About me

During my studies and clinical work, I found myself increasingly drawn to psychoanalysis, especially the Lacanian orientation. I believe it’s an approach that respects the singularity of each person in an ethical way, and that does not rush to categorize, or treat away what might carry meaning. It doesn’t try to quickly explain or “fix”. In this framework, symptoms are not seen as problems to be eliminated, but as expressions that call for careful listening. A kind of listening with attention to how something is said, what repeats, what hesitates, and what remains unsaid. In this view, every symptom carries meaning within. They’re not just things to get rid of, but traces of something important, often shaped by the unconscious.

I was lucky to cross paths with a few professors and mentors who helped me discover this way of thinking. Their openness to complexity, their refusal to simplify the human mind, it left a mark on me. I often think back to their words when I feel uncertain. Without their guidance, I might not have realized how meaningful this way of thinking can be, especially in the way we tend to look at psychological suffering today. I’ll always be grateful to them.

As I moved further into the field, I began to feel more and more uneasy with how psychological suffering is often handled today. There’s a strong focus on standard treatments, symptom lists, and measurable outcomes. But somewhere along the way, the voice of the person, their logic and their way of speaking often gets lost.

I began to question why so many people feel unheard in therapy, why the number of individuals in distress continues to rise and why even mental health professionals themselves are burning out in record numbers. When care itself begins to exhaust the caregivers, isn’t it time to rethink the system that produces such outcomes?

This blog was born out of my observations and critical thoughts and out of a personal habit of writing that has followed me for years. I often write after a session, during a restless night, or when a sentence from a book or a passing conversation stays with me. Writing helps me stay close to something I don’t fully understand yet but also something I don’t want to explain away too fast.

Eventually, I felt the urge to share these thoughts. Not because I have answers, but because I believe in the value of asking questions.

I know Lacanian psychoanalysis can sound abstract or even confusing at first. That’s why I try to write in a way that’s accessible, not just for other psychologists, but also for anyone curious about the human mind. I often find myself explaining these ideas to friends or family, and those conversations helped me realize how important it is to talk about this work in everyday language.

All of the sections of the blog comes from the same place: a desire to stay close to what’s complicated, fragile, or hard to name.

If you’re someone who feels uneasy with quick answers, someone who senses there’s more beneath the surface and is open to it, someone who values a slower, more human way of looking,  then I hope you find something here that speaks to you.

Thank you for being here.
Donatella