My 15-year-old son needs treatment for his irritability. He gets unbelievably angry over small things, to the point that he ups and goes to his room. He agrees that things are basically OK and he’s sorry afterwards, but it happens at least once a week. We have a happy home and he has friends in school and gets good grades. I think it’s his mood that’s the problem and it causes him and our family a lot of pain. My goal is to figure out how to get him some help with psychotherapy and/or medication.

Just because someone’s in pain doesn’t mean he needs help. Pain is just part of the complete life package, along with joy, hunger, death, etc.

Of course, you’ve got less to lose and more to gain from treatment if his irritability has caused bruised knuckles, broken sheetrock, and a growing familiarity with your local police. Pain is a normal part of life, but serving life in prison isn’t.

What you’re saying, however, is that, aside from his verbal explosions, he remains in physical control, does self-motivated time-outs, retains good relationships, and has no trouble focusing on work and getting it done. No pill could improve upon that.

So, if he’s handling his pain well, getting things done, and engaging in life, then making him get treatment for his irritability may make a bigger deal of his problem without necessarily providing relief. It’s a sad fact, but neither talk therapy nor psychiatric medication reliably improves irritability—just sometimes and more often than placebo.

It’s always possible that his irritability foreshadows a mood disorder that will eventually get worse and might be prevented or disarmed by beginning medication early. The trouble is, we have no way of telling whether he’s at high risk, and the medication has risks of its own, as well as being costly. The risks from antidepressants aren’t great, as far as we know, but there’s always the risk of what we don’t know because our tools for examining the long-term effects of medication on the brain are limited. If you try an antidepressant, ask yourself whether it’s helpful enough to be worth that risk.

As for most mood stabilizers, like Lithium, Depakote, and Abilify, the risk is much higher than for antidepressants (although you wouldn’t think so if you didn’t listen carefully to the end of Abilify commercials). Sometimes, pain treatment is worse than pain, and shouldn’t be considered without a careful assessment of the risk and rewards. From what you’ve said, the risks of most mood stabilizers dwarf the rewards by a mile.

Psychotherapy can be harmful if his shrink doesn’t accept the fact that treatment has limits. Find someone who can accept the possibility that your son’s irritable outbursts are unavoidable and coach him on managing them if they can’t be cured—though, clearly, your son is already a good manager himself.

In the end, the decision is yours, and various treatments might be helpful. If you accept the possibility, however, that treatment for painful conditions is not always better than no treatment, then you will weigh risk against benefit, regardless of how you feel, and make a good decision. After all, it’s risky to overestimate the power of medication and treatment, but it’s riskier to underestimate your son.

STATEMENT:
“It breaks my heart to watch my son have a meltdown and I’m terrified of what can happen to a teenage boy with an anger problem. I know he’s a good kid, however, and he’s showed an amazing ability to keep it together socially and academically. If a treatment seems to help him and be worth the risk, I’ll support it. If it doesn’t, I’ll support the many good ways he’s dealing with his temper and help him develop even stronger anger-management skills.”

My son is a nice kid, but his ADD makes him completely irresponsible. He seems motivated about getting his college degree, but, even when he takes his medication, he always comes late to lectures, leaves assignments to the last minute, and doesn’t get problem sets finished. He was asked to take a semester off because his grades slipped and he seemed out of control. Now that he’s back at home, he pays no attention to his bank balance and has bounced a lot of checks. When I confront him, he’s sincerely apologetic, but then he does the same thing the next day. I just wish I could get him to stop lying and care about what he’s doing.

If you can’t help someone with love and medication (see above), it’s normal to assume that he doesn’t really want to get better and your goal is to find the key to motivate him. The trouble is, some people who are motivated (and medicated) are nevertheless unable to perform.

They feel ashamed, apologize, avoid, feel more ashamed, and so on. They seem sleazy and unmotivated. The problem is that, if you treat them as if they’re sleazy and unmotivated, you make them worse.

