I think my girlfriend is basically committed to me (after 4 years of our having a steady relationship, despite living in different cities). After much backing-and-filling and hemming-and-hawing, she introduced me to her 3 kids and her ex. The problem, I think, is that her ex-husband is an evil drama-monster who bludgeoned her with tantrums, legal threats, and ultimatums until she would do anything to appease him. It makes her a total wuss with the kids and interferes with her availability for our relationship. That makes me push her sometimes, which makes her jump like she’s been scalded and trapped between two powerful, demanding masters. I don’t think she’s into dominant men any more (at least, I don’t see myself as one), but my goal is to help her resist her evil ex without making her feel she’s doing it to appease me.

No matter how nice your girlfriend is, if she’s over-reactive to an evil ex, you can find yourself getting irritated, worried, and sometimes outraged. You’re sorry she has trouble setting limits with the guy, but you sure don’t want him to control your life.

If she doesn’t learn how to manage him and the feelings he stirs up in her, however, that’s what will happen, and your relationship will be riddled with the drama you’re both trying to avoid (and also become very crowded).

That doesn’t mean, of course, that she loves him more than you; he just has the power to make her more frightened or guilty than you do, because he isn’t as “nice”, and she doesn’t know what to do with those feelings other than appease him.

Of course, that may tempt you to fight back by showing her that you’re just as good at making her feel bad, which would turn you into a chair-slinger in someone else’s soap opera (as well as something of a jerk), and it’s clear you’re not letting that happen. That doesn’t mean you’re doomed to a relationship with him if you want a relationship with her.

Your best weapon is the same one we use as shrinks (and the one you seem to be using now); coach her to see a better, though not comfortable, alternative, urging her to use a lawyer to figure out when she can say “no” and what to say to her ex and kids if they attack her for being mean or unreasonable. Support her in doing what she believes is right and what will work out better, rather than in doing what will make you happy or her less stressed. Odds are, if an action is right and reasonable, it’s guaranteed to make her ex pounce.

Continue to offer her your positive perspective; she’s a good woman who has done her job as a mother and can do a better job by learning to say no. In doing so, her best therapist is her lawyer (used not for venting feelings, but for information about standards and consequences).

If she can’t make progress with that approach, then the package is what it is, and you’ll need to take it or leave it. What seems to be happening, however, is that she’s getting tougher, in part because you know how to keep a lid on your negative feelings while giving good advice. Her ex puts a burden on your life, but he doesn’t control it, and he doesn’t have to ruin the life you and your girlfriend share.

STATEMENT:
“My girlfriend’s wussiness about her ex drives me crazy, but I know she’s a good, responsible person who’s come a long way in learning how to take a stand. It’s been frustrating, and often feels like work, but I’ve done a good job managing my anger, she’s doing better at managing her fear, and we both continue to feel the relationship is worth it.”

My ex-husband has the divorce court judge in his pocket and it’s driving me crazy. Regardless of our divorce agreement, he takes me back to court every year for additional money for our daughter’s residential treatment (she has as addiction problems), and the judge buys his story in spite of its being full of lies and bullshit. He says I have money I don’t have—I can no longer afford a lawyer. He wants me to pay for a fancy, private facility that won’t take our insurance when there’s a good one in our insurance company’s network. As a recovering alcoholic myself, I want my daughter to get treatment as much as my husband does, but what I really want is for that judge to know how wrong he is to think I’m a skinflint and allow my ex to torture me year after year.

Unless you grew up with parents who were always fair and unbiased, you know there’s a real danger in expecting justice. The more justified you are in feeling screwed by the judge/parent, the bigger the danger.

Yes, you’d hope that expressions of injured innocence would get him/her to reconsider and, in a fair world, that’s what would happen. In this world, however, expressing negative feelings about a judge’s judgment usually makes the judge feel attacked and insecure, particularly if you’re angry and right. Not only does justice does not ensue, your hole gets deeper, as does your injury, anger, and tendency to make more trouble for yourself.

If your ex-husband is an Asshole (readers of this blog understand that I use this term diagnostically, and not pejoratively), he truly believes he’s a righteous defender of the weak, so it’s not hard to see why a judge who doesn’t know him would be taken in. If you then attack him, you’ll look like the angry girl your ex says you are.

So put the same lid on venting outrage as you do on alcohol; stay sober, and stay quiet. Remember, keeping negative feelings inside is not nearly as bad as letting them out in front of the wrong audience.

Now that you’re ready to eat your shit sandwich—cry if you must, but please don’t bring it up again—you’re ready to say something positive about your own plan for your daughter. Namely, that you want her to get help as much as your ex does, but you expect her to need help for a long time and you’re trying to save money now, because she’ll need it later. That’s why you’re trying to save on legal bills and don’t want to pay for the best intervention program when the difference between best and good is not worth it.

Don’t get distracted by the judge’s willingness to believe you’re a bad, stingy parent and don’t defend yourself by attacking his judgment or the unfairness of being dragged back into court. Stay on message: talk about your concern for your daughter and your belief in the advantages of your plan.

Given time and no attacks from you, the judge will probably catch on to your Asshole husband’s bullshit, particularly if you stick to your agenda and don’t push his buttons. You might not get perfect justice, but you’ll get a good feeling of pride for having expressed yourself as a caring mother, without getting screwed by him and your old negative feelings.

STATEMENT:
“It’s horrible to feel I can be dragged back into court at any time, to be judged by someone who believes I’m an asshole no matter what I say or do, but that’s life. I know I’m ready to do right by my daughter and that I’ve got a good plan. Beyond that, I don’t control.”

I’m a 22-year-old who is coming out of a pretty rough emotional patch. I got into a bad habit of leaning on a male friend, being a complete needy, co-dependent mess with a guy who is a pretty heavy drinker and, you guessed it, a needy, co-dependent mess. Well. Now I’ve sobered up and tried to develop some space between us, and he’s not taking it well. He drunk-dials me at least once a week, and leaves these crazy, rambling, needy voicemails. (I moved away a while back, and he keeps pushing me to make plans to meet up.) I basically want to cut him out of my life altogether, because I really think he’s bad for me. But he was there for me—albeit in a f*cked up way—when I was a mess. Does dropping him make me a bitch?

There are two sides to every sin; for example, murder is evil while manslaughter is just really unfortunate. The same is true for good deeds, and fidelity, while less deadly (hopefully), works much the same way.

