families Archives - Brighton and Hove Psychotherapy

May 12, 2025 by BHP Leave a Comment

A journey into understanding Non-Violent Resistance

Non-violent resistance (NVR) is a hugely effective, forward-looking and relational approach which helps parents to un pick what is happening in the family, to begin to recognise and disrupt entrenched patterns of interaction and to break down the barriers which stand in the way of change. In so doing, parents, who might start the work feeling lost and depleted, powerless and helpless against destructive dynamics which threaten the stability of their family, are able to regain their parental strength. The approach focuses on supporting parents to develop narratives and impactful methods of resistance, and to align themselves alongside their child while encouraging them to get back in touch with their own boundaries, wants, needs and wishes – alongside recognising those of their children.

Fundamental principles within the approach of ‘presence’, ‘resistance’ and ‘community support’, provide an over-arching structure, which enables the exploration of the complexities of behaviours such as violence, aggression, control and coercion which challenge family systems.

Below is an extract of a reflective summary provided by a mother to a fifteen-year-old son, J, who frequently displayed significant violence towards his parents and siblings. J was diagnosed with ADHD at age twelve. The parents completed a short-term intervention of NVR support. Her summary highlights some of the reticence experienced by parents in considering starting to work with NVR, and of the challenges encountered along the way:

“As you know I was sceptical to say the least when a friend recommended my husband and I start a program of NVR. In fact, I was actually pretty annoyed, as if silently and subtly they were suggesting that our parenting wasn’t somehow good enough. Despite this though I did reach out, maybe because things were feeling so unbelievably broken and I felt like I had tried so much that just wasn’t working. I felt really anxious about coming to the first session and even started typing an email to cancel but my husband was determined we had to give it a go. I tried to read up a bit about the approach before we came in. In my mind though I think really I was getting ready to defend myself and to assure myself, my husband, my friend (and you) that we really didn’t need to do this work, that it was J who needed to see someone, not us, whilst at the same time also feeling desperate that my friend was right and that this could actually help.

What I liked instantly about the work was that you challenged us to look forwards. We’d been stuck as a family for a very long time, and I was feeling exhausted, angry, devastated, hopeless, helpless – completely lost. I think we look back on that time as very dark days and so it feels great to be writing this from a place which honestly feels so much lighter, brighter and optimistic – all things actually that I think we agreed when we first started talking about what we were striving for.

I remember feeling from that initial consultation ‘wow someone actually gets this’ because the way you summarised things from your experiences with other families really resonated with me. You asked in the first session what I was striving for, and I liked that some of this focus was framed about me – as just me – as well as around me as Mum to J, me as part of a couple with my husband, me as Mum to my other children and for us as a family, and likewise for my husband. In just that first session we began to recognise that because of all the awful behaviour that J was showing at home we were living in a state of chaos and panic. We had neglected our care of ourselves and lost each other as a couple – and I could see that its hardly a surprise that it was so hard to resist the violence when we were feeling so lost and so broken ourselves. I liked the way we explored what we want things to be like.

Just allowing ourselves to imagine a different future helped to begin to move us out of the hopelessness. We reflected on what family life had become for us and we considered some of the things that stopped things moving forwards. It’s lucky we always had a box of tissues in the room because I remember doing a lot of crying in some of those first weeks – and I remember joking with you mid-way through the work that the fact I wasn’t in tears was a good sign of the progress we were making! There seemed somehow a real simplicity in breaking down our experiences and exploring the NVR themes within the sessions. We had a structure around us, that we were able to take away and begin to test out at home. As we began to move deeper into the work together and explore all the different principles within NVR, I could feel it really starting to bed into my thinking and it started to come more naturally to me at home. At first, I remember it feeling quite clunky, and some of it even jarring as it turned some of what we’d been doing on its head, as part of what you described as disrupting the status quo. I liked that we could lean back on the idea that those elements were where we could get our power back as parents and to really begin to get things back on track for our family.

