When the analyst scratch a stain on the couch I knew that his gesture was pointing to me The mimetic . What I was was what I had want to erase. The analyst’s wordless interpretation had the effect of making me accept that I was a stain, something that does not disappear into the background, that is too much. Before that, the mimetic force prevail. Roger Caillois in his studies on mimicry shows that mimicry does not protect the insect from the prator [1] . It is a tendency to blend into the background, to depersonalize oneself, to disappear, until the extinction of the species. It looks like a defense but it is an avatar of the death drive.
A powerful force The mimetic push me to renunciation
to self-denial, to constitute myself as a decoy for maternal desire. This defense aim to destroy everything that was not acceptable: desire, sex, my particularities. The Other that I construct want my castration, to mobile database silence me, to make me disappear. I lodg in the field of the Other the reality of the hateful impulse that I could not control and mask it with the screen of fantasy.
My mother’s gaze was my horizon. She spi on the words I said in my dreams, made friends with my teacher to find out how things were going in class, hid in the bushes around the playground to see if I was making friends. She worri free webinars on internet marketing in july 2019. about my isolation, which was the reverse of her passion for me. There was only room for us. She said that by looking into my eyes she saw inside me, I believ it for a long time. I couldn’t hide anything from her, I had to destroy everything that shouldn’t exist. I enjoy that gaze. Lexpos myself to it.
I could not sustain my desire
to maintain myself as a subject. Blending into the background, mimicry, remaining in the shadows, was a way of making room for the betting email list object, of yielding to the object, of making oneself seen. It is making room for enjoyment, for masochism. Psychoanalysis, on the contrary, aims to produce the absolute difference [2] . To be is to be desiring, it is to be too much, to bear the gaze without fading away, life is a tension, a bent bow.
