Two years ago he lost his job in the video game industry. The circumstances, as he relayed them, were cloudy. Given his great talents, he was surprised to find himself jobless.

He never really recovered. He became depressed, and his natural inclination toward isolation worsened considerably.

Although we were lucky enough to find ourselves in the same city after years of separation, by the time I moved there, he had retreated to his apartment. I could only find him there or at a particular coffee shop.

His dependence on weed and alcohol grew.

Along with all of this, he has become an ardent misogynist. That would bother me anyway, but I am gay and many of my closest friends are women.

It’s hard to say exactly where the misogyny comes from. It’s also hard to say what relation, if any, it has to his loss of employment. But his depression, paranoia and misogyny have all worsened at about the same rate, and become especially noticeable after his termination.

I’ve tried to be a good friend to him. I’ve been patient with hateful emails excoriating myself and other friends for mostly imagined crimes, as well as many links to anti-woman garbage he’s found on the Internet. I try to calmly brush that stuff aside while still providing some kind of interaction. He’s closed his Facebook account and will not answer phone calls, so we primarily communicate through email.

He has also moved back home, leaving the city we both love.

So there is a lot going on.

At times I’ve been worried he might harm himself. When his emails grew particularly grim and vile, I called his mother and expressed my concerns. She assures me he is doing “much better” and further that he is seeing a therapist on a regular basis.

And yet, he has declined to see me or anyone else over the holidays. He has not answered phone calls, emails or texts. And based on our most recent exchanges, I would say he is not better at all.

I no longer know what to do. He is at home under the care of his parents. He is (I think) seeing a therapist. It is out of my hands but I feel strongly that he is not better and may pose a risk to himself, a risk that his parents do not see.

I am at a loss.

Yours,

A Friend

Dear Friend,

You would like to do something but do not know what. There are a few simple facts that it helps to keep in mind. One of them is that you have no power to fix this person’s mind. It is wise to remain vigilant and to keep in touch, so that if he makes a suicide attempt or begins to make threats to others, you can take action. But right now, you are in the unenviable position of standing by and watching.

As an advocate, you can watch and if he leaves therapy you can urge him to continue. If he is on medication you can urge him to continue the medication. You can advocate for stability and long-term commitment to treatment. You can be a voice for sticking with it and weathering the storms. You can advocate politically for more mental health services. You can donate to places the provide such services. And you can get support for yourself through groups that help family members and friends of the mentally ill.

I am convinced that some of our tragedies, in a statistical way, would be averted if public policy favored more public mental health services. It wouldn’t stop all the terrible things that people in violent, unbalanced mental states commit, but every now and then, if more mental health services were available in more towns and neighborhoods and if more individuals found it easy to say, you know, it looks like you’re having some mental health issues and here is a good place to go for help, every now and then some awful and unnecessary tragedy would be averted. Every now and then, some prison cell would not be filled; some car would not turn over; some judge and some lawyer and some public defender and some families would not have to go through the tedious and grinding administration of justice that follows an act of violent madness. Every now and then the money we spend on greater availability of mental health services would pay off.

And likely nobody would notice because nothing would have happened. Life would go on as it had been, and now one would look up and say, gee, nobody’s shot up the Carl’s Jr. here in, like, 10 years. Isn’t that nice? Nobody would say, gee, there are fewer depressed people and fewer living on the edge and fewer threats being made to the mayor. Nobody would notice except researchers who keep records of such things and correlate them with public health policy.

So that is one side of it. My opinion is that as a society we are very lucky to have the mental health services we have, but we could have more, and we could be more open about mental health and mental illness, and we could treat it more like other illnesses of the body. For instance, there are certain acts that are just out of bounds and if you perform one of these acts the state will act precipitously. For instance, if you steal something. Acts against property or against a person’s body get the attention. But in this other realm, the realm of the mind or the spirit, acts against our own spirit or the spirits of others do not get the same attention. And in certain ways that is a good thing. I am a bit of an absolutist about free speech and creative speech. At the same time, there is a kind of violence to the spirit that does not get the attention of the courts until it manifests in a shooting or a stabbing, and that is sad and unfortunate.

So how do we as individuals respond when we see someone slipping into madness? What can we do? Most of us, as individuals, aren’t equipped to heal mental illness. And even if we are mental health professionals, we can’t just randomly shoot people with sanity guns. We can’t force them to pursue the courageous and difficult path of therapy, lifestyle change, deep personal reflection, meditation and/or drugs that may lead to a better life. We can’t reach out and cure people.

We can’t inoculate them. Although in a way we can. I mean, for certain people who are already not doing well, a precipitating event such as job loss might be met, in an enlightened, generous and wealthy society, by elaborate and vigorous mental health intervention. It might. And we might thereby be spared a certain amount of social madness and its sometimes tragic results. Maybe.

