In the early 20th century, a seismic rift fractured the foundations of modern psychology when Alfred Adler, once a respected member of Freud’s inner circle, dared to challenge the psychoanalytic orthodoxy.
Unlike Freud, who viewed human behavior through the narrow lens of repressed sexuality and unconscious drives, Adler believed that the core of human motivation lay in our struggle with inferiority and the desire for mastery. This philosophical divergence wasn’t just academic; it struck at the heart of Freud’s authority.
Unable to tolerate dissent within his ranks, Freud dismissed Adler’s ideas and ultimately shunned him from the Vienna Psychoanalytic Society. What followed was the birth of Adler’s own school of thought, Individual Psychology, a more holistic and socially conscious approach to understanding the psyche, and a lasting reminder that even in science, ego can divide progress.
I found myself immersed in Adlerian psychology, and along the way, I was inspired to write a poem as if Adler were speaking directly to Freud. It’s my interpretation of what he might have said; enjoy the reflection.
Dear Freud,
I had the courage to be disliked.
I write you from the crooked
backbone of my memory,
where I still stand;
that place you left me,
unfinished and exiled
among your tidy rows of
dreams and phalluses.
You named your kingdom psyche,
and demanded
I kneel to your drives and shadows,
but I could not bow to
a god who split a man
into mother and identity
and father and guilt,
leaving him helpless
beneath your gaze.
You knew my mind was
not your mirror.
I saw power where you saw lust,
a will to rise where you
saw only the slip
into forbidden rooms.
I spoke of the child
who could lift himself
by the roots of courage,
who could stand
small and staggering,
and believe the world
might soften if he felt seen.
You did not want my seeing.
You turned your back with all your
disciples lined behind,
the circle you built so
tight no light could get in.
You said you knew the truth;
what hides in a boy’s bed,
what drips in a father’s silence,
what a mother’s breast betrays.
But what of the courage
to climb out of it?
You dismissed my questions,
called them betrayal.
It is strange to remember your face now,
how the smoke curled around your words
like a priest’s incense
at the altar of repression.
I wanted to believe we
could stand side by side,
to hold the same candle
to the soul’s dark corridor,
but your tunnels led only
back to you.
So I set out alone.
I found the soul’s courage
buried under shame;
the seedling no one sees
pushing up through rubble.
Where you saw endless
circles of desire,
I saw a ladder, a chance, a choice.
It was never about denying
what haunts us,
but teaching a man to
stand unafraid in the face of it.
You never answered my last letter;
maybe you never read it.
Maybe your disciples fed it to the flames
with all the other dangerous questions.
Still, I stand, Freud;
out here beyond your circle.
My footsteps echo with children’s laughter,
men forgiving fathers
you claimed they must hate,
women dreaming beyond your couch.
In the end, your silence was a gift;
an empty room where I
learned to listen
to what you could never hear.
Alfred Adler
The Courage to Be Disliked by Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga is rooted in the psychological philosophy of Alfred Adler. Told through a Socratic-style dialogue between a philosopher and a skeptical youth, the book explores key Adlerian concepts such as the inferiority complex, the separation of tasks, and the idea that we are not determined by our past but by the meaning we give to our experiences. It modernizes Adler’s teachings into a practical, conversational format that encourages readers to take ownership of their lives, embrace self-acceptance, and prioritize living authentically over seeking approval.
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