Psychotherapy of San Diego

Psychotherapy of San Diego Psychotherapy,S*x Therapy,S*x Addiction:Dr.S remains an active participant in your treatment. Psychotherapy is for the individual, couple or family.

She emphatically “listens” and “sees” you in a genuine attempt to validate the importance and significance of what you say and how you are feeling. "Where You Have Been, is the Foundation for Where You Are, and Where You Are Going"

Dr. Silbert provides psychotherapy and counseling for psychological concerns such as infidelity, betrayal, depression, loss, death, grief, divorce, relationship probl

ems, marital conflict, drug and alcohol addiction, career issues, trauma, low self-esteem, poor body image, s*xual abuse, emotional abuse, eating disorders, anxiety, stress, guilt, negative thinking, and overwhelming emotions. Also, Dr. Silbert provides s*x therapy and couples therapy for s*xual problems related to libido, arousal, performance, or**sm, s*x addiction, s*x compulsion, s*xual desire, er****on problems, non-normative s*xual practices, pelvic pain disorders, and painful in*******se. Telephone consultation is also available by appointment.


Gotta Luv DrD Minnie!Psychology of the "MIND-GAME in Golf.Call DrD for success in golf and life. Psychology and Hypnosis...

Gotta Luv DrD Minnie!
Psychology of the "MIND-GAME in Golf.
Call DrD for success in golf and life. Psychology and Hypnosis for Maximum Success on and off the golf course. .com


Alain De Botton


Getting married again is not popular. But getting intimate after a few dates is, says a new Kinsey/Match study


In order to give our minds the true respect they deserve, we may need to learn to be a little less respectful of the minds of others. (Gustav Klimt, Study of an Old Man, 1888-90)

To the conundrum of choice, so many distractions.All in the service of the Mind Game!Kindness to the “self” is paramount...

To the conundrum of choice, so many distractions.
All in the service of the Mind Game!
Kindness to the “self” is paramount.
Appreciation of moments.
Because ultimately…
“It is not safe to be alive!”
To a “Good Enough” 2024.
Just Sayin’ DrD


The problem we face - once we can accept at an intellectual level that our childhoods may contain many of the secrets that explain our adult functioning (and malfunctioning) - is that we seldom remember very much about them. Of the 50,000 or so waking hours that we have before our tenth birthdays, we’ll tend to remember only a handful. Nothing much at all stays in the mind before we’re three, and thereafter only a few snapshots are retrievable. Lengthy hours of playing, idling, sitting on the sofa, messing about in the garden, experimenting in the kitchen, drawing fish, flowers and submarines on the living room floor - all will vanish, as though an archivist were systematically ripping out pages in the story of our lives and dumping them in the ocean or setting fire to them at night. We’ll hold on - at best - to the memory of a few smells, the textures of carpets, the colour of the earth after rain, the taste of lemon juice and mint, the heat on the first day of the holidays… It isn’t much to have made it through from an entire era.

But we should not be discouraged by the monstrous scale of our forgetting. There is much that we can do - as skilled emotional archaeologists - to infer crucial things from the past. We can make use of the two different memory systems that our minds possess, an explicit and an implicit one. Contained in the explicit memory system are all our conscious recollections of events and experiences: the holidays in the mountains, a telling-off at school or the guinea-pig we looked after at home. However vivid some of these might be, relative to what we actually lived through, the explicit system is a very empty storage mechanism indeed.
But fortunately, we can lean on the second implicit memory system, which happens to be dense with information from which highly relevant deductions can be made. An implicit memory is any idea, fact, emotional response or character trait that we acquired from the world outside of us in circumstances which we have forgotten. To take an obvious example, we remember the two times table but nothing at all of the context in which we learnt it. We know how to ride a bike, but not how we came to do so. Something entered our minds - the data or skill we possess proves as much - but the setting in which it did so has evaporated.

When it comes to how we operate emotionally, most of our proclivities exist at the implicit rather than the explicit level. We can’t remember exactly what a parent told us about how valuable we were to them. But what we do know is that we feel like worthless people now and that nothing we do is ever good enough in our eyes. Or: we have no explicit memory of how we learnt about trust, but we do know that we find it very hard indeed to believe that someone we love will ever be loyal to us.