So there is a lot you can do, but there is also a limit to what you can do.

In the end, there is just you, seeking peace and serenity in a turbulent world, wishing and perhaps praying that your friend gets better, keeping vigilant watch, advocating for consistent care, and marveling at the beauty that remains.

Stephen Joseph disagrees. In his new book, “What Doesn’t Kill Us,” the professor of psychology, health and social care at the University of Nottingham (in the U.K.) warns that our culture’s acceptance of PTSD has become excessive and has led to an over-medicalization of experiences that should be considered part of ordinary, normal, human experience. This has kept us from proactively working through our grief and anxiety: We’ve become too quick to go to the shrink expecting him to fix us, rather than allowing ourselves the opportunity to grow and find new meaning in our lives as a result of painful, but common, events. Joseph advocates for a push toward post-traumatic growth as therapy to treat the stress of trauma, which he distinguishes as being different from the hokey, blue skies and rainbows, pop psychology that he claims has exploded in our culture in the past decade.

Joseph spoke to Salon over the phone to discuss our misunderstanding of the disorders, the meaning and usefulness of suffering, and if some cultures are more prone to PTSD than others.

How would you define a traumatic event? Is it subjective or are there some basic requirements that must be met?

I see trauma as a psychological rupturing. It’s when something happens to us that ruptures our psychological skin. Or, something which shatters our assumptions about ourselves in the world. That’s what I think of as traumatic, and in a way that can be many things. So, that can include a wider range of experience, and I can understand trauma in that broader way. There are lots of different experiences, such as being in a road traffic collision, or experiencing an illness – those sorts of things can be traumatic to people. It can be experienced as psychologically traumatic. But whether it’s necessary to create a psychiatric diagnostic category to capture those experiences is perhaps not necessary.

Do you believe that PTSD is over-diagnosed?

Well, that’s a really, really tricky question to answer because in a way it’s diagnosed pretty much exactly as it’s described in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM). So whether the definition of PTSD is too broad is a different question, if you see what I mean. When PTSD was first introduced in 1980, it was defined much more tightly. The gatekeeper criterion to the diagnosis was: Have you experienced a traumatic event? In 1980, it was defined in such a way that only people who had experienced an event that was really outside the range of usual human experience, [like] Vietnam or the Holocaust, had experienced the sorts of experiences that were thought to elicit PTSD. So if you experienced something like a car accident or a traumatic birth, then you couldn’t get a diagnosis of PTSD, because, by definition, you hadn’t experienced a traumatic event.

In 1994, the definition changed in such a way as to include other, broader experiences. Equally persistent was the person’s subjective experiences of what they thought was traumatic. When that happened, people who had experienced car accidents, traumatic births, what we would have otherwise thought of as more ordinary life events, insofar as they are not statistically unusual, could then be diagnosed as a having PTSD. So now we are in a position where lots of people are able to receive the diagnosis of PTSD. So it’s not that it’s being over-diagnosed in that sense. The difficulty or problem, if there is one, is whether, generally speaking – PTSD would be part of this – the DSM over-medicalizes human experience. Things which are relatively common, relatively normal, are turned into psychiatric disorders.

Can you describe some of the typical symptoms of PTSD?

When people experience trauma, when their assumptions about themselves and the world come crashing down, there’s often a period of avoidance. People just try to block out what happened. Switch off. Turn their attention to other things. That’s quite understandable. Then, over time, that gives rise to memories and emotions that come flooding in as the person sort of begins to try to make sense of what happened, and that can become so powerful and distressing that they have to push that away again and go back into a period of avoidance. So sometimes people go through that, periods of avoidance and intrusion. That seems to me as a healthy and adaptive way of working through something painful, emotionally painful, that has happened to us. So those are the experiences. PTSD is when those experiences become so overwhelming that the person can’t function anymore – at work, or school, or in their social life. It takes over so much. But otherwise the symptoms of PTSD are fairly normal, natural ways of dealing with adaptation.

It’s important to see those experiences as quite normal and natural. They are not symptoms of a disorder by themselves. They’re just the way that people deal with an upsetting event in order to be able to make sense of things and to move on. It’s only when they become so overwhelmingly intense that they might be considered a disorder. I think that’s where we get into the problem with what PTSD is: when people are going through that normal experience, but they see it as having a disorder rather than a normal process of adaptation.

That will diminish over time?

Exactly.

Is the emotional pain overblown in such cases?

The suffering is very real. We’re not saying that people don’t have difficult emotional experiences and aren’t suffering. What we’re saying is this is not necessarily a disorder that people are experiencing, and if people think like that, it can be very disempowering to them.

