Intimacy and its Discontents

Freedom and love are inseparable. We long for love to liberate us, yet we use it to hide. It has the power to reveal but also to deceive, to awaken but also to lull us into comfort. It can make us feel seen, yet just as easily cloud our vision. Rather than sharpening, it can soften, distorting what is real until we mistake illusion for transformation. Love fractures most painfully when it is built on lack—when it is not rooted in reality but in the desperate attempt to fill an absence. To love freely is not to bind another to our needs, nor to seek shelter in their presence, but to hold them fully in the weight of their being, without distortion or possession. As Simone Weil writes, “To love purely is to consent to distance; it is to adore the distance between ourselves and that which we love” (p.115)

And yet, no matter how much love there is, eventually, it will break. Everything, even love, must come to an end. And here, too, we resist. We stretch its dying form, trying to preserve it beyond its life, as if suffering through its demise would give it meaning. We fear the finality of loss, so we numb ourselves—with distractions, compromise, work, spiritual or tangible substances—anything to avoid the truth that not everything is meant to last. But a love that ends is just as real as one that endures. The truest devotion is not in clinging, but in allowing it to be what it is and then letting go when the time comes.

To love freely is not to hold on but to hold fully—to meet another without distortion, without projection, without using them as a shield against our own fears. And yet, we betray ourselves daily. We say we want love, but when it comes, we run. We crave closeness, yet fear the unknown that comes with it. We teeter on the brink of desire, only to reverse course, retreating into what is familiar, what is allowed, what is safe. Mistaking capitulation for love, we comfort ourselves with illusions of certainty.

For love to be free, it requires vulnerable courage—the willingness not just to want, but to will. Wanting is passive; willing demands clarity. To will properly, we must first remove illusion—to see where we have traded autonomy for comfort, where we have accepted invisible chains in exchange for safety. The force that oppresses us is not always external. It is thought’s hegemony, the silent shaping of our needs and ambitions, the gentle hand of a world that rewards conformity and calls it wisdom.

The struggle for freedom is not against fate, but against blindness. Not against limits, but against the fear that causes us to accept them too easily. The path to self-determination is not about acquiring more, achieving more, or securing more, but about seeing—cutting away what is false and unnecessary. It is a descent, not an ascent—a stripping away, a surrender to what is raw, real, and essential.

We are born, as Weil says, “wrong side upward” (p.81). To reestablish order, we must undo what is unnatural in us—the illusions, the false selves, the need to possess rather than to see. Only then can what is higher in us rise.

And in that process of undoing, something shifts. We see that the freedom to love was never something to be earned; it had always been there, hidden in plain sight, waiting for us to summon the courage to claim it. The will to love, too, was never something to be won—it had always been freely given. In stepping into the invisible, we reveal what has been visible all along. Freedom, love, and will are not things to attain but truths to recognize, already alive in the space between what we cling to and what we are willing to let go.

References:

Weil, S. (1997). Gravity and grace (A. Wills, Trans.; G. Thibon, Intro.; T. R. Nevin, Ed.). University of Nebraska Press. (Original work published 1947)

Beyond the Therapy Office: Truth about the Myth of Success

The Myth of Success and the Illusion of Power

The Great Wall of Midlife

As both a therapist and a BIPOC woman navigating life’s complexities, I’ve often confronted what I call the "Great Wall of Midlife." It’s that moment when you wake up and realize the dreams you nurtured through your twenties and thirties have either shifted, disappeared, or become irrelevant. What once seemed like a limitless horizon of possibilities narrows, leaving you with stark realities—broken relationships, empty nests, or, for many, divorce.

This moment of reflection resonates profoundly with those experiencing significant life changes, especially among individuals who face marginalization due to gender, race, social status, or societal norms. They realize that the world they built—through emotional labor, relationship maintenance, and quiet support—no longer exists as they thought. Worse, the systems designed to provide justice after such upheavals remain stuck in an outdated time warp, blind to the complexities of modern life.