We reflected a lot on the community around our family and I can definitely say at this point I am so thankful to my friend for suggesting this approach. She has been absolutely alongside us, and J, and because she didn’t stay as a quiet bystander to our struggles we are now in an unrecognisable place as a family. Finding the courage to open up our world and let other people in was by far one of the hardest elements of the approach – we had worked so hard to batten down the hatches, to stay compliant to the secrecy and to shield ourselves, J and others from people knowing how bad things were, that the idea of reaching out to others for help felt really scary for lots of different reasons – but this was impactful in so many different ways.

It has definitely been a journey – and we are very aware we have to keep working at the relationship, but it feels easier, and J gives back in so many different ways now that it all just feels very different from where we started. J is now back in college and smokes a lot less weed. We were belly-laughing together last week about something silly, and he even told me about his new girlfriend yesterday. It feels so special to be allowed in… and as you know the violence has stopped. We see J working really hard to control his behaviour – obviously he still gets very cross at times, but it feels like we’re all invested in doing what we can to resolve conflict in new ways together.”

NVR is an approach which can lead to transformation and enduring change within families.

With its focus on relational balance and principles of resistance it is a suitable approach for supporting families with children of all ages. In my practice I have worked with parents of toddlers, young children, teens and adolescents right through to parents of adult children who may not even live in the same home any longer. It is an individualised approach, centred around the needs of all the individuals within the family, recognising it cannot be a one-size-fits-all approach. As such the approach is effective for supporting children and/or parents with neurodivergence.

Georgie Leake is an NVR UK accredited advanced level NVR practitioner and holds a BSc (Hons) in Psychology, a Master of Education (Special Needs and Inclusive Education), a Master of Arts in Social Sciences and QTLS. Georgie is available at our Brighton & Hove Practice, Lewes Practice and Online.

December 23, 2024 by BHP Leave a Comment

Twixtmas – surviving that dreaded time between Christmas and New Year

Twixtmas, that time between Christmas and New Year seems to be a particularly difficult time for many. Why is this?

The build up to Christmas and the accompanying excitement for some, and anxiety for many, can leave us feeling depleted and down in the immediate aftermath of the big day.

Perhaps a lot of why we collectively struggle with this period of time, is that we are failing to use it in a way that is in keeping with nature and our biology. There has been a celebration around this time for much longer than the word ‘Christmas’ has existed.

Christmas falls, not coincidentally, very close to the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere. This would have been marked by people pre-dating Christianity as being the shortest day of the year and the celebration of the return of the light.

It is a time when nature goes fully into hibernation and it seems like nothing is happening in the natural world. What is actually happening is a renewal – a time of deep rest, before the return of growth and activity – the latter would have been celebrated as a fertility festival at a time we now refer to as Easter.

Therefore, rather than approaching this period of time as empty and boring, much can be gained from seeing it as a period to rest, reconnect with loved ones and recuperate before the start of the new year. It is a time when we can legitimately do very little.

After any period of excitement comes a lull and this is no different at Christmas. One cannot be experienced without the other. We can probably all relate to this with the feeling we get after a fabulous sunny holiday, only to return home and get back into the drudgery of washing, shopping, school runs and work.

Equally, we would not appreciate the exciting times – the highs – if life was permanently like that. Therefore, the first step in coming to terms with the change in energy and mood is to embrace it and accept it as part of the experience.

Once we have accepted that the energy of the world around us, as well as our own, will feel different to Christmas, we can plan activities that correspond to this energy. Walks in nature, snoozing on the couch, watching a film in the afternoon, or connecting with family in a less heady and fun-filled way than at Christmas are some examples.

I suggest that Twixtmas is an opportunity for reflection on both the year that has passed and the year that is about to arrive. It offers an opportunity to slow down and converse with our inner world as to what we may want, not only from the new year, but also from our lives. Some people find it uncomfortable to be confronted by their inner world, and the excitement of Christmas – whether you love it or hate it – is a perfect distraction from our desires, wants and needs.

I suggest that if someone feels disappointed or glum during this period, that either it is an ordinary response to the change in rhythm from festivities to calm, and/or the feelings are telling them something about their life, and may be an indication of something that is missing or needs attention.

