It is disturbing to share your fantasies

dessin comme une bande dessinée en noir et blanc basé sur le tableau
My modesty led me to find it disturbing to imagine that adults in the 19th century could have painted this naked woman on the grass!
I had the feeling of gene, of discomfort to share my fantasies with my parents. I think it's a normal thing but greatly exacerbated in schizophrenia.

I had the impression, if I was in a somewhat fantasy situation with my parents, to be happy and smiling, that I had to, like the people on TV in the series, be able to share anecdotes about who I was in love with, when it really bothered me terribly to talk about it. It was a kind of torture, a form of obligation, a bit like a rape of the spirit, or I felt that the situation forced me to share my fantasies with my parents, that it was not normal not to share them. For me being in love with a girl and wanting to date her was already an unspeakable and ridiculous fantasy. In the end I never talked about it with my parents and so much the better, I was not ready for that deep down.

I didn’t like sharing my experiences with doctors or my family, if they forced me to, I felt extremely upset.

I think this can be found in patients at the onset of schizophrenia without treatment or when the treatment begins to take effect, when the family asks the question of what the person having schizophrenia feel. The person will deflect the subject unresponsive, very embarrassed, as having a kind of mind-raping feeling to bring up topics that they feel are very personal, very disturbing, very shameful from their point of view (I remember feeling a bit like being extremely ashamed of the content of my thoughts and being forced to describe them, rather than being soothed by the realization that my thoughts aren’t that serious, it would have made me even more ashamed, with the impression that the others are looking at me and judging me like: “you must not think like that”, a bit as if we had to make him accept that he was wrong to think so), perhaps friends and not family (whose family we mechanically have more modesty) could more easily approach the subject. I have very distant memories of these very deep genes to approach subjects, I don’t remember very well, I tell myself that it’s a bit as if we are terribly afraid to admit that we are a virgin, we imagine that if we admit it everyone will fall on us and lecture us, and that we will feel guilty and that we will not dare to answer or reject these requests, this modesty of confessing one’s feelings is very similar to this, it is annoying for the patient’s family who would like to help the patient by understanding him, but you should know that broaching these subjects can be terribly disturbing.

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