This form of implicit memory opens up vast avenues for self-exploration. We don’t need to scour our minds in increasing panic for explicit scenes. We won’t ever remember what exactly a parent might have told us when we were two and a half. But we don’t need to either. We can start with the here and now, with the implicit memories we have open access to and ask ourselves a range of questions:
How do we feel about ourselves?
How do we feel about men?
And about women?
What are our attitudes to authority?
What do we think we need to do in order to be loved?
Can people be believed? Are they loyal and kind - or something darker?
Do we deserve generosity - or contempt?

All our answers will be based on implicit memories - and they will differ markedly from person to person. One individual will have learnt that men are strong and capable and like to be relied upon. Another will have learnt that men are furious, vengeful and should not be approached without caution. In both cases, the explicit circumstances in which these thoughts entered the mind will have vanished; the implicit memories will stand as proof that they did so.
Understanding ourselves therapeutically means studying our characters in the present and growing sensitive to a range of implicit memories that underpin them. Why are we afraid of being disgraced? Why does status matter so much to us? Why are we worried about being called ‘stupid’? Why do we believe that we can’t lay down boundaries in relationships?

Our minds are littered with stubborn implicit peculiarities. We won’t ever be able to remember the day these entered our vulnerable young minds - but we can, to our great benefit and eventual liberation, actively question whether many of them still deserve a place there.



Emotional maturity is a state few of us ever reach - or at least not for very long. But it may help us to try to lay out what some of its constituent parts are so that we have an idea what we might aim for:

- We realise, at last, and with considerable good humour, that we are fools. We are idiots now, we were idiots then and we will be idiots tomorrow. There are few other options for a human being.
- We shed our pride; we realise how much we constantly misunderstand - and never more so than when we start to have faith in our competence and sanity.
- We acknowledge the influence of the body on the mind. We may have sunk into existential despair not because there is anything objectively tragic at hand, but because we are in urgent need of an orange juice or have missed out on an hour of sleep.
- We respect the art of diplomacy and the importance of politeness; we acknowledge that other people might be just as easily hurt as we are.
- We learn, painfully, to use language to give those around us an indication of what is at play within us. We don’t hold it against them that they didn’t understand things we never bothered to teach them.
- We accept that we don’t immediately know how we feel and take the trouble interrogate our deep selves as to their real desires and intentions, probably by lying in bed or in a bath for a long time, pen and paper to hand.
- We acknowledge that it is impossible to be friends with everyone. Attempting to please universally ultimately leads to offending many; so we occasionally disappoint frankly to spare acquaintances the pain of excessive appeasement.- We feel more carefree at the idea of being strange, weird and even in areas ‘perverted’. None of these terms frighten us any longer. Public opinion matters less, because we have seen enough of the shallowness and reflex moralism of crowds. This is our one life - and we’ll be oddballs where we need to be.
- We take our own boredom as a guide. Everyone else may declare it a brilliant book or an extraordinary play. We might toss it aside or walk out.
- We accept that most of what we are was shaped by relatively small events that unfolded before we were ten. We are like goslings who are decisively imprinted by whatever they see just after they emerge from their shells. We go and find a therapist.
- We notice the patterns. Perhaps we don’t need to keep trying to impress older figures of authority; or to fall in love with distant people who are involved with someone else. We acquire a (low-resolution) map of our neuroses.
- There’s a little more delay between feeling something and having to act on it. We might even at times simply observe the feeling and do nothing.
- We can bear to listen. We no longer cut across and say, ‘That reminds me of something…’ just as the other person starts to share their story. We look warmly into their eyes and say, ‘Tell me more, this sounds so interesting…’
- Fewer people strike us as either very good or very bad; we sense the struggle in everyone to keep afloat. We’re all a mixture of the good-hearted and the egoistic. We have less of an impulse to stone wrongdoers.
- We take measures to stay pessimistic about how things will turn out; we remind ourselves on an hourly basis that all relationships are riven with pain, all business ventures are maddening and all families are demented. We aren’t being persecuted, this is how things universally are (it’s just that other people carefully omit to speak about it). We get less hopeful and - therefore - less bitter and less furious. Of course things are slightly disastrous, of course we have made some terrible mistakes, of course we have been betrayed and treated badly. It’s all eminently and supremely normal.
- We cease lamenting our wrong turns: we probably married the wrong person; we almost certainly chose the wrong career. Probably we’re living in the wrong country (and definitely house). We invested in useless things. We befriended unworthy sorts, we made awful errors bringing up our children, we’ve neglected our health. We’d be starting to get it right if we lived to a 1,000 or could do half a dozen practice runs.
- We acquire a correct measure of the difficulties we have imposed on others, especially those we love. We marvel that one or two people have - sometimes - put up with us.
- We realise that there is no manual on how to live. Everyone is making it up as they go along. No one is normal and no one understands more than a fraction of things. We remember Montaigne’s dictum: ‘Even on the highest throne in the world, we are seated, still, upon our arses.’ We get a bit less shy.
- We realise that most experiences are a mixture of hope and disappointment. Even in the most beautiful moments, regret and melancholy are never far away. Nothing is as pure as we crave it to be; much is bittersweet.
- We laugh more richly because we’ve capitulated to the darkest truths.
- We marvel at the passage of the years. Growing old: what a strange thing to have happened to a little boy or girl.
- We have been through a sufficient number of summers and winters to know that things pass, eventually. What looks at one time like a mountain will - over the years - be worn down to a pebble. Some of our greatest losses don’t even register any more. What you’re weeping about today will make no sense a while from now. They say you’ll get over it - and you will.
- We learn to be grateful for the minor things: a quiet evening, a beautiful sky at dawn, a bowl of lemons on a window ledge, the smell of apricots, a kind word or two with a stranger. We grow wary of grand plans and revolutionary ideals. We accept the virtues of an unremarkable life.
- We count it as a good day when nothing significant has gone wrong. We honour states of calm; boring is no longer any kind of dirty word.
- We cease to believe that there’s a party going on elsewhere. We go to bed early.
- We’re less offended by immaturity in others. A small person tells us they hate us and wants us dead: we understand.
- We accept the child within us. We relearn - very slowly - to be crybabys, because so much is sad and so much is beautiful.
- We can’t make this life flawless: we know our genius for visualising perfection and our equal talent for not reaching it. We take it day by day.