Surviving Twixtmas with kids

Getting through Christmas can feel like an uphill struggle for many, and once the day has passed it may feel like there is little left in the tank to give to demanding children.

As suggested, getting out and about with the family can be a good way to both blow away the cobwebs as well as tire out the little ones. However, despite the promises of winter wonderlands on the Christmas cards, we all know that in the UK, late December is more likely to be a wash out!

This is where planning the children’s gifts comes into its own. Thinking about what gifts will occupy your children for hours and building your gift list around this objective can be a good way of ensuring that they remain engaged and stimulated in the immediate lull after the big day. Starting a new book, learning to play a new board game or creating art with paper and paint can all engage children for many hours.

Final thoughts

A leaf can be taken out of the book that tells us that good Christmases are rarely about what gifts we are given and more about a sense of connection and family. There is opportunity for this during Twixtmas, but with a different flavour.

Where people have a sense of meaning, they generally find their own purpose in the context of that meaning. If Twixtmas is simply a dead week punctuated by the start of the sales, it can feel pretty barren and empty. If, however, it can be embraced as a time for calm, rest, reflection and connection – with oneself as well as friends and loved ones – then there is significant meaning to be found during this period.

Mark Vahrmeyer, UKCP Registered, BHP Co-founder is an integrative psychotherapist with a wide range of clinical experience from both the public and private sectors. He currently sees both individuals and couples, primarily for ongoing psychotherapy. Mark is available at the Lewes and Brighton & Hove Practices.

Further reading by Mark Vahrmeyer –

How to minimise Christmas stress if you are hosting

How do you get self esteem?

Why is psychotherapy generally weekly?

Why we should be disappointed

What is a growth mindset?

December 9, 2024 by BHP Leave a Comment

Surviving family festivities: a psychoanalytic journey through the twelve days of Christmas

As the holiday season descends upon us like a glittering, tinsel-laden avalanche, many find themselves navigating the tricky or sometimes treacherous emotional landscape of family gatherings. Fear not, dear reader, for psychoanalytic psychotherapy could offer a guiding star, a beacon of hope to lead you through the holiday chaos to that peaceful Nativity scene, stable and all.

On the first day of Christmas: recognising your inner child

Imagine the family Christmas as a complex psychological drama where every interaction is laden with unconscious meaning. Your mother’s passive-aggressive comment about your table decorations, cooking, Christmas jumper choice – a manifestation of unresolved childhood dynamics? Your father’s awkward attempt at connection and endless ‘dad jokes’ – a deep-seated need for validation?

Psychoanalytic therapy teaches us to unwrap these emotional presents, glimpsing beyond the shiny exterior to try to read or understand the deeper psychological mechanisms at play. Each family member arrives with a lifetime of unprocessed experiences, creating a psychological minefield more intricate than the most complicated Christmas light display.

On the second day of Christmas: projection and family dynamics

Watch as Uncle Bob projects his professional disappointments onto you, criticism masquerading as concern. Your sister’s seemingly innocent comments carry the weight of childhood rivalries. Psychoanalysis aims to help you recognize these projections, transforming you from a passive recipient of family narratives to an active interpreter of emotional scripts.

On the third day of Christmas: the unconscious holiday script

Your family gathering is not just a meal; it’s a carefully choreographed psychological performance. Each member plays a role established decades ago – the peacemaker, the black sheep, the golden child, the wise men, the angels and the shepherds. Psychoanalytic therapy can provide script analysis, helping you identify and grasp the inference in these deeply ingrained patterns.

On the fourth day of Christmas: transference and family interactions

Every interaction becomes a window into your unconscious processes. That tension with your mother… It’s rarely about the overcooked turkey. Is it perhaps related to those early attachment experiences, unresolved conflicts, and deep-seated emotional patterns that have been simmering in the realm of the unconscious since childhood, with a hint of the aroma of boiled sprouts?

