August 21, 2022

Dear Reader,

Want to see a picture of me when I was almost seven? There's a link at the end of this M.P.L.

Exactly two years ago today—on August 21, 2020—I officially entered into Jungian analysis.

Man, did I have no idea what I was getting into.

Those of you have read The Good Luck of Right Now—and remember Bartholomew musing on synchronicity—know that I had been Jung-curious for a long time.

I remember Alicia remarking once how extraordinary it was that someone who had never been in therapy of any kind whatsoever had managed to publish so much mental-health-related material. I truly believe that certain aspects of writing and even publishing my novels were therapeutic. But for a very long time—maybe since childhood—I had secretly suspected that I needed professional help. It just took me nearly forty-seven years to work up the courage to actively seek it.

So what finally pushed me over the line?

Existential pain. Ha. True. Life wore down my stubbornness. But there was something more specific, as well.

In the late spring of 2020, Alicia started listening to the This Jungian Life podcast. She was immediately smitten. To my uninitiated ears, her descriptions of the episodes sounded insane.

"It's right up your alley," Alicia said. "They interpret a listener's dream every week and use myth and fairytales as a form of medicine."

"What?" I said. 

"Just listen to an episode. Maybe it'll inspire you."

At the time—as I've already shared here in the M.P.L—I was creatively blocked and miserable. I probably would have happily cut off several of my toes if the act ensured I'd write another publishable novel. Even still, it took a bit of benevolent henpecking on Alicia's part before I eventually downloaded a TJL episode. Then I drove into the woods for my daily run, thinking, I'll give it five minutes before I switch to music. But when I started listening, This Jungian Life changed my entire reality.

Like in every episode, three Jungian analysts—Deborah C. Stewart, Lisa Marchiano, and Joseph R. Lee—examined a topic through a Jungian lens before analyzing a listener's dream, which might sound whacky. But it wasn't. It was insightful, illuminating, medicinal, compassionate, and—as Alicia predicted—inspiring.

Instantly, I was hooked.

I loved listening to these three wise and kind analysts as they circumambulated the human condition and current events using the tools of narrative, symbolism, fairytales, and myth. Before I knew it, I was listening to multiple episodes a day, realizing more and more that I only had a superficial pop-culture-level grasp of Jungian thought.

"I think I might want to enter into Jungian analysis," I told Alicia after a month or so of binging This Jungian Life.

"Seriously?" Alicia said while raising two hopeful eyebrows.

We talked about it for a week or two as we began researching potential analysts. I told Alicia I'd give analysis a year.

Consciously, I was entering into Jungian analysis to cure my writer's block. I also thought it might be good research for a novel, which is how I initially justified the cost to my prudent inner bookkeeper.

I had a difficult time admitting that attending to my mental health—just trying to feel less anxious and depressed—was worthy of the monetary and time investments.

The specifics of my analytic experience are, of course, private. But I can share this: the goal of Jungian analysis is individuation, or to reacquaint yourself with who you have always been, so that you can integrate split off parts of yourself and move through the world more intentionally. Self-knowledge is medicinal.

As a writer, introvert, and introspective person, I thought I knew myself pretty well. But almost immediately, my analyst began blowing my mind with insights that shattered my conscious attitude about myself. He began identifying tics in my speech and unconscious patterns in the stories I'd tell him about my life and the people in it. We also started combing through my dreams, which I still to this day whisper into my phone—using a tape recorder app—whenever I wake up in the middle of the night. Revealing patterns continue to emerge.

Part of the analytic process is confessional—unburdening yourself in the safety of the analytic container. But a lot more has to do with shining a light on all of the many truths that we human beings hide from ourselves, deep within the recesses of psyche.

I initially found analysis to be as disconcerting as it was illuminating. If I hadn't been in so much emotional and psychological pain, I'm not sure I would have continued to subject myself to the process. There were times when sessions ended and I literally couldn't get up out of my seat for several minutes because I was that exhausted. Analysis is easily one of the hardest things I have ever done.

And yet somehow one hour a week turned into three.

