Blind in the Inner Forest: The Dangerous Illusion of Self-Help

We have a strange belief that any development we achieve happens through crisis. That a crisis, or even a psychological problem, is not a bad thing. After all, Freud suffered from phobias, and it’s arguably impossible for anyone to grow up in a state of perfect psychological health. Should one outgrow their problems? Yes, of course. There is no other way.

This brings us to the phenomenon of self-treatment. When it comes to physical illness, we intuitively understand the risks. Treating ourselves without a doctor can cause real harm. Yet, with psychological problems, it somehow feels different. The risk seems external, as if you can’t truly harm yourself because, well, you don't want to. But is psychological self-treatment truly without risk?

The Illusion of Self-Diagnosis

The human psyche exists on the broadest possible spectrum. On one end, you have the equivalent of a common cold; if you don’t treat it, you’ll be sick for a week, and if you do treat it, you’ll be sick for 7 days. On the other end, you have the psychological equivalent of oncology, conditions that can destroy a life if professionals don't intervene in time.

There are conditions that simply cannot be self-treated because they require specialized understanding. These aren't just psychotic disorders. Consider the now very common personality disorders, where a person’s inner world is so fundamentally twisted that they cannot cope on their own. Or endogenous depressions, which are largely determined by genetic factors. It’s estimated that one in five people will experience such a depressive episode in their lifetime.

In that state, it seems that life has no meaning, that everything has collapsed. You cannot understand that it is the depression speaking in you, not your true self. The problem is this: to carry out correct self-therapy, you must first establish a correct diagnosis. But effective self-diagnosis is impossible. When we look at ourselves from within, we are blind to our own blind spots. In severe mental disorders, there is no criticism of one’s own condition. A person with a personality disorder simply doesn’t understand that the way they perceive the world is not how it really is. Someone from the outside is needed to hold up a mirror.

The Dangers of Popular Psychology

In this landscape, popular psychology has become a huge tragedy. The endless stream of self-help books and gurus who explain everything in a flash creates a dangerous illusion. They take profound concepts from real psychotherapy, interpret them superficially, and strip them of their true meaning.

Take the concepts of the "real self" and the "ideal self," which originated with Alfred Adler and were developed by Karen Horney. These ideas describe a subconscious state where we are dissatisfied with who we are and strive for an idealized version of ourselves, which remains in the shadows. This striving is often rooted in a deep, unfulfilled need for love and approval from childhood.

But listen to any pop psychology author, and they’ll say: "Your ideal self at work, your ideal self as a mother." They reduce a deep-seated feeling of being unloved into a simple goal-setting exercise. They take a phenomenon that can only be understood by seeing a client’s suffering and realizing that behind their dissatisfaction is a childhood void they are trying to fill.

It’s the same with the "collective unconscious" and "archetypes." Jung’s complex ideas about how we perceive the world without understanding why are turned into a parlor game: "What is your archetype today?" Jung himself would be horrified. This is like giving a forester a map of the woods but forgetting to untie their blindfold. They walk around, bumping into trees, wondering why they have a bump on their forehead and why the bear seems so unhappy.

The Therapist as a Ferryman and a Forester

So what is the alternative? Genuine psychotherapy is not about applying a set of formal knowledge. A psychiatrist must know diagnostic tools and pharmacology to stabilize a patient in an emergency state. But a psychotherapist’s main instrument is the conversation itself—it is their very being.

Think of the therapist as a ferryman. They invite a person who is suffering on one shore—a shore of personal crises, dead ends, and neurotic disorders—onto their ferry. They must persuade them to board, hold them steady during the crossing, and help them disembark on the other side, a shore of psychological well-being and a new quality of life. The therapist has nothing but the ferry and the contact they maintain with their client. This requires a specific state of mind, an attunement to the inner world of another person. The client will only trust the guide if they feel truly understood.

Or, think of the therapist as a forester. They must guide a person through their own private forest of complexes, unconscious conflicts, and internal problems toward a bright clearing. To do this, the guide must know the forest intimately—all its entrances, exits, ditches, and dangers. This knowledge cannot be learned from a map alone. It must be walked. It must be experienced. Every psychologist, in coming to the profession, is faced with the necessity of their own internal transformation and growth.

The Path of the Wounded Healer

It is no secret that many people enter the field of psychology to deal with their own problems. Is this a worthy motivation? Will such a psychologist always be inferior to one who came to the profession simply to help others?

Actually, it doesn’t matter much why someone comes to the profession. What matters is their capacity for genuine internal transformation. History is filled with major figures in psychology who had their own significant struggles. Carl Rogers, a founder of client-centered therapy, had episodes of severe depression. Harry Sullivan had schizoid traits. The autobiography of Fritz Perls, one of the best psychotherapists in history, is a confession of suffering. Carl Jung went through full-fledged psychotic episodes. Freud had his phobias.

Having these internal struggles does not mean you cannot be a good specialist. In fact, they can become a source of profound potential. As the philosopher Lev Vygotsky said, thought begins where we encounter an obstacle. Our problems are the very obstacles that force us to grow. No tree grows in ideal conditions. Winds, droughts, and other trees blocking the sun all leave their mark. If you look at a cross-section of a tree, the rings are never perfectly even. Each year is a broken line, a story of struggle and survival.

Our own psychological problems are the circumstances that root us in life. And in this, the desire to help another is not separate from our own healing—it is essential to it. You cannot go through your own path of transformation if you are focused only on yourself. In helping someone else, the potential that is in us opens up. This is why compassion is seen as the path to deliverance from suffering in Buddhism, and why ancient sages taught that we must serve a purpose greater than ourselves.

A good therapist, therefore, is not someone without problems. They are a forester who knows the layout of their own forest. This doesn’t make them a wizard—the bear can still wake up, and new dangers can arise. But if you find yourself lost in the woods, you would surely want a forester by your side.

References

• Jung, C. G. (1963). Memories, Dreams, Reflections. (A. Jaffé, Ed.; R. Winston & C. Winston, Trans.). Pantheon Books. In this autobiography, Jung candidly discusses his own psychological crisis, which he called his "confrontation with the unconscious" (particularly in Chapter VI, "Confrontation with the Unconscious"). This account serves as a powerful testament to the "wounded healer" archetype, illustrating how a profound psychologist used their own deep, and at times psychotic, experiences as the raw material for developing their most important theories, confirming that personal struggle can be a source of great insight.
• Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy. Houghton Mifflin. This book outlines Rogers's humanistic approach to therapy, emphasizing empathy, congruence (genuineness), and unconditional positive regard as the core conditions for therapeutic change. It validates the article's metaphor of the therapist as a "ferryman," whose primary tool is not a set of techniques but their own authentic presence and ability to form a deep, understanding relationship with the client. Rogers's work highlights that the therapist's own internal state is critical to facilitating another person's growth.