This is some of what might contribute to the mindset of that always unfinished and painfully elusive state of genuine adulthood.


Konrad Lorenz (1903-1989) was an Austrian ornithologist who spent most of his adult life studying the behaviour of geese. What particularly interested him was how goslings seem to develop an attachment to their mother from within a few minutes of their birth, following dutifully behind her and obeying her guidance in matters of sheltering and feeding.

What Lorenz discovered was that, contrary to centuries of thinking, these birds do not develop an attachment to their real mother; they develop an attachment to the first moving object that they lay eyes on within hours of hatching. Unfortunately for them, they aren’t able to discriminate in any sophisticated way about who they form an attachment to and can be fooled in cruel ways: they may fall for a maternal bird but - if their eyes are angled in a certain way - they can be made to develop a powerful attachment to a bicycle, a tractor tire, a garden hose or a mannequin.

This helps to shed incidental light on a particularly painful phenomenon of human lives: just like young birds, young humans develop powerful attachments to the type of adults who are closest to them in their early days - and will then seek out similar characters when they are grown up. Yet also rather like birds, they are unable to discriminate very well between care-givers. They latch on to who is around, not what their deeper nature would ideally call for. They can, at the most extreme, develop attachments to people who not deserve their love at all, who are - as it were - as relevant to their needs as a bicycle is to a gosling.

It appears that our biological make-up privileges attachment to anyone over attachment to someone able to fulfil our needs. This opens up an avenue of compassion for us in relationships. We are sometimes puzzled by how we find ourselves in love with people whom we know - at a rational level - are not going to be good for us. But we may also come to perceive that these people mirror the disturbing patterns of our attachment figures from early childhood. We are a great deal more sophisticated than birds, but when it comes to whom we are drawn to, we must concede that we are prey to some of the same mechanical illogical loyalty as they are.

