Like a lot of artists, I don’t think I’m good at anything else. I’ve been “the arty one” since I can remember, I went to art school on a scholarship, and I’ve gotten illustration work pretty steadily since then. Ever since my last job, however, I’ve started to wonder if I’ve lost it somehow. I got a steady gig in a graphic design department, and at first, I totally got along with my co-workers and we seemed to share a sensibility. Then, for some reason—maybe it’s my age (I was the youngest one), the new department head, an off-the-mark project I completed, I don’t know—the group consensus turned on me and I was treated like an untalented hack for the first time in my life. I’ve never dealt with this before, and I still don’t get it, because the higher-ups were still pleased with my work even if my peers decided it sucked, and I was always nice to everyone. The only thing that did happen was that I started to doubt my ideas more, because every time I’d come up with something I’d immediately think of all the reasons my co-workers would hate it. After a few months of this, I couldn’t take it anymore, so when a college friend told me there was an opening at his work, I jumped on it. The problem is that I still can’t get that negativity and doubt out of my head—maybe I am a hack, after all—and I’m terrified of starting this new job and either not coming up with anything good or not coming up with anything period until eventually I can’t get a job at all. I’m not good at anything else, but what if I’m not good at design anymore, either? My goal is to get my mojo back (or at least get these assholes out of my brain).

One of the curses of being talented, in arts or sports, is that talent becomes the heart of your self-esteem. Talent and ego have a flawed-yet-symbiotic relationship.

It’s particularly true if, like many talented people, you’re actually not so hot at doing other things. It’s as if your talent takes up extra brain-space, crowding out room for the basics and leaving you both gifted and klutzy, brilliant and ADD, hyper-capable and totally incompetent.

Other people might tell you that you’re good at other things, but those other people are wrong; they don’t have or understand an artistic mind. They had to decide on a career, whereas you probably felt like you didn’t have a choice. They also probably have health insurance.

What you’re “good at” is what you and others respect until you come to believe that nothing but hard work stands between you, success, and being a somebody. That’s when ego starts to assume you’ve got control over your artistic career when, in truth, no one controls art.

Even with all the hard work in the world, art is outside of your control. Sooner or later, you’ll perform poorly, perform well but meet an unresponsive audience, and/or get ill, injured, or misunderstood. And that’s when, if you rate yourself by performance, you’ll start to fear failure, and then fear the fear of failure, which is the fear of losing your mojo.

The feelings are awful and there’s no avoiding them. You can sense the rejection and feel your creative juices drying up, like you’ve lost your gift and can’t get it back. Meanwhile, you feel like there’s nothing good you’re good at. Without talent, ego feels like a total failure.

So here’s the hard part for people who want to do well at what they’re good at (and everyone else): develop a deeper set of values. You’ve already got the hard-work ethic for managing the controllable part of your gift—no need for improvement there. Now, learn to respect yourself for dealing with shit, which is just a technical term for that part of life that you don’t control.

Counter those fucked-up feelings with your beliefs; that you’ve done your best, and if you can’t do what you’re good at, you’ll do your best with other things. You’ll try to make a living and be a good friend. You’ll do what matters with what you’ve got.

Remember, what you admire most in others is not their ability to do great things, but to eat shit and still be a good person (unless, of course, you’re one of those shallow people who admire nothing but good performance, and then you don’t really have any friends and you’re probably an entertainment executive). Suck up the pain and remember who you are.

That’s the antidote to losing your mojo: redefining what you value. When you decide that mojo doesn’t matter, it comes back. When you care more about trying and less about results, results improve.

No one can stop the agony of unfulfilled talents, but the real challenge is to bear that pain, remember what you’re here for, and do what you can with what you’ve got until your ego’s healthy enough for talent to return.

That’s not easy to do—it’s a lot harder than being lucky and performing well—but it’s an art in itself, and a much higher achievement.

STATEMENT:
“I’m stuck with excruciating feelings of failure and self-doubt, but I have no doubts about my hard work or my ability to do whatever is necessary when I think it’s worth doing. I have no doubts about my ability to be a good friend. I will not let my feelings touch my self-respect.”

I can’t deny that I’ve had success as a musician—I’m well known in the area—but fashions have changed over the last few years and now gigs are far from plentiful. Financially, though I have a day job, I’m just getting by. I do my best to schmooze and talk up producers, but I’m basically a shy person who’s happiest to be alone, practicing. I know the economy is bad and every performing artist is having a hard time, but I can name at least 3 other musicians of my generation who are doing much better than I am because they’re more energetic and sociable and maybe more talented. I feel like a failure who’s wasted his life and watched his professional reputation ebb away and now I’m facing a sad end in a lonely rooming house. My goal is to turn this situation around.

As noted above, it doesn’t matter whether you’ve proven yourself as an artist; sooner or later, the pursuit of an artistic career exposes you to an unusual amount of shit you don’t control and, when that happens, it feels personal.

Fortunately, you’re too old and well-established to worry about the negative impact of your feelings on your music, and thus on your career, and thus on your music, etc. It’s good not to worry about the losing-your-mojo whirlpool.

It’s not much better, however, to fear that no one cares about your mojo, you’re facing a sad and lonely decline, and you’re sure it’s your own fault, as proven by the fact that your peers are doing better.

That kind of proof, however, is one of the nastier tricks the human mind plays on itself in the name of so-called reason. You know you’ve managed a good career for many years, in spite of a shy temperament, and you’ve never neglected the business side of music-making. You also know that other people’s gifts, both musical and non-, are different than yours. So real logic tells you that the only thing that deserves criticism is your luck.

If you believe in making music, you also know it’s a meaningful thing to do with your life, whether or not it pays. Remind yourself that no artist in his or her right mind expects to get rich and that living with poverty is part of your job description (though one you hope to escape).

Be proud of your choices and the good music that resulted. Keep with your successful formula, playing when you can and paying your bills when you’re able. Don’t doubt that you chose a tough life…and did well with it.

