You do not currently have permission to view the full text for this document. Please sign in to an account with an active subscription or contact support.
In thirty years of clinical work, I've learned to listen carefully for one key metaphor that not only expresses unconscious fantasies but perhaps more importantly leads to memories and repressed memories of traumatic events. By bringing this metaphor into the psychoanalytic dialogue and exploring its many permutations, I can help my patients heal what Freud called “the split in the personality,” thereby revising and expanding their life narratives.
I first learned how memories of traumas are stored in the brain as a single metaphor by working with my patient Joan. When Joan first came into my office she was a beautiful woman in her thirties. Her physical appearance, body language, and tone of voice told me she was sparkling, a jewel. She was energetic, with long black hair and dramatically dressed in black with only a single strand of pearls. She had a confident, light-hearted manner that was thoroughly engaging though, for moments, it seemed like the Good Witch Glinda's. In describing her present circumstances, Joan said she worked as an bank executive, lived in a luxurious co-op, and had a considerable trust fund.
But when Joan told me why she came to see me, her luster suddenly vanished. She crumpled up in the corner of the couch, and looked and sounded dark. She said she came to treatment because she often felt either dead or panicky. She dreaded that if she couldn't get the right help now, she would wind up a bag lady.
“I know that might sound a little ridiculous,” she added lightly, as I looked puzzled. But then to show me how serious this fantasy was for her, Joan opened her big handbag and took out a bottle of tranquilizers.