There’s a bad kind of fidelity based on feelings and a good one based on what you think is right. The bad one is a gut-level sense of obligation you feel towards anyone you’ve shared a bed or bread or booze with, who cries out to you in need and expects you to respond.

It’s some kind of basic nervous system bonding that disregards whether you’ve already done your share, whether the other guy can actually make use of your help (or will just need more and more), or whether you have a right to weigh his needs against other priorities, like finding a relationship with a guy who can occasionally walk in a straight line.

Now, if you were judging the conduct of a friend, you’d probably say that you’ve done all you can, but until he stops drinking, you can’t offer much more. He may see you as dumping him, but what you’re dumping is not him, but his alcoholism. You might like him better if he got a grip and got sober, but you won’t know unless he does.

However, since you’re not using the rational side of your mind, leaving him makes you feel like a bitch and you need someone to tell you you’re not. Instead, you’re getting someone who will tell you to think for yourself.

Don’t ask anyone else for that kind of reassurance, not even (or especially) over the internet. Learn to give it to yourself, because your values are fine. You could confidently advise a friend, so stand by what you know and give yourself the same advice you would give anyone else.

Yes, you’ll still feel like a bitch because feelings are feelings. If your goal is not to feel guilty, have a drink (which will eventually make you feel even more guilty, so you see our point).

On the other hand, if your goal is to be your own woman and give yourself the right to weigh moral priorities without having to please or appease, then suck it up and do what you think is right. Until he stops drinking, he’s dead weight to you, so drop away. If he picks himself up, then you can, too.

STATEMENT:
“I hate to feel like I’m causing pain to someone who has been good to me, but I’m tired of being manipulated by guilt and other people’s needs and I have a right to say “enough” when I’ve done my share and want to move on. I’ve learned how to stop drinking and I’m ready for the next level of sobriety, which is to tolerate the guilt of feeling responsible without giving into it.”

My mood is never great, but I’ve survived divorce (my wife decided she liked someone else) and been a responsible dad and I was looking forward to being a grandfather when my middle son, who’s never been too happy, told me our relationship sucked and he didn’t have much hope for it unless I went into therapy. He had some names of spiritual therapists and told me, if I was really serious about making our relationship better and becoming a good grandfather, I should see them. Of course, I’d do anything for our relationship, but this whole thing makes me feel depressed and paralyzed. What should I do if my goal is to hang on to my son?

Kids come first, but that doesn’t justify turning off your own judgment. Which is what you did the minute you heard the words “spiritual therapists” and didn’t giggle out loud.

You don’t have to read my advice (though it helps) to know that you’re not supposed to accept criticism uncritically; otherwise you’re handing out keys to your self-esteem to every overbearing and unhappy jackass you meet, whether or not they’re your spawn. You’re supposed to consider accusations carefully and decide for yourself whether there’s really something you could have and should have done better before deciding whether to apologize and take responsibility for doing better.

What may have hurt your son is something you don’t control, and that includes the personality that the good lord gave you. He may have grown up happier with another dad, but you may have been happier with another son, and we all might be happier with a prehensile tail. Too bad, life is hard, and the only question to ask yourself is whether you managed your faults as well as you could and took care of your son’s basic needs, including safety.

Let’s assume that, after considering his criticism, there’s something you want to improve. Then choose someone who you think can help you do the job; don’t accept your son’s recommendation because you want to please him or prove something, but because you think it’s a good idea.

Regardless of what you decide, there’s a lesson you can teach your son. It’s not just that you’re flexible or that, no matter what he thinks, you really love him; it’s that you have confidence in your love for him, regardless of what he thinks, and that you can have a positive relationship in spite of obvious and painful flaws that you would gladly remove if you could, but can’t. He can call it spiritual if he wants, but you’re calling it like it is.

STATEMENT:
“Nothing makes me feel more like a loser than having my kid tell me I was a bad dad, but I know I wasn’t that bad (I got better reviews from the other kids) and I’m not bad now. I’ll accept responsibility for mistakes I control; for the rest of it, I love him and think our lives will be better if we have a relationship, even if it requires us to bear some pain. The choice is his.”

I was a terrible mother to my kids when they were younger—I yelled all the time and even hit them, and my husband had good reason to divorce me and allow nothing but occasional custody. Still, I love them dearly and I’ve always wanted to make amends; we’re all older now (they’re in their 20s), I’m a lot calmer after a lot of therapy to work through my anger issues. I’d do anything to help them, but one of them threatens to stop talking to me if I mention the fact that she drinks too much, and the other is polite but pretty distant. I feel I can’t get through to either of them because the mistakes of my past have ruined things forever. What can I do to mend our relationship?

I don’t doubt you want to help your kids, but that help comes with a high price– forgiveness for being an asshole when they were younger.

That was years ago, though, and you’ve continued to care for them and pay for them while learning to control your behavior (their being older probably helped). So before you ask how to get their forgiveness, ask what you have to do to forgive yourself.

Sure, an abusive mother is probably the most stigmatized villain in the world. What people forget about mommy dearest, however, is that some people have very little control over their tempers, including those who would really, really like not to be assholes.

Depression and bipolar illness can make people very irritable while weakening their self-control and their ability to see themselves. Some people are born with terrible tempers, so the personality you got is the personality you got and it’s what you do with it that counts. That you’re trying to do the right thing is commendable.

You’ve taken your lumps without blaming others or backing off. You can’t help having the temperament of an asshole, and you’re still trying to be a good mom. That takes strength, determination, and good values. Taming one’s temper is never easy, so be proud.

What you shouldn’t focus on is whether your kids accept your transformation and apology. (If one is alcoholic, she may not accept it unless you give her a drink). You goal isn’t to get absolution from her, but to be a good mother, despite the distance between you and your kids.

So instead of repeating your apologies, let them know you’re proud of what you’ve done with motherhood, in spite of a terrible beginning, and that you’ve got good love and good advice to give, if they want it.

That said, you won’t take shit, either from yourself or from them; asshole behavior, be it internal or external, will not be tolerated. If they can agree to those terms, then you will be there for them, anytime, free of charge.