STATEMENT:
“When I’m poor, old, and gig-less, it’s hard not to feel miserable; but music is important, I worked hard at it, and I will not regret past or future sacrifices. Life is hard, but good music is forever.”

I am in the fourth year of a partnership with a great guy—smart, athletic, caring, fair, trustworthy, all of it—but I am bored out of my mind. Although he loves outdoor activities like biking and skiing by day, his only hobby in the evenings is watching TV. I am a musician, artist, craftsperson, not an outdoor whiz, and I feel like I am completely uninspired in this situation. I have talked with him about at least not watching TV every night, and we try for a while, but it always ends up back where we started, with him watching TV, and me in another room reading or doing something somewhat productive, or just giving in and watching with him (I hate TV, wish we didn’t have one). I want to do things together but he is not interested in any of the things that I am interested in. Maybe this is just the most a person can hope for in life and I’m spoiled for wanting more than loyalty and love from someone, but I feel guilty all the time for hiding these thoughts from him. Maybe he would be better off without me, too, you know? Maybe I should let him go so he can find a girl who is really IN LOVE with him.

How much you love someone depends, in part, on the effect of partnership on the necessities of your life, as well as your interests. In your case, however, you don’t seem to see partnership as necessary for the necessities, so the difference between what you two want may be be more than television.

If you’ve been struggling to make ends meet and/or raise kids and someone enters your life who’s decent and willing to share the load, you’re probably going to wind up loving him, even if you don’t love everything you do together.

On the other hand, if you’re a fairly self-sufficient person who doesn’t need a partner in order to have a decent standard of living and raise kids, then there’s no reason to live with anyone who doesn’t ring your bells or leave the couch.

You didn’t mention kids or finances, so I assume you’re kid-less, and, despite being an artist and musician, miraculously not broke. If that’s true, then what do you need this guy for? If you haven’t grown to depend on him after four years of living together, and you’re not eager to have a family, then it’s hard to see him as a better off with you since you don’t really sound better off with him.

Be careful not to get paralyzed by guilt. You can’t control your feelings about him, and what you’re going to do next isn’t about failing or lacking, it’s about evaluating how well the two of you match up and deciding whether that match suits your goals. So add up what life would be without him (the effect on your time, bank account, plans, etc.). You sound as if you’ve done this, but sometimes, feeling guilty can prevent you from doing routine accounting.

If, as you suggest, you can do better without him, don’t feel defensive about letting him go. You both made a good effort to make it work, and you have many good things to say about his character and can be sure he’ll do well with someone else. You’ve just seen many big differences in your interests and activities and have gained a healthy respect for their importance in making a relationship work. Neither of you were stupid to try this relationship, but, despite being a good idea, it was a near miss you can both learn from. You’re doing the right thing for both of you by moving on.

If the pain of breaking up is more his than yours, that’s not as important as the other stuff you evaluated. As a matter of fact, you suspect he may well have an easier time finding his next match than you will.

If this experience has taught you about your needs and you respect what you’ve learned, you’ll become better at screening out your dates and ensuring that you don’t compromise your independence again unless you encounter a more compatible candidate.

If you aren’t happy with someone who’s “perfect” for you, then they probably aren’t. And if you don’t need a someone, period, give them the chance to find someone new (or spend more quality time with the TV).

STATEMENT:
“I wish I could like my boyfriend better and I don’t want to hurt him, but I think I’m better off without him and vice versa. I won’t let fears about negative feelings stop me from doing what’s necessary and remembering that break-ups are part of the learning process.”

Now that I’m 35 and looking around for a wife, I can’t help feeling that I destroyed my future by not marrying my college sweetheart. She’s a terrific person and we had a great relationship, but I wasn’t ready to settle down back then. So I dumped her, she found someone else, and now she’s happily married with kids and I’m a successfully executive who can’t find anyone to compare with her. The women I meet always have something wrong with them and I think my mistake has doomed me to die single and alone.

The biggest danger you face is not dying single, but dying defeated. Well, the biggest danger you face after death itself.

Some good people are single because they aren’t lucky about finding a mate—their lives are too complicated or, for various good reasons, they don’t meet someone who’s both available and on their wavelength—but that doesn’t mean they’re sad, lonely failures. They’re simply dealing with a mixed bag of luck, like everyone else.

As Christ might have said, if he hadn’t been so busy telling parables, what’s important is not whether you find riches or happiness, it’s how you deal with it when you can’t find riches and happiness. And, despite dying penniless, single and alone, he seems to have done alright for himself.

In addition, your negative attitude may be damaging your mate-search technique. While your college relationship taught you that you have a good capacity for friendship and partnership, it’s the timing that was wrong; your personal equipment—the size of your heart, and size is everything—has proven itself. So instead of feeling sad and defeated when you think of your old flame, be proud of your relationship and determined not to give up your independence unless you find someone just as good.

Assess the efficiency of your mate-search. Like any kind of search, it needs to be done efficiently or you’ll wear yourself out and then, see above, feel tired and defeated. That’s often a sign that you’re spending too much time on unsuitable candidates and losing your focus. Ask yourself whether guilt, horniness, or sentimentality are causing you to prolong pseudo-friendships that drain energy, reduce availability, and leave you yearning for solitude. If so, get a coach and learn how to do a good, tight search and a rapid, polite exit.

You can’t make yourself lucky, but you can be sure that there’s nothing wrong with your ability to be a good partner. If you’ve also given yourself the benefit of a good mate-search, you also know you’ve done your best. You may be sad about being single, but it’s not personal and it’s not failure. It’s just life, which, as always, is preferable to the alternative, no matter what your relationship status is when you enter it.

