(“Sono veloce nelle scarpe il piede cuoce. Il cervello prende vento, ma si cuoce dal di dentro.” Skiantos.) ‘My shoes are running quickly, my feet are boiling. My brain is swept by the wind, but is burning from within.’

The Thin Red Line is the title of a film by US director Terrence Malick. Malick is considered a cult director, in particular by the actors - even the most popular - who would die to appear in one of his films. One of the reasons for this success lies in his ability to connect with the deepest soul of his characters. This aspect can be found in all his films - in particular The tree of life and To the wonder, where moments are frequent in which the viewer is put directly in connection with the inner dialogue of the main characters, giving voice to family traumas, relationships' pains and crises of faith.

For some time, I have been trying to understand something more about the reason why a person, at a certain point in their life, decides to set out on a psychotherapeutic path. I think it is a complex, non-trivial topic, which can help us better understand how we are made and the time we live in. To go into this analysis, I felt compelled (but also pleased) to collect the ideas on this subject by some colleagues of mine and to structure this article as a sort of collage, aware that this matter and its boundaries, if any, are much larger.

At the same time, I was interested in better understanding why, although they feel deeply uneasy, certain individuals, even if they would need it, do not take that step and never will, keeping inside themselves - almost jealously guarding, I would say - such discomfort, with the risk of always hanging in the balance between standing and falling, between satisfying or conflicting, painful relationships. Therefore, it is important to observe the relationship between two dimensions: the human being and the (in this case psychotherapeutic) treatment. Sometimes these two dimensions meet, sometimes they don't and never will. Perhaps because they are separated by a thin red line. Impassable?

Now let's see the ideas that have come from the colleagues who have agreed to go through this little intellectual adventure.

Elisa Magrinello (psychologist, psychotherapist, expert in palliative care, she works in the provinces of Brescia and Milan, Italy): ‘man, treatment and healing are an ancient triad, which has always recalled the striving for perfection typical of the human species. If, on the one hand, the individual finds difficulties in perceiving and recognizing their own limits, on the other they feel an urgent need to repair their deficits autonomously and quickly. Because pain becomes a constraint to be eradicated and not to be accepted and transformed. The therapeutic work that places the person in front of their own tortuous path offers new ways, new schemes which require time and courage to be sought after. Today's culture, in particular, does not accept aids or the concept of lack, so men create within themselves the illusion of a perfect monad. How can we deconstruct what we have built with so much effort to escape from our greatest terror, i.e. failure? Yet we are witnessing an unexpected phenomenon: the resilience that leads the curious, daring, reckless and sometimes unconscious person to go beyond the Pillars of Hercules. The relationships we weave, the new way news are used and the ability of medical professionals to come into contact with the suffering of their patients allow the creation of what brings harmony to the psychological work: the therapeutic alliance.’

Marica Artosi (expert in bodywork techniques, she leads bioenergetic classes and seminars in Bologna): ‘Many people find it difficult to decide to start a psychotherapeutic path, because they cannot find the words to describe their pain.

Regardless of the culture the prospective patient belongs to, if the pain is too deep and traumatic, it evokes inexpressible terror and experiences beyond words, not a neat narrative that can be verbalised. Words are lost in describing one's pain because the connection with one’s sensation of the body is lost too. If one's body is found again, words are found as well.

Many people who participate in the bioenergetic classes have been able to continue or start their psychotherapeutic work because, in feeling their body and emotions, they have managed to find the words to express their pain.’

Fulvio Zanella (psychologist, psychotherapist, he lives and works in Ravenna): ‘the internal motivations, but also the expectations, which lead people to start a psychotherapy path can be profoundly different, first of all depending on the socio-cultural context in which one lives. Thirty-forty years ago, psychotherapy was addressed to a small group of individuals, mainly with a good cultural background and sufficiently well-off. Currently, the number of people trained in recognizing the symptoms not to be overlooked as well as the professional figures from which one can receive help has certainly increased. In my opinion, however, today fewer and fewer people start a path - sometimes even year-long - that deals with the deepest causes of their unease (identity, personality integration issues, and so on). An idea of healing seems to prevail that stops at the elimination of the symptom, an idea that mirrors today's society, where everything is faster, where the process of deepening can appear a waste of time, where it is necessary to ‘get back on one’s feet’ as soon as possible . Another reason why the motivations leading to psychotherapy may differ lies in one's gender. Women are more likely to undertake this type of path. Men, even if their number in psychotherapists' studies is increasing, every time they have to ask for help find themselves having to deal with the cultural model of ‘man’ they were educated to - a man who has to do it alone, especially as regards feelings and emotions, a man who must be able to control himself, to ‘resist’, who must not appear fragile. Some men find it more acceptable to approach the problem in a ‘medical’ way, to ‘act’ by taking psychiatric drugs, but always for a short time, since they fear addiction and what this represents in terms of lack of character and weakness.’