The Invisible Power Games

These individuals—whether professionals, caregivers, or those balancing multiple roles—have quietly sacrificed more than most realize. They’ve been the emotional scaffolding for relationships, families, and communities, often deferring control over finances—not because they lacked the ability, but because time and energy were limited. Trust in a shared future was implicit. Equality was assumed. Until one day, it wasn’t.

Then, a major event—a divorce, a job loss, or a personal crisis—happens, and they are shocked to learn that someone else held all the power. Courts or institutions often assume both parties had equal access and understanding, but many were left in the dark—whether by design or circumstance.

It’s not just about the numbers on a spreadsheet. It’s about the emotional toll of realizing that the game was rigged. You poured your life into a partnership, made sacrifices, and built a future. Yet, in the end, you are reduced to a figure on a financial ledger that doesn’t capture even half of what you contributed. The emotional labor, relationship-building, and the quiet work of ensuring everything ran smoothly? These contributions are overlooked in favor of cold calculations and imaginary numbers.

This experience is far from unique. As sociologist Jess Calarco explains, free-market systems create winners and losers, and it is often the marginalized who are left picking up the pieces (Calarco, 2020). Mental and emotional support, according to feminist philosopher Eva Feder Kittay, is the unseen force that unites families, communities, and workplaces, and this important contribution deserves recognition and appreciation (Kittay, 1999). However, the legal, financial, and social systems largely disregard this unseen labor.

Take, for instance, women going through midlife divorce. These women—educated, successful, balancing careers, homes, and families—often sacrifice more than most people realize. They have served as the emotional foundation of relationships and households, frequently delegating financial management to their partners while they address more immediate concerns. Then comes divorce, and they find themselves in a system where financial transparency is an optical illusion. What comes next isn’t just the shock of realizing the power was never truly balanced—it’s a deeper, more unsettling reckoning. Suddenly, life has imploded around them, leaving them adrift, wondering how it all slipped by. It's in this moment of uncertainty that the real work begins—the process of rebuilding, redefining, and deciding what comes next.

The Weight of Weltschmertz: The Gap Between Myth and Reality

This realization carries a unique exhaustion—a Weltschmerz, a German word that describes the deep sorrow that comes when reality falls short of what we imagined and once believed. The myth that you could do it all—career, family, love—only to find that your contributions were never truly valued. The glitter of youth wears off, and you are left to confront the painful gap between the life you thought you were creating and the reality you now face.

As the world moves to digital platforms and innovative currencies, even those who thrived in traditional systems are facing exclusion. It’s a strange mirror reflecting the marginalization others have long faced. Power dynamics change, leaving those who once held power feeling helpless and disillusioned.

At this point, Robert Kegan, a Harvard professor of adult development, describes midlife as a profound transition, a shift from seeking external validation to finding internal meaning (Kegan, 1982). We begin to ask ourselves, Whose life am I living? What truly matters now? For many, especially those facing marginalization, the systems that govern their lives were never designed to recognize their value or contributions. They were promised a seat at the table, only to discover that the invitation expired in midlife.

Freud termed this phenomenon "the blindness of the seeing eye"; it happens when an individual has a vague understanding of something but fails to fully comprehend it until it is too late. So, how did we allow ourselves to become blind to what was right in front of us?

The Midlife Shift: From Validation to Meaning

Midlife, or any major transformative moment, is not about lamenting what could have been. It’s about reassessing what remains and building a life that reflects the truth of your contributions. However, internal and external systems that fail to recognize the underlying realities frequently stymie this process. These systems prioritize numbers while ignoring the emotional and mental labor that built and sustained everything over time.

Personal crises—such as a breakup, job loss, or loss of identity—are often commodified in a culture that prioritizes competition and individuality. Assets may be divided and severance packages offered, but what about the emotional foundation that held everything together? That remains overlooked. As Tolstoy asked in Confession (1882), “What is it all for? Where does it lead?”