STATEMENT:
“I can’t avoid feeling that I fell off the deck of the love-boat after having been given a choice cabin for two, but I’ve made reasonable choices, I’m a good candidate, and I know what I’m looking for, so I will pursue my search with patience, I will not doubt myself, and I will never give up. “

Helping my daughter pay the rent on a bigger apartment seems to have lifted her out of her depression and she’s much more active at her job, but she’s still not making enough money and I’m running out of cash. If I tell her that she has to take a roommate, I’m afraid she’ll just crawl under the covers again and we’ll be back where we started. It shouldn’t be that hard for her to make enough money, but it is. I’m mad and I’m stuck. My goal is to get her to make more money and/or understand that I can’t keep supporting her like this.

While you may think you’re giving your daughter money out of love, you’re actually doing it out of fear. That’s trouble, because when you give money out of fear, you’re usually being mugged.

Fear makes you forget long-term risks, like what you’ll do after you run out of money and the consequences for you, her, and other people who depend on you. Your love is infinite, but your finances aren’t.

You’ll also forget that your daughter may be able to do more for herself now than she could before. She may be able to tolerate more stress and access other resources if yours are less available.

Finally, your fear amplifies her fear and vice versa, until you both doubt that she’ll be able to survive without your current level of support, without there being any evidence of that, other than fear itself.

If you want to manage her disability, rather than be managed by it, you must continually test out what she’s capable of. If she’s stressed by looking for a roommate, coach her on how to do it or how to find a coach. If the roommate is hard to live with, advise her on ways to protect herself. If you protect her more than absolutely necessary, you’re just stifling her growth in the long run.

After all, you’re not responsible for relieving her stress, but for teaching her how to live with it. You’re trying to ensure her basic safety and security, and while you wish she could be happy, that’s not something you or she control.

If she’s afraid of slipping back into depression, point out the constructive things she’s doing to prevent it. Stress may make her feel overwhelmed, but that doesn’t necessarily cause depression or mean that she’s slipping back. It just that means life is hard.

Don’t let her panic incite yours. Instead, think up an emergency, affordable bail-out plan in case she has a bad relapse. Don’t share it with her, just remind yourself that you know what to do for her safety and that the pain she may experience as you cut her funding is an unavoidable part of her recovery and your solvency.

By giving no more than you think is necessary, you become a strong fear-manager and learn self-defense against an emotional hostage situation. Ultimately, that’s the skill you want to give her.

STATEMENT:
“I’m terrified of the stress my daughter will experience if I cut back on the money I’m giving her, but I’ve thought carefully about what she needs and I’m sure she’ll be stronger if she can cope with the stress and do more with less.”

My 22-year-old daughter is mildly retarded, but she’s pretty well taken care of. She’s not unhappy—she worries about things much less than I do—but I’m unhappy, because I’ve never felt comfortable with her. Most people think she’s sweet and docile, but my daughter very much has a will of her own; she doesn’t like to shower, she doesn’t care about other people’s feelings, and she has no idea of how people are reacting to her, or anyone else. I’ve tried hard to find a point of positive connection, and failed. Other people think I’m a great father, but I can’t get over the feeling that I never met this challenge and that there’s unfinished business between my daughter and me.

Regardless of whether your daughter is retarded, super-powered or “normal,” you can never be sure that you’ll like her. It’s so much easier to be her father if you do, but that’s never a guarantee.

It may be that no one would like her if they really knew her, but that doesn’t matter. It sounds like you’ve tried hard to like her, but you don’t, and it’s not in your control.

Given the lack of good chemistry, however, you should appreciate your achievement all the more. You haven’t punished your daughter or told her she’s a failure; on the contrary, you’ve taken good care of her. You’ve done your job under much tougher conditions than most parents have to deal with, and I don’t mean because she’s retarded, but because of your negative feelings for her.

The test of a good teacher isn’t how well she teaches the kids she likes, but how well she does with the kids she doesn’t like and how well she hides that fact.

If this were the movies, your business wouldn’t be finished until the two of you have a good hug. Since this is real life, it’s never finished, so every day, do your best to treat her with respect and friendliness. If you slip and get nasty, apologize. It’s one day at a time.

It’s certainly sad that you couldn’t like her more, but it’s not a failure. It’s a success that, in spite of that, you treat her right, and one that only a great father could achieve.

STATEMENT:
“I will never feel comfortable with my daughter and I will always suspect that, if I were a better person, I would; but I am who I am and she is who she is and I’ve done the best job possible given that simple fact of life.”

I’m always a little annoyed at my boyfriend, even though we never really fight, because he always seems a little unavailable (you’d think at our age he’d be over playing games). If we spend lots of time together this weekend, then next weekend I can be sure he’ll call back late, find a reason we can’t meet early in the day, and leave me with an option for getting together briefly that doesn’t work well for either one of us. He used to say it was because he needed time for his son, but now that his son’s in college things haven’t changed. I don’t think he wants to date anyone else, and our friends think we’re great together, but I’d like to share my life with someone and our relationship is stuck.

Sometimes the worst thing about a relationship is that it’s too good to be bad, but too bad to be worth the effort.

Your boyfriend is almost a good match, good enough so that you look forward to seeing him every weekend, but it’s not mutual enough for him to feel the way you do. So you’re always chasing him, but never quite catching him.

If it were truly bad, then either he’d end it, or pride, fighting or the protests of friends might eventually help you break up, grieve and move on. Here, no such luck. You’re in relationship purgatory, but on the southern side.

Like Miss Piggy, it’s natural for you to have feelings about landing your elusive frog once and for all. You might wonder whether you need to make him love you more, or get him in the right mood, or lay down the law. Usually, however, if you’re not too bashful, you’ve already tried everything possible (short of karate chops), it hasn’t worked, and that’s the way it is.

So it’s time to admit that your goal isn’t to land him, because that’s just going to make you miserable. Your goal is to accept that, for whatever reason, he’ll never be fully available (and he won’t completely go away).

If you can accept that he’ll always be a grade B, then maybe you can stop feeling hurt and rejected and start thinking about whether he’s still good for something, better than the alternative, at least for the time being. If he’s better than nothing, at least until someone better comes along, then maybe he’s still worth seeing from time to time. If not, then stick with nothing and push him off into the sunset.

