My shrink told me today that I resist "doing the work" (her words) and "the process" of my analysis because I want her to play the role of my mother and provide me with all the answers. (My mother has an annoying habit which I have inherited: she has a compulsion to have the last, and definitive, word. If she doesn't know something, it cannot be true. This ranges from secrets of the universe to whether or not cabs in Los Angeles accept credit cards for payment. I'm serious.)
After I got over a great deal of annoyed harrumphing (and I still am kind of annoyed, but that's another subject) I got to thinking about what she might really mean. Is it the hallmark of maturity? wholeness? good sense? to realize that the only way to answer questions in your life is to find the answers yourself, rather than asking someone else to offer advice? Or is that a load of bunk designed to keep me in her very expensive clutches?
On some level, I think to know one's own mind is a sign of being a fully realized (eek, that sounds so ridiculous new agey) person. On the other hand--is it wrong to ask for answers from others? Is it wrong to ask how to handle a situation in your life? You have to go on living in the real world, not isolated inside your own thoughts and feelings. This whole line of thought, quite frankly, used to give me a headache. Now, I'm not sure. I'm not sure she's wrong, exactly, but nor am I sure that she's not full of it.