STATEMENT:
“I wish I didn’t abuse the kids, but I can’t change the past. I’ve done lots of good things, too, to protect them from myself and help them grow up. Now what they need is not more apologies, but the knowledge that I’m here with good, safe parenting to offer. If they don’t take me up on it, I may feel hurt and cut off, but that happens to lots of good parents. I won’t let those feelings make me retaliate or grovel. Good parenting sometimes means waiting.”

My husband is a good guy, but sometimes he seems to take me for granted, particularly when his family asks him for help and me and the kids are expected to agree to being a lower priority. The other day he informed me, without saying please, that he had to leave me with the kids for the long weekend because he needed to drive his sisters to another city to visit his dying aunt. I let him know I don’t like the way they seem to come first and wondered where that leaves us. I think I’ve got good reason to gripe, but I can’t seem to get him to see what he’s doing wrong. What can I do to get him to see that it hurts me and us when he’s over-responsive to his family?

You know that getting your husband to see that he’s in the wrong won’t work. From his point of view, he’s on a mission of mercy and you’re needy, competitive, and lacking in compassion. You lost the argument before saying word one.

In addition, you may not be sure that your position is right. After all, you’re reacting to the fact that he didn’t say “please,” not to whether or not his weekend trip is necessary. He may have neglected to say please because he was nervous about possible criticism, thus making the criticism more likely. You don’t want to get drawn into a personal injury war over his tone of voice, when he might be right, and you might have to agree, about his actual choices.

So ignore his impolite presentation and examine the necessity of his making this weekend pilgrimage. Ask yourself how much good his trip is likely to for his aunt and her sisters, whether it will give him some good time with his aunts, and whether there’s no one else who can help them out. Obviously, it’s less necessary if his dying aunt is already in a coma and her sisters have other ways to travel.

If, after examining the facts, you think the trip isn’t worth it, let him know you appreciate his good intentions but that you’re questioning whether the outcome of his good deeds outweigh the burden on the rest of the family. You’re on the same side—you know he’s a responsible dad who also cares about his aunts—but you’re hoping he’ll do what he thinks is right, rather than be overly responsive to his aunts’ emotions.

Once you’ve created a context of respect and made the issue of his weekend commitment less personal, you can also tell him you wish he’d take you into his thinking before making decisions that affect your partnership. Your intention is not to trigger a conflict of loyalties nor to make it a question of whom he loves more, but to urge a method of decision-making that will benefit both of you with no arguing at all.

STATEMENT:
“It feels demeaning to be told, not asked, to do double weekend duty by my dearly beloved while he tends to the needs of his aunts, but he’s a good dad, and a good partner (usually), so I now have an opportunity to suggest better ways of communicating if I can just keep my anger out of it.”

I can’t seem to recover from my wife’s infidelity. Six months ago, when I found out, it nearly destroyed me. I stopped sleeping, and started eating compulsively, and felt depressed and anxious all day. I have a demanding job and we have a 2-year-old son and I simply had to keep going. Now, after months of couples therapy and my wife’s promising to stop drinking and then starting up again, I’ve gotten strangely detached. I don’t think our marriage is going to make it and, on some level, I don’t care. I can’t lose the 20 pounds I gained, I don’t exercise the way I used to, and I can’t seem to get my confidence or happiness back. What more should I be doing?

I want to take this opportunity to congratulate you, not for losing a horrible spouse (that seems both insensitive and obvious), but for becoming a fat, lazy mope. Most people consider “letting themselves go” to be a bad thing, but in this instance, it’s a positive side-effect of recovery at work.

After all, the best measurement of how well you’ve recovered from trauma is not how good you feel. This Sunday marks a rather grim anniversary for many Americans, and after 10 years, some of those people still hurt, and some of those in pain are also in shape. Trauma doesn’t factor into it.

Depending on the trauma and what it means to you, there may be no way to feel good for aa long, long time, no matter what you say or do. What counts is how well you cope with it, and coping well doesn’t necessarily make you feel good or hit the treadmill.

For instance, you’re telling me that you’ve continued to co-manage a growing business and parent a 2-year-old boy despite a severe emotional shock. At any size, that’s amazing. You’ve also accepted the fact that your wife has resumed drinking and is unlikely to get control of other behavior. It’s sad, but you’re not obsessing about what you did wrong or what you should do to change her.

This is the kind of pain you need to have. Not that you deserve it, but life sucks, and it’s far better than the pain that would come with denial, holding on to what you can’t have, or assuming responsibility for things you don’t control.

Indeed, the fact that your weight and appearance come last is also a strength. You’re absolutely right in acting like what comes first is parenting your son, making a living, and accepting what happened. Dieting should never be your top priority.

Exercising would help if you have time for it, but there are times when you don’t, and shouldn’t, have time for it. When the chaos subsides a bit, you can renew your gym membership. For now, be proud that you’ve got your priorities straight, even if you feel rotten and sluggish and look large.

You’ve done the right thing under difficult circumstances for both yourself and your son, so stop mourning how far you’ve let yourself go and instead admire how far you’ve come.

STATEMENT:
“My heart remains broken and I don’t have the energy I used to have, but I’m doing what really needs to be done and I’m realistic about my options, so I know I’m doing the right thing, even if I feel far from confident about myself and life in general.”

I’ve think I’ve gotten over my last boyfriend, but my friends tell me I still need help. They know that my ex had a fidelity problem and a way of borrowing money from me and not paying it back, but I didn’t tell them about how worried I was that the loan sharks would hurt him (and I knew he wanted to pay me back), so it was more complicated than my friends realized. In any case, I eventually realized he was getting money from someone else and, when I confronted him, he said he couldn’t stand my nagging and that he needed someone who would give him more respect. I was shattered, but I’m OK now, and I don’t know why my friends don’t believe in my recovery.

Once again, the point of getting over a bad relationship isn’t to feel better; as nice as it would be, your top priority in “getting over” something isn’t to land in the sweet valley of bliss (and weight loss). Instead, you get through it in order to learn what went wrong so you can do better next time or, at least, figure out whether there was any way you could have seen the bad stuff coming.

If you feel better without learning something, you won’t feel better for long; there’s always more trouble coming, and no valley in sight.

Don’t try to forget him before first trying to remember what went wrong and searching for warning signs. No matter how shocking a boyfriend’s bad behavior can seem, most guys who have fidelity problems don’t develop them the moment they meet you. They’ve had them for a long time and the behavior problem isn’t invisible if you know where to look (and aren’t blinded entirely by the good feelings that come with a budding romance).