The sad fact here is that medication can usually sharpen attention and make learning easier, but it can’t correct the executive function problems that make it hard for many people with ADD (and others) to get things done and deal with unpleasant priorities. Yes, you need character and willpower, but you also need some help from your brain, and some brains are too “in the moment” to be pushed into planned, prioritized activities, even when the will is willing and the attention razor sharp.

In that case, your goal isn’t to get your son to stop lying—he’s not purposefully dishonest, just permanently flakey—but to disarm his shame while helping him face the full extent of his disability. Forget about his lying, insincerity and apologies. Make it clear you’re not interested in the merry-go-round of avoidance and remorse and instead want to examine the power of whatever makes him fuck up in spite of the fact that he doesn’t really want to. That said, your goal is to help him find ways to manage himself.

Don’t let him present himself as a bad guy who could do better if he’d just try harder, because the evidence says otherwise. In reality, he’s a good guy with a permanent impairment, and it will take him a lot of work to get a handle on it.

Ask him if he’d like a wake-up call in the morning, or whether he should compose a daily log of his lateness to see when it’s better or worse and whether it’s responding to interventions, including medication changes. The more you talk about his lack of control as a fact, the more you challenge the shame that reinforces avoidance. Too bad he’s fucked, but there’s lots to be done. Most of us have weaknesses we have to work hard to manage, but most involve food and don’t involve bank fees.

Once you limit his responsibility and yours for what he doesn’t control, you’re free to bear down on the one part that he does have some power over. You don’t expect him to change his disability or understand why he has it—it is what it is—but you’re confident he can work on managing it, and that, with hard work and discipline, he can gain the control he needs and lose the shame that’s holding him back.

STATEMENT:
“It’s hard to watch my son’s overly sincere apology for behavior that cost us half a year’s tuition, knowing that, if he hadn’t lied about what was happening, we could have helped him, and that he’ll do the same thing again. Nevertheless, he wants good things for himself and has a legitimate problem that is worse than a poor attention span. I will talk to him about the good things he can do with a bad problem, and urge him to seek coaching rather than moral reform or absolution.”

While most mental health clinicians would feel guilty admitting this, I’ve been in the biz for long enough that I don’t give a shit and I need to vent. Most of the crisis calls I get from my psychotherapy practice are senseless and irritating; they’re from patients who feel bad because they forgot to take their medications, or drank too much or when they shouldn’t, or allowed their demons to wreak vengeance on their enemies, the nearer the better, self best of all. A few call me because they’re feeling suicidal (but won’t go to the hospital) and just want me to make them feel better, which is hard when it’s late and I’m tired, and often impossible just because I don’t have that kind of power. I try to be civil, but their calls leave me feeling helpless and wondering whether I’m doing any good. Discussing their responsibility for their behavior is useless, because it usually makes them mad or apologetic. My goal is to figure out what to do with crisis calls that are really a useless pain in the ass.

Many crisis calls you receive as a shrink do a good job of showing off a patient’s worst behavior. It’s like having partial custody of a colicky child.

It’s not that their distress isn’t real and severe—it is, almost always—it’s that it causes self-defeating behavior, like drinking or mouthing off or retreating from the world, which creates a jam that is extra hard to get out of.

Bad feelings cause bad behavior, bad listening skills and bad regrets about going into the therapy business instead of owning a Toyota dealership.

You’re right to wonder whether your response to crisis calls is helpful. Whether you realize it or not—and you seem to realize it—your words sound moralistic and angry, though for good reason. The more you care about your patients’ welfare, the more upset you get about what they’re doing to themselves and how it undoes all those good talks (and/or medications) that seemed to help. As you say, their negative feelings become contagious as you wrestle with your own fatigue, doubts, and fears about more calls to come.

Unfortunately, a moralistic tone usually makes people who’ve messed up feel more messed up. You judge them as having made bad choices, whereas they experience a rush of emotions and habits that sweep all choice away. Your intentions are good, but labeling your bad-behaving patients as irresponsible bad-choosers will usually make them feel like losers talking to their dads.