In any case, stop chasing him or pursuing what you want but can’t have. If you love him too much, keep away entirely. Otherwise, you will have fewer fights if you see him when he feels like it, enjoy your time together, and keep looking for something good, not just good enough.

STATEMENT:
“I sometimes feel like a loser because I can’t get my boyfriend to love me as much as I love him, but I know that I haven’t done anything wrong and that I’ve made a good effort to make things work. It’s not good for me to try to get someone to love me. I’ve got to protect my heart, give myself a future, and move on.”

My daughter’s seeing this guy who is crazy about her, but my husband can’t stand him. He’s hard-working, serious, very smart, and seemingly reliable, but he’s socially clueless and often irritates people without meaning to, including my husband, who’s equally socially clueless in that he can’t just be polite and hide his dislike. I like my daughter’s boyfriend and wish my husband wasn’t so unhappy with the guy who may marry our daughter.

It’s tempting, when you’re sensitive to social conflict, to want to help people get along, particularly when you see the long-term risks of conflict better than they can. If you’re gifted at overcoming awkwardness, smoothing out shyness, and getting antagonistic people to find common interests, it’s hard not to take responsibility for being a general, all around peacemaker and conductor of the harmony chorus.

Unfortunately, trying to stop a partner from expressing his anger may well give him a target for that anger, as well as renewing his determination to speak his mind, so don’t take responsibility for curbing your husband’s self-expressiveness or bad behavior. You might also be tempted to smooth over your daughter’s boyfriend’s rough edges, but this is equally likely to backfire.

So instead of trying to end hostility, see if you can get the parties involved to tolerate hostile feelings that may well be unavoidable. Begin by asking your husband what’s most important about his daughter’s boyfriend; whether he’s fun to be with, or likely to provide her with a good, solid partner and co-parent. Naturally, you and your husband would like your son-in-law to be both, but if that’s not to be, urge your husband to think through his priorities.

Then don’t ask your husband to be nice for your sake or his daughter’s, but for the sake of what he believes will be best for your daughter and possible grandchildren. In addition, he should ask himself whether he wants to drive his future son-in-law away.

I assume you think your daughter is aware of and accepts her boyfriend’s shortcomings, and that you’re not too worried about the long-term stability of their relationship. You get along with him fine and are ready to spend time with both of them, whether or not your husband is well-behaved enough to come along.

If you can draw a line, friendly but firm, between your husband’s behavior and your own, your partnership does not need to spoil your participation in theirs.

STATEMENT:
“I wish my daughter’s boyfriend was better with people and that my husband was better at stifling his dislike, but I believe her boyfriend has strengths that will make him a good partner for her, if that’s what she wants, and I won’t let my husband’s feelings or complaints interfere with the relationship I plan to have with the next generation.”

My wife suffers from non-medication responsive depression (we’ve done ECT’s, every med in the book, and she has a psychiatrist). She’s bitter and short to family; she goes off on the kids and then can turn around and be nice. I do all the work around the house, get the kids to activities, etc., and I’m wearing out. She comes home from work and just logs on her lap top and sits in front of the TV while I get dinner and clean up. She shows no affection towards me and I feel like a servant. When I complain or push her, she talks about killing herself and putting herself out of our misery (she’s been hospitalized several times) or just hurting herself (sometimes she cuts on her arms and legs). I’m getting to the point where I don’t like her anymore. She just seems to have given up. Nothing interests her, nothing tastes good…she gets no enjoyment from anything. What can I do? She’s in her forties, now, but she struggled with depression in her twenties and this current bout has been going on for 5 years. Her doctor and therapist are really committed to her, but it seems like she doesn’t care, like she enjoys being miserable. Sometimes I feel like I’m spiraling down with her, but I’m not going to give up. If I just stand by, she seems to just sink lower, but I can’t leave, because she’s said that the kids and I are the only reason she’s still alive.

If you’re like most married people, you become dependent on your spouse for a positive response, no matter how independent you are as an individual. You married her because you respect her opinion and take pleasure in her approval. You make her happy, everyone feels good. You see the problem here.

So it’s normal to feel bitterly disappointed and deflated when depression turns her into a grouchy, nasty, unappreciative, unaffectionate black hole who threatens suicide if you criticize her and never does her share.

It’s not just the lack of approval from her that’s bothering you, it’s the overabundance of disapproval, of you and everything else.

Unfortunately, the bitterness you feel in response to your unmet needs adds to her self-hate, creating a vicious circle of negative emotion that demoralizes everyone. Controlling that bitterness is the one thing you can do to improve what is an otherwise impossible situation.

First, pretend that she’s had a stroke that zapped the part of her personality that was warm, active, and responsive; your loss isn’t personal or preventable, and your needs are no longer plausible. Acknowledging these difficult truths now prepares you to assess, without hurt or a sense of failure, whether your family is better off with the two of you together or apart.

There are positive aspects to your marriage, like the fact that she contributes financially, and that, by staying alive, she helps the kids, and hopefully she does some parenting from time to time. She’s showing courage, whether she knows it or not. Maybe the advantages of staying together outweigh the many disadvantages you’ve listed above.

Whatever you decide is best, present it to her positively; tell her you know she’s trying and there’s probably love and affection in there somewhere, if the depression would only lighten up. Remember the person she was and talk to that person as if she’s still there but, like Sleeping Beauty, can’t wake up.

If you feel separation is for the best, let her know that you value and support her role with the kids and that what you are separating from is not her, but her illness. And if she threatens suicide, tell her that her threats are a factor in the separation.

When depression takes over your personality, it makes you do bad things, like putting your life in other people’s hands. If she could control that side of herself, she might improve her parenting and your partnership, even if her depression does not improve. Recommend DBT, a kind of therapy I often recommend, that helps people who feel terrible protect themselves from acting terribly.

