Psychoanalysis in Ruins: How Therapy Holds Us Together in Times of Collapse
Psychoanalysis is often imagined as something quiet and stable—a long-term, reflective space set apart from the noise of the outside world. But what happens when the world itself begins to fall apart? When people live under political oppression, economic breakdown, and constant social disruption, can therapy still offer something real?
The answer—powerfully evident in places like Caracas, Venezuela—is yes. Not because psychoanalysis escapes chaos, but because it learns how to stay with it. It listens. It contains. It transforms.
Therapy in a Shaking World
Psychoanalysis offers a unique kind of support: not advice or quick fixes, but a steady space for meaning-making. This space—the analytic frame—is like a vessel. It holds what feels too difficult to hold alone: grief, confusion, fear, trauma.
But in parts of the world where the basics of life are uncertain—electricity, food, medicine, safety—this frame is constantly tested. Therapists and patients alike must adapt. Sessions may be interrupted by power outages or political events. People may suddenly leave, unable to continue. And yet, the therapeutic work continues in whatever form it can.
Maintaining this kind of deep listening in such conditions is not a luxury. It’s an act of care—and sometimes, an act of quiet resistance. When the world outside becomes fragmented and untrustworthy, therapy becomes one of the few places where honesty and reflection can survive.
When Outer Chaos Meets Inner Struggle
The stresses of everyday life shape our inner world—often more than we realize. For those living in crisis, feelings of fear, loss, and disconnection may not just come from childhood or relationships, but from ongoing political trauma. In therapy, these feelings may surface through silence, through sudden emotion, or through dreams and metaphors.
Many people in therapy find themselves dealing with both personal pain and collective pain—feeling deeply alone while also feeling caught up in something bigger. Psychoanalysis doesn’t separate these experiences. It recognizes that what happens in society shapes what happens inside us. It helps make space for all of it.
The Challenge of Holding On
Therapists are human, too. Those working in unstable environments—such as Venezuela—face the same fears, shortages, and disruptions as their patients. And yet, they continue to listen. To hold space. To create a therapeutic frame even when nothing else feels secure.
This isn’t always easy. But it shows how resilient the psychoanalytic process can be. Even when everything else is uncertain, therapy can offer a different kind of stability: the consistency of presence, attention, and meaning.
And sometimes, therapists who train in these conditions develop a heightened sensitivity—a deeper attunement to feelings that can’t be put into words. They learn how to sit with what feels unbearable, not because they’re perfect, but because they’ve had to.
Why This Matters for Your Own Process
You don’t have to live in a war zone to feel like your life is falling apart. Many people begin therapy during moments of collapse—breakups, burnout, panic, depression, identity crisis. And what psychoanalysis offers in those moments is not a way out, but a way in: into a deeper understanding of where the pain comes from, and what it might mean.
This kind of therapy takes time. It takes patience. It may not offer quick relief, but it offers something more lasting: the chance to rebuild meaning from the inside out. Even in ruins, something new can grow.
Psychoanalysis Is Not About Perfection—It’s About Persistence
Therapy is not about becoming perfect or never struggling again. It’s about learning how to live more fully and honestly with what is. In places like Caracas, that honesty has to include grief, fear, uncertainty—and also hope.
For anyone considering psychoanalysis—or already in it—this is an invitation: not to expect miracles, but to stay curious. To see the process as something alive, flexible, and responsive. Even when the world feels like it’s collapsing, your story can still be held. You can still be listened to. You can still change.
Recommended Reading
Caruth, C. (1996). Unclaimed Experience: Trauma, Narrative, and History.
Freud, S. (1933/1965). New Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis.
Winnicott, D. W. (1960). The Theory of the Parent-Infant Relationship.
Winnicott, D. W. (1965). The Maturational Processes and the Facilitating Environment.