On the fifth day of Christmas: breaking defensive mechanisms

Family gatherings trigger our most sophisticated psychological defence mechanisms. Humour becomes a shield, sarcasm a weapon, silence a fortress. Psychoanalysis can help you to recognise these hidden defences, encouraging an authentic emotional engagement beneath the festive veneer.

On the sixth day of Christmas: the unconscious holiday narrative

Your family’s holiday story is more complex than any Netflix drama. Unspoken traumas, generational patterns, and collective family myths create a narrative far more compelling than any Christmas special. Psychoanalytic therapy offers you the opportunity to re-write the director’s cut, helping you illuminate the deeper subtext of the storyline.

On the seventh day of Christmas: emotional archaeology

Each family interaction is an archaeological dig into your psychological landscape. Old wounds, repressed memories, unacknowledged traumas – they all resurface during the holidays. Psychoanalysis can provide the tools to gently excavate these emotional artefacts with as much care and compassion as you employ to slice and serve that extra special Christmas pavlova.

On the eighth day of Christmas: navigating emotional boundaries

Learn to establish psychological boundaries more robust than a gingerbread iced fortress. Psychoanalytic therapy empowers you to differentiate between your emotions and those projected onto you, creating a healthy emotional ecosystem amidst family chaos. A breadcrumb trail through the forest of the unconscious.

On the ninth day of Christmas: understanding repetition compulsion

Why do we find ourselves repeating the same family dynamics year after year? Psychoanalysis can reveal the unconscious drives which compel us to recreate familiar emotional landscapes, even when they’re painful and seemingly unavoidable. An Alka-Seltzer for those undigested issues.

On the tenth day of Christmas: the gift of self-awareness

Your greatest present this Christmas is self-understanding. Addressing and processing the unconscious elements we bury like a tangerine in the toe of our Christmas stocking, Psychoanalytic therapy can transform family gatherings from potential emotional minefields into opportunities for growth, insight and hopefully a family game of Uno that doesn’t descend into World War III.

On the eleventh day of Christmas: integrating the shadow

Embrace the parts of yourself and your family history you’d prefer to keep wrapped up. True healing comes from acknowledgment, not denial. Set a place at the table for all the ghosts of your Christmas’ past.

On the twelfth day of Christmas: transformation

As the holiday dust settles, you may emerge not just surviving, but psychologically transformed. Armed with insights from the psychoanalytic journey, you’ve navigated the complex emotional terrain of family dynamics, Prancer and Dancer would be most impressed!

Remember, dear reader: this Christmas, your most valuable gift is the journey of self-discovery.

Shiraz El Showk is a Training Member of the Association for Group and Individual Psychotherapy (AGIP) and a registered Training member of the UKCP, She is experienced in Psychodynamic counselling and Psychoanalytic Psychotherapy work with individuals, on both long and short term basis. Shiraz works from our Brighton and Hove practice, Lewes practice and online.

Parents – the ghosts and angels of our past

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

These lines open Philip Larkin’s best-known poem, ‘This Be The Verse’. I still remember our English teacher reading it aloud to us, a class of giggling adolescent school children, many moons ago.

But now as a therapist, daughter, mother and hopefully a wiser individual than when I was aged thirteen years and seven months, I believe it needs some gentle revision. We have advanced our understanding of epigenetics and intergenerational trauma; these concepts are in common parlance with my children’s generation. But from a psychoanalytic perspective perhaps we can add a more helpful view.

In 1975 Selma Fraiberg (et al), a clinical psychologist and social worker wrote a seminal paper with the title, ‘Ghosts in the Nursery’. In it they create the metaphor of ‘ghosts’ to highlight the connection between a parent’s past unremembered negative experiences and their future parenting styles, communicated via the unconscious processes of which we are all, by their very nature, unaware.

In 2005 Lieberman (et al), wrote a paper countering or ameliorating the conclusions presented by Fraiberg entitled ‘Angels in the Nursery’. In this paper they illustrate how positive experiences are also transmitted unconsciously, even if unremembered, and can serve as protective factors for even the most troubled of the clients they worked with: ‘We argue that uncovering angels as growth-promoting forces in the lives of traumatized parents is as vital to the work of psychotherapy as is the interpretation and exorcizing of ghosts.’