Decide what’s for the best, don’t be a victim, and ignore blackmail. You may be a victim of her illness, but you’re also the man in charge who’s doing a wonderful job of soldiering on. If you do what’s best for you and your kids, then it doesn’t matter what she says now; the healthy part of her approves, even if it can’t be heard.

STATEMENT:
“I feel like I’m taking it from all sides and that all the love and nurturing I give my sick wife comes back as shit. I know, however, that her response is not her, but her illness. I have assumed a huge load as a single parent who must now go on alone without the love and support of a partner. I will make hard choices that she may see very negatively, as she sees everything. I will hold fast to my own vision of what’s best for the family.”

I’m writing because my husband wants me to. He thinks there’s something wrong with me, but I like being a little manic, so I haven’t taken my mood-stabilizer medication in 10 years. It’s true, I talk fast, I can’t hold a job, I’m irritable, and he’s had to put me in the hospital a couple times. On the other hand, I don’t hurt anyone and I like the way I feel, most of the time, except for one thing: he wants me to be the way I used to be and he’s always unhappy with me. I hate sleeping in the same bed, but he’ll give me a hard time if I move to another room. My goal is to get him off my back, so I agreed to write.

As noted above, when you’re married, you can’t help depending on your spouse’s approval, in some deep, hard-wired way, which means that, if you never seem to get it, you become a permanent rebel who cares too much to leave but feels better every time you do the opposite of what he wants. In the process, you lose track of your own priorities.

On the other hand, you know your priorities about your hypomanic mood. Keeping it natural and un-medicated is more important to you than holding a job, staying out of hospitals, and keeping your husband happy. That’s where you stand.

The problem is, you wish your husband would get used to the new (10-year-old) you, but that’s not going to happen. There’s no point in talking about whether he should accept you, just like there’s no point in talking about whether you should damp down your hypomania. He can’t help where he stands and neither can you.

So instead of writing to someone who’s supposed to persuade you to take your medication, face the sad fall-out from your decision. Don’t blame yourself; just ask whether the marriage is worth it, because clearly, your old marriage and the mania can’t co-exist.

On the one side, you’ve shared a lot of years together and your standard of living is probably better with him than without him, given that you’re on disability. On the other hand, there’s the mutual non-acceptance, which is hard for both of you to live with.

Whatever you decide, stop whining. You’re not to blame for a bad decision, and you aren’t a victim of bipolar disease, so don’t make yourself a victim of your husband’s non-acceptance.

If you want to continue to live with him, have the balls to stand by your decision. Tell him you’re sticking with the temperament you’ve got, you still want to live with him, you won’t talk to shrinks, and you’ll sleep where you sleep. If he wants to throw you out when he realizes, after 10 years, that you aren’t going to change, so be it. You don’t blame yourself for choosing to live with your hypomanic mood, and you don’t blame him if he wants to leave his life with you behind.

STATEMENT:
“I feel like I’ve ruined my marriage by deciding to do what’s right for me, but the decision has been costly in so many ways that I know I didn’t do it lightly or to spite my husband, so I respect my decision. Now I need to ignore feelings of guilt or wishes that he could accept me the way I am and instead accept him the way he is. Whatever I decide to do about our marriage, I’ll do what I think is best for us and never be a victim.”

I know my wife was always ambivalent about having a child because, though we had a happy marriage, we were both in our late 30s and she liked her life the way it was, but now, 6 years later, her crabbiness is hard to take. She’s not abusive, and she likes our son now that he’s here, but she’s grumpy and complains a lot. When I dragged her into couples therapy she expressed her resentment and that made her a little better, but then she stopped going, and now I don’t know how to get her to get help. I really don’t like her grumbling—our son, who is basically a good kid, is also somewhat negative and throws hard-to-manage tantrums—but I can’t think of anything else to do but protect myself by backing away when one or the other of them gets nasty.

If anyone insists to you that communication is the most important part of a marriage, bring up this case, because a little less communicating on your wife’s part would go a long way. Especially since she’s communicating through whines.

Like most people who aren’t assholes, your wife is prone to whining when she’s tired and in the presence of family, particularly if it’s someone she can blame, i.e., a parent or spouse. She can stop if she has to and it’s better for everyone if she does.

Again, though, as for most people, the flow of whining is often hard to dam.

Therapy is not a good treatment for whining unless the therapist doesn’t like to hear it any more than you do. Yes, in the short term (really short, like the hours before and after a session) it may relieve emotional pressure and make your wife feel heard and understood. The problem is that it also makes her a victim who feels better by whining, which makes the problem somewhat worse.

No one is saying that people don’t suffer or that your wife isn’t having a hard time; parenting is much harder for some than for others, no matter how nice their kids are or how much money they have. There are better ways of coping with the pain of parenting, however, than by complaining or venting anger. Usually, the negative emotion causes kids to behave badly and spouses to back off, causing more pain. It’s the standard dangerous vicious circle that most parents are familiar with.

So, instead of trying to get your wife help, give her some help by telling her you think she could do better by managing herself more positively. Show respect for her feelings but urge her to accept them as probably unavoidable. She can’t change you, your son, or her life, and talking to a therapist didn’t cure her, so she’s probably got what she’s got. She could avoid making things worse, however, by keeping her negative feelings to herself, staying busy, and focusing on managing your son’s behavior.

Suggest that she consult a parenting coach, which is to say a therapist who focuses on managing feelings rather than expressing them. Give her positive feedback when she manages better, not when she expresses more.

Don’t accept responsibility for having dragged her into this mess, because it takes two to make a third. Focus instead on present choices—yours, hers, and your son’s—and you may find that she can choose to keep a lid on her feelings and that, when she does, better things happen. Communication is good in moderation, but a marriage improves with encouraging actions, not discouraging words.

STATEMENT:
“I hate to see my wife’s unhappiness, which just makes me helpless, guilty, and angry, but I’m confident that I’m OK as a husband and father, and she’s really not doing a bad job herself. I’ll resist taking responsibility for her unhappiness or responding negatively. If she starts whining, I’ll disagree with what she’s doing and act accordingly without getting angry or disrespectful. Whether or not she likes my response, I’ll hope it pushes us in a better direction. Otherwise, I’ll know I’ve done my best.”