In a culture that prioritizes material success over initiatives to strengthen families, communities, and connections, what place do relationship-building, emotional investment, and sacrifice have? Where does it end when systems keep the marginalized financially and emotionally blindfolded, only to expect them to rebuild with little more than a dismissive "you should be grateful for what you got," as if they were somehow done a favor?

This is where the illusion of power starts to unravel. Money, like all human creations, is only as good as the impact it has and the changes it can bring about. The stories we allow ourselves to believe are merely a facade that reinforces the myth of power. The importance of social status and money, like the nature of power, is rooted in the collective stories we tell ourselves and the shared beliefs we accept without question. This interplay between belief and reality profoundly affects how we perceive and assign value, both to material wealth and to influence. Yet, in truth, the only lasting currency is the strength found within one’s own soul—the courage to face oneself.

Cultural narratives shape our understanding of wealth and power in our society. We are misled into believing that power is external—something to be acquired or taken from others—when, in fact, it is a force that exists within us. This fallacy distorts reality, clouding our perception of personal power and limiting our ability to tap into inner strength. Ignorance and self-deception are powerful forces. When we give up what is real for the comfort of easy escape, we give others the power to dictate how we live our lives. This is not a passive surrender; it is an active decision to allow someone else to define our reality and direct our fate.

The Courage To Choose Your Own Path

With this understanding, we must ask ourselves: If price does not equate to value, how do we create systems that reflect what truly matters? Each of us plays a role in building a society where empathy, justice, and equality are not luxuries but essential values. In the children’s book, The Little Prince, when its time for the fox to say goodbye to the prince, he shares a secret: “a very simple secret: it is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, 1943). True value isn’t found in numbers or appearances but in the invisible bonds we build, the emotional energy we invest, and the unseen work that sustains and enriches our lives.

Choosing to live with courage is a conscious decision. We must reclaim our power and agency in a society that promotes complacency and the comfort of playing it safe. True ownership of self-worth goes beyond bravery; it requires actively challenging self-defeating limitations and demonstrating inner strength through action. Genuine power comes from accountability, which requires us to be honest with ourselves and hold ourselves to a higher standard. Make the decision to pursue your own life path and move forward boldly, rather than focusing on the opinions of others. Declaring, "I am done with this lie," does more than close a chapter; it lights the way for others, empowering them to speak up and reclaim their dignity. In doing so, we honor the legacy of those who came before us, whose courage and struggles paved the way for where we are today.

References:

• Adler, A. (1927). Understanding Human Nature. Fawcett.

• Calarco, J. M. (2020). Free Market Families: How Economics, Policy, and Institutions Shape the Lives of Families. Princeton University Press.

• Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, A. (1943). The Little Prince. Reynal & Hitchcock.

• Kegan, R. (1982). The Evolving Self: Problem and Process in Human Development. Harvard University Press.

• Kittay, E. F. (1999). Love’s Labor: Essays on Women, Equality, and Dependency. Routledge.

• Tolstoy, L. (1882). Confession. The Floating Press.

Books by Yoon Im Kane:

Women, Intersectionality and Power in Group Psychotherapy Leadership (2021)

The Mindfulness Workbook for Depression (2020)

Finding the Courage to Change: Cutting Through the Gordian Knot

Cutting Through the Gordian Knot: The Courage to Change and Break Free

Life’s challenges can often feel like a Gordian knot—an intricate, tangled mess of past experiences, limiting beliefs, and deep-rooted fears that seem impossible to untangle. But just like in the ancient myth where Alexander the Great boldly sliced through the knot instead of untying it, we too have the ability to cut through our personal struggles by summoning the courage to change.

In psychology, three key themes are crucial when it comes to fostering the courage to change and break free from these mental entanglements: acceptance of truth, responsibility for personal growth, and the power of autonomy. By weaving these themes together, we can find not only the strength to confront our deepest fears but also the tools to move beyond them.