Usually, it’s just a matter of asking straightforward questions about past relationships and getting corroboration from friends and family—the same methods a dumb cop would use. Ask yourself whether your love of romance caused you to turn off not just your inner detective, but your brain entirely.

Trying to protect loved ones from behavior they show no signs of stopping is another red flag, announcing that you have a weakness for your own nurturing instincts. It’s a good thing to protect babies and children, and a terrible idea to protect grown babies from behavior that can take you both down. I suppose he doesn’t see himself as having a problem, and that’s his cross to bear. That you also don’t see it is a big problem for you, and that’s what worries your friends.

Of course, there are smooth-talking-but-bad boyfriends whom no one can see coming—those polished psychopaths who fool everyone because they believe in their own lies and are good at hiding their pasts. If your inquest doesn’t uncover that kind of nutjob, then you have less to worry about, because you didn’t make any mistake other than to have bad luck.

So before you insist he’s in the rearview and you’re feeling great, figure out exactly what you’re putting behind you; do your homework, figure out what went wrong, and then it’s OK to forget about him. As the old saying goes, you don’t know where you’re going until you know where you’ve been. If you push through the pain and figure out what your last relationship was really about, you’ll be able to go forward without getting over quite so much.

STATEMENT:
“I’d prefer to put the past behind me, particularly because I’m much more attractive and fun to be with when I’m feeling happy, but I’ve learned more from my mistakes than from the relationships that went well, and I take pride in being a good learner.”

A lot of your responses seminal components point to having the questioners turn their attention to their ‘values.’ Can you please elucidate a bit on how you define said values with regards to the context you utilize said term, as well as how to go about developing such a core set of values when one feels that he or she has none?

Values are whatever make you feel like a good person, aside from just feeling good because you’re feeling good (e.g. by enjoying what you’re doing, or having a good talk, or getting good feedback, or just being lucky).

In other words, there are lots of perfectly constructive ways to feel good that aren’t bad for your health, but they’re like a sunny day. They represent good luck, which means you don’t control them, and if you make it your goal to feel good, it’s like giving yourself responsibility for good weather. You’ll be sorry (and I’ll be working).

Values, on the other hand, have nothing to do with your luck and are under your control, because you can always try to do something you think is worth doing, whether you get it done or not.

They include treating other people decently, being self-supporting, doing your share, and taking some responsibility for the people who are closest to you. In other words, trying to be a good person. Values aren’t reactive to how you feel or how you’re treated.

You may follow those values because you think that’s the way to get to heaven or get someone (e.g., Jesus, your partner, your shrink) to love you. Usually, however, life messes with people who do good because they expect a reward, even if they just expect to be treated fairly. When bad luck falls on such people—and it’s an equal opportunity enterprise—they lose their faith, because they never really had it.

Some people would say you don’t have to believe in a deity to have values, while others would say that’s what religion is: values that you believe in simply because that’s your idea of making the world better and becoming a person you respect. Other people (like myself) say to do whatever works.

That said, don’t assume you lack values because you’re an atheist, or because you’re depressed or self-critical or don’t like what you’ve done. Assess your values by asking yourself whether you try to do a good day’s work, or be a good friend or son or daughter, and care about such things in the first place.

If you truly don’t have values, then you probably wouldn’t care enough to write in and ask and you’d be sure your values are great and other people’s stink. Instead, you wrote in because you question yourself, which is a decision worth feeling good about.

STATEMENT:
“I may feel like I’m not attached to people and make no effort to make the world a better place, but I have values if I try to do a good job or keep promises or be a good friend. When everything is going badly, knowing I’ve lived up to my values is the surest comfort I can have.”

I don’t understand my husband or his family. I can understand that he feels I’m boring and that he can’t help the fact that he no longer loves me. But I don’t see why that gives him a right to leave me with the kids, go out in the evenings, come home drunk, and contribute to the mortgage when he feels like it. Sooner or later he’s going to get caught driving drunk. Meanwhile, he treats me as if I’m a drag to be around and encourages the kids to see me the same way. I’ve asked his parents to speak to him, but they think his drinking is normal and tell me they don’t want to get involved. My goal is to find some way to get my husband to see he’s putting himself in danger and hurting our family.

When you’re faithful to your partnership and your partner isn’t, the result often isn’t good for anyone. Your values are good—fidelity, reliability, sobriety, paying your bills—but, in certain situations, they can cause harm, and this may be one of those situations.

Go back to your reasons for getting married, aside from the love, lust, romance, and subscription to Martha Stewart Weddings.” You assume that a partner will do his part, especially when it comes to money, safety, and parenting. If not, things get tougher for you and the kids, and your hard work supports his bad behavior, which isn’t doing him a favor.

Looking back, you might change your wedding vows, promising to stick with him through thick and thin, work hard, and do your best, contingent on his doing the same. Then again, you probably said, “I take this man,” not, “I take this asshole,” but an asshole is what you got.

As asshole, of course, is someone without good values who is, in his/her opinion, entirely without blame. As such, your charming husband might say his vowing was contingent on your staying pretty, attractive, and fun to be with. If he had said that, you would have known what you were getting into.

In any case, you’ve tried hard to save your husband from himself, and it hasn’t worked. Now ask yourself whether, during all your efforts, you’ve seen any sign that your husband feels that he’s been behaving badly. If so, you haven’t described it.

Chances are, then, that he doesn’t share your values, since his idea of the marriage working is that it feels better, and it does when he drinks. Not only can’t you change him, but you can see where this is going.

Your only option is to decide whether you and the family are better off with your being married to him the way he is or being divorced. See a lawyer and find out what you need to know, but according to this doctor, the asshole you were born with is the only one you need.

STATEMENT:
“My instinct is to try to save my husband from himself and keep my marriage intact, but I have to admit that the doesn’t share my values and isn’t going to change. My job now is to figure out what’s best for me and my family.”

My wife is a good woman, and she loves our son, but she has a trauma history and when she gets anxious, she gets very negative and loses hope in us, herself, and our future. Antidepressants helped some, but less than we hoped. Two years ago, before our son was born, her psychiatrist showed her that negative thinking was half the problem and urged her to get DBT, a kind of cognitive behavioral therapy that would help her develop positive thinking habits. She didn’t follow through but seemed to be doing well until the other day, when I discovered she’s been drinking secretly since she delivered. She says alcohol is the only drug that helps relieve her anxiety, which has been overwhelming. My goal is to find something else that will help her.