My brother has been very good to me, but it’s always on condition that I accept his advice and say I’m sorry periodically for things I didn’t do, and I’ve finally reached the point where I don’t want to have anything to do with him. My life isn’t a mess, I’m pretty good at dealing with most people without offending them, and I don’t like accepting criticism I don’t deserve. On the other hand, if I let him know I disagree with him, he’ll bring up all the mistakes I’ve made and the things he’s done for me, and I’ll never hear the end of it. I’d just like to get away from him.

Having said that most people, other than assholes, can tolerate disagreement even if they don’t like it, I’m not sure what category your brother belongs to. Alas, there’s only one way to find out.

If you back away from him while apologizing insincerely, you may avoid conflict in the short run, but you may also be more vulnerable to self-recrimination and guilt in the long run when he next accuses you of letting him down. Standing up to him may do your relationship no good, but it will help your relationship with yourself.

So the next time you see him, take care to express no guilt or self-apology. Prepare for the fact that, sooner or later, he’ll air a complaint, and let the testing begin.

When he does complain, don’t apologize or protest. Tell him, respectfully, that you’ll give his complaint serious attention and get back to him. Then end the conversation and leave. If he objects to your refusal to talk things out right away, announce with conviction that you believe it’s better to take a little time before you reply so as to avoid negative feeling. Remember, just because he files a complaint doesn’t mean he controls your time, emotions, or agenda.

Don’t wait for him to agree, just leave, and respond in writing if you want to avoid a scene. Repeat his complaint accurately, so that it’s clear you heard, and don’t understate his accusations.

Apologize, of course, if you think you did something wrong.

Otherwise, let him know you see things differently without explaining or getting into details. Don’t try to persuade him that your way is right, because the only person who needs to be persuaded is you, and if he’s failed the asshole test, he’ll never see your side, anyway.

Then close. Announce that you’ll have to agree to disagree and—this is important—that no good can come out of discussing the issue further. Make it clear that you won’t.

Yes, that one-two punch may trigger conflict, but don’t flinch. He can say whatever he wants, you’re just not going to listen, stay in the room, stay on the phone, or send a return email until he’s ready to drop the subject.

Your door is open to him and to good behavior, but closed to negative words about old complaints. He may stop calling, call you a jerk, and complain to everyone who knows you that you’re nasty and ungrateful. In other words, he may be an asshole. The good news is, you don’t have to be.

You’re doing the right thing if you stick with your response: you heard his complaint, responded, disagreed, and decided that it’s better left alone because it can’t be talked out. You have no animosity or complaint, and you certainly don’t have a reason to apologize.

STATEMENT:
“I hate having my brother angry at me but peace at any price is not good for my self respect. Tolerating his anger is better than offering undeserved apologies. Whether or not our relationship survives the change, I will no longer be forced to defend myself or win forgiveness when I’m sure I’ve done nothing wrong.”

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 always suspected that I was attracted to women more than to men, but I liked my husband, and we’ve been good companions for the past 20 years. It hurt him deeply, however, that I wasn’t interested in him sexually and finally, when he pressured me to tell him what was wrong, I told him I thought I might be gay. Now he feels I lied to him, that our marriage has been meaningless, and he wants a divorce. Our life together is over and I feel totally to blame, like I’ve let down my husband and betrayed our marriage. What can I say to make amends?

There’s one important step people sometimes forget to take before making amends– asking yourself what you’ve done wrong.

Obviously, your husband is hurt and he thinks you’re to blame, but, as we’ve said many times, that’s the whole point of marriage—having someone to blame. Real sin requires knowing that you have something to hide, and that doesn’t seem to be the case.

With only 3 shopping days left until Yom Kippur, you might wish to remind yourself that the Day of Atonement, when Jews make a special effort to examine our sins, begins with a thrice-repeated statement claiming that no one should ever be responsible for vows they can’t keep.

In other words, life is often impossible and it’s not rationalizing to say you can’t be responsible for what you don’t control– it’s Old Testament.

So look what you’ve done with your (newly coined) homosexual feelings. You haven’t been unfaithful, or blamed your lack of attraction to your husband on his being fat. If you kept a secret from him, it was because you also kept it from yourself, and in spite of your uneasiness, you forged a 20 year relationship. That’s a major accomplishment for both of you.

So don’t let your sexual identity shock shake your confidence; you’ve taken a step forward that allows you to be more self-accepting and spontaneous. While it damages your husband’s matrimonial ideal, it shouldn’t diminish your pride in what both of you have done with the marriage so far, or your hope in what it might become in the future, if your husband calms down.

After all, this doesn’t need to be the end of your relationship; you maybe not have been a great sexual partner, but you’ve always been a great partner, and there’s no reason not to continue to be great friends.

STATEMENT:
“I wish our sexual chemistry and my sexual identity were less complicated, but I feel my husband and I have been good partners, not because of my lying, but in spite of it. I wish it didn’t hurt to face these sexual realities but I’m glad we did and think we can be better friends now that I no longer have to hide who I am.”

I would like to stay off pain pills and I attend AA meetings regularly, but I get the pills from an old friend of mine who also goes to the meetings. She’s been sick with HIV and needs all the support she can get, so we wind up hanging out and then getting high. I wish my husband gave me a little more credit for trying to stay clean, even if I haven’t been successful. It’s hard to say “no” to spending time with a dying friend.

Forget for a moment why other people think it’s bad for you to take pain pills; instead, do your own assessment, not just for whether the pills are bad, but for whether or not amends are in order.

Obviously, the good side is that they make you feel better and you enjoy passing time with a sick friend. Then again, pain pills have a magical ability to kill pain while also causing a ton of it.

