Ever since I discovered the mating dynamics of the deep-sea anglerfish, where the male fuses with the female, and how closely this mirrors some disturbing human relationship patterns, I have been chewing over the idea that everything that exists in our unconscious also exists in the ocean. From the methodical violence of sharks, to dolphins who mourn their dead and jellyfish whose pulsating contractions remind me of my labour, the only phenomenon on Earth that is as rich and colourful and dark and fascinating as the deep sea is the deep unconscious.
My problem, as I realised in a session not long ago with my psychoanalyst, is that I have been swimming in shallow waters. This is something I have seen many times in myself, and perhaps these moments of recognition help me to see it in my patients – the unconscious pull to stay in the emotional shallows, not to delve deeper into your own internal experience and understand the more profound wishes and hungers that drive us. Instead, we scroll away our difficult feelings, staring at whatever screen is in front of us rather than looking inwards. We cheapen our relationships with others, craving and offering a particular kind of emotional stroking that keeps things at surface level. We buy things, we watch things, we listen to things, we squeeze things, we try things on and send things back, and we do, do, do – we do to stay in the shallows, so we don’t have to be in the depths.