Alicia says Jungian analysis immediately made a big difference in my mental health. But it took me a bit longer to appreciate the changes. I think I was so lost in the many complicated emotions that analysis produces. As the process began to dismantle my traditional defenses, I felt exposed, raw, and terribly vulnerable.

To my surprise, my sessions often didn't focus on my writing at all. And I began to realize that the creative block might have been my subconscious attempt to justify analysis. Maybe psyche had tricked me into getting the help I had needed for a very long time.

About ten months into the analytic experience—maybe at 100 or so hours—I began writing again and couldn't stop. Words gushed out of me. This burst, of course, became my forthcoming novel We Are the Light, which is a series of letters from my protagonist, Lucas Goodgame, to his Jungian analyst.

When Avid Reader Press began sending the manuscript out to other writers, hoping for endorsements, my editor, Jofie Ferrari-Adler, brought up the fact that I had thanked This Jungian Life in the acknowledgments. He wondered if we might be able to get a blurb from one of the co-hosts. I had listened to pretty much every single episode of TJL by this time and had become a super fan. I was a little intimidated by the thought of my Jungian-related novel being evaluated by real Jungians.

I talked it over with my analyst. I told him I was thinking of asking Joseph Lee if he might like to read my novel. Joseph had said many things on the podcast that made me believe he might get the book and be supportive. But while I had no problem sending WATL to other novelists, sending it to one of the co-hosts of This Jungian Life made me feel like I was back in school, walking up to my algebra teacher's desk with a completed test in hand, knowing full well that math wasn't exactly my strongest subject.

For a few sessions, my analyst and I continued to talk about the many pros and relatively few cons to sharing my work with the Jungian community. Finally, with my analyst's help, I got up the courage to send my humble request to Joseph Lee. To my great surprise, he agreed to read and then—weeks later—even offered a blurb.

“Matthew Quick is one of the few fiction writers who, inspired by Jungian insights, makes a solid contribution to the impact of analysis. His creative audacity will introduce you to the secrets of psyche and the resilience required to transform excruciating pain into wisdom. Like all significant works of art that reflect truths we might have known, had we not lost our way, We Are the Light is subtle and intimate, compellingly strange and hauntingly familiar, an initiation into the depths of suffering and love. It will not only break your heart—it will break it free.” —Joseph R. Lee, Jungian analyst and cohost of This Jungian Life podcast

Some nice WE ARE THE LIGHT reviews:

“… a testament to the broken and the rebuilt … deeply moving … a balm.” —Booklist *STARRED REVIEW*

“… illuminating … a crackling narrative … excruciatingly honest … The author’s fans will love this.” —Publishers Weekly

Still want to see that picture of me when I was almost seven?

Advanced Reading Copy Interview: I discuss where I live, what being seven years old was like, a book that changed the way I look at life, my favorite children's book, an embarrassing story about me, how I met Alicia and our first date, music I listen to when I am sad, how 40s Matthew Quick is different than 20s Matthew Quick, a question no one has ever asked me before, my anxiety, how I feel about independent bookstores, how I came up with the idea for We Are the Light, reorienting to the feminine in a positive way, and where I would go if I had the ability to time travel. To read, just hit this link: Advanced Reading Copy

Curious about my Jungian journey? Check out This Jungian Life and—if you haven't already—pre-order your SIGNED COPY of We Are the Light today. Downtown Books in Manteo, NC is my official provider of signed Matthew Quick books. The fantastic Jamie Anderson is ready to hook you up. Just hit the SIGNED COPIES button on my website. South Jersey and Philadelphia people, Inkwood Books in Haddonfield, NJ is also taking preorders now.

If you currently feel you might need mental health assistance, please don't put that off. My life has gotten much better as a direct result of reaching out, finding the right analyst, and doing the work. If Jungian analysis isn't for you, there are many other options. You don't have to wait forty-seven years like I did. You are worth it.

Okay, friends.

Until the 21st of September 2022, please remember that wherever you are in the world, whatever your current battle may be, your man in Coastal NC is sending you good vibes. Always.

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MATTHEW

p.s.—If someone forwarded you this letter and you've enjoyed it, we can make it a regular thing. Subscribe and check out the archive here: Monthly Personal Letter.