As A Psychologist I Better Know?

As a psychologist I know better..

I’ve begun to know things better and understand that none of us gets to chose our sorrows. We can’t make ourselves want what we want, chose what’s good for us or what’s good for our loved ones. We don’t even get to chose what we are or what we become.

Because as a psychologist I understand that life is a catastrophe. I don’t care what you say or how often you try to persuade me that life is some awesome bed of roses-let me tell you. Let me tell you, what I understand of life. It’s the basic fact of existence of trying to feed ourselves twice a day, find work, find friends and whatever else we do—is a catastrophe. It’s sinkhole of hospital beds, coffins, broken hearts and fragile egos. Life is no way forward but old age. Life is no way but death. You can’t escape from old age, sickness or death. And yet all of us breeds, drag more innocent creatures to suffer through sorrows of life until they too pop out new fodder for the grave.

As a psychologist I have seen boring jobs, failed marriages, breast enlargements, hip replacements, hair loss, colostomy bags at the hospitals and lonely cups of the coffee. Yet people played and gambled, golfed and planted, had sex and trade, did yoga and drive, cried and fussed over their children, decorated their homes and gossiped about neighbours, founded charity organisations and supported corrupt people, signed in to every social media platforms and traveled and dined and entertained in every direction to forget: where they are, what they are. As a psychologist, I see it’s rotten from top to bottom.

I am sure you’ll stop me here to say, ‘Hey! I know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing being a psychologist here’ My dear reader, we are in it together. Life is a same catastrophe for everyone-so if you’re in the sorrows you don’t get to chose-can we turn away? Stop our ears to hear about it all with a wax? Ignore all questions our heart screams on us? Or wait, I am a psychologist-I better throw my head into a laughing pit because no sorrow is a sorrow in wit and wisdom of a shrink!

For humans, doctors I rather say-there’s no mercy. They live a while and they fuss with their life at the hands of  immunity against disease they cured other patients for, the bankers too rot in ground like garbage when in debt, teacher—even teacher don’t know everything. All of this startles a new flavour of despair in you, no?

Why am I complaining when I know nobody’s in charge to take care of it? But does it make sense to you when it’s bad it’s bad for all of us. Most Happiest of us, most intelligent of us, most beautiful of us.

I want you to hear that as long as I (psychologist) live, I’ll instill hope in people against a catastrophe life is known for. But people (you) in their lot, small and easy ways deprive us of  everyday kindness. Amidst heart wrenching circumstances I’d miss out on the ‘kindness’. Rather the word kindness sounds like farther at a distance of unconsciousness, trying to rise into hospital awareness of voices at the beeps of digitized machines attached to arms and legs and heart.

I’ll end in the words of Pessoa, ‘The Slave of my own character as well as of my circumstances, offended not only by other people’s indifference but also by their affection for whom they think I am—-such are the human insults heaped on me by destiny’