Amateur Psychological Analysis


The movie I have chosen for analysis is Barefoot. This movie was released in 2014 and is a light hearted romantic comedy. It is the story of a girl who is misdiagnosed as schizophrenic and accused for the murder of her mother. The plot revolves around her and a man who accidentally runs into her and tries to help her prove her innocence and have her fit into a new life where she is not dependent on her mother anymore.

The characters that I have chosen for psychological analysis from this movie are the two protagonists, Jay Wheeler and Daisy Kensington. The third character will be the lead actor’s father, Mr. Wheeler. Here I will discuss how the theories of different psychological theorists apply to these three characters.

Jay Wheeler


The movie starts with showing the life of Jay. He is a spoiled brat even though he doesn’t live with his parents anymore. He wakes up and plays golf, gambles his money on horse racing and then goes drinking in a bar where he has a fight. He is shown that because of his disorderly conduct he is on probation and is supposed to perform community service in a mental hospital as a janitor. This is where he meets Daisy.

Even though he is shown to live a lavish lifestyle, he is actually broke and owes the local mafia a lot of money. The movie shows him as a smart ass, who has a witty answer for everything but whenever he is with Daisy he deals with her accordingly. His character is actually a very good portrayal of Alfred Adler’s attempts towards superiority complex.

Jay is not liked by his parents because he doesn’t have a good job. His father considers him useless and this is exactly why he doesn’t live with his family and doesn’t wanna go to his brother’s wedding. He is scared inside that everyone there will judge him that he couldn’t be rich like father and brother.

He hides his inferiority complex by passing snide remarks at people who think they are better than him. He hides himself in a shell of lavish activities even though he can barely afford to do those activities. He considers himself to be part of the wealthy family he comes from even though they don’t consider him that.

He shows compassion towards the mental patients in the hospital he works in. His way of showing love is different than what society. He would rather be the delinquent who brings mental patients alcohol and porn magazine so they can have a break from their hard lives, instead of helping them get up and change in the morning. In his mind, what he does is right because the people he’s doing it for like him for what he does. He wants to be their secret friend who helps them feel normal. He strives for superiority by doing things for people who are inferior to him in a way.

He strives for superiority and over compensates in front of his father by lying about things he hasn’t achieved in his life just so his father would accept him. Another thing about him is his unconditional acceptance for people who like him. Half his friends are strippers and mental patients but he loves them without any restrictions because they like him. He holds them to high regards. His need for social approval is shown here. His brother and father on the other hand find mistakes in him so he despises them. He is shown to have extremities in his relationships. He sees people in black and white, kinda like what a person with borderline personality disorder would do. The people in his life are either perfect or full of flaws. Even when Daisy tells him she killed her mother, he still accept and loves her but when his father asks a question about Daisy when she’s getting a panic attack, he lashes out on him and leaves the premises.

Daisy Kensington


In the start of the movie Daisy is assumed to be schizophrenic because she told people she hears voices and killed her mother. This assumption is made because Daisy does not know how to communicate herself properly which is because she spent her entire life in her house and was always socially deprived. Her mother never let her leave the house and she was home schooled. She lacks the proper social skills of fitting in the society but she manages that well.

Her character is very childish and lives in her own world where nothing can go wrong and people don’t lie. She uses Freud’s defense mechanism severly. She is always in denial every time someone tries to do something bad to her. She refuses to believe it and assumes their actions to be something else instead of what they actually were.

For instance, when Jay takes Daisy to a strip club, a guy asks her to give him a hand job and she feels happy instead being offended and comprehends that man’s sentence as ‘I’ve never had a job before. That man was so nice.’ Here her social deprivation and denial are at work to make her better about herself. She always looks for compliments from Jay who is actually just using her to get money from his parents but she plays along with him.

She also uses repression as another defense mechanism whenever the death of her mother is brought up. She believes there is a dark side to her who actually killed her own mother even though that isn’t what happened. She does not have a sense of identity. According Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, she only has basic needs fulfilled and she doesn’t really know how to move forward to the second step and have relationships and deal with people. Most social situations give her a panic attack and Jay has to save her. She likes being the damsel in distress.