Everyone is entitled to anxiety-relief, a fair life, and a healthy body. Along with that entitlement comes the guarantee that everybody (except for a few lucky jerks) has to pay the price.

At this point, her motto is, to paraphrase the New Hampshire license plate, “live free (from anxiety) or drink.” If it were up to you, she wouldn’t feel this way, but it’s not, and you’ve got to tell her that neither freedom nor booze is an option.

Theoretically, there should be a good medication for anxiety, but in actuality all current medications are a compromise. The reliable, effective drugs—benzodiazepines—are also addictive, and the safe, non-addictive drugs—antidepressants and others—are less reliable and slower to take effect.

So, while most people get some anxiety relief from medication, there will always be a few people who don’t. Unfortunately, they’re the ones who are most vulnerable to alcohol addiction and have the most reason to wonder how they can be expected to tolerate anxiety without its benefit.

The sad fact is that she’s fucked, and as long as she’s unwilling to accept that fact—and her question implies that she is—she’ll make herself worse. Helping her means helping her face facts, then seeing what she can do.

There’s no immediate relief, and sobriety, which is what she needs, will begin by making her feel worse. That said, if she can stay sober, she can learn new ways to get stronger. The psychiatrist was right—DBT will help, and so will AA.

Let her know you’ll stick with her if she tries, and protect yourself and your child if she doesn’t. You’re not warning her because you’re angry or want to control her, just because you’re stating the sad facts of life.

Hopefully, once she realizes what’s at stake, and accepts the lack of feel-good alternatives, she’ll be ready to make sacrifices to preserve what’s truly valuable in her life.

STATEMENT:
“My wife’s pain is real and it’s hard to see it without feeling she deserves better, which she does. If she can’t find the strength and motivation to get sober, however, she’ll become a dangerous parent and weak partner. I love her and believe in her potential strength, but I must do what’s necessary to survive if she can’t get herself under control.”

My wife has been horribly depressed for the past 6 months and none of the medications that used to help her are doing much good now. ECT, the treatment they use when medications don’t work, caused her too much memory loss and she can’t do it again. Her psychiatrist says the only medications that might work are ones that sometimes cause weight gain, so she refuses to try them. (Another psychiatrist, whom she saw for a second opinion, agreed.) Now she’s suicidal and insists that there should be a medication that won’t cause weight gain and that she needs to find a psychiatrist who can help her. My goal is to help her, but she’s making it impossible.

Weight gain is bad for her health, as well as her looks, self-esteem, and pants budget, so it’s understandably the side effect your wife hates the most.

The one positive sign in all of this is that your wife is eager to find treatment, even if she’s got the wrong priorities (which is better than reacting like the wife above and looking in the wrong places). The key is getting her to look harder, expect less, and be willing to put her mind above panic about her body.

After all, she should remember that side effects are usually mentioned in the same phrase as the word “risk,” which usually means less than 100%, and that weight gain never appears overnight, so she will always have time to recognize it and respond before acquiring 10 new pounds and a need for bigger pants.

Of course, depressed people often don’t think rationally–weight gain, panic, misery—but that’s where you have to come in and remind her that, unfortunately, a risk of weight gain is a possible side effect of almost all psychiatric medications that are used after the first round or two of treatments fail.

So, if you can’t persuade your wife to take it one step at a time before she rules out meds that might cause weight gain, tell her that she has no other choice. She’s done a good job trying medication, hasn’t been lucky, so now comes the same tough choice that cancer patients face about chemo: brace for possibly serious side effects, or make the most of living with your illness.

If she clings to false hope, expect trouble. You’ll be living with a hypochondriac who puts the search for treatment ahead of other family priorities and blames you and others for not being helpful. The longer she looks for a non-existent solution, the longer she postpones hard choices and distances herself from what’s good in her life.

Show respect for the courage it takes to make tough risk management decisions when there’s no good option. Remind her that there are often good ways to manage bad side effects. Assure her you’re there for her no matter what size pants she wears.

STATEMENT:
“I don’t understand why my wife isn’t able to recover from depression the way she did before, but I know it’s not her fault or the medications’ and that her options are now limited. I’ll encourage her to make tough decisions and respect her, no matter what decision she makes. I’ll make adjustments to help her manage her condition. If she avoids reality, however, I will not accept responsibility for relieving her pain or re-ordering my priorities to help her find a non-existent cure.”

I didn’t have any serious injuries after falling off some scaffolding, but I began to have nightmares and the thought of returning to work gave me anxiety attacks. So I took a medical leave, saw a therapist, and got some medication and now I’m much better, but I’m still far from 100% recovered and the thought of climbing a ladder still makes me feel like I’m going to have another attack. So I’m wondering whether to extend the leave until I feel better—I don’t know how long my disability insurance will cover this—or find something else to do, and it’s hard to make a decision when I don’t know whether I’m ever going to feel better. My goal is to feel well enough to make a decision.

Severe anxiety makes sissies of everyone. The primal part of your brain thinks it’s doing you a favor; it’s the part that says fire bad, sun hot, sex yay. Now it’s saying, ladders evil, followed by, run!

Meanwhile, anxiety attacks are so painful, the thing you’re most afraid of is having one again, the very thought of which makes you anxious, which feels like you’re about to have another. Your brain’s protecting you in a hellish spiral.

The scary thing you need to accept up front is that your anxiety, and your anxiety about anxiety, may never go away. If you think you’re supposed to make it go away, you’ll be more discouraged when you can’t; if you climb the ladder while telling yourself it will never happen again, you’re putting yourself into danger. That’s the kind of hope and optimism that will get you into trouble.

While you may never get over your anxiety, however, there’s lots you can do, and probably have done, to keep it from exploding and damp the explosions pretty quickly if they happen anyway. In addition to relaxation training of various kinds, there’s always cognitive therapy, which means stopping the negative thoughts from becoming negative beliefs.

That’s what we do here, arguing, as you know, that the most powerful tool for fighting negative thoughts requires facing your real helplessness first. You’re traumatized, you’re fucked, but you’re not without options, and the only way to see them is to accept your condition.