Start with a checklist of possible negatives, so you won’t miss the big picture. Include the weekly cost and whether the pills interfere with your ability to work, either directly or by risking a positive drug screen. Ask friends and family whether they see a negative effect on your behavior, and ask yourself whether your focus on feeling better has pushed aside other priorities, like being a good friend or parent.

Finally, assess your friendship with this friend in the same way. Ask yourself whether this is a friend who, in addition to being fun to hang out with, is someone you can count on. Look carefully at whether the feel-good focus of the friendship excludes the more important priorities above.

You need to find your own reasons for being sober, and the strongest reasons will come, not from your need to please your husband or meeting-mates, but from your sense of what it takes to be a good person. As the AA saying goes, you are the reason for your own sobriety. If you’ve used drugs a long time, however, you tend to be super-aware of how other people feel about you and relatively insensitive to your own standards. Those standards give you the reasons to stay clean.

Remember, however, that standards aren’t the same as sentiments. You may feel like a good woman for supporting a sick friend—a nice sentiment—while failing to meet important commitments to manage your health, work, family and other friendships.

Be careful not to bullshit yourself, or your good deeds will, surprise, get you little appreciation or, more importantly, little self-respect. If keeping your friend company keeps you from doing the right thing, then, like the pills themselves, you’re causing more pain than you’re preventing.

STATEMENT:
I feel good when I can help out an appreciative pal and share some good times, but if I want to keep my relationships with people who really care about me, I need to put commitments ahead of good feelings.

I’m wondering whether I should try to do something to help my ex who I feel is spiraling into unhealthy (mentally and physically) old age (i.e., be my brother’s keeper rather than “let live”). He’s been acting weird, keeping strange pets and stranger company, and he moved to a rough part of town though he has the money to live wherever he wants. It’s like he’s having a late-life crisis. I know he’s got a bunch of medical problems and I wonder whether he’s taking care of himself. My goal is to figure out how far I should push him to get help.

Whether or not you should be your brother’s, or your ex’s, keeper is a meaningless question if you expect the answer to be yes or no. Nothing involving exes is simple (even their pets).

If you’re actually wondering how far you should go, that’s a terrific question for which there’s a good way to develop an answer of your own.

The trouble is, people usually approach this question in terms of weighing the pros and cons of the feelings involved: the bad feeling of anger, disappointment, resentment, vs. the good feeling of helpfulness, loyalty, and caring for your fellow man.

In real life, it’s a lose/lose, and you wind up reacting too much to your mood, the other’s guy’s attitude, your anger at his attitude, your guilt about your anger, and your determination to help someone across the street whether or not he wants to go.

After all, some people are naturally angry while others can’t stop giving and never get angry. So, as I always tell you, don’t let your feelings be your guide, or you’ll probably end up going off the cliff.

Ignore your anger (although that’s not your problem) and your desire to help (which sounds much closer to your natural style). Instead of being driven by your feelings, consult your values and draw up guidelines for balancing your wish to help an old flame vs. your right to live your own life and not waste time on old, unwinnable struggles.

In other words, if you know he won’t listen (because you or someone more persuasive has tried), save your breath. Be sure, however, that you’ve considered every reasonable possibility.

If you think there’s something helpful worth trying, do it, unless it’s someone else’s job; you’re the ex-wife, but there may be others who should step to the plate first, or he himself may be the only person who can do what needs to be done. Figure out where your boundaries are, and don’t overstep them or you’ll make things worse.

Finally, before trying to help him, figure out whether you can afford the cost. After all, you have other obligations, including taking care of yourself and managing your own possible rainy days, so remember, you’ve got a budget, and helping can become an obsession.

If you can think of any complications that these rules don’t cover, let me know. That you want to help is wonderful, but be careful to follow your guidelines and not push yourself to the point of danger, exhaustion, or conflict. Evaluate the situation on your terms, act accordingly, and you won’t end up getting hurt (by him or his menagerie).

STATEMENT:
“I wish my ex-husband well and want to honor the life and love we once shared. As always, however, I must keep in mind the limits of what I can do, accept possible helplessness, and remember my other obligations.”

I can’t count on my family for anything, and it’s gotten to the point where I think it would be best to cut ties altogether. Recently, when my father died, my brother, who was my dad’s favorite and the executor, managed to give himself most of the money, buy off my sister with a big gift, and give me nothing (he said he needed it more and my sister went along with it). I know I’ve always been the responsible older brother who worries and nags and takes responsibility for everyone, but I’ve finally woken up to the fact that no one worries about me. My goal is to stop feeling responsible and never see the jerks again.

The main reason to be your brother’s keeper is not to get gratitude or recognition, but to know that you’re being a good person. That’s why it’s important to do it and not overdo it and maybe become your brother’s occasional-watcher instead.

It’s likely you started taking care of them when you were younger, because people praised you for it, or it helped your family survive as a family. There’s always a good reason, but knowing why you did it usually doesn’t make a difference.

Now the question is, how good should you be to a brother and sister who have turned out to be jerks. It’s too bad they’re jerks, but you came out of your early family time knowing you did good and they didn’t come out as well. So, whether they’re ungrateful or avaricious, you still come out the winner.

The sad thing is that they didn’t turn out to be good people you could be friends with, which is what happens to many people with their siblings. If you don’t accept this fact, you’ll spend your time trying to get them to see their mistakes and improve. So accept it, mourn your loss, and prepare your own guidelines for being decent to sucky sibs.

As in the case above, don’t be guided by your feelings. Your values tell you that you will always have a connection and should always see to their basic safety. At the same time, their bad behavior will probably cause problems that you can’t fix, so don’t hold yourself responsible for fixing them. Their personalities are their problem, not yours.

Letting them know that you’re angry or critical usually does more harm than good, so don’t bother; instead of feeling guilty, they’ll just blame you and get nasty. This is a classic example of a Feelings Fart”™, when an explosive, emotional emission gives you temporary relief that actually poisons the air, and your relationship, for much longer.

That’s why it’s smarter to act nice, stay superficial, and keep it short from now on. You were a good brother growing up and you’re a good brother now, but you weren’t lucky, so you won’t get much satisfaction or reward from the sibs you helped raise.