She longs for attachment and every time Jay does something nice for her, she feels special. This turns around though when she finds out that he lied to her. She turns to reckless behavior by driving a van into a light pole while having Jay run around after her, apologizing that he wasn’t lying. Near the end of the movie when Jay tries to find out how she killed her mother it is revealed that her guilt had enveloped her so much that she assumed herself to be the killer even though the only thing she did was not go to her mother when she was screaming in pain and calling for her.

Her mother died of natural reasons but since she wasn’t there for her mother she believed she killed her mother. Her mother was schizophrenic, and she was the one who used to hear voices, not Daisy. She was only socially deprived. Jay tries to tell this to her psychiatrist and help remove the criminal charges from her.

Mr. Wheeler

003 Treat Williams as Mr. Wheeler M00078

Even though he has a very small role in the movie and is mostly heard only on the phone while talking to Jay, those scenes are enough to show the kind of personality Mr. Wheeler has. He is a narcissist who believes his son would become nothing good in his life because he chose a path different than his father. For him, social acclaim is everything. He does this by buying the most expensive condo van in the entire country which only has two models available. The president owns the first one and Mr. Wheeler own the second one. This is a huge achievement for him.

When Jay talks to him about coming to his brother’s wedding, Mr. Wheeler mocks him for having a girlfriend by asking ‘does she take her clothes off for a living?’ which clearly shows that he believes Jay would never live up to his expectations. At his son’s wedding when he finally meets Daisy he starts probing into her with difficult questions, trying to find a flaw in her or Jay’s relationship just so he can prove Jay wrong and humiliate him.

According to David McClelland’s theory Mr. Wheeler has a need for power and it is personal power. Need for personal power disregards other people’s needs and focuses on self. This need is what makes Mr. Wheeler a selfish and egoistic person who keeps looking for other people’s flaws to make himself look better or feel better.

In other words, he pushes other people down to get ahead. His personality is probably the reason Jay has an inferiority complex.

Sometimes parents don’t understand the effect their behavior and words can have on their children. It can be said that Jay gets his compassion from his father but his inferiority complex because of his father. Throughout the movie his father refuses to accept Jay for who he is and how he wants to be better in his own. Even near the end when his father bails him out of the jail, Jay chooses to go with Daisy instead of staying with him because as soon as he is released his father starts taunting him and Jay has to block him out to pay attention to the person who actually adores him instead of the person who keeps finding flaws in him.


Change and Me

Did you guys notice how WordPress changed itself? It bothered me at first and took me some time to adjust to that change, Moving the Tags and Categories section to the left hand, why?

While we’re talking about change, I changed my psychiatrist.

I went to a more expensive one who changed my medicines. Those medicines make me slow, hence, no update about my treatment. I stopped going to the last psychiatrist a few weeks ago.

Writing this down is difficult for me because of the medicines I’m taking. I’m slow and I’m making a lot of mistakes which would never happen before. I was actually becoming proud of how well I could type.

The medicines I’m taking now;

Prozac: Two capsules in a day. One in the morning and one before sleeping

Clonazepam: 2 mg before sleep

Remeron: 15 mg before sleep

They put me to sleep really quick. I am not even sure what I’m typing right now is either grammatically correct or not because my brain is really slow. I can’t comprehend things easily, I zone out, I take time in making decision (more than before), I’m making a lot of mistakes and I can’t multitask which is the hardest because my life is all about that.

Just in the above three lines I made around ten mistakes which are, repeating letters, missing letters, jumbling letters and spelling mistakes (eg: because).

My new psychiatrist wasn’t any good. He was totally against my therapy. I like therapy, I think. But he was against it. He was like he’ll do my therapy “life is beautiful. It is a gift from god. We should celebrate it’ and all that crap.

Honestly, nothing pisses me off more than bringing your religion in curing my disease. I know life is beautiful, I can’t experience it. That’s why I’m here to see you, jack ass!

I’ve never seen any therapists against medicines (there must be, ones who talk about mindfulness and meditation and shit) but I have seen psychiatrists against therapists. I don’t know what war they have going on.

But one thing he said that matches what my therapist said; I should be skeptical about my diagnosis. I should be skeptical whether I have BPD or not.

I don’t really care about that. What I care about is I’m hurting myself again. Which needs to stop. I’m getting suicidal again and without a reason. We all know that, right? There’s never a reason, just these tendencies.