What is the detrimental effect of over-medicalizing these more common human experiences of grief and pain?

When we think of ourselves as suffering from a disorder in a medical sense, well we go to the doctor and we expect the doctor to prescribe whatever the medical treatment is. We’re not in the driver’s seat. We go along – we tell them [our] symptoms, they listen to us, they diagnose what the problem is, and then they work out what the appropriate treatment is. That’s the mind-set when we’re working within a medical framework and we think of ourselves as suffering from a disorder. We sit down in front of the therapist and we expect the therapist to be like a doctor – to be looking out for what the symptoms are so that they can make the correct diagnosis and prescribe us the right treatment. The language of PTSD invokes those ideas, and I think it’s those ideas that can be quite unhelpful at times. For what we’re talking about here, if it’s a normal, natural process, what’s really important is for the person to be in the driver’s seat for themselves – to make their own choices, their own decisions, because we’re dealing not with a disorder, but a battle within the person to find new meanings and new ways of understanding the world. That’s what they have to do. Nobody else can do that for them.

What is “post-traumatic growth”?

Post-traumatic growth is when people come out of trauma having learned new things about themselves and about the world and about their relationship with the world. People develop new philosophies of life. They develop new priorities in life. People learn an awful lot about themselves: their strengths; what they’re good at; having new respect for themselves. They sort of see their lives as divided into two halves: before the event happened and after the event happened. There is a clear demarcation. And they recognize that something happened to them that sliced their world in half in that way, and things for them are now completely different. How they lead their lives has been transformed – their priorities about life, their relationships.

I think one of the things that captures that the most [starts with] the idea that, sometimes, people lead their lives in a way that is dictated by external forces of status and wealth, which are very much big drivers in our capitalist society. We often, in our everyday lives, forget about the small things that are quite important – our relationships: remembering to nurture them, to look after the people around us, to be giving, to be compassionate. When traumatic events happen, people are often shaken back to reality, and remember what really matters to them. Often it is those other things – remembering somebody’s birthday; nurturing our friendships; looking after our parents, the people around us; really embracing our relationships; and letting go of a more materialistic outlook. People often describe it as getting back to who they really are, or feeling more true to themselves, or being more genuine or more authentic. Somehow the idea of the false self that people create around them is shattered, like Humpty Dumpty falling off a wall. The essence of who they are emerges.

Yes, becoming truer to oneself captures the idea very well. Realizing that life is short and sometimes there isn’t as much time left as we thought to put up facades.

This kind of makes trauma sound like a blessing (you even mention people describing it as a “gift”). Is finding meaning the same thing as condoning the traumatic event? And doesn’t this talk of growth all sound very “kumbaya-ish” and unrealistic?

One of the reasons, sometimes, that post-traumatic growth can be seen unfavorably is that it seems like saying that trauma can lead to greater happiness; that for people who have been through trauma, it’s a good for them – they’re happier. That’s just so not the message. It’s not saying that trauma leads to happiness, in terms of smiling and feeling good and laughing and joy – not that type of happiness. What we’re talking about is how trauma can lead to a deeper, more existentially meaningful and fulfilling life, and that in turn may lead to greater happiness further down the road. But, post-traumatic growth is not about happiness in the sort of yellow, smiley face sense.

In essence, post-traumatic growth is a very simple idea, but it has been overshadowed by this mass of psychiatric literature over the past 30 or 40 years about the overwhelming destructive side of trauma, and about how these lead to medical problems. It’s a very simple idea, but [post-traumatic growth] sits, on the one hand, very uncomfortably within mainstream culture of the world of psychology and psychiatry, and on the other hand it seems to sit very comfortably with some other parts of Western culture, such as positive thinking, but it also clashes with some of that literature which is quite superficial, and not grounded in scientific research, and makes unsupported claims.

So, no, post-traumatic growth] doesn’t mean that [people] value or cherish the bad thing that has happened to them. They just accept that it has happened to them. People will often say they wish it hadn’t happened, or they wish they could go back, but there is a realism that they know they can’t. So it’s accepting that they can’t go back; they can’t change things. The only way forward is to go forward. It’s when people can’t accept that something has happened, and they [try] to go back to how they were before, is when they struggle. Acceptance is just being realistic – not seeing it as a good thing.

And someone not experiencing growth — or experiencing PTSD — is that person always trying to go back?

I think that often that’s what gets people stuck – trying to go back, trying to rebuild their lives exactly as it was before. That can lead people to get very stuck because it just isn’t possible when traumatic events happen and we’re presented with new information about the world, or with losses. It just isn’t possible to go back and make things as they were. We have to somehow accept what has happened to us and move on.