When we trot without question behind a person who treats us coldly or plays with our mind, we should not merely hate ourselves: we should reflect on how much this lover mirrors an early attachment figure who was not what we would have hoped. It can be a lifetime’s work to correct our emotional imprinting; it starts the moment we realise we’ve had enough of falling in love with tractor tires.


When we keep imagining that we haven’t met ‘the right person’; we overlook that we might have the wrong picture of love. (Shima Seien, Untitled, 1918)


We publish articles around emotional education: calm, fulfilment, perspective and self-awareness. | Why We're Compelled to Love Difficult People —...



For many of us with troubled childhoods marked by trauma and distress, one of the major theoretical problems of adult life, as we struggle to find closure and poise is: should we forgive our parents for the past - or not?
We’re likely to be pulled in two contrasting directions. At one level, a sense of inherent loyalty means that we would very much like to be able to let bygones be bygones. Especially as we watch our parents diminish in strength and lose status in the world, it seems unfair to them to keep directing an impotent rage towards them and to behave in ways that were anchored in quite different power dynamics and circumstances.
At the same time, we may experience a powerful urge for loyalty in another direction, loyalty to a younger self who got badly bruised and still isn’t always very well as a result. We want to bring our child selves justice and understanding - even at the cost of family harmony. What’s more, a simple meal or holiday is - whatever the diminishment of the parent - still likely to catapult us back into the child-like role (with all the attendant humiliation and misunderstandings), even if we are now well into middle age and, in all other areas, fully competent and self-possessed.
To resolve the conundrum, we might apply to personal relations a well-worn principle from relationships between countries. We know that peace treaties and apologies at state level rely not on idle aspirations but on something very concrete: a sense on behalf of the injured nation that its former aggressor understands, properly understands, what damage it did. And is sorrowful and deeply keen on restitution.
When this is in place, when one party is actively apologising and getting curious about the injuries they committed, then peace is a possibility. The enmity can be buried: there can, in time, be joint holidays and festivities. The traumatic past can be let go of.
Much the same is true at the personal level. Here too, forgiveness comes easily when we are clear that the parent has changed. We learn to let things go when parents have taken active measures to understand and rectify problems; when they are no longer who they were when the damage occurred.
But in so far as parents seek to hold on to their record, in so far as they defensively insist that they regret nothing and would do exactly the same today, then there can - and should - be no reconciliation or harmony.
The way to unblock our indecision is clear. The roadmap has been laid down for us to see in the political world. We should be entirely ready to forgive those who are ready to accept their errors. And as ready not to forgive those who don’t. It is as simple - and as complicated - as that.


Read our article - What Relationships Should Really Be About. The School Of Life has a huge collection of interesting articles, read now.


Advice on how to restore a decline in s*xual desire.


5 positive outcomes when you muse about death.


There’s a strange law of psychology that reveals that small children who are treated badly by their parents will always — rather strangely — blame themselves...


The concept of being triggered, though it may at times be overused, sits on top of a hugely important concept in psychological life. One moment we are calm, ...


When they suffer at the hands of an adult, children almost invariably take what happens to them as a reflection of something that must be very wrong with them. (Mary Cassat, The Pink Sash, 1898)


Wherever there is a break up, we can be close to certain that there will - somewhere along the line - have been a doomed attempt by one person, usually over many years, in both calmer and noisier ways, to change another. Someone will have wanted their partner to be more open or more restrained, more creative or less chaotic, better at discipline or less impatient and authoritarian. And these sincere attempts at reform will - to the despair of the complaining party - have ended in considerable bitterness and anger. Someone will have half-listened to the request and replied, ‘The problems aren’t all mine,’ or ‘What about you?’ ‘Get off my case’ or ‘Why can’t you love me as I am?!’
There is almost no limit to the problems we can put up with so long as a partner remains somewhat willing to listen to complaints ‘I hear you…’ must be the single most romantic sentence in the universe.
It is also extremely rare. People do, of course, change, but almost never quite when and as we would want them to. They change when we no longer really care, or when we’re not looking, or when we’ve chosen something else to feel desperate about. Or after we have died.
We may have the wrong picture of change in mind. We might naively imagine it to be akin to some basic physical movement, like raising a glass of water or crossing a room. We fail to assess the sheer arduousness of psychological evolution. It might be as difficult for someone to start to show more affection when we return home from work or to be a bit less patronising towards us in front of friends as it would be to ask them to learn Mandarin on command or climb a Himalayan peak in their bedroom slippers.
There is nothing harder, rarer or more beautiful than to be able to listen to a complaint from someone who cares deeply for us, to see the pain and longing in their eyes and to do our best to work out, without pride or irritation, how to become someone slightly different in the name of love.