Taking these medicines also gives me major headaches every day I wake up. I don’t know where to end this post so I’m just gonna leave saying that I’m thirsty and I need to get some water.

You’re not alone.

Describing Things

It stood tall, tall enough reach over the two storey building in front of our class. It was mighty yet miserable.

It tried reaching out to others of its kind with its wilderness from every direction. There were at least five others lacking the lonely aura that surrounded it all over and gave it a shadowy appearance. It tried hard to relate to the others but the denial in their appearance, as it was totally bare opposed to them, didn’t let it.

They were different, visibly enough their branches covered in green. But with no leaves on its branches, the huge tree stood tall; mighty yet miserable.

I own no copyrights to this picture.

I own no copyrights to this picture.

Elixir of Life

There’s the life saving,
The hope making,

There’s the lifting of spirit,
Loosening of all knots grit,

That hold a person back,
Make them lose hope, and snap

From all that’s happening,
In the world all around them

Oh, there’s so much to tell,
So little words to dwell

On. When there’s a heartbreak,
Or a soul that aches,

When there’s pain everywhere,
And no one who could hear

to what you have to say
a shoulder for your head, to lay

the beat kills the scratches
Lurking on your skin patches

The melody drifts the demons free
Aerate when you think and breathe

That’s what music is
It’s a gift, a dream.

It’s a prayer, a scream,
Held under, inside and beneath,

Armors of ignorance and denial,
Hidden deep behind a false smile,

It’s the shake and fist pump
That releases the anger and burns

It’s the groans and grunt,
With the beats of the drum.

That follows loud shouting and singing,
Along melody, life saving poison’s sinking.


So, I’m back on Prozac again.

My depression hit the highest note when I was off it. Right now I’m taking four medicines.

Prozac (Fluoxetine): One capsule of 20 mg every morning,

Lamotrigine: Two and a half tablets of 25 mg every night,

Aripiprazole: Half tablet of 5 mg every night,

Clonazepam: Half tablet of 2 mg every night.

….. Writing that down makes me sad. I’m on so many medicines and I’m still not stable.

I went into therapy, finally. My first session was around 3 weeks back and there was a break, between it and my second session, of two weeks. In those two weeks, I cried every day. Every single day, I couldn’t stop myself from crying. I opened up to my therapist and told her everything about myself.

In my first session, in which nothing happened but chapters of my past were opened and lain in front of me. In my second session, I was told my case has been transferred to some other therapist because the first one would be out-of-town and the second one would be dealing with me from now on.

The second one, I liked. I liked the first one too but she went out-of-town while I was hanging in the middle crying for my life every passing day. That was irresponsible of her. The second one made me tell her everything again. Asked me questions and I answered them as well as I could.

She also asked me why I wanna go to India and not come back. I wanna go there, visit my mum’s grave and I hope to die there. I haven’t planned my life after it or for it or before it.

I just wanna be there and then cease to exist.

She asked me; “Is it because your mother went to see her mother and never came back?”

and boom!!!

I had never! Ever! Thought of it that way!! Do you realize what our subconscious is capable of?

My mother went to see my grandmother and she passed away there and never came back. I had no idea that was what I wanted for myself. I mean, she left me speechless with her question.

She also insisted on my being alone in therapy instead of being with someone. She said it doesn’t have to be now, it doesn’t have to be in the next session. It can be when you’re comfortable, whether tomorrow or next year but I would like you to be alone in your sessions.

Therapy is fucking expensive but if she gives me a realization to handle after every session, I’m up for it. Also, I have to report to my psychiatrist on Monday.

Apart from that, last night I had a panic attack. I don’t know what initiated it. Most of the times my panic attacks are triggered but I don’t know what triggered it last night. And in that I kept wanting to hurt myself.

And I did.

I broke my streak of quitting from that. It was only light scratches, nothing much but I still did it. I had been clean for over a year and I broke down. That made sad too.

My therapist also said that I should be skeptical about my diagnosis of having BPD. She said, you only stayed in the hospital for the weekend, you can’t be diagnosed in that period. You needed to be observed more. you might have the symptoms of it but not necessarily a Borderline Personality Disorder.