Giuseppe Silvestris (psychologist, psychotherapist, he lives and works in Bologna): ‘The need for psychotherapy is constantly increasing but the answer to it does not tie in. As far as the private sector is concerned, the costs for psychotherapy are not accessible to everyone, whereas in the public sector waiting lists are too long and psychotherapies which do start do not always manage to solve the problems. There is a widespread need for innovation in psychological services which should move towards a greater differentiation by user and type. Often, what is perceived as a too-long time, the costs - and, in some cases, the resulting renunciation on goods or activities linked to a widespread social behaviour -, the fear of feeling ‘sick’ by going to the psychologist, constitute an insurmountable limit. In addition to individuals, the need for psychological assistance is increasingly evident also for collective subjects: companies and associations are today called to a new role in the development processes of the economy and of the contexts where they exist. In these cases, taking into account the centrality of the person, it would be advisable to build personalized, effective support paths; to find new ways of providing the service; to develop new experiences of social entrepreneurship arising from shared ideas. Another element of reflection and change are the channels of knowledge and selection people make use of when choosing their medical professional: approaches, type of services offered, methods of managing the professional relationship. These are elements that can make a difference today and are still not very clear when thinking about topics such as those of this article. In this regard, the role of new technologies should be included.’

Fabrizio Stasi (physiotherapist, psychologist, psychotherapist, he lives and works as a private practitioner in Brussels):

‘Since our birth, our development has been a process of negotiating with the reality that surrounds us. To survive we adapt, transforming our body and character, relegating our true essence, armoured, deep within us. Once adults, that armour weighs more and more on us and we may feel the need to get rid of it. But rather than challenge the unconscious fear of a social exile, of a mental breakdown, some stay away from psychotherapy. But being well is only possible by getting rid of that armour that has become a prison so as to finally express ourselves, otherwise all that remains to us is to decorate our cage, anesthetize ourselves, in order to survive a little better in our own life sentence.’

Paolo Baroncini (psychiatrist, psychotherapist, head physician of the ‘Villa ai Colli’ nursing home in Bologna): ‘What is perhaps under discussion is what it means to ‘feel good’ from a mental point of view. In fact, many people experience their unease as something of their own, referred to their identity, their character, their life; therefore, the idea of going to psychotherapy may often be experienced as risking losing one's identity, ‘distorting oneself’, a bit like losing a physical part of oneself which, even if it is sick, suffering, aching, still remains a part of oneself. This is certainly a mistaken view of mental illness and psychotherapy, which instead has as its primary goal that of making the patient re-appropriate parts of themselves that, if sick, suffering, aching, do not fully perform their vital function. Nothing is lost in psychotherapy, if not the useless limits and defences that we create around ourselves.’

Different points of view and different places where, on closer inspection, we can spot the boundary line. Such line protects us from making bad impressions: it is shameful to go to the psychotherapist to ask for help, I am strong, I can (I must) do it alone. The line then goes straight (with a more or less good reason) to a budget calculation: I cannot afford it economically. The line could make me realize that inside me there are parts - i.e. I am not made of a single piece and I do not have everything under control - in conflict with one another, parts that I do not accept; better not to give a voice to them, they could be the cause of fears and of an emotional fatigue and I can’t see the point of that. The line becomes a curtain and does not allow me to trust in the others: the unpleasant episodes I have experienced have become my flesh and there is no salvation; the pain is too much and indigestible. And it no longer allows me to give voice to my words, which have disappeared in a real oblivion that chokes my breath. My body has become a machine at the service of my ego and its natural sensations are now a subtle, almost imperceptible noise: under the neckline there seems to be no vitality. The boundary line may also be social: society does not believe in healing and recovery.

I am always fascinated by the mysterious dimension of this important choice that some make in their existence. In the ‘mystery’ (intended as a casket of multiplicity to be investigated with curiosity and not as inaccessible stronghold) one can find assonances, connections, ups and downs, but never truths more in line with one's disorders than with one's health. And then there is ‘time’. In an average lifetime one changes several times and what was not right once, is right now. What I did not choose yesterday, I may choose today. Still in the field of cinema, director David Cronenberg, who has just turned seventy-five, in a recent interview stated that, as you age, you become like your parents. A dear friend of mine, at the end of her significant path of analysis, told me that she could not understand where such knot was tight. Perhaps it is not possible to understand it precisely, yet you can’t give up the search for it. Knots, lines, no guarantees. Like the baby's first cry, like in friendship as well as love, you have to throw yourself a little. In order not to throw yourself away, one might say.