This is why I'm bad at Instagram (but good at science)
“I inquire, I do not assert; I do not here determine anything with final assurance; I conjecture, try, compare, attempt, ask....”
Translation of Motto to Christian Knorr von Rosenroth
Quoted on the title page of The Psychology of the Transference by Carl Jung.
This quote was on the first page of my dissertation draft and my supervisor made me take it out because it undercut my position. When I have friends read my work, they often tell me “stop hedging everything. You need to talk with more authority.” My writing is littered with “I would argue…” and “possibly,” “often,” “at times.” After the fifth or twentieth time I tell clients “Correct me if I’m not getting this right,” they are like, “ANDREA. WE KNOW YOU ARE GUESSING.”
It’s a problem. But it’s also I think what might save me.
I’m in this position now where I’m trying to promote my book and trying to get my voice out there so I can prove to publishers that I totally have a Platform and people will totally buy this book where I tell everyone how it is. And here, too, the advice is to never hedge and to speak with confidence. I’m better at it than I used to be, slightly more comfortable with being the expert in the room, because I have found that sometimes people need an expert. Sometimes it feels containing to be with someone who can just tell you what’s going on. I’m more comfortable with knowing what I know (or, you know, being mostly sure.)
But I think there’s real value in my core ability to never be 100% certain of anything. That’s why I love science so much, we’re only ever operating on our best guess, and it’s baked into this philosophy of inquiry to change our minds when we find contradictory evidence, no matter how strong our opinion. Because the truth is, we don’t know. I am pretty sure about attachment theory, pretty sure about couple conflict cycles, because I have a mountain of evidence seen with my own eyes that confirms these ideas. But it is just a theory, and it is flawed, and to pretend otherwise so I can sell myself feels abhorrent to me on a molecular level.
This makes me bad at Instagram.
It makes me a good scientist. A good therapist. A good person, I think. It makes me more trustworthy, in my own mind. I don’t trust people who think they have it all figured out. And there’s another wrinkle.
There’s a kind of troublesome pattern in my field where, because therapists are generally kind to each other and want to lift each other up, we often become this echo chamber of hype men. Particularly in EFT therapy circles, most talks or clinical examples are followed by “I loved how you did X” and “You’re so brilliant because Y.” This is a great thing! And it has the tendency to create what I’ve started thinking of a narcissism trap.
If you hear endlessly how brilliant you are, you start to believe it. It’s the science behind affirmations that pop psychology is always telling you to give yourself. If the brain hears a message enough times, it decides it’s true. And you know, it’s fine and good to get the general idea that you’re smart and competent, especially if you are. But I never, ever, want to get the idea that I’m infallible or immune to criticism or the sole authority on something. Especially when that something is my clients’ experience.
I was supposed to write about a hallway today, a sequence from chapter 1 of my book that will give readers a visceral sense of how the attachment system is formed. I wrote about this instead, because I felt so uncomfortable with making the instagram slides (which do not allow much room for hedging) that I just kept sitting there not doing it.
I am smart and competent. I do think my ideas are worth sharing (obviously). I will continue to try to make my voice a little more authoritative, because hedging does detract from the clarity of a position, and it’s important that I be clear. But I guess I just wanted a lengthy disclaimer out there first.
I inquire. And that’s a good thing about me.
I think. :)