Christopher Bollas, another renowned psychoanalyst, suggested that when we experience intense, overwhelming negative experiences or feelings as a child or young adult our unconscious serves to protect us by packaging them up and posting them forward to our adult self. In this way we are offered the opportunity to deal with them when we have the strength and resources to manage them without the fear of collapse. Carl Jung believed our unconscious has a teleological nature, which means it has a purpose or use towards a goal or end result. So perhaps when we receive this package to unwrap it’s because we’re ready, however unwelcome or difficult it may feel. Receiving this package from the past often prompts many of us to seek help from a professional psychotherapist, someone to unwrap the past with, a safe space, a guide or a guardian of the process.

This psychoanalytic process is an exploration of our past and how it relates to our present. It aims to weave an understanding of our unconscious processes using the threads that connect the experiences of our past and present selves.

And what of our parents? What do we know about their life stories, their childhood experiences? How do we ask? Should we ask?

Have we lost something in the lack of oral traditions that pass the experiences of our elders onto future generations? How much of your family’s relational history is available to you? How much of your childhood do you remember? If we don’t remember and we can’t ask, perhaps we can wonder or imagine together with a guide or a guardian in a therapeutic alliance.

And then perhaps we can ask… What if our parents managed to give us something they had never experienced themselves? What made it possible for them to do that? What if we somehow found the compassion, understanding and sensitivity to return to them something wonderful that they had never received, but found it in themselves to give to us?

There are ghosts in all our pasts, but there are also angels to find and perhaps thank, for ourselves, our parents and the generations to follow.

Further reading by Shiraz El Showk –

Is an AI therapist as good as a human one?

What is the unconscious? (part one)

Why is three the magic number? Third spaces, secure bases and creative living (part two)

December 25, 2023 by BHP Leave a Comment

Is there something wrong with me for hating Christmas?

Everybody loves Christmas. That’s a fact. At least if you watch how it is portrayed by the media and subscribe to the collective mania of ‘preparing for the big day’……….

Of course, the reality is that many of us find Christmas difficult and for some it can feel unbearable. We have the statistics for this – the Samaritans charity experiences its highest call volume over the so-called festive period, suicide rates increase and mental health professionals such as myself experience an uptick in enquiries.

Why is this?

I have written blogs and contributed to articles in the press on the reality of Christmas for many people and yet despite my small efforts and those of many others in my field, there remains a taboo around acknowledging how hard this time of year can be for many people, and an expectation that we will all somehow collude with the manic hysteria of turning the day into some sort of magical experience that eradicates both the memory and the reality of complex family dynamics.

In my view, Christmas should really only be magical for one group of people and that is children. It is a developmental experience to believe in the unbelievable and children are not only susceptible to this but also have an interesting way of denying reality even when it is staring them in the face. I think this is part of the ordinary process of slowly coming to terms with both the reality of the world and our lack of control over it. However, aside from children, there is no benefit to adults in believing there is anything magical about Christmas or any other day.

Having spent many years working with the bereaved, I am acutely aware that after a bereavement, it is the anniversary dates in the first year following the death of a loved one that can be most difficult – the first birthday, the first wedding anniversary and the first Christmas. And it is often these anniversary dates that continue to bring forth the loss for many years to come.

All Families are Psychotic

All Families are Psychotic is the title of a book by acclaimed Canadian novelist, Douglas Coupland, and whilst I do not take it literally, the human condition and the meaninglessness of life is most certainly a theme in Coupland’s work.

And whilst I am not seeking to minimise psychosis, there is something somewhat delusional about how the collective (society) colludes and invites merger around the fantasy that all is well in the family and ‘there’s nothing to see here’. This, for me, is akin to the child’s magical approach to Christmas and it’s unhelpful.