1. The Truth Will Set You Free — But First, It Will Challenge You

Many of us have heard the phrase "the truth will set you free," but in reality, the truth often feels like it does the opposite. Instead of offering immediate release, it confronts us with the weight of our history, unresolved emotional debts, and difficult patterns we’ve carried forward. This is where the Gordian knot metaphor comes into play—our lives can become so intertwined with old stories, defense mechanisms, and unconscious fears that we feel trapped by them.

In therapy, the first step toward change is accepting the truth about ourselves. This means looking honestly at the patterns that keep us stuck, the fears that hold us back, and the ways we avoid responsibility. Facing these uncomfortable realities requires tremendous courage, but once we do, we gain the strength to rise above survival mode. We stop simply managing our problems and begin actively transforming them.

2. Owning Your Story: Responsibility for Personal Growth

The next key theme in unraveling the Gordian knot of personal struggles is taking responsibility for your growth. In many cases, we resist change because it feels safer to stay in familiar patterns, even when they no longer serve us. We may blame external circumstances, other people, or even our past for why we feel stuck. However, this creates a dependency on external forces and takes away our power.

In contrast, real growth requires us to take ownership of our lives. We must recognize that, while we can’t control everything that happens to us, we have control over how we respond to it. Therapy offers a supportive space to begin questioning the narratives that make us feel small, dependent, or afraid of failure. In doing so, we start to dismantle the layers of the knot, releasing ourselves from the grip of past hurts or limiting beliefs.

By owning your choices and accepting that no one else is responsible for your life, you reclaim your power. This shift allows you to see the Gordian knot not as an insurmountable obstacle but as an opportunity for transformation.

3. The Power of Autonomy: Living on Your Terms

Lastly, autonomy is the third essential theme in the journey of courage and change. True freedom comes not just from untangling yourself from the past but from learning how to embrace your personal power. Many people avoid stepping into their power because of the fear of making mistakes or the discomfort of uncertainty. It can feel easier to follow someone else’s lead or rely on external validation to guide your choices.

However, living in this way keeps us small and dependent. Real courage involves taking bold action—trusting your ability to navigate life’s challenges and respecting your own autonomy. It also means allowing others the space to grow without imposing your control over their journey. As Alfred Adler, the renowned psychologist, emphasized: courage is contagious. By developing our own inner strength, we inspire those around us to embrace their autonomy and courage as well.

Much like the African proverb, “The trouble for the thief is not how to steal the chief’s bugle, but where to blow it,” the real challenge in personal growth is not in gaining power or freedom but in learning how to use it wisely. With autonomy comes the responsibility to make decisions that are aligned with your values, to navigate life without needing constant approval, and to step into your potential without fear of failure.

Summoning the Courage to Change

The process of untangling the Gordian knot within ourselves requires both vulnerability and boldness. It’s not about avoiding challenges or hoping they’ll work themselves out, but about cutting through the entanglements with the courage to confront the truth, take responsibility for personal growth, and claim our autonomy. In therapy and in life, the courage to change is the key to real freedom.

No one else can make these changes for you. You are the architect of your life, and only you can choose to cut through the knots that bind you. The question isn’t whether you have the strength—it’s whether you have the courage to use it. And when you do, you’ll not only transform yourself but also create a ripple effect, inspiring others to summon their courage and break free from their own Gordian knots.

References:

Adler, A. (1930). The Science of Living.

Guiding Your Child Through the Coronavirus

Children always see, hear, and pick up on more than parents think. It’s likely that they have noticed people out in public with protective masks, heard pieces of adult conversations, or have talked about it with friends. 

Children are not immune to feelings of fear, worry, or anxiety. Here are 6 ways to guide your child through the outbreak: 

1. Take care of yourself 

In order to help your child regulate their emotions and anxieties, as parents, you have to manage your own first. Your child is likely very aware of your emotional state and will be able to pick up on your feelings of fear and worry. 

Before talking to them, take some time to notice your own feelings and do what you need to do to take care of yourself.  You can check out my last blog post [link to above article] to learn more about how to manage feelings of anxiety.

