Cathexis is a psychoanalytic term meaning the investment of mental or emotional energy in a person, object, idea, or activity. It originates, like so many words, from the Greek kathexis (which means “holding” or “occupation”). To “cathect” something is to invest psychic energy in it, to become emotionally attached to or fixated on it. The term is largely confined to psychoanalytic and academic psychology contexts today and you won’t hear it much in everyday speech, though it sometimes shows up in literary or theoretical writing to describe intense emotional investment or fixation. I was once accused of cathecting by someone who had spent years in analysis, and I have always kept the word in my vocabulary, though whenever I have used it, it seems to slide past people who think they know it, but are probably thinking of catharsis, which is an entirely different concept, despite the similar sound. Catharsis is also from the Greek katharsis (“purification, cleansing”), and is rooted in kathairein (“to cleanse”). It’s about the release or purging of emotional tension, most famously Aristotle’s idea of tragedy producing catharsis in an audience. So cathexis is about directing psychic energy toward something, while catharsis is about discharging it. Freud actually used both concepts, which may be part of why they get confused. He describes cathexis as getting energy “stuck” on an object, while catharsis describes the releasing of that stuck energy, often through talking it out. But etymologically and conceptually they come from different roots and mean roughly opposite things in terms of energy flow… accumulation versus release. In my terms, writing these blog stories could be characterized as a catharsis for me and hopefully for some of my readers. But cathexis is the winding up of all that stuff in me that ultimately needs to be released or I’ll explode.
I am sitting in the airport at SFO, heading back to San Diego after my weekend visit here. I had cleared my schedule to accommodate these travel arrangements and only have a planned first appointment with a cardiologist, who happens to be in downtown San Diego. So, my plan was to arrive at SAN on my Alaska Air flight at 12:19pm and leave myself more than enough time to get to this new medical venue by 2:25pm (it is 15 minutes from the airport parking lot to that office according to Apple Maps). SFO is going through some reconstruction and summer weather can always be iffy, so I felt comfortable with the timing. Now, as I sit here in the ATMOS Alaska Air Lounge, my flight has been delayed twice (supposedly due to air traffic backup rather than mechanical issues or Alaska Air issues) and it is now scheduled for arrival at 1:19pm (which sounds suspiciously like someone merging two unfilled hourly flights, right?). That means if it takes 10 minutes to deplane (carry-on only), I can still get to the doctor’s office with over a half hour to spare. People always mock me for being an early-arriver, but this is why I do those things. I hate being late and I would always rather sit and wait and use my time on my phone or iPad to occupy myself. I figure it is my way of preemptively de-stressing my life.
That said, I have always been a leg-waggler, what is sometimes called “restless leg” fidgeting or “jiggling”. That is clearly a nervous habit. Nervous habits, often called “self-soothing” behaviors, take a lot of forms. Common ones include, nail-biting or picking at cuticles (guilty), pen-clicking or twirling (watched traders do this years and could never manage it….now my left hand would certainly not be up to it), cracking knuckles (yikes, no), twirling or pulling hair (nope), tapping fingers on a surface (nope), pacing (no), lip-biting or picking (no), teeth grinding (too violent), especially at night (never understood this one), chewing on pens, gum, or the inside of the cheek (not really), touching or rubbing the face (nope), throat-clearing (sometimes), filler words (“um,” “like”) under pressure (who doesn’t…um…like…do that a bit at least), fidgeting with objects (rings, keys, phone – not really), repetitive tapping or rocking. (kinda weird), or picking at skin (yuck, unless you mean toes…). Most of these are self-soothing mechanisms, small physical outlets that help regulate nervous system arousal, whether from stress, excitement, boredom, or just excess energy. They’re generally harmless. They become worth paying attention to mainly when they cause physical damage (like skin-picking or nail-biting to the point of injury), interfere with daily life, or intensify sharply and consistently, which can sometimes be tied to anxiety that’s worth addressing. I would also add if you have a wife that HATES the sound of nail biting while watching TV.
These behaviors usually falls into a few overlapping categories. Excess nervous energy or restlessness is the most common, with these being harmless habits, especially in people who are naturally high-energy or find sitting still uncomfortable. Sometimes its a sign of stress or anxiety and it can be a subconscious release valve when you’re mentally keyed up. Boredom or understimulation can also be the cause with the brain seeking sensory input during a low-engagement task. They say that improved circulation/focus could be the reason some of us do these things. Some studies suggest fidgeting increases blood flow and can actually aid concentration, which is why it’s sometimes encouraged rather than suppressed. And, of course, some think its a habit reinforced by caffeine or other stimulants and while its worth noting if it tends to happen more after coffee or a diet soda, I’m thinking that’s a stretch. It’s only worth flagging the habits medically if it’s happening involuntarily, disrupting sleep, or paired with an uncomfortable urge to move the legs specifically at rest/evening since that combination can point to restless legs syndrome, which is a distinct diagnosable condition. Occasional leg jiggling while sitting and thinking, working, or waiting, though, is just a normal habit for a lot of people and generally not something they say you need to worry about on its own.
Now that I have an Oura ring capturing all this biometric data on me, I ponder the Stress tab on that app. Oura tracks stress through physiological signals rather than asking how you feel. Throughout the day it measures heart rate, HRV, motion, and body temperature. The Oura Daytime Stress function analyzes changes in these biometrics to detect physiological stress. It only reads during waking hours when you’re relatively still and it doesn’t measure stress during movement or workouts. It updates roughly every 15 minutes when I’m awake and inactive. But it can’t tell psychological stress from physical stress, since your body physiologically reacts the same way to both. Work anxiety, a hard workout, caffeine, and illness all produce similar HRV/heart-rate signatures. It doesn’t give an absolute fixed threshold, but rather calibrates your metrics by comparing them against your personal baseline, which recalibrates daily based on new data. So, scores are relative to me, but not some absolute standard. It also figures this into a Resilience score that uses a 14-day baseline and scores across five levels: Limited, Adequate, Solid, Strong, and Exceptional. Who doesn’t want to be exceptionally resilient? Sounds like a good thing.
It sounds like I need to find a way to correlate my leg waggling to my stress and resilience. Do we think that’s gonna help with my cathexis?