Psychological thought seems practical when I momentarily forget who/what I am supposed to be, should or should not be, what is expected of me. This moment of naked unknowing is what we call a “panic attack”, because knowing (and never forgetting) who/what I am is so eminently practical as to never give it a thought. It is the bedrock of my supposed sanity.
Yet, this moment of panic is a wake-up call that one never gets over, can’t be swept away with knowledge, confidence, distraction, enthusiasm, etc., because it reveals the superficial basis of myself. It reveals that there is more to me than I like to think, and it’s mostly unconscious.
The unconscious underpinnings of my conscious identity are seen and heard at various, unexpected, inconvenient times, and although this doesn’t keep me honest, it reminds of how duplicitous I must be to be socially acceptable because everyone else is doing it, regardless of whether they’re doing it better or worse than I am.
I am a brain divided between what should-and-shouldn’t-be and what undeniably is, and I must be at peace with this conflict because it is who/what I am. I can do no better than be eminently aware of the argument, the conflict, I am.