For the member(s) of such a family who feel frustrated and lonely with the lack of true connection, which I define as the ability of each member of the family to bring their needs into the mix and negotiate together, this invitation or expectation to collude can feel especially alienating and, combined with external pressures, can make them feel wrong.

Now of course there are plenty of families where the relationships are based on mutuality and love and they may also enjoy Christmas. However, the paradox here is that because the relationships are real, there is no need to whip everyone up into a manic state of hysteria around just how perfect the day is – the day can be good enough and each member of the family can have their own experience.

Christmas is not magical but it is powerful

Of all the anniversary dates that can bring forth unresolved or simply painful grief, Christmas is especially powerful for two reasons: firstly, there is a collective expectation placed upon the day that somehow it has the power to heal rifts and paper over grievances – which it does not have; and secondly, for many adults of conflictual families, historically much of the conflict would have come to the surface at Christmas.

Children growing up in homes where there is not enough money to create the ‘fairy-tale’ Christmas, where there is only one parent, where extended family do not feature, or where their parents are in conflict, all have the propensity to carry these feelings forward with them, only to find themselves revisiting them as a Ghost of Christmas Past each year.

What can you do if you find the day tough?

Even if those around you – and the collective is absolute on this – don’t or can’t acknowledge that the day is tough for you, or that you are having feelings other than ‘joy’, it does not mean that you are wrong.

Acknowledge in advance to yourself that it is a difficult day.
Consider whether you have someone you can trust with your feelings who will be able to accept them without attacking you or abandoning you.
Accept that you have your reasons for disliking Christmas.
Consider in advance of the day what you want from Christmas – even if this in an ideal world. Begin there and then work with what you are choosing or have to do.
Remember that it is only a day and that it will pass.

Mark Vahrmeyer, UKCP Registered, BHP Co-founder is an integrative psychotherapist with a wide range of clinical experience from both the public and private sectors. He currently sees both individuals and couples, primarily for ongoing psychotherapy. Mark is available at the Lewes and Brighton & Hove Practices.

Further reading by Mark Vahrmeyer

Why do some of us feel a constant sense of dread?

Is there a good way to break up with someone?

Can self care become an identity?

Can psychotherapy help narcissists?

Are we becoming more narcissistic?

April 17, 2023 by BHP Leave a Comment

Can chatbot companions relieve our loneliness?

In recent weeks I have seen various articles espousing the virtues of having an ‘AI companion’ or chatbot friend. Apparently these are particularly popular with the younger demographic. One of these is ‘Replika’ – a prophetic name if there ever was one.

Chatbot ‘friends’ are touted as being helpful in alleviating loneliness through to functioning as some sort of antidote to mild mental health problems. Reading through the ‘testimonial’s’ on Replika’s website the interaction is linguistically framed as a relationship, with reference to the duration the AI avatar and human have ‘been together’ and, based on the published testimonials alone (which are undoubtably biased), some people seem to get something from this encounter.

As a psychotherapist it is not my role dismantle another person’s way of being in the world. This would be arrogant at best and dangerous at worst. However, psychotherapy, at least in the way I practice it, is all about relationship and one of the foundational belies is that what has gone wrong in relationship can only be healed through relationship. This is because human beings, like all mammals, are relational but we are the most relational of all if relational refers to our psychological, emotional and cognitive development being contingent on the consistency of a caregiver. Other mammals, once weaned, can fend for themselves. Humans remain dependent for longer than any other mammal.

We are shaped and defined by the relationship with our primary caregivers and, with the risk of providing an opening for the historical and clichéd attacks on psychoanalysis, we are most shaped by the relationship with our primary carer, who is our mother.

These early relationships are what help us to understand our emotions and grow a mind. If satisfactory enough, we learn that whilst others can and will disappoint us, we need relationships with others throughout our lives. It is true that some people have more need for contact with others, but contact is needed nonetheless.