Is post-traumatic growth something completely in opposition to PTSD or post-traumatic stress? Either you have one or the other?

They can sit together. The way I see it, post-traumatic growth mostly arises out of post-traumatic stress. So it’s how people deal with the post-traumatic stress; how they manage to deal with the intrusive thoughts that are plaguing them; and the new sense they make of their experiences. So it’s through the post-traumatic stress, through the struggle of post-traumatic stress that post-traumatic growth arises. So often there’s a period of time in which people will begin to talk about post-traumatic growth but they will still be suffering from post-traumatic stress. They’re not in opposition. In a way, they are opposite sides of a coin.

You make a claim that true happiness is something that in and of itself cannot be pursued, and one is doomed to fail if one tries. How is that?

Well, that’s an idea that some philosophers have put forward. Some of the research seems to suggest that what’s really important to finding happiness is meaning and purpose in life. If we think our road to happiness is through seeking hedonistic pleasures night after night, then that’s not likely to lead to a deep, fulfilling level of happiness. But, if we find ways of finding meaning and purpose, wherever that might be, then we’re not setting out directly aiming for happiness but that’s what we’re going to get. We’re going to find a more fulfilling life. Happiness is a byproduct, but in a sense it’s more guaranteed.

When we think of psychological therapies, and the helping professions in general, they often have been about helping people feel better. [For] people with various problems of depression, anxiety or post-traumatic stress, therapy is about getting the person to have a more positive emotional state. That’s been, really, what the therapy world has been about for 50 years, and yet that’s only half the picture. The other half is about the meaning we put on things, our purpose in life, our sense of ourselves, our sense of autonomy, our relationships. Psychology can also be about those things. I’m not saying that therapists have ignored them altogether; for sure, they haven’t, but those more existential ideas have been overshadowed by trying to feel good. This is the idea between what psychologists call subjective well-being, which is about feeling good, and psychological well-being, which is what you could call “meaning-good,” and it’s just about getting the balance between those two things right.

Are there some cultures that are more prone to post-traumatic growth?

That’s a really good question. I don’t think the research has really documented that yet as to whether it may be more common. What the research has shown, however, is that post-traumatic growth is something observed in pretty much all cultures that have been investigated, though differently defined in slight ways. “Post-traumatic growth” sounds like a very Western idea, but [it’s one that] gets back into history and into all sorts of cultures. It’s an idea that’s very resonant with Buddhist and some Chinese philosophy ideas, as well as ideas in Western religion.

Michael Woodward comments, below the story:

Kevin Dawes was not a “medical aide worker” he is a self styled medic who taught himself the “skills” through youtube. He has no firearms training and is suffering severely from delusional and paranoid behavior. He is a danger to himself and others. In other stories about him, it is said even that battle hardened rebels are afraid of him and think he is crazy. This story is not researched and needs to be fact checked. I am sure that if you do search for some of his old screen names (try Caro)you will find some of his postings. Also, check out his blog and youtube channel- you will find he is not what this article portrays him to be.

Dawes has been repeatedly permanently banned from the rowdy Internet forum Something Awful for being not just a troll, but a troll widely assumed to be suffering from a possible severe personality disorder due to his insistence that he was the victim of a far-reaching conspiracy involving the San Diego police acting in league with forum moderators. (Upon one banning, moderators advised him, “seek professional psychiatric help and get back on meds!”)

Regardless of his history of trolling SA, he is still performing medicine — operating on people, according to one YouTube video that he’s since made private — without any sort of professional medical training at all, which shouldn’t be encouraged even when it’s not done by unbalanced war tourists.

This isn’t to say that he wouldn’t make a fascinating subject for an in-depth profile, but … his claims probably shouldn’t just have been taken at face value.

NPR has deleted at least a few comments pointing out Dawes’ online history, though others remain.

But whether or not you believe Knightley was a competent actress at the beginning of her career, she is most definitely one now. Don’t take my word for it; put aside your preconceptions and consider her films since she walked away from the “Pirates” franchise — and, for all practical purposes, from big-budget Hollywood movies — in 2007: “Atonement,” “Silk,” “The Edge of Love,” “The Duchess,” “Last Night” and her heartbreaking performance in last year’s “Never Let Me Go,” which probably deserved an Oscar nomination it didn’t receive. (Her lone nomination came for “Pride & Prejudice” in 2006, and let’s table that debate for another time.) That’s a highly uneven list of movies, and I won’t claim that Knightley has an unerring instinct for picking winners. But she’s trying to carve out a new path in more idiosyncratic fare, and she displays more dramatic reach in each of those roles than in her entire career up to that point.

