Often, people sit across from me in my practice whose problems already come along with a very concrete self-diagnosis. Nervousness before exams turns into an anxiety disorder<\/em>, and constant lack of concentration can only be an indication of ADHD<\/em>. And so it spins straight on: the stubborn partner is a narcissist,<\/em> with whom you find yourself in a toxic relationship<\/em> a lousy day makes one depressed, daddy-issues<\/em> and shadow children<\/em> become the topic.<\/p>\n Psychological terminology has found its way to the kitchen table, into the office, and into social media feeds anyway. As a systemic psychotherapist, I’m pleased that people who previously didn’t dare express what was bothering them mentally are now finding words for it. On the other hand, I ask myself how one can still classify one’s own feelings at all when everyone seems to have everything. Because if we assign ailments to a diagnosis, this relieves us of responsibility. Then a “I don’t want to” becomes a “I can’t”.<\/p>\n In addition, pathologization creates drama and attention. This often creates a unifying: “…I know what you are talking about, I have that too.” But since no two people are alike, even the self-diagnoses described rarely fit together.Is it a panick attack or am I just scared shitless<\/h3>\n
\nWhat worries me is the tendency to assume a clinical picture in every natural emotional phenomenon. With the symptoms that google summarizes so beautifully for it. With its own name. And with countless crazy examples, stories and the right influencer to go with it.<\/p>\nA cheer for deep talk<\/h3>\n