'One of the most profound encounters of my life': Could existential therapist Emmy van Deurzen change the way you think?

Imagine going into therapy and, instead of feeling psychoanalyzed or labeled, someone telling you that depression is not just a mental illness, but a form of oppression – often self-inflicted – and that the real breakthrough lies not in understanding what is wrong with you, but in how you can change the way you exercise your freedom. Emmy van Deurzen, the therapist who brought existentialism into the therapist’s practice, starts from this premise: “The most fundamental freedom is to choose one’s attitude in any given circumstance,” as Viktor Frankl put it, and she takes him at his word. The common belief is that therapy involves uncovering hidden traumas or correcting distorted thoughts. Van Deurzen turns everything on its head: the problem is not your unconscious, but how you deal with the fact that you are alive, with all the uncertainties and pain that come with it. Her therapy is a philosophical conversation that begins with the question: What does it really mean to live? More importantly, what changes if you stop viewing your problems as pathologies and start interpreting them as existential questions? Van Deurzen is not just a theorist: she has personally experienced the traumas and turning points she describes. Growing up in post-war The Hague in a family marked by hunger and resistance, Emmy had a father who had risked his life hiding from the Nazis and neighbors who screamed at night, still trapped in their nightmares. At the age of 15, she herself experienced severe depression, her first great love leaving her without a word, two suicide attempts, and the feeling that she was destined for pain. But it was precisely from that catastrophe, she says, that her calling was born: “It is the event that seems like a catastrophe that saves you.” From that point forward, she chose to study philosophy in Montpellier, work in cutting-edge French psychiatric hospitals, and then move to London, where she established the country’s first existential therapy center. Today, at the age of 74, you can find her in her studio, which is filled with books, mounted butterflies, and paintings of forests. She still wears colorful clothes, often with a wreath of flowers on her head, and speaks with an accent that no longer resembles any specific language. What is the core of her method? Structuring each session like a Socratic dialogue: no judgments, no prescriptions, but open-ended questions that force you to confront your deepest beliefs. When journalist Sophie McBain meets her for a double session – 100 minutes of therapy, for the first time in her life – she expects philosophy, but instead finds an emotional challenge that leaves her breathless. During that hour and a half, Emmy doesn’t mention Sartre or Kierkegaard even once, but through her probing and welcoming approach, she leads Sophie to reexamine her entire personal history, her mental loops of “catastrophe always lurking,” and to leave the room more optimistic and less afraid than she has ever been. The change is not theoretical: “It's as if your heart becomes lighter,” says Emmy, and Sophie realizes that she still felt that way days later. But don't think this is some feel-good revolution. Emmy is skeptical of the contemporary trend of diagnosing everyone as a narcissist or an addict: in her view, this only creates a culture of fear and leads to a loss of the desire to understand how people really live. And she warns: Today, there is no real public discourse on the meaning of life. Religion has vanished, philosophy has disappeared from TV, and many people, when faced with a mental crisis, feel they have no other tools than to think, “There's something wrong with me.” In her view, however, the word “wisdom” needs to be brought back to the forefront, even though it is taboo among psychologists. “We need to bring wisdom back into the world,” she says. And that is precisely the task of existential therapy: to help people build a life that makes sense, not just manage symptoms. There is a paradox that is hard to forget: often, the shoes that are too tight and prevent us from feeling free are our own fears, habits, and beliefs. And it's up to us to take them off. You can think of therapy as a way to “fix” what's wrong, or you can see it as a philosophical training ground where you learn to live with more courage, meaning, and – that forbidden word – wisdom. If wisdom strikes you as a provocation, on Lara Notes you can mark this moment with I'm In: it's not a like; it's your way of saying that this perspective now belongs to you. And if you find yourself discussing it over dinner with someone, you can tag them with Shared Offline—this way, the conversation isn't lost and remains part of your story on Lara Notes. This journey through the ideas of Emmy van Deurzen comes from The Guardian and will save you 8 minutes.