If you haven’t seen all those films (and not many people have), just go see Knightley as Sabina Spielrein, the mysterious woman who comes between Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender) and Sigmund Freud (Viggo Mortensen) in the “intellectual ménage à trois” of director David Cronenberg’s “A Dangerous Method.” (That movie has its United States premiere this week at the New York Film Festival, and opens in theaters next month.) Working with the meticulous and demanding Canadian filmmaker and two of the most acclaimed male actors of our time was surely its own kind of validation. But Knightley more than holds her own playing the Russian Jewish émigré who was Jung’s first analytic patient, then his mistress and collaborator. She later became a therapist in her own right, and helped shape Freud’s notion of the relationship between Eros, the sexual urge, and Thanatos, the death wish.

Spielrein was also the first prominent masochist in the psychoanalytic literature, and perhaps the first woman in history to articulate a desire to be spanked or beaten as an extension of “normal” sexuality. (One should be cautious about such proclamations; the Marquis de Sade predates her by more than a century.) Knightley’s performance is both ferocious and desperate; Spielrein comes to Jung’s clinic outside Zurich in a state of near-psychotic delirium, convinced that she was possessed by a demonic spirit. But eventually the power dynamic between them begins to shift, and she seduces him into a sadomasochistic sexual relationship, along the way becoming his and Freud’s intellectual peer. Yes, you will indeed see Knightley both spanked and whipped by Michael Fassbender in this film, but Cronenberg presents their encounters more in terms of clinical compulsion than steamy spectacle.

I’ve interviewed Knightley twice, and have found her extremely sharp, in all senses of the word. This conversation occurred in an anonymous hotel meeting room in Toronto, the day after the festival premiere of “A Dangerous Method.” (She admitted to being both hung over and jetlagged.) She’s an intense and focused talker, cordial enough but not especially funny. (I maintain she was miscast in the “Pirates” movies for exactly that reason.) Once she understood that I wasn’t going to ask her questions about her weight — she is undeniably thin but looked healthy to me — or her sex life, she warmed up considerably, and talked fluently about the history of psychoanalysis, Wagner’s Ring Cycle, masturbation and the ethics of filming a spanking scene.

You know, Keira, an hour after I saw the film, it occurred to me that Sabina Spielrein was a legitimate feminist hero. In terms of her intellect, in terms of her sexuality, in terms of what she represented, in every way. She should be on a postage stamp! Did you think about it that way?

Only latterly, actually. I didn’t really think of it from the feminist point of view when I was doing it. I should have. I don’t know why I sort of missed that. I was so busy trying to figure out what the fuck was going on in her head that I didn’t really see it from the outside point of view. But you’re absolutely right. I mean, what she achieved was absolutely extraordinary. And then there’s the fact that she was lost. She was working in a world where, you know — Freud gave her a footnote in one of his papers, but Jung absolutely didn’t.

No mention whatsoever.

Nothing at all. And the papers she wrote were absolutely extraordinary. I think she was the first woman to write a dissertation on schizophrenia. She was an extraordinary feminist hero, as you say. Or she should be. I don’t know whether she would have seen herself in those terms either, to be honest.

Probably not. There’s also the factor that she basically disappeared into the Soviet Union later in life.

She was in the Soviet Union, and then she was killed by the Nazis. So a lot of her work was lost. I’m telling you this now, and I’m probably going to get it wrong, but she opened up these really progressive child psychoanalytic centers — the white nurseries, or something like that — but at a certain point Stalin banned all psychoanalysis and it all stopped anyway. She was living in Rostov and kept on doing it in an underground way, but it had been banned. So a lot of her stuff disappeared because of the Communist period, but then, of course, because she was killed.

Did the Nazis kill her because they knew who she was?

I don’t think so. Again, I’m not completely sure about that, but she was rounded up with a lot of Jews who were living in Rostov and then shot. So I don’t know that it had anything to do with being a psychoanalyst. It’s an absolutely extraordinary story. I mean, a completely tragic one, but also one that I found incredibly inspiring. She was so troubled, so ill. They had totally lost hope, and I think she had lost hope. Before she got to the Bürgholzli institute [Jung's clinic], she’d been thrown out of asylums, because they said, “There’s no way, there’s nothing we can do.” So the idea that you’ve got somebody from that stage, who literally believed that she’d been possessed by a devil, and that through analysis you can pull out that intellectual side of her and stimulate it to the extent that she came up with ideas that influenced Freud and Jung, whether they gave her credit for it or not — it’s an extraordinary thing.

And she ends up getting totally scrubbed out of the picture.

