Understanding of mental reactions

My thoughts instantly returned to the phrase about the "subjectivity" of textbooks
psychiatry. So, I thought, this tutorial is a kind of subjective experience
the author, with all its prejudices, with all his "own",
in the book of acts as the objective knowledge, with all the "diseases of personality"
- read: his own personality. Our College Professor ever
didn't say anything like that. And, although this  the textbook does not significantly
differed from other similar books, it has clarified for me a lot
psychiatry, and I irrevocably fell under her charm.
 The choice took place. When I announced my decision to the teacher of therapy,
he was stunned and upset. My old wounds, my cursed "difference", again
made themselves felt, but now I understood what was going on. No one close to me
people, and even myself, and could not imagine that one day I will dare to tread
this in a roundabout way. Friends were unpleasantly surprised and looked at me
as a fool who refused happy chance - to make a career in
therapy that was more than real and less enticing. And for what - for
some psychiatric absurdities.
 It became clear that I once again got onto a side road and hardly anybody
there is a desire to follow me. But I knew that no one and nothing
not gonna make me change my decision and my fate. It was as though
two threads merged and carried me inexorably toward distant goals. Confident
sense of herself as a "whole nature" as if on a magical wave moved me
through the exam, which I passed one of the best. Things were going great, when I
suddenly he tripped, and on the same subject, which in
did know great, ' on pathological anatomy. Because of stupid mistakes I don't
spotted on a microscope slide, where, it seemed, were only
scattered epithelial cells, cells infected with mold. In other
disciplines I even intuitively guessed the questions I will ask,
thereby successfully avoided several dangerous pitfalls and was
forward "a thunder of trumpets". Looks like it's all in my over-confidence.
This will not happen, I would have received a perfect score.
 Now it turned out that even one student was the same score
as I have. It was a dark horse, a loner, looking
suspiciously ordinary. He could speak only "on subject" and
answered all questions with a mysterious smile of the ancient statue. He tried
to seem confident, but in this wing of embarrassment and inability to behave. I don't
could understand him. One thing was absolutely certain - he produced
the impression of an almost obsessive careerist, which seemed nothing
interest than its medical specialty. A few years laterit
became ill with schizophrenia. I remembered this incident by Association. My first book,
as you know, was devoted to the psychology of dementia leesah (schizophrenia), and in
I, armed "their own prejudices", tried to determine
this "illness of the personality". Psychiatry in a broad sense is a dialogue between
sick mentality and the psyche of "normal" (and by "normal" accepted
to understand the psyche of the doctor), the interaction of the patient with the
cures, - being to some extent subjective. I set
the task is to prove that false ideas and hallucinations  are not so much
specific symptoms of mental disease, how much is inherent
human consciousness in General.
 In the evening after the exam, I allowed myself the luxury to go
in the theatre. Prior to this, my financial state was not in possession of such
extravagance. I still have the money from the sale of Antiques,
I could afford not only the ticket in Opera but the journey: I
took a trip to Munich and Stuttgart.
 Bizet worked on me absolutely intoxicating, I floated on waves
boundless sea. The next day, when the train carried me across the border
toward the wide world, the melodies of "Carmen" still sounded in me. In Munich
I first saw this antique, and in connection with the music of Bizet is
put me in a special atmosphere, depth and value of which I only
vaguely guessed. The feeling of spring and love - so I described
then status. The weather meanwhile was sad - was the first week
December 1900. In Stuttgart I met with Mrs. Rymer-young,
my aunt, daughter of my grandfather, Professor C. G. Jung, from his first
marriage with Virginia de Lassale. It was a charming old lady
shiny blue eyes, a very lively and rapid. Her husband was
psychiatrist. She seemed immersed in a world of vague fleeting fantasies
and mysterious memories. At me the last time blew past,
irretrievably disappearing, disappearing into nothingness. I finally said goodbye to
nostalgic anxieties of my childhood.

