18/01/2026
Antipsychology isn’t here to tell you everything will be okay.
That’s what your aunt is for.
And horoscopes.
And the Gestalt therapist who hands you tissues every session so you can clean up their emotional violence.
Antipsychology shows up, sits down, and asks
“What if the problem isn’t the problem, but how well you’ve learned to repeat it?”
I’m not here to heal wounds like they’re scrapes on a knee.
I’m here to make them useful.
To extract value.
To turn trauma into a résumé.
I’m not going to tell you to “work on your inner child.”
At best, I’ll give them a cigarette, sit them down with the adult you are now,
and see who negotiates better.
(Spoiler: the symptom usually wins.)
Antipsychology doesn’t promise inner peace either.
What it offers instead is uncomfortable clarity, nervous laughter,
and that moment when you go,
“Oh. Right. That explains a lot.”
And yes, it destabilizes.
Like realizing you weren’t broken at all,
you were just following strange instructions.
Or how do you see it?