From the author: Sometimes your usual phrases sometimes make people go wild, right? You are offended... Nobody wants to be a hanger for other people's projections. The story is simple. Each of us has our own picture of the world, contrary to objective reality. And this gives rise to a lot of misunderstandings. For example, a neighbor, a woman already in years, such a dry, strict lady with a suspicious look from under furrowed eyebrows, who looks at strangers, compressing her lips into a strict stripe, or even a contemptuous horseshoe , and who greets those she knows nicely. Or he thinks he knows. After all, what is going on? She looked for her keys, looked, and never found them. I was looking all day... And I started to go out, pushed the door, and they rang in the well. From the entrance. How can this be? And how scary it is to suddenly realize that you don’t own the space at home. The keys had probably already been in the wrong hands, but now they were planted in such a sophisticated way. Who could do such a nasty thing? The block is locked, 4 neighbors have the keys to the block. Two of them are at the dacha, leaving this young whistler, who ran to make a copy of the keys. Everything is so. I went and asked the mechanics at the market. Just like that, I asked, did they bring you keys like this to make? Well, the mechanic answered that yes, they brought them. (I’m translating how a locksmith might have heard this: “Do you have a lot of experience? Have you ever made keys like this?” And their possible answer: “You’re offending me, mother, we make a hundred of these keys a day, everyone is happy , no one is complaining). So in the picture of the world of that granny, who undoubtedly had a lot of and not always positive (pleasant) life experience, the keys could not hang for several hours outside the door untouched by anyone. Could not. Hence the conclusion: the neighbor, the one who is not at the dacha, unlike the dacha residents, is guilty by definition. This is what she told her neighbor’s whistle-blowing husband, who is a decent man. (In her picture of the world, where her own husband is a noble retired career officer who bows to all the ladies in the entrance, including this whistle, a man is not capable of stealing the keys.) However, if my keys had been hanging for a couple of hours in general availability, I would have “ ticks” would also change the locks. For complete calm, close the gestalt, so to speak. And in other situations... Well, why am I better? To say “the insanity grew stronger” and further in the text. We are all hostages of our picture of the world, our emotions. Well, that neighbor is scared that she is now seemingly unprotected, so she sculpts, draws pictures, rationalizes, looks for the Enemy. As I sometimes do. So, I agreed with my husband, and not that it was a merchant’s agreement, but it just so happened, and he is aware of this, that after 20 o’clock I have no reception, and, therefore, he is building his own evening taking into account this information. This is not a strict rule. I can take someone and, of course, tell him about it so that he understands my plans too. At the same time, I am aware that neither his “ugh” nor his “yes” will be expressed to me, if they even exist, and the years we have lived together indicate that he does not at all take the right to get involved in what which belongs entirely to me (profession and activity). And yet he sometimes “instructs” me if I accept a force majeure call, saying, “take it,” he nods so approvingly. And something comes over me like, “What the hell are these bossy, almost slave-trading habits? Why is he so scared that he forces me to work when I have reasons for refusing?” At the same time, a hundred hundred times it happened that I was calm (even grateful) to the fact that he didn’t mind having dinner alone, that he approved of my “overwork” which approves... me. So what is changing? Only my perception of his usual (everyday) reaction. Is it easy for him to be a hanger for my projections? Sometimes I manage to slow down, sometimes I tell him the whole “truth” about the fact that I “have a mustache myself,” although the person wants a regular discussion of plans for the evening. Not a report, but a participation. A story about why I can’t conduct a session, maybe I’m tired, or what hurts? No, I answered “I myself have a mustache”,!