Once you’ve done your best to learn how to manage anxiety and the infectious negativity of fearful thoughts, your goal is to forget about it and make your work decisions the way you usually would. Assuming that returning to work may cause anxiety but that the anxiety will probably ease over time, add up the pros and cons of doing this work versus something else.

If you can, return to work and see how it goes before you decide to opt out. Take your therapist’s advice, your meds, and your lunchbox and get back to the site.

If your primal brain starts trouble, remind it that if ladder evil, unemployment worse, because food important. Then ignore your mental caveman altogether and start on that first rung.

STATEMENT:
“It’s a bummer that I now have to work so hard to get myself to work, when it was easy before, but that’s life. I now know much more about fear than I ever wanted to and I’m proud that I can manage it without letting it tell me what to do.”

What bothers me is that it feels so unreal to see my parents acting like nice, loving grandparents to my kids when my brother and I know that my father was a mean, physically abusive drunk and my mother acted like nothing was happening and was pretty mean herself. We tried talking it out with them once, when we were in our 20s, and they said we were distorting things and it was our problem, and after that, we didn’t talk for a year. Now, we have regular, though not frequent, contact because I want my kids to know their grandparents, but I keep it polite and superficial because a blowup would be good for no one, particularly the kids. The superficiality hurts, though, because it feels unreal and brings back memories of living a trauma no one else knew about. Am I making it worse by sweeping things under the rug?

Many people feel that overcoming trauma requires, at some point, a kind of “truth and reconciliation” procedure, or at least a public acknowledgment of truth, before it’s possible to move on. As loyal readers know, I am not most people.

The very fact that having your abuse experience validated would feel so good (that’s why it plays well on TV) tells you that expecting validation is dangerous. That’s because of what happens when validation is impossible, which it is, 99.9% of the time.

As you’ve experienced yourself, your abuser has his/her own view of reality, or doesn’t care. There are no witnesses, or witnesses have their own reasons for covering up or choosing sides. So validation usually brings back the pain, and the satisfaction, if any, is brief.

Even wanting validation is dangerous, because it makes you more reactive to others, particularly your abusers, and feeds your negative ruminations. Yes, you may argue that validation would make your ruminations go away and reassure you that you’re not crazy, but validation is like a post-Thanksgiving dump: great, if temporary, relief. The cycle begins again when you have pumpkin pie for breakfast, and see that your parents are still your parents, and still don’t get it.

A better way to fight the feeling of unreality is to assure yourself that you know what you know and have the strength to live by your convictions, whether they’re validated or not. Yes, you can assure yourself that your brother, who was there, agrees, but don’t spend much time seeking that validated feeling. It’s just another slice of pie.

What you need is not validation, but what you already have: the strength to believe in your own point of view and deal with your parents accordingly, which is what you’re doing. You’re carrying out your policy of having as little contact with your parents as necessary for minimizing conflict and maintaining overall family connections.

To do that, without outside support is a real achievement, just like creating your own family despite your traumatic history. Focus on that, because that’s all the “truth and reconciliation” you need.

STATEMENT:
“I wish I could forget my awful childhood, and it feels unreal to be chatting nicely with the monsters who abused me. What counts, however, is what I did with that childhood and, if it helps for me to maintain diplomatic relations with my parent-monsters, then I’m proud that’s what I’m able to do.”

I wish I could be sure that my daughter is getting the right treatment for my grandson. He’s 7-years-old and been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and his doctor started him on a drug called Abilify, which has some nasty side-effects. I’ve read on the internet that Abilify can be harmful to kids and I wish my daughter and her husband would think twice before allowing themselves to be talked into using it, but I don’t want to intrude into their decision. My goal is to make sure my grandson isn’t harmed.

Never ask someone if they’re sure they know what they’re doing, because if they weren’t sure, you wouldn’t need to ask in the first place.

If you do end up asking your daughter why she’s exposing her son to a dangerous medication, not only will she answer yes, but she’ll give you an annoyed earful as to how she’s doing the right thing, how you don’t know what you’re talking about, and how you should just mind your own business.

She might not know what she’s doing, but neither did you when you opened your mouth.

If you want to talk to your daughter about your concerns, it’s possible, but only if you stay away, not just from provocative questions, but the negative emotions that push them out your mouth.

Instead, follow your usual procedures for conducting a risk-benefit analysis by asking about circumstances that might be endangering your grandson’s safety, and thus justify the Abilify decision.

Ask if she’s worried that he might hurt himself or do some serious damage or if he sounds like his mind is melting down. In other words, ask her the questions that she should be asking herself as a parent responsible for making a difficult decision about her son’s health.

Usually, you’ll find out that something spooky was happening and that no one could think of a treatment other than medication that could make your grandson safe or stop him from having crazy thoughts. So, while it’s bad that he’s in danger and no one can think of a quick, safe treatment, at least the treatment decision makes sense.

That’s the way medication like Abilify is usually used; it’s not prescribed as a safe treatment after doctors have made a definitive diagnosis, but as a not-so-safe treatment that might stop even-more-dangerous symptoms arising from a mental disorder. Definitive diagnoses don’t yet exist for mental illnesses and anybody who tells you differently is trying to sell you something (maybe even some Abilify).

If nothing scary has happened to your grandson, then, yes, you’ve got to wonder why his parents (and a doctor) think a high risk medication is worth trying. At this point, it’s OK to wonder out loud, as long as you don’t imply that someone is being mean, stupid or careless. For example, you could ask your daughter if she thinks the doctor’s worried that something dangerous could happen in the near future if your grandson doesn’t take this drug.

If it turns out your daughter isn’t worried, point out the side effects and ask her if she thinks the risk is worth it. You’re sure you know what you’re doing, and with the right questions, so will your daughter.

STATEMENT:
“My grandson’s treatment seems like dangerous overkill, but I’ll push my fear aside while I ask good, rational questions about their reasons for being worried about his health and safety and offer them a rational model for making tough treatment decisions.”

I’m worried about my son’s drug abuse, but I feel I’ve got no right to speak up about anything in my home. Five years ago, my husband found I was a secret drinker, and since then, he acts like anything I have to say is a stupid lie. I cleaned up my act because I hated the lying and wanted to be a good mother, but I’ve felt like I’m on probation ever since, and it’s hard to speak up. How can I help my son?

One of the worst things about a bad habit, like addictive drinking, is that shame of drinking drives you to drink. As vicious cycles go, it’s quite effective.