The good side is that you’ve given them a focus for their anger and disappointment that isn’t themselves. The bad side is that you may get an honorable mention in a suicide note.

If you truly believe in your observations, however, assure yourself that you’re not responsible for making the crisis caller less destructive. The threat to you isn’t the intrusion on your time, it’s feeling responsible for the mess they’re in, which you’re not. Their mess is out of your control, and theirs. Your only responsibility is to give them good advice and do what you can if they’re not safe.

Tell them what you think they eventually need to be able to tell themselves; it will pass, there are good things to do meanwhile, and they’ll sort out the cleanup when they’re better rested. If they’re not safe, they should take themselves to an emergency room.

Assure them you’ll work with them on increasing their self-control over anything they think they’re doing wrong, but it can’t happen now. Good night and good luck to them, and I hope it felt good for you to vent.

STATEMENT:
“It’s hard to stay calm when I see my patients fucking up their lives and then wanting me to make them feel better during my spare time, but my feelings are just a reflection of their feelings, and don’t have to get in my way. When I can’t help them, it’s too bad, but it doesn’t help to blame them, and we can make good use of the experience later, when we talk during work hours.”

As a therapist, I assume that my strongest weapons are kindness and empathy, but sometimes the process is exhausting and my family does not appreciate the amount of time I spend fielding patient phone calls off-hours. When I get desperate calls at dinnertime or late at night, they interfere with my family life, but I don’t believe in hanging up until my patients feel better. Many have been traumatized and go through terrible periods of emptiness and they need to know that someone cares. My family jokes, somewhat bitterly, that my patients have more access to me than they do. I feel unappreciated, tired, and torn in many directions. At least my patients feel that I care. My goal is to help my family see that I also care about them.

If empathy and kindness were as powerful as some therapists and Christians believe, the world would be a lot better than it is. As your family correctly observes, however, the calls keep coming, there are no cures, and What About Bob is coming down the road.

Ask yourself whether your patients are actually getting better, or just feel better because they’ve found someone nice to take their calls. If they are feeling better, figure out if it’s because they’re better at managing their own crises, or because you’ve confirmed their right to have a nice response whenever they need it. If it’s the latter, heaven help them when you’re not there (and help your family when you are).

It’s good that you’re kind and empathic; that’s why your family and patients like to spend time with you. What’s wrong, however, is that, in over-valuing the therapeutic impact of those qualities, you’re putting too much responsibility on yourself for your patients’ problems (see above). Realistic experience should tell you that kindness doesn’t cure. Neither (see above) does moralistic confrontation.

That is sad, and limits your powers considerably, but it also means you should keep calls short and treat them as evidence of your patients’ need for better self-management. If a patient is willing to try improving his/her self-management, that’s a great focus for treatment and the calls are grist for the mill.

If, on the other hand, a patient can’t see any possibilities for better self-regulation and wants nothing other than better treatment from others, your therapy won’t do any good other than providing him/her with a short-term fix and your family with an empty seat at the table. In that case, Forget Bob and return to the family fold.

STATEMENT:
“It feels right to soothe those who are in despair, and to help them carry their load, but I know that I can’t really carry anyone else’s load and that responding to repeated off-hours calls doesn’t help patients appreciate and make best use of their own resources. Without sacrificing my kindness, I will offer them ideas about how to manage their moments of disorganization and despair, and I will do that most effectively during treatment hours and not at other times.”