Yeah, absolutely. It’s very much a story of its time. I don’t think women were allowed in higher education in Russia at that time, which was why a lot of them ended up in Germany or Switzerland, because they were being quite progressive about women’s education. So she was given the opportunity to do that, but within that society it was still very rare for women to be taken seriously intellectually. So it’s a fascinating period — and you’re right about that: It is once again the men keeping the women down!

From the first second we see her in the film, it’s pretty intense. She’s carried from a carriage having some kind of seizure, being restrained by two men, howling and grunting. Was all that in the script?

I mean, yes and no. In the script, it said: “Has hysterical fit and is ravaged by tics.” And you kind of go, OK, but what does that mean? So I read an awful lot trying to find descriptions of tics or why they happened. Even in Jung’s case notes for her, he didn’t describe what it was. He said her face was ravaged by them, but didn’t describe what they were. So I spoke to a couple of analysts, trying to figure out what it would be, and they basically said it could have been anything, tics come in all kinds of ways. So I watched a documentary on Tourette’s, to try to get some ideas from that. I asked David, “OK, do you want it in the body so you can shoot around it if it gets too much?” And he said, “No, I definitely want it in the face.”

So then I found an excerpt from her diaries in which she describes herself as a dog or a demon, and I thought, that’s such a fucking horrendous description, you know, to see yourself like that. That’s not in the script, and I thought that was incredibly important, to show that physically in some way. She was going through a shocking internal struggle, so I wanted it to be shocking on the outside too.

That’s what you’re doing with your jaw! That’s exactly it — she’s acting like a dog.

Well, I spoke to a psychoanalyst about what tics were, what they meant. Because she was masturbating a lot, and I wanted to know what the reason for that was, or the kind of compulsive sexuality, what the reason for that was. And this analyst said, “Well, it’s about trying to release energy, trying to get it out in some way.” So I thought that was interesting physically. I sat in front of my mirror for a couple of hours pulling faces at myself. Then I got on Skype with David and said, “OK, I’ve got a couple of options, which one do you like?” Right away he went, “That jaw thing, that’s great!”

I honestly wondered whether you had dislocated your jaw. It looks painful.

It looks like that, doesn’t it? It’s just trying to get at that demonic, animalistic thing. And to look as shocking as possible.

It works! Was that a state you could just get into on the set, or did you have to remain in character like that?

I’d sort of been working on it, on the text or the background reading, for about four months beforehand. We didn’t rehearse any of it, just me doing my own stuff. So I’d planned it. You’re playing mad, whatever that means, and the outside world may see it as illogical and totally crazy, but there was complete logic — as much as it’s a terrifying illness on the inside — to the way she behaved. So it was about trying to find that logic, going through the script and finding the trigger words, finding the exact moment when the tics would be triggered. That was quite interesting. So, um, yeah. [Laughter.] What was the question? Have I answered it?

Not yet. What did you do on set to get in character?

Because it was so prepared — there is an amazing thing about David’s sets. They’re so focused. It’s very quiet, it’s very collaborative, it’s incredibly supportive, but it is absolutely focused on the work. We only did one or two takes for absolutely everything, and he’s pretty much edited it in his head, so he didn’t even run the scenes all the way through. He’d go, “I know I’m only going to use the close-up for that bit, so we’re only going to run that bit.” It is an incredibly focused environment, though, so, no, I wasn’t in character the whole time, twitching! But I used music an awful lot, I was constantly listening to music and reading the stuff I’d found that was helpful. Stravinsky was used a lot, and Wagner.

I love the conversations about Wagner in the film! And that’s probably the only time I’m going to say that about a movie this year.

There’s actually very little about that in the film, but she was absolutely obsessed by [the redemptive warrior hero] Siegfried and the Ring Cycle, and it is fascinating reading. She had lots of dreams about it. She saw Jung as Siegfried, or thought Siegfried was going to be the son she would give him. She was really obsessed with it. I did listen to the whole Ring Cycle, that was really interesting, and I went to see some of it in Cologne.

To me, the Wagner stuff is like an aspect of her brilliance and an aspect of her madness, at the same time.

Absolutely, and that’s what I found so interesting about her. It’s so interlinked, the madness and the brilliance, as I think they so often are. Trying to figure out exactly when it turns into something more obsessive, something crazy — I don’t like the word but I don’t have another one — that was really interesting.

So let’s talk about the sex scenes in this movie, if we may. That’s certainly going to get a lot of attention, because you and Michael Fassbender are playing one of the first famous S/M relationships. It’s restrained and not all that salacious, but there’s no denying some people may find it arousing …

Yeah. I don’t know if they will, though. I mean, it’s certainly not shot like that, and that was one of the reasons why I thought I was all right doing that. I didn’t want it to be sexy, in that kind of voyeuristic way. David was very clear about that, it has to be a reflection of that brutality, that side of her. It has to be part of the character, and he wanted it to be clinical. Particularly in the age of the Internet and everything, you have to ask a lot of questions about whether it’s relevant, what the downsides and upsides are of doing something like that. I nearly turned it down because of that, and it wasn’t until I’d spoken to David to ask, “OK, what is this, and how are we doing it?” that I actually went, all right, I can do that as long as it’s not a sexy spanking scene.