In my clinical practice I am always thinking about whom my patient is having a relationship with – even if they are single and isolated, in fact especially so in such cases. As children we internalise important relationships with others, starting with our mothers and then broadening out as we grow older. In the British school of psychoanalysis we refer to such internalised relationships as ‘object relations’. Therefore, when I am thinking about whom someone is having a relationship with, I am referring to their object relations – whom have they internalised and therefore whom are they projecting onto other relationships?

If we have ‘good enough’ parenting, we are likely to feel fairly secure in relationships and are able to operate in a world populated by others. These others have minds that are different to our own and by extension are having different experiences moment to moment. We have internalised a ‘good object’ (good parent) and can tolerate frustrations and difference in others without becoming unduly affected.

An indication of someone who has healthy relational dynamics is someone who is able to tolerate difference in others and hold onto the good of what the relationship offers. One of the (many) frustrations about being a grown up, or rather having a psychologically mature mind, is that we learn that relationships with others are inherently frustrating alongside being rewarding.

Returning to Replika and systems like it, I can well see why, by applying enough denial to the encounter, it can, on the surface, seem satisfying as despite the illusion, we are not having to content with thew mind of another and thus the difference of another. The system ‘pretends’ to be different but in fact mirrors back to us what we want to see and hear.

Narcissism by another name

In the myth of Narcissus and Echo, Narcissus is a young man who finds relationships with others confronting. Through happenstance, or what we might call fate, Narcissus finds himself isolated in the woods and discovers the most beautiful ‘Other’ he has ever seen in a still pool of water. This is of course his own reflection and yet Narcissus falls hopelessly in love and even when part of him knows that he is deluding himself, he cannot bear to tear himself away from this ‘perfect Other’. The story of Narcissus is ultimately a tragic one as he wastes his life away yearning for something he cannot have – the perfect relationship.

A character whom is rarely referenced in relation to Narcissus is Echo, the river nymph who loves Narcissus and has been condemned by a Goddess to only be able to repeat the last words anyone says. In other words, she is an echo. She too sacrifices her life waiting for Narcissus to notice her but, of course, as she is ‘different’ he cannot allow himself to notice her other than to drive her away.

I see the rise of these artificial ‘friends’ and the ‘relationships’ that ensue to be modern versions of the myth of Narcissus and Echo. ‘Replika’, or replica, when spelled correctly, quite literally means ‘clone’ or ‘copy’ but one can just as easily translate this to ‘reflection’. Chatbots reflect back to the user what they want to see and hear – from literally dictating how the AI avatar looks, through to receiving the expected responses. The user is turned into Narcissus and an echo is all they receive in return. Of course since Echo in this modern myth is but a machine, ‘she’ will never die.

We all secretly, or not so secretly, hold fantasies of the perfect Other. This fantasy forms the basis of all modern romcoms all the way back through our collective history. It is epitomised in the idea of a ‘soulmate’ and fuels our drive for the perfect partner – something that in itself is driven through technology in the shape of dating apps; we have the illusion of infinite choice but choose nobody as once we do, they become real and thus disappoint.

Growing up psychologically, maturing and individuating, means letting go of fantasies. It means recognising that relationships are essential to us and that in order to have something real and fulfilling, we must tolerate the frustration and sense of difference.

Rather than difference needing to be threatening, as it increasingly seems to have become in modern society, difference between people is evidence of reality – the very fact that we are encountering a different mind.

Real relationships are about expressing our thoughts and feelings – our experience of the world – and knowing that someone is there to receive them and us, irrespective of whether they ‘mirror’ those exact thoughts and feelings. It is through and via this process that we get a sense of ourselves in the world and with others.

Narcissus was in a clinical sense deluded and descended into psychosis, withering away on the bank of that fateful pool. Chatbot friends encourage this same delusion. I am not suggesting it will lead to psychosis, but reality it is not. There is no relationship to be had and there is no thinking mind alongside you. You are just as alone as Narcissus and cannot grow from a reflection – for that a real relationship is required.

Further reading by Mark Vahrmeyer –

What are feelings anyway?

Client or patient; patient or client – does it matter?

The psychological impact of the recession

Why do people watch horror movies?

How to minimise Christmas stress if you are hosting