Still, they are your family, so it’s better to keep them at arm’s length than cut them off entirely. You were your brother’s keeper, but you’d be better off just being a brother instead.

STATEMENT:
“I’m proud of being a responsible brother and I wish my sibs and I could be close, but they didn’t turn out to be people I could be friends with. Fortunately, I now have less to be responsible for, other than accepting them, keeping it pleasant, and looking elsewhere for trust and friendship.”

Please Note: There will be no new post on Monday due to the American firework festivities. We’ll return to posting on Thursday, assuming we don’t blow our fingers off.

I never feel as though I ultimately have any power in a relationship beyond what’s given to me by the woman I’m with. The early stages always evolve easily, organically, the two of us meeting each other’s needs. I give a lot of myself and feel very happy and safe and good as she reciprocates. At some point, however, an imbalance always arises, and I find myself doubling-down on staying patient and compassionate while she’s acting less committed to meeting my needs. It leaves me feeling confused and betrayed, like I’m serving at her pleasure, and if I complain, then that’s it, it’s over. This happens again and again and I sense I’m missing a transitional skill set. I’m not going to stop being the type who invests a lot emotionally in a woman I want to be with. The question is, how do I transition out of that early, romantic stage into something that allows me to stay compassionate but preserves my self-respect as things invariably start to get complicated?

Questions like this are tricky, because at best they’re vague, and at worst, they’re a tad creepy, because they refer to girlfriends entirely in terms of their impact on your feelings, rather than the details of who they are and what they do in life.

Since we’re all about giving our readers the benefit of the doubt, we’ll assume that just pointing out that girlfriends are people doesn’t solve your problem.

Instead, we’ll take it that your approach to relationships, like your case, is simply too reactive to your emotions, rather than self-involved and narcissistic.

In the absence of specifics, the main focus of this case seems to be the importance of meeting emotional needs in a relationship, and evaluating relationships in terms of how good they make you feel is obviously something we’d frown upon.

If you want your needs met in a relationship, it’s better to focus on what’s more tangible and under your partner’s control, e.g., she might not make you happy everyday, but, in the long run, you’re better off if she makes car payments on time (because you’d be pretty unhappy if visited by the repo man).

It’s up to you to define what you really need, choose someone who has the capacity to give it to you, and assess whether you’re getting enough to be worth the hard times when it feels like you’re getting nothing but crap. That sounds fairly business-like, and it needs to be business-like, because, otherwise, your feelings will run you into the ground.

If you rely on feelings alone to tell you what to do, any kind of mutual attraction will make you satisfied, whether the attraction is based on lust, money, infatuation, or a mutual hatred of the Yankees. Your needs will be met and so will hers, but meanwhile, you haven’t sized up whether she’s a steady person who shares your values and shows an ability to accept your less attractive qualities, and vice versa.

You’re not missing a transitional skill set, you’re just failing to define your values and do pre-screening. Yes, this process means forgoing the joys of fast romance and frustrating your short-term needs by going slow, doing fact-checking, and tolerating horniness, loneliness, or both until you’re confident you’ve got someone and something solid. It also means avoiding the kind of frustration described above.

Your current approach leaves you feeling betrayed and wondering what you did wrong. The more you accept those feelings as true, the more actively you’ll pursue anyone you’re attracted to, while feeling passively dumped once things don’t work out. You’ll become a depressed victim and wonderful shrink-fodder.

From now on, don’t invest a lot in anyone or anything, emotionally or otherwise, until you’ve checked them out carefully, drawing on your experience and self-knowledge. Focus on the details, if not for us, then for your own sake if you ever want an actual human wife.

STATEMENT:
“The more attracted I am to a woman, the harder I will try to remember what I’m looking for in a partner and look for evidence that she has it. Meanwhile, I will try to keep my heart and other organs under control.”

I’m scared by the way I’ve started to snap at my ailing parents. They expect me to do what my two older sisters used to do for them, but my sisters have moved away, and I’m not well, and there’s only so much I can do, but my parents don’t seem to understand that. I’m feeling drained and I want them to understand I’ve reached my limit. I can’t do any more.

When you’re a kid, it’s normal to regard your parents as the authority on needs. If they tell you you’re not meeting their need for you to do chores or school work, then so it was written you’re a bad kid.

You may complain that they aren’t fair, but you haven’t yet developed your own standards or the strength of mind to believe in them. If you feel unjustly accused, it’s hard to feel happy with yourself until they’ve withdrawn the accusation and declared you innocent.

Now, like a lot of adults, you feel the same way, even though you’ve probably developed your own standards for what a good person should do to help her parents. If you were judging a friend, you’d expect her to respond to her parents’ needs by doing anything that would make a difference, that couldn’t be done by others, and that she could afford to do, given her other obligations.

You’d also point out that she had little control over most of their problems and should be careful not to give herself responsibility for them. You’d remind her that her parents had less ability than ever to judge her actions and restrain themselves from complaining or making her feel responsible for their pain.

So caring for your parents is a trying time. If you listen to them as a child would, however, you’ll knock yourself out and resent them for never being satisfied or appreciative. You’ll get nasty, helpless, and passive. Victimized, you’ll talk yourself into feeling desperate.

If you’ve learned by living and watching them, however, you can use your own standards of right and wrong to protect yourself from their unhappiness, and the guilt it triggers. If they don’t like your performance, you can agree to disagree. You can find your own balance between meeting their needs and attending to your own, without needing their approval.

Take time to consult your own standards, and don’t respond to them before you do. Dismiss the kid who wants to be approved and understood. They need grown-up help now, and if you can act like one, you’ll wind up giving them better care without losing track of your own needs.

STATEMENT:
“It hurts to see my parents struggle and hear their disappointment with me, but I know I love them, I’m determined to help them, and I believe I can do a good job of caring for them without having to do everything they ask or winning their approval. I just have to do what I think is right. “