 10 December 1900 began my work as an assistant in the clinic
Burgholzli as an assistant. I was glad he settled in Zurich,
Basel seemed to me already close. For residents of Basel, there was no other
the city, in addition to Basel, in Basel, only everything was "real", and
the opposite Bank of the river, Bierce begins the land of the barbarians. My friends don't
could understand why I would leave, and hoped for my quick return. But it
it was absolutely impossible - in Basel knew me only as the son of a pastor
Jung and grandson of Professor Carl Gustav Jung. I belonged to a localelite
was, so to speak, imprisoned in a kind of "framework". It gave rise to
internal protests, I couldn't and didn't want to be chained to anything
was.
 Intellectual atmosphere of Basel was quite
cosmopolitan, but everything was bearing the stamp of tradition, and it was
unbearably. Arriving in Zurich, I instantly felt a huge difference.
Zurich connection with the world was not built on culture and trade, but here I
breathed the air of freedom and this very treasured. People here did not feel stuffy
heavy brown fog of centuries the traditions, even though cultural memory
Zurich, of course, lacked. Still, under Basel I still miss,
although I know that he's not what he was. I still remember the days when the streets
it slowly walked Bachofen and BURKHARDT, behind the Cathedral
the Cathedral was the house of the Abbot, the Rhine bridge was half wood.
 The mother was very upset by my departure. But I could not do otherwise, and she
took it with her usual courage. She stayed with my younger sister,
the creation of a fragile and painful, anything not like me. Sister like
born to  live the life of a spinster, she never came out
married. But she was an amazing character, and I was always amazed at her endurance.
She was a born "lady" and so died, did not survive the operation, the outcome
which did not Bode any danger. I was shocked when I discovered that
sister in advance put in order all his Affairs, made sure of everything before
the last detail. We were never close, but I always had for her
deep respect. I was too emotional, she is always calm,
although she had a very sensitive nature. I always thought that sister
will hold the rest of his days in the orphanage for noble maidens, as was the case with Jr.
the sister of my grandfather.
 Work in the clinic Burgholzli filled my life with new content
have new ideas, concerns, strengthened the sense of duty and
responsibility. It was as if the veil in the world, I feel like I took a vow to believe
only possible, common, ordinary; the impossible were excluded, all
was extraordinary to the ordinary. Since that time, in front of me was
only what is on the surface only without sequels, the events without them
internal communication knowledge is limited to all  fewer special
issues. Minor setbacks have pushed serious problems, horizons narrowed,
spiritual emptiness and routine seemed insurmountable. For six months I deliberately
concluded themselves in this monastery. Getting to know the life and spirit of a psychiatric
the hospital, I from cover to cover I read all fifty volumes of the "Allgemeinen
Zeitschrifte fur Psychiatrie", to navigate in the existing
moment of scientific situation. I wanted to find out how the human spirit reacts to
own disorder and destruction, because the psychiatry seemed to me
a vivid expression of the  biological reactions that took hold of so
called healthy mind in contact with mind upset. Colleagues
the work seemed to me no less interesting than the patients. Subsequently I
secretly processed summary statistics of my Swiss colleagues
heredity, which contributed to my understanding of mental reactions.
 My extreme concentration and voluntary confinement alienated me from
colleagues. They had no idea how weird it seemed like psychiatry and like
I persistently sought to penetrate to its core. In that period I have not
interested in therapy, fascinated by the pathology of so-called normality -
this allowed me to penetrate deeper into the human psyche.
 This was the beginning of my career in psychiatry is my subjective
the experiment, which had been my life.
 I have neither the desire nor the ability to step back from yourself and take a look
on their own destiny. In doing so, I would make a mistake
(I know of other autobiographies), or immersed in the illusion of
how it should be, or creating a kind of apologia pro vita. In the end
the account is the same a case where we fail to judge ourselves, right
to judge us given to others - for better or worse (for better or worse. - eng.) -and
that's enough.