ExistentIal Issues: The common Denominator. And Authenticity the Core to Human Relationships! just sayin DrD

ExistentIal Issues: The common Denominator. And Authenticity the Core to Human Relationships! just sayin DrD


Irvin D. Yalom írja egy esete kapcsán: „Ezúttal is alázatra intett az emberi elme végtelen összetettsége, és ezúttal is elkeserítőnek tűnt szakterületem bornírt kísérletezgetése, hogy egyszerűsítésekkel, kódokkal kézikönyveket hozzon létre, melyek segítségével a pácienseket előre meghatározott, általános módszerek szerint kezeljük…"
Majd így folytatja: "A legfontosabb, amit más terapeutákkal együtt magam is tehetek, hogy autentikus gyógyító kapcsolatot ajánlok a páciensnek, amelyből ő azt hasznosít, amire szüksége van. Csak magunkat csapjuk be, ha azt hisszük, hogy a gyógyító tényező egy adott cselekvés, legyen az interpretáció, javaslat, átkeretezés, vagy megerősítés… Azok az egyedi megközelítések, amelyeket az egyes páciensek esetében kigondoltam – vagy egyik-másik esetben éppenséggel csak belebotlottam- nem találhatók meg egyetlen terápiás tankönyvben sem. Mivel pontosan soha nem tudhatjuk, hogyan segítettünk, nekünk, terapeutáknak meg kell tanulnunk békében együtt élni e rejtéllyel, míg a pácienst elkísérjük az önfelfedezés útján."
Végül így fejezi be eszmefuttatását: "Sokkal több páciens vívódik egzisztenciális problémákkal, mint általában hisszük... Ahhoz, hogy ezekben a helyzetekben segítséget nyújthasson, a terapeutának fogékonynak kell lennie az egzisztenciális kérdések iránt...”

(Minden múlandó, 216-220.)


Today marks 60 years from Princess Marie Bonaparte’s death. She was one of Freud’s closest friends, and a prominent figure in the French psychoanalytic movement. Following the annexation of Austria in 1938, she secured the Freud family’s safe passage to London. This portrait photograph, dedicated to Freud, can be found in his Study.

In our latest blog post, Dr Shilyh Warren, our Writer in Residence, traces Princess Marie Bonaparte’s life and relationship with the Freud family in the Museum’s displays and Archives.


The most fundamental idea at the heart of modern psychotherapy is that in order to heal ourselves from our neuroses in the present, we have to understand wha...


Read our article - Overcoming the Need to Be Exceptional. The School Of Life has a huge collection of interesting articles, read now.


San Diego, CA

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Wednesday 11am - 7pm
Thursday 11am - 7pm
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(858) 483-1430


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"Where You Have Been, is the Foundation for Where You Are, and Where You Are Going" Dr. Silbert provides psychotherapy and counseling for psychological concerns such as infidelity, betrayal, depression, loss, death, grief, divorce, relationship problems, marital conflict, drug and alcohol addiction, career issues, trauma, low self-esteem, poor body image, s*xual abuse, emotional abuse, eating disorders, anxiety, stress, guilt, negative thinking, and overwhelming emotions. Also, Dr. Silbert provides s*x therapy and couples therapy for s*xual problems related to libido, arousal, performance, or**sm, s*x addiction, s*x compulsion, s*xual desire, er****on problems, non-normative s*xual practices, pelvic pain disorders, and painful in*******se. Psychotherapy is for the individual, couple or family. Telephone consultation is also available by appointment. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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