At the same time, she was a sexual revolutionary, wasn’t she? To be able to “come out” about such a forbidden desire. It wasn’t something people talked about at all, except in a pornographic context. Certainly not in the context of being a legitimate sexual expression.

No. And part of the reason for hysteria among women — it was declining at that point, I guess — but it was only amongst women, and the thing with her was that nobody had explained the facts of life to her. She was an adult, but nobody quite knows when she was actually told about sex. It could have been after a lot of the analysis with Jung had already happened. She came from a family where any physical feeling among the girls was seen as being a sin, and being the devil taking you over. It’s an insane thing to think about! So yes, absolutely, it was completely revolutionary in that way.

She was very clearly a masochist, but speaking to psychoanalysts, they tell you that sadomasochism is always a circle, so the masochist is always looking for a sadist and will force people into that role, and even become the sadist themselves in order to form that circle. So I thought that was really interesting, the manipulation is strangely powerful. At the same time as she plays the victim, she’s creating these situations and manipulating them. There are these complex things, these opposites at work, which made an interesting dynamic.

Right. Well, there’s a psychological truism in the world of S/M that holds that the person who’s being spanked or tied up or whatever is actually the person in control of the situation. It strikes me that that’s how you guys played it.

Yeah, that’s the decision we took with it, and to me that’s more interesting than the other way around.

It’s never clear whether or not Jung is actually into it, or if she’s kind of dragging him along.

Yeah, it is ambiguous and we thought that was quite important. It was her thing, and not necessarily his. In all the research that I did, I’ve never seen that he was especially into that, although he was a very strong and controlling person, so it could have taken that path.

It seems to me, at least from the film, that he was in love with her but felt ashamed about many aspects of the relationship: the adultery, the S/M stuff, and not least of all the way he betrayed her.

I think there was definitely shame over the way he handled the whole situation and the fact that he denied it. He never mentions her, and beyond that 1913 point, she isn’t anywhere. Let alone any of her work being recognized, he doesn’t mention her at all, which is quite strange in itself, given that she was such a huge part of that period of his life.

Someone asked me an interesting question after we watched the film. On the first day, when she’s howling and seemingly inarticulate, Jung sits down behind her in a chair and starts to ask her questions, and she responds right away. Did that really happen? And how could it have worked so quickly?

I don’t think anybody had ever asked the questions before. That’s literally what happened, it’s all written down. Jung chose her very specifically. They knew she was frighteningly bright and was already interested in medicine and science. He picked her out. But I think you’re right, nobody had ever spoken to her about these things, it was completely revolutionary. So the idea of being asked about these things and not simply being told that you were a lunatic, you were sick, was probably something that would make you go [exhalation of breath]. You speak to people who have been analyzed, and in the same way that interviews can very easily become that kind of confessional thing, it’s a very weird experience when somebody actually asks you your opinion. Very strange things can happen.

It’s like he saw her as a potential intellectual partner — and maybe also as a potential lover — right away.

You know, Freud said that analysis wouldn’t work with stupid people, with people who hadn’t had an education. I don’t think that’s still what people think. But it’s what he said.

“A Dangerous Method” premieres this week at the New York Film Festival and opens Nov. 23 in major cities.

Then my sister-in-law asked the dreaded question. “Are you guys gonna have kids?”

I’m amazed at how many mothers and fathers ask this of childless couples. Of course you’re going to have a baby, they’re really saying. It’s not a question of having one, but will you stop at one? What do you hope for? All boys? All girls? One of each? What if you have triplets? What a blessing that would be.

“We’re not having kids,” I said, with as much finality as I could muster.

“You think you won’t,” my brother said with that sly knowing parents always exude. “You’ll change your mind after you have one. I thought I knew love before I had Charlie.” He shook his head and smiled, as though with wistful amusement at the ignorance of his younger self. “Being a dad’s the best feeling in the world.”

Beside me on the love seat, my wife kept her social smile firmly in place, but I could feel her secret death glare.

I know it burned my wife to hear my brother imply that the love she shared with me was somehow inadequate, that it required the supplementation of another life. My wife once acted as a human shield for pregnant women braving the righteous mobs outside abortion clinics. She believes that if she had a choice, she would have chosen never to be born. She would never dare force the bittersweetness of existence on another.