I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and anorexia nervosa purging type a few years ago. Both of these issues had pretty much consumed my life during the years leading up to that diagnosis and have continued to be impairing ever since. I started cutting myself two years ago (it has become more frequent this past year), and I’ve had several panic attacks in the past several months. Fortunately, my overwhelming desire to commit suicide has subsided, although I still think of suicide and my death in general fairly often. In addition to my own issues, I have watched my mom slip into a state of psychosis during the past two years, triggered by the death of her father. She has become so depressed, delusional, and violent that my parents separated and sometimes I don’t even feel safe staying in the house with her—a few weeks ago my dad and I had to stop her from going through with a suicide attempt. The police were called, and I had to hold her arms down while she was clearly in a psychotic rage. At one point, she tried to stab my hand to make me let go. She was taken to a mental health facility where she stayed for a week, and now she’s furious at us for making her go there and hasn’t been much better since then. I feel like I never get anywhere with therapists because they just prescribe medicines that make me feel numb to any emotions or focus on my eating disorder so much that I never get to work through these other issues. I feel like my life is unraveling and it’s gotten so bad that, honestly, I don’t feel like I even want to fix it. My goal in telling you this is to figure out a way to help my mom and how to get through school while I’m dealing with this.

It may seem strange to hear this, for someone who suffers as much as you do from depression, anorexia, and the burdens of taking care of a very sick mother, but I think you’re doing an amazing job.

Yes, you’re chin-deep in shit, but you haven’t drowned, and that’s a remarkable accomplishment.

Your depression hasn’t made you hate people or blame them, and your anorexia hasn’t caused you to pretend you’re not sick, so you must have a solid hold on reality. There you are, with all your pain, finding the love to help your mother and the energy to go on with your studies. You’ve got good values and a big soul.

So you feel hopeless because treatment hasn’t done you much good, or, I should say, hasn’t done your symptoms much good. It sucks, but that’s the way it usually is when symptoms are as severe as yours. That doesn’t mean they won’t get better by themselves, or that a better treatment won’t come along. It does mean that, at least for the time being, you’re stuck with heavy-duty pain.

That’s not important, however, or at least not nearly as important as what you’re doing with that pain, which is, as I said, amazing, and there’s treatment that can help you distinguish between you and your symptoms. Any good cognitive treatment will help, whether it comes from a cognitive therapist, a good coach, or a friend with a positive attitude. One treatment that is aimed specifically at helping people with this much pain keep a positive attitude is Dialectic Behavioral Therapy, or DBT.

The inventor of this treatment, Marsha Linehan [link: https://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/23/health/23lives.html], suffered similar symptoms and, like you, managed to stay focused on the value of helping people and improving her own skills. She wound up inventing a kind of treatment that helps others do what she did for herself, and, like you, she found that helping others was a great way to keep her own demons in check.

It’s normal for you to feel that your life is unraveling, but trust me, it isn’t; your pain is a mess, but you’re doing a good job of bearing it and doing good things with it.

You are not your pain; you’re dealing with a lot of shit, but you are anything but. You’re the person who’s managing it while leading a good and meaningful life, and that’s not someone you should give up on.

STATEMENT:
“I may feel like a hopeless, deteriorating mess, but I love my mother and care about my education and I’m doing good things about both. I may not be able to stop my symptoms or save my mother, but life sucks and that’s not a personal failure. I haven’t let my symptoms stop me, however, and that’s why I’m doing well, even if my pain and my mother are doing badly.”

I have a great life and there’s nothing I care about more than my family, so I became really worried when, out of nowhere, I started to have horrible thoughts about murdering my children. I’m too ashamed to tell my husband. I’m not an angry person, and I love my kids and get along well with them, and I’ve never needed a shrink, but the thoughts keep me up at night. If there’s the slightest chance I could hurt my kids, I’ve got to do something about it, but I don’t know what to do. Please help.

Before you get crazy about having crazy, murderous thoughts, check out the risk factors for crazy murders. It’s not hard to do. What you’ll find out is that crazy murderers don’t just have intrusive murderous thoughts; they’re crazy as well.

By that, I mean they’re very detached, or they have strange ideas about their kids that they actually believe in, or they’re hearing voices, or going through extreme mood swings.

Ask yourself whether you fit the picture of people who really run amok. While I don’t know you, of course, my guess is that you don’t fit the picture at all, which means you run the same finite-but-small risk as your average Joe.