Here, you’ve done the hard work of getting sober in spite of the cycle and the shame, and for all the right reasons, but the stigma lingers on and drives you, no longer to drink, but to muzzle yourself when you have good right and reason to speak up.

It’s too bad your husband doesn’t trust you, but that’s no reason not to trust yourself. Of course you can’t be sure that you won’t drink again, but you can be sure that you know a great deal about addiction and that you’ve found the strength to stop for many years now. You deserve credit, and he (and you) would be wise to recognize your strength.

You also have a great deal of wisdom about drinking that you can share with your son, but don’t offer that wisdom via an impassioned plea for sobriety, backed by the authenticity of your personal experience. That’s the kind of pressure that usually turns people off and ends conversations/chances to help.

As noted above, however, you can often talk comfortably about touchy topics if you keep negative emotion to yourself. So, instead of telling him that he’s scaring you or making a mess of his life (as you did), ask him whether he thinks he’s drinking too much and what measures he would use to make that assessment, talking frankly about the measures you used to judge your own situation, which (as you mentioned) were your sense that lying was hurting your marriage and preventing you from being a reliable mother. Those were yours; encourage him to define his.

Just by talking frankly about your own experience, you’re dispelling the shame of drinking. You’re telling him that you don’t disrespect yourself for being a drunk; you’re proud of yourself for what you did with your alcoholism and you’re encouraging him to put aside secrecy and shame and think about where he stands.

Don’t share your emotions, share your process and support, and don’t let shame or your husband hold you back.

STATEMENT:
“I’m worried about my son’s drinking and ashamed of my own; but I know I can’t control his drinking and sharing my feelings will make it worse. Instead, I’ll try to teach him how to think about his drinking, assess its impact on his life, and make his own decisions about it. To do that, in spite of how I really feel, would be amazing.”

PLEASE NOTE: We will have a new post on Monday, 12/27, but we’re taking a week off after that for family’ing. If you have angst, holiday related or no, that you need to share, speak now or wait until 2011.

Every now and then my husband, who is a sweet soul and mostly very smart, does something so mind-bogglingly stupid that it puts the whole family in danger. The latest incident happened when he was hanging out at a bar after work and, deeply (into drinking and) moved by the hard luck story of the guy on the stool next to him, he offered, without asking me, to guarantee the guy’s car loan. The next thing we knew, the bank was after our savings because his ex-best-bar-buddy had stopped paying the loan and the car was nowhere to be found. I admit it, I did a lot of screaming and feel like I was a saint for not killing him, but the real goal here is, how do I prevent him from doing it again.

You’re asking a mental health clinician to help you understand and/or change your husband’s behavior. Instead, you should be talking to a lawyer.

You want to stop him from doing it again, but what you really need is to protect yourself from the sure-to-happen next time his impulsive, besotted generosity imperils the family treasury.

You probably expect me, as a mental health clinician, to support the humanistic, liberal, uplifting belief that therapy can help people can change. Sadly, you don’t need a professional of any kind to tell you what you already know: that therapy doesn’t have that kind of power, people don’t change, and that the best you can hope for, from therapy or your own wifely intervention, is a chance at better self-management for those who really, really want it.

So if you told me your husband recognized that he had a weakness for either drinking or foolish generosity or both, acknowledged that he was probably going to do it again, and was humbly working to get a better handle on himself, I’d share in your hopefulness (even if I wouldn’t lend you money).

What I assume from your silence on this issue, however, is that your husband was full of shame and remorse, apologized profusely, and swore it would never happen again…just as he did after the last time something like this happened. He’s sorry, until the next time he turns into the drunken fairy godfather, and the collection agency is back at your door. The circle of your life continues.

Instead of feeding the circle further with your anger, accept his weakness as a fact of life, and if you don’t (yet) want divorce, find a lawyer to help protect your finances. Tell your husband that, anger aside, you know he’ll do it again unless he ‘fesses up to his weakness and works on it, preferably in frequent 12 step meetings lasting until he no longer knows how to sign a check or find a bar.

Forget about changing your husband; work on building your independence and an emotional distance that can protect you from murdering him. Be nice if he works on his problem; otherwise, go about your business, but keep that lawyer on speed dial.

STATEMENT:
“My husband’s weakness for giving, particularly drunken giving, scares me and means I can never trust him. Attacking him or trying to get him to change is a waste of time. I must bear my fear and disappointment while I separate our finances, prepare to manage on my own, and use emotional distance or praise to encourage him to improve his self-control.”

I knew my ex-girlfriend was a little crazy—that’s why we broke up—but I had no idea she was going to try to get pregnant afterward, because who does something like that? She begged me for one more dinner together as friends, which led to one last night stand, or so I thought. Now, fast forward 6 months, I’ve got a not-crazy new girlfriend I’m really serious about, and I get a call from my ex telling me I’m going to be a father and I don’t have to marry her but she’ll expect child support. My current girlfriend thinks I’m either an idiot or a liar (and she might be right about the first part). My goal is to win back my girlfriend’s respect and not be such an idiot.

The first question you must ask yourself when you do something stupid (see case above) is, am I ignorant or am I incurably, repeatedly stupid.

Most people past a certain age are the latter, and the sooner they accept that fact, the sooner they can empower their friends and family to lock them up when they inevitably show signs of doing the same thing all over again.

Let’s say it and get it out of the way: in a bloodless coup, your body’s leadership was taken over by your penis—the original benevolent Dicktator–and always will (until it runs out of steam or gets soft-armed by a serotonin-boosting antidepressant, at which point your IQ goes up at least 10 points).

If you swear to your now-girlfriend that you’re totally devoted and have learned your lesson and will never, ever be stupid again, she should run the other way; total devotion, either to her or your romantic feelings, is another way of saying that you’re not interested in rational thought about consequences, and are just as vulnerable to sentimental manipulation as ever.

Instead, own up to the power of your true, supreme leader/wiener. Discard false pride, look for the warning signs of your next lapse, and know what you’re going to do when they appear, which they surely will. Look around for your local chapter of Dickheads Anonymous and tell Bill to say hi to Hillary from me.

Tell your girlfriend you know you’re an idiot dickhead, but you’re really, really trying to keep it under control. If you think it will help, explain that it’s not that you’re a sex addict (at least, you don’t seem to be), just stupidly sentimental. Make it clear that you hate being a dickhead because you hate being a dickhead, not because you want to please her.