Before my wife had a chance to voice any of this, I jumped in with the pat answer I always give when asked the dreaded question:

“We believe there’s three kinds of people in the world: Those who live for their art, those who live for their children and the lucky few who can do both. We’re creative. We just love going on adventures, love our little projects. They’re our children. And if they ever disappoint us, at least we’re not stuck with them for the rest of our lives.” I patted my wife’s thigh. “Plus, it’s nice being able to have sex whenever you want.”

My brother and sister-in-law gave us looks mingled with patience and pity. We’d learn. One day, the heavens would part and a perfect, precious cherub would descend on a sunbeam. Then the scales would flake from our eyes and hearts, and we would finally taste true love.

In all fairness, I do not know what it is like to cradle a little bundle of possibilities in my arms, to know that part of my soul resides behind those wide, curious eyes staring up at me, to feel that wondrous weight of responsibility of being trusted with protecting and nurturing this tender creature. But my brother will never know what it feels like to have a mind that isn’t an ocean whose depths are clear to the very bottom, but a bog in which I wander, lost and lonely. Even during my brother’s troubled teens, our father never looked at him like he was a mistake he desperately longed to take back. Though it breaks my heart, I choose to be childless because it is the lesser of two regrets.

A story: When I was 16, I came home from school one day to find my mother poking around in her garden by the backyard porch. The moment our eyes met, I knew something had happened to burst the membrane of normalcy that surrounded our lives.

“What?” I said.

“Your grandmother.” She clarified. “Your other grandmother.”

“She’s –”

“– dead, yeah.”

I had two grandmothers, but I only knew one of them. I’d grown up with my mother’s mother, and I adored her. She was a leathery old lady whose Halloween displays were the best in Upstate New York. My other grandmother, though, was a dark hole in my memory.

“How’d it happen?” I said.

“She had a breakdown in a car when she was in her 30s. She was in a mental institute. She died there.”

I’d never even considered the possibility that my paternal grandmother was still alive, let alone where she was and why we never visited her. Hearing she’d spent more than half her life in an institution — it was another brutal reminder of how horrible my father’s childhood had been, and why he never talked about it.

Now the world wobbled and whirled. A grandmother I’d never known, dead. It was too much to process.

“Your father –” my mother began.

“Yeah.” I headed to my room to think.

” — he’s pretty broken up — “

“Yeah.” I shut the door in her face. Enough. I didn’t want to hear any more.

Inside, the house was filled with that purgatorial darkness that only seems to exist in dreams where you can’t turn on the lights. My father was sprawled on the couch in the living room. Asleep, awake, dead to the world? I couldn’t tell. Watching him, I felt some small measure of relief for him. The last, lingering goblin from my father’s nightmare past had gasped and gone. Maybe now he could have a little peace.

My father opened his eyes. I have tried hard to forget the look he gave me then. At first I thought it was regression, the little boy whose father left before he was born, whose mother was taken away from him, who grew up with his fairy tale-cruel grandmother and grandfather.

But I saw that look again, on the night I had my own nervous breakdown, in the rearview mirror as my father pulled into the E.R. cul-de-sac, as he muttered to himself, “It’s my childhood all over again.”

Though he spoke of the past, I suspected his mind was on the future, my future, and the long shadow this night would cast over it. He had brought a child into the world who was born with his mother’s broken mind. In that look I saw guilt, and regret. I believe my own father regretted that I was ever born, that I would suffer as his mother had suffered. Did I blame him? I sometimes wonder why he put me in my mother’s belly, knowing I would come out wrong, damaged, my brain a shattered citadel. But no, I cannot and will not blame him. I choose to believe his hopes outweighed his fears when he found out I was growing in my mother’s belly, a cracked little seed. I choose hope.

Not for myself. But that a time may come when a parent can hold his child in his arms, look in his eyes and know that the mind behind it is perfect, every single synapse. That a father will never look at his son like he’s an error that can never be corrected.

Understand, I am grateful that I exist. I would never choose nonexistence, like my wife. I love this world, where every horror is matched by something doubly wondrous. I love my wife. Ours is a pleasurable symbiosis. I even love my malfunctioning mind.

I do not love my cowardice, which I’m afraid has won out in this situation. But I cannot bear the thought of driving my own child to the hospital, when he has his own nervous breakdown, and having him catch me staring at him in the rearview mirror, wondering, Are you a wrong I can never right?

I whisper an apology to oblivion, where my never-to-be-born child dwells. I am sorry I’m not strong enough to let my hopes overcome my fears. If you wish to know what I would have named you, come closer. Let me breathe it in an ear that will never be formed, so that it can be known by a mind that will never know memory.