I guess I should preface saying this I probably don't know enough to say anything remotely conclusive about Jung. I'm just talking about my personal experience. I hope you understand.

It started with a session with my therapist, who mentioned I had an "avoidant attachment style", which rose from trauma and neglect in childhood. I mentioned that I was considering reading Jung to help me figure out my internal world of OCD, anxiety, depression, etc. She was like "Oh yeah, I need to reread his stuff."

I started reading Man and His Symbols and before I knew it I was already over 50 pages in, which never happens when I'm reading a nonfiction book. I started watching videos about his archetypes and browsing this subreddit and I realized just how much he's influenced culture--everything from the movies I watched to (modern) religious books I read seemed to be influenced by him.

Recently, I've been struggling with the repression of a lot of my emotions. Like the other day, I got in an argument at a family gathering with my sister. I was fuming about it, then after chatting with my mother I calmed myself down--only to find myself irrationally enraged at silly things a few hours later. Then I made the connection. I never resolved things with my sister.

Another example was when I went to a graveyard a few months ago to grieve a friend who died very young and suddenly. It was the third year anniversary of her death. The funny thing is, I don't feel much grief for real life people--when I hear someone I love dies, I just feel this odd sense of shock and...that's it. If people around me start crying, I feel intensely uncomfortable and leave the room. It made me wonder if I was a sociopath--but in day to day life, I still felt for other people. Movies and music had this incredibly powerful sway with me and could move me to tears--it's just when I lost people, my emotions would shut down.

When I was at the graveyard and sitting at my friend's grave...I didn't feel much of anything. Then I wandered over to all the old graves. People from the 19th century. Moss coated their fading names. Some names were illegible. No flowers were seen at their graves. No one walked here. And I just...it moved me to fucking tears. These people were forgotten. No one grieved them anymore. What the fuck.

I remember as a child that I grieved very, very hard when people or pets died around me. Once my grandmother started her slow crawl towards death, I began to detach myself from her so I'd feel less pain.

The worst thing that happened today (other than my car making noises and credit card fraud) was reading through someone's experience with OCD on this sub. How they had to confront the dark part of themselves, the source of their intrusive thoughts. Their experience was very, very, similar to mine. And it fucking terrified me. I realized I too have a "Shadow Self" that I'm deeply afraid of.

To be honest fellas I'm having a shit day.

that's all i had to say