So, yeah.


In the fast lane of rushing thoughts,

In attempts of not being mediocre,

You go and take the wrong way

You enjoy the adrenaline and the thrill

Running down your spine and through your veins

Through your cheeks and through your brain

The feeling is confidence and self-esteem

It’s everything you look up to

It’s everything you deemed

Impossible in your nights of dread

The time passes with flashing lights

Until you come to a halt, to that one step

That you tried to avoid and overcome,

That you tried to push under your carpet

Of denial and anger, and you cry

You cry so hard you pass the night

Then you pass another night

thinking of why you cried

And you cry again, harder this time

You keep at it until you’re out of breath

And into the abyss of numbness you fall

you feel yourself falling and you’re helpless

You drag your nails through the walls

But there’s nothing you can grab onto

And you despite your knowing it’s not a well

You fall

The clock ticks the other way,

As a reminder of how you were

Avoiding to be the mediocre lay

You were calling and pushing

Thinking and throwing

Covering and showing

Your bruises and mourning

Over the reflection on your past

And sticking to the hand of the clock

That won’t stop

And take you

Wherever it wants

You can be good and not

In the end you get

What you secretly want,

Wanted all that time.

It’s about Breasts

So, today I wore a tight shirt. It was tight enough to show me how fat my belly actually is and to show others how I have breasts (!!!!).

I go to school daily to teach (did I mention I’m an O-Level’s teacher?) (I had to brag, anyway,) and from where I live, the distance is about an hour-long. That’s around 15 songs on the way (rock genre).

I have to wait at the bus stop and then make a stop at a qingqi stop then go in one to my school. For those who don’t know what a qingqi is here in Pakistan, it’s a six seater auto rickshaw + motorbike morphed into one.

It can seat three people in the front, behind the rider and three behind the three already sitting. If you can get it

It can seat three people in the front, behind the rider and three behind the three already sitting.
If you can get it

When I was waiting at the bus stop, a bike rider and a car stopped to pick me up and I had to walk away. Apart from that, there were stares, constant stares, and not at my face but at my breasts, covered with my shirt but their shape revealed because of its tightness which was surprisingly round!!

Like Miley Cyrus here, she maybe prettier, but I can use her as an example (and no one can stop me)

I did not take this picture and hold no copyrights to it.

I did not take this picture and hold no copyrights to it.

And my shirt was long, it was till my knees. Now, the point of this post is that men stared at me and what I was disgusted to find was that not boys my age were staring at me but men, middle and old age fucking gross men were staring at my boobs. Their eyes constantly at my breasts made me feel like maybe I should cover up.

Maybe I should use a dupatta

I did not take this picture and hold no copyrights to it.

I did not take this picture and hold no copyrights to it.

Or maybe a scarf

I did not take this picture and hold no copyrights to it.

I did not take this picture and hold no copyrights to it.

Maybe a muffler,

I did not take this picture and hold no copyrights to it.

I did not take this picture and hold no copyrights to it.

or anything just to cover up my breasts a bit so I would stop feeling so embarrassed.

Than I asked myself, what am I embarrassed about? My breasts being stared at or the shameless people who were enforcing guilt onto me by their hungry stares?

It wasn’t my fault I was wearing a shirt long enough till my knees. It wasn’t my fault that hungry animals, cannibals in human skin were leering at me. It wasn’t my fault that they were staring at covered breasts but wreak havoc when they see a naked one in public being used for its purpose (breast-feeding). It wasn’t any of the women’s fault wearing burqas, head scarves, dupattas, shawls or whatever to try and stop the stares and the women who weren’t doing it weren’t at fault either.

Because the stares never stop. Whenever I’m wearing the requirements to avoid stares, I still get stared at, either it’s my face or hair or my feet. I swear people will stare at your feet or eyes if that’s the only thing revealed. If anything isn’t revealed they’d still stare at you because they know that inside this cover is a thing.

Yes, a thing they can eat, feed their eyes off.

So, next time you’re wearing something tight or revealing and are getting stared at, know that it’s their shit-faces’ fault who can’t control their eyes, not yours. You’re not doing anything wrong by wearing the clothes you like.


You’re so amazingly beautiful in everything you wear. You don’t look fat at all.