the words you choose reflect — and reinforce — how you see yourself and others?
-What parts of your experience have been difficult to name or share?
-What changes when you are able to speak honestly — and feel truly heard?
-What becomes visible when you begin to see your story more clearly?
Liberate — what you learned to carry
Before you could ever question it, a place had already been assigned to you: what to feel, what to desire, and what to keep silent. You didn't choose it; you inherited it and learned to carry it as if it were your own.
-What beliefs about your worth or your potential took root so early that you came to mistake them for the truth?
-What patterns of pain or silence didn't begin with you?
-What are you still carrying as though it were yours alone to bear?
-What did you learn to hide in order to belong?
-What would it mean to stop paying that price?
-Who are you beyond the place you've learned to occupy?
-What might change if you stopped responding only to what others expected of you?
You don’t have to figure this out alone
At Psicotepec, it is not about being fixed. It is about being understood — by another person, and by yourself. Whatever brought you here, it matters. And you deserve a space to explore it.
Updated: Sep 19
We often imagine that somewhere in the world there is a person made just for us, the exact piece that completes the puzzle, as though human beings functioned like animals that mate according to a perfect fit between male and female, one to one, with no room for error or doubt.
But that is not entirely true: for those of us who speak, this perfect fit does not exist in quite the same way. Language itself empties out the place of the other and turns it, in part, into an open space that each person fills with their own fantasy, rather than with a natural, automatic, and guaranteed correspondence established in advance.
That is why the loved person, as soon as we seek them as the exact half that was missing from us, strangely begins to fade before our eyes. Clinical practice shows that pursuing the perfect fit means pursuing an animal model that never fully applied to speaking beings.
Reading
Lacan, J. (2012). El Seminario de Jacques Lacan. Libro 19: ...o peor, 1971-1972 (G. Arenas, trad.; J.-A. Miller, ed.). Paidós. (Obra original publicada en 2011)
Updated: Sep 18
The racist doesn't hate the other. He hates his way of enjoying. Difference in enjoyment is lived as fundamental theft.
Hatred of another's enjoyment.
The neighbor doesn't bother you because of who he is but because of how he lives. His food smells strong, his music plays too loud, his way of speaking grates the ear. The racist doesn't hate the other's presence but his particular way of enjoying life. This difference in enjoyment feels like invasion, as if the other were taking something that doesn't belong to him.
The segregationist perceives in the other a pleasure that was denied to him. The neighbor's music doesn't just interrupt silence: it confirms someone is enjoying themselves in a way he never can. This perception generates profound moral indignation. The other isn't just different: he's stealing an enjoyment that should be one's own.
Clinical work shows that racism lives in the relation to the other's pleasure, not just in abstract social constructions.
Readings:
Black, J. (2023). The Psychosis of Race: Psychology and the Other. Routledge.