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“Desperate is the one who must leave to live a different culture,”  sang Mercedes Sosa with that breathtaking voice that makes it impossible not to identify with her. Listening to her, one cannot help but pause and think of migration as a reality—whether chosen or inevitable—that pierces us both objectively and subjectively. In my own life, migration is not a textbook concept; it is my emotional heritage, the heartbeat of my internalized history. It is the biography of my gra

This text is a powerful illustration of the "integrative" approach you champion—balancing the immediate crisis of a panic attack with the slow, deep work of psychoanalytic exploration. It was 5:00 a.m. on a Monday when I woke up. I usually try not to reach for my phone the moment I open my eyes, but addiction and temptation often win. When I lit up the screen, I found seven messages from Oscar (a pseudonym). Honestly, I was startled. He had never messaged me before; he was al

“The unconscious is a vast, unexplored ocean. And what is the night, if not the sea in which we sail blindly?” — Carl Jung What keeps us awake at night? That is the question that hammers away at 2:25 a.m. We turn one way, then the other. We try counting clouds, projecting ourselves onto a beach—anything. But instead of peace, we are hit by flashbacks of unbearable thoughts, or worse, irrelevant ones: Did I forget to send that email? What will we cook tomorrow? Did the credit

A few months ago, during a psychotherapy session with Luis (a pseudonym), he gathered the courage to speak more directly and honestly than usual: “I don’t know how to explain it, Doctor. It’s ridiculous, pathetic, almost tragic… I have everything. A wife who loves me, a job where I feel successful, three beautiful children. I have friends, the energy to run and play padel... And yet, there is this thing I feel, which won't let me sleep, which forbids me from smiling. It is an

Just a few days ago, I was sitting down for a coffee, waiting for my son to return from school. Suddenly, without warning, I heard the roar: a door swinging open, a violent slam, hurried footsteps, a gust of wind rushing past me, and then—another slam. Yes, my 14-year-old son had just arrived. He didn’t greet me. When I knocked on his bedroom door, he denied me entry... until the fourth attempt, an hour later, and only after being bribed with a milkshake. In the blink of an e

A few weeks ago, my daughter hurt her foot playing soccer at school. Since then, the same question has repeated itself over and over: — “But what happened?” And I, with that automatic reflex of wanting to respond with precision, answer: — “Well... she has a fissure in her fifth metatarsal.” — “Is that a fracture?” — “Well, not exactly... it’s a fissure, meaning...” And right there, a kind of verbal clumsiness begins that surprises me. I find myself talking in circles, getti

Reflections on Mourning and Melancholia For many years in my clinical practice, I have accompanied patients through various types of loss. I have witnessed diverse forms of mourning: from the end of a romantic relationship to the loss of objects with symbolic value; fires that leveled homes, illnesses that transformed bodies, layoffs that shook identities, partings that left silences, the deaths of loved ones—both human and animal—and even spontaneous or elective abortions. E

We live in an era where everything moves at high speed. If it isn't fast, we want it fast; we expect it fast. And when it doesn’t happen, we feel frustration. Sometimes, we even expect things to occur instantaneously. Recently, I was at the airport and happened to find myself in the "fast track" security line. There is a certain sense of empowerment and satisfaction in being in that fast lane while, just a few yards away, others wait in a hour-long queue. It isn't just the re