As for your ex-, don’t talk to her until you’ve talked to your lawyer (see above, again), come to terms with the inevitable, and decided whether you want to have anything to do with your we’ll-always-trust-one-another love child.

Then send her a closely edited, unemotional letter (anything you say will be held against you) telling her, in nice terms, what you propose to do. Remember to keep a copy of that letter and frame it; let this shrine to your stupidity encourage you the next time the Dicktator tries to call the shots.

STATEMENT:
“I can’t believe how badly I’ve hurt myself by being stupid, but I can’t undo what’s happened or change the Stupid Center in my brain. What I can do, however, is learn about my weakness for sentimental proposals and develop new habits for thinking, waiting, and seeking advice before I and my little man do things that can’t be taken back.”

When my ex-husband and I shared a life together, we also shared a drinking problem. After a decade of marriage and 3 kids, we divorced, and I got sober. Now, another decade later, the kids are grown and they have a hard time with their dad, who still occasionally binge drinks, binge opinionates, and, as usual, sees all criticism as ingratitude and rebellion. In addition, his current partner is a nasty drunk. Now, our kids are good doobies who try to give their dad equal time, but I think they are sometimes too easily cowed by his guilt trips and seem resentful and depressed after they stay with him. I don’t believe in saying anything negative, particularly since he’s their father and a fellow drunk. My goal is to help them, if I can.

Short of being more careful with birth control when you chose to breed with a real winner, you can’t protect kids from the pain of bad parenting.

You’d like to, and, in this case, you are partly responsible. Unfortunately, it is what it is, there was love despite the lack of a glove and the results cannot be undone. Plus, any attempt to protect them from pain is likely to make it worse.

You know that confronting your ex- about his behavior will get you an earful, which will probably get shared with the kids, making them ever more determined not to let you know when they’re upset because you’ll tattle to dad.

On the other hand, you’ve learned the hard way that your ex’s nasty episodes are, like stormy weather, uncontrollable and no one’s responsibility. When you were married, you probably tried to calm him down, defend yourself, or get him to see what he was doing and, when you failed, you probably took it personally. And drank some more.

Gradually, however, you realized that his being a jerk had nothing to do with you, and that no one could get him to see what he was doing or help him change. Sad, but it freed you from guilt and refocused your sense of responsibility on getting on with life, avoiding conflict, and getting a divorce (and sober).

Now you can pass that wisdom on to the kids. Yes, it involves expressing your negative judgments, but you’re not calling him an asshole; you’re describing him as an Asshole, which is different.

You’re using the term in the professional, technical sense, meaning someone who acts badly and always thinks it’s someone else’s fault because that’s the way his or her brain works, regardless of who that someone is (offspring, employers, other drivers, etc.). You’re not expressing blame or expecting change, because he can’t help it, and nobody can help him.

You would be quite happy to be wrong, and you’re urging the kids to judge for themselves from their own experience. Your point isn’t to offer them pity or ask for their support, but to suggest that, if you’re right and he is truly a jerk, they need to manage their behavior carefully and remind themselves repeatedly that it’s not their fault.

The normal response to an asshole parent is to argue and/or feel bad and try to make the relationship better. The experienced response is to keep your emotions to yourself, believe in your own point of view, and back away quietly.

Hopefully, your kids can learn from your example; both in accepting their father’s true identity, and investing more heavily in birth control.

STATEMENT:
“It hurts to see the kids suffering from their dad’s being a reactive alcoholic with a nasty drinking partner; but it’s a part of life they need to learn to deal with. I can’t change the experience, but I can help them judge their responsibility for themselves and keep guilt and anger from controlling their actions. That’s what I learned from their father, and now I’ll coach them, if they wish.”

I know I was a hard woman to live with 10 years ago when my artistic career stalled; and I wasn’t entirely surprised when my husband told me my irritability had almost pushed him to get a divorce. I was disappointed, though, that he hadn’t tried harder to confront me before he considered leaving, and, ever since then, I’ve noticed he’s kind of sitting on the fence, hanging back from doing things or going places with me, but being perfectly reasonable about sharing household tasks (our kids have left for college) or doing things together with the kids when they’re around. When I’ve asked him why he doesn’t want to vacation with me, he tells me he’s afraid I’ll blow up on him. Really, I’ve had my temper under pretty good control for a long time, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference. My goal has been to keep my marriage, but I don’t know what more I can do.

Obviously, it’s a good thing you’ve got your anger under control. You did the work, and you have a right to feel proud now that you’ve done what you can.

What’s bad, however, is that controlling your temper hasn’t regained your husband’s trust, which means there’s nothing else you can do and you have a partner you can’t count on. If your actions can’t change his mind, you’re at the end of the line.

Don’t ask yourself what you can do to regain his love, because that’s just another way of denying the above. Instead, ask yourself what you want to do with this sad situation.

It’s natural to feel bitter when all your good work made no difference to him. It would be dangerous, however, to let those feelings control your actions and draw you into confrontation (tada, you’re angry again) or a passive withdrawal that would make your life seem empty and increase your dependence. Feelings are feelings and can’t be changed; but you’d better not act on them or they’ll turn you into a cartoon of nasty victimhood and dependence.

What you really need to do, of course, is to get stronger by building your independence. Whatever you want to do, do for yourself. Find your own friends, hobbies, and vacation spots. Remind yourself that your life is your own, it’s short, and there are things to do and people to meet who will probably have no problem with your anger.

Don’t become independent to make him jealous. Do it to reclaim your life, remind him and you that you’ve got much to offer, and reduce the effect of his rejection on your self-esteem.

Being independent reminds him of what he stands to lose and at the same time makes it easier for you to leave, if it’s necessary. Then anger might give way to sadness, but you’ll both be better off in the long run.

STATEMENT:
“I’m sorry my anger destroyed my husband’s commitment to our marriage, but I’m proud that I regained control of my temper, stayed strong, and didn’t let my hurt feelings stop me from being a good mother and doing a good day’s work. I’ve come to think that the problem in our marriage isn’t just my anger, but also my husband’s lack of acceptance, and that I won’t trust him again unless he shows a stronger commitment. I don’t need a partner who gets iffy after a bad fight. In any case, I know what I have to do.”