2. Provide age-appropriate information

There is a wealth of misinformation on the coronavirus. It’s important to be a reliable source for your child(ren), while also filtering out unnecessary details and delivering only what’s pertinent for their age. 

Generally speaking, it’s helpful to frame the coronavirus within a context that is already known to them, such as having a cold or the flu. 

3. Validate your child’s fears 

If your child expresses feelings of fear or anxiety, take a moment to notice your own reactions. Many parent’s attempts to reassure their children often end up invalidating how they are feeling. Instead of telling your child “everything will be ok” try saying something like, “I can see why you are feeling this way.”

4. Let your child know who’s protecting them

Letting your child know that they are loved and that as a parent you won’t let anything happen to them adds a layer of protection. Another can be added by letting them know that doctors and scientists are working to keep them safe as well. 

For older children, letting them know that as a parent you are a shield of protection against the coronavirus may not be enough. Empower them by collaborating on a “family game plan”, which is yet another way of opening up a dialogue. By listening to their ideas, you can learn more about their fears and attend to them as needed.

5. Stay on schedule

Maintaining routines is an important part of helping children to feel safe. They feel safe within structure, and notice when schedules are changed or not followed. As time goes on, some of this may be outside of your control as a parent, with closures of schools and other public spaces being a real possibility. 

Should this happen, keep as many structures in place as possible, and help children to highlight what does remain the same: “We didn’t go to school today, but we still brushed our teeth when we woke up and will brush our teeth before we go to bed.” 

These changes in routine can also be framed as exciting rather than scary, with potentially more time to be spent with family, playing, watching tv, doing crafts, or reading. 

6. Talking to them about hygiene 

Even if your child is too young to know about germs, it’s never too soon to talk to them about hand-washing.  Framing hand-washing and other hygienic behaviors in the context of “virus-stopping powers” can help children to feel more empowered and secure. 

For younger children, this can be made into a game, by measuring how long they wash their hands through singing songs such as “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and “Happy Birthday”, or seeing who can wash their hands the longest. With children who know about germs, learning how to cough into their elbows and not touching their faces is just as important.  

In times like these, it can be easy to get caught up in our fears and worries. Remember, the best thing we can do as parents is take care of ourselves. Don’t forget to be gentle with yourself and your children.

Setting Mindful Intentions

Recently I was asked to interview for Pilates Style magazine on creating and maintaining New Year resolutions. In the article, I offered three stages of applying mindfulness to succeed and sustain your aspirations for the new year. The three stages are:

1. Setting Mindful Intentions

2. Putting It Into Practice

3. Maintaining Intentions

Setting Mindful Intentions:

An important first step in setting mindful intentions is to decide how you achieve your goal. One way to adopt and preserve your New Year's intentions is a concept I will highlight called harm reduction. Harm reduction is taking simple yet measurable steps towards a larger goal. 

Why is harm reduction important in setting intentions? Researchers found that people are more likely to succeed when they are rewarded for the small wins along the way. According to a study conducted by Teresa Amabile and Steven J. Kramer, “When we think about progress, we often imagine how good it feels to achieve a long-term goal or experience a major breakthrough. These big wins are great—but they are relatively rare. The good news is that even small wins can boost inner work life tremendously” (Amabile & Kramer, 2011).

I will use a case example of a client named John to help further illustrate mindful intentions through harm reduction.

Putting It Into Practice:

John is a 25-year-old recent college graduate in finance who has been smoking half a pack of cigarettes every day since he was 14 years old. Over the course of several months in therapy, John and I implemented a harm reduction technique to slowly decrease John’s smoking habit. Rather than smoking half a pack, he started to smoke one less cigarette every day for one month. In the subsequent month, John reduced his intake even more by smoking two less cigarettes a day. He continued to reduce the daily number of cigarettes each month in small, manageable increments. 