Trouble is, everyone who has intrusive, horrible thoughts without other symptoms of craziness is nevertheless terrified of losing control, so reassuring yourself is hard to do. What you want, of course, is total reassurance that the horrible thoughts will go away and that you’ll never, ever lose control; as you say, if there’s the slightest chance that you might hurt your family, you feel obliged to take definitive action. Unfortunately, you can’t. No one controls such thoughts, and trying to control them will just add to your helplessness.

Your goal then isn’t total reassurance or freedom from fear, but reasonable self-control and an ability to go ahead with your life in spite of fear. Assess the real risk you pose to your family and take steps to protect them if you think it’s necessary. Having done that (and realizing that your family is better off with you just the way you are, crazy thoughts and all), learn to bear your fear and go about your business, which isn’t easy to do.

If you want to tell your family about your symptoms, that’s the story you’d tell. You’ve got these crazy thoughts, but you’ve checked on the internet, and probably seen a shrink, and discovered you’re at no particular risk of doing harm, you’re just at risk of suffering from creepy thoughts. Reassure them that you have no intention of letting the crazy thoughts interfere with your normal activities and that, if you thought you were dangerous, you’d do whatever’s necessary to protect them.

As with the woman above, you are not your symptoms; a good mom can have crazy thoughts, and a great mom can carry on despite them.

STATEMENT:
“I feel like I’ve got crazy thoughts and might lose my mind but the truth is that I’ve checked out my symptoms and the part of my mind I’m losing is pretty small and insubstantial (although the process is scary and painful). Whether or not I can make my symptoms go away, I’m competent to manage them, keep everyone safe, and go on with my life, and that’s all I need to do.”

I have suffered from anxiety and depression much of my life. My most recent (and most devastating) bout was a couple of years ago, when I worked with a therapist and managed to heave myself out of it without the use of antidepressants (which I had been on in the past and want to learn to live without.) Now I find myself slipping back in. My biggest issue seems to be that I put too much stock in what others think of me or might think of me (I’m really good at fabricating things people might be saying about me.) I also had a baby last year, which has prevented me from pursuing my career fully, so when I hear of the successes of others (or see them on Facebook) I get very anxious and feel that the universe is unjust. I want to be a good mom, and I want to be good at my job, but I feel I am failing at both and resenting others who are great at either. I was made fun of a lot when I was a kid and I think I still carry some of this baggage around, like whatever decision I make is the wrong one because I’m basically a loser. How can I focus on myself and my own life without worrying about what everyone else is up to or what they may think about me?

While you already have a good idea of what to do about your negative thinking, you still need to protect yourself from two bad ideas that you express here. Unfortunately, those two ideas are also your “goals.”

First, disavow yourself of the notions that you should be able to stop depression without using medication and that you should find a way to be less, for lack of a better word, insecure. In doing so, you won’t be giving up—you’ll be giving yourself some relief.

The good idea, and better goal, is to train yourself to fight negative thinking, and there are lots of ways to do that. A therapist can help, but so can the right kind of friends, readings, church, and/or spouse. Though you can’t make the negative thoughts go away, you can assemble a strategy (and maybe team) to help you handle them.

Develop a routine for reminding yourself that you’re the one who’s managing your life and working with your unique gifts and disabilities, and that you’re the only one who can judge whether you’re doing your best. Then, when you start to compare yourself to the better gifted, give yourself a dose of positive reality. Nobody else can judge you, not even Facebook.

The sad truth is that depression could sweep you away, regardless of what treatment you use and how motivated you are in pursuing it. It’s scary, but it’s also liberating; you’re responsible for doing your best with depression, not making it go away. Cancer patients don’t set performance goals, and neither should you.

Instead, set your goals in terms of the process of managing, rather than the outcome, of recovery, using non-medical and other minimal risk treatments whenever possible. Then go ahead and choose riskier treatments if and only if you think they’re necessary. Don’t let fear or guilt prevent you from choosing what’s best for you.

Don’t always listen to your doctor, because your doctor doesn’t know how much pain your depression is causing or how much it has disrupted your work and relationships, so it’s your tough decision. All the doctor can do is tell you the relative risk of the treatment, compared to your symptoms, and what he or she would do in your place.