John was able to identify work stress as his primary trigger. In therapy, we worked together to develop a toolkit of mindfulness technique, such as body scanning, diaphragmatic breathing (breathing from the abdomen instead of the chest) and waiting 10 minutes before picking up his next cigarette. By combining mindfulness and harm reduction techniques,  John was eventually smoking only one cigarette per day, a dramatic change from his daily half a pack habit. 

Maintaining Intentions:

Now that I covered the first two stages, let’s talk about the third and most important stage: maintenance. Accountability is important for maintaining new habits because we all have blind spots. In the mental health industry, we call them cognitive distortions. Some examples are denial, minimizing, and all-or-nothing thinking. By setting mindful intentions and engaging in harm reduction techniques, you can shift out of the all-or-nothing mindset of “I am a failure because I fell off the wagon” to a healthier and more sustainable narrative such as “I can take this one step at a time, be patient, and not judge my progress.”

The reality is, the three stages of Intention Setting, Putting It Into Practice, and Maintenance is challenging for all of us. But, by seeking support, practicing harm reduction, and implementing mindfulness skills, we can take manageable steps towards a happier, healthier year. 

“Thinking about our work: The False Self”: Published in Group Journal Vol. 38, No. 3 (Fall 2014)

Comments on Walter Stone “Thinking About Our Work: The false self”

by Yoon Im Kane

How do we help our patients leave the safety of loneliness for the hope of connection? Walter Stone suggests an answer in this issue’s Thinking About Our Work.  Quoting K. Newman, Stone writes, “the false self provides the fiction of a good relationship and controls the recognition of the toxic core relationships...serv[ing] the need to keep the true self in a state of repression." The false self sacrifices real connection to avoid the pain of empathic failure.

According to Donald Winnicott, individuals with a false self cannot experience "going on being," an uninterrupted flow of the authentic self. He postulates that a caretaker unable to gratify infantile omnipotence creates the false self. Infants under such care remove themselves from their own experience to meet the needs of the other. They never learn to manage their own feelings, an essential step toward forming intimate relationships.

Stone’s description of the false self poses the question: How do therapists—transferential caretakers—respond to our patients’ infantile omnipotence? To continue "going on being," individuals must experience the full range of feelings and still feel accepted. More often than not, patients who struggle with a "false self" will enter treatment seeking to fix what they believe is wrong with them (or other people in their lives). Session after session, these patients hide behind a veneer of wanting to be helped and wanting to be helpful to others. Their true desires are deeply buried in a reservoir of unmet needs. They seek acceptance and approval, yet their false selves mask fear and an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. Left to their own devices, they are adept at perpetuating the game of peek-a-boo to distance themselves from emotional discomfort.

Individuals with overdeveloped false selves are difficult patients, because therapists are prone to delusions of infallibility. As Stone writes,  "we all have characteristics of the false self." We therapists are in a bind, because we must empathize with our patients’ vulnerability, but also put our wishes to help them aside.  This means that we must simultaneously feel and manage our relationships. In traditional professions, emotional involvement and management are distinct. Therapists, on the other hand, must lead receptively. It is different from what we think of as leadership traditionally. We must access our authentic selves to tolerate and soothe the unmanaged rage of others. We must abandon our fictional stories and be present with our patients, lest we try to “help” them.

As Stone writes, in group therapy, patients with overdeveloped false selves “see expressions of anger that do not lead to disaster."This may enable the individual to test out, however cautiously, being angry when he is not responded to." Group interrupts a self-gratifying style of relating by repairing old relational injuries. Egos become resilient enough to withstand intimacy. By empathizing with patients’ need for caution, group leaders may guide them to self-regulate and feel a full range of feelings. With more emotional insulation, individuals with false selves can shift from survival/reactive mode to a thriving/responsive mode.

Group therapy can replace past trauma with a current good-enough mother. The patience, persistence, and perspective of a functioning group teach patients to negotiate unmet needs. Seeing and being seen, the group member comes to replace his fictional story with authentic expression of self.