Embrace the fact that every parent with a career has to contend with bad feelings about difficult compromises. The challenge for you is to accept those bad feelings and the fact that there’s always someone out there who can do things better than you, then learn how to manage yourself positively and tell Facebook to go fuck itself.

STATEMENT:
“I don’t often feel good about my performance at home or at work, but that’s my nature. I’m proud I’ve taken on parenthood and that I’m doing OK, whatever my insecurities tell me. I know I try hard and that I’ve made good decisions and I will use those facts to lift myself up when depression tries to tear me down.”

I shouldn’t be writing you about my depression because I have no reason to be depressed. I’m a lucky person with a good job and great boyfriend. I eat a healthy diet, exercise every day, and work hard to stay healthy, mentally as much as physically. I had a severe depression as a teenager but I worked hard in therapy (and still do all I can to keep those negative thoughts at bay), took my medications as directed, and have been much better since. So now, 10 years later, there’s no reason I should be unhappy, tearful, and unmotivated to do anything but go back to bed, but no matter how much I exercise or try to stay positive, I can’t get ahead of this thing. I must have missed something. My goal is to figure out what.

The one big thing you’ve failed to understand is that depression, like most illnesses, can’t be controlled. You can be careful, do everything right, avoid giving into negative thoughts and actions, but still feel like shit. It’s not fair, but it’s the nature of the beast.

Just in case this sad fact depresses you, think about how, just like the person above, you’re depressing yourself even more by holding yourself responsible for staying healthy. Maybe you want to assume that awesome responsibility because you wish you had the power to stay healthy, but you don’t, because nobody does. Even those people who follow all the rules and work their butts off.

Luckily, staying healthy is not part of your job description; coping with illness is, so stop telling yourself you shouldn’t be depressed. What you should be doing is reviewing what you need to do to cope with depression, and realizing that you’re probably doing most of those things.

You sound like the kind of person who tries hard to keep working, relating, and parenting regardless of how you feel. If that’s true, you’re doing most of what you need to do already. You’ve probably talked things over and tried to figure out whether something’s getting you down that you don’t know about, which takes care of another basic self-management task.

Decide whether to try any new medications (see above case), using the same procedure you would use for weighing the risks and management of any treatment. Don’t be a sissy about your dislike for treatment—no one likes treatment—so just add up the risks and benefits, and don’t let fear make your decision for you.

Finally, keep working on how to think positively, beginning with the most positive statement of all: you aren’t responsible for your illness, and despite bad results, you’re doing your best. You’ll quickly discover you’re doing a much better job of coping with depression than you realize, and while the situation may still seem unfair, your efforts are all that matter.

STATEMENT:
“I never expected to get depressed again, but I realize now that I didn’t fail to prevent depression, I failed to give myself reasonable expectations and responsibilities. Now that I know what to do, I have little to fault myself for and I can be legitimately hopeful about finding new tools for managing depression.”

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 need to face the fact that I have trouble getting close to people. I recently had a close relationship with a guy I was crazy about, but I often get depressed and, when it happens, I get quiet, and he couldn’t stand it. I’m good at functioning when I’m depressed, it’s never stopped me from getting my work done, and I push myself to hang out with friends, but I can’t help the fact that I don’t have much to say and that I don’t really feel like laughing. I kept telling him it wasn’t personal, but he didn’t really believe me. My goal is to figure out how I can find a partner if I can’t really interact very well.

The biggest negative thought you can have when you break up with someone is to believe it’s because there’s something wrong with you, either because your boyfriend said it or because that’s what your brain is telling you.

Nobody says, “it isn’t you, it’s me,” and means it, so you shouldn’t, either.

Remember, it’s deep human nature to blame ourselves for crap that happens, be it a failed relationship or a failed baseball season. It’s your job, however, as your one and only chief protector, to put this assumption to a logical test.

You can blame yourself for making a bad choice, but not if there weren’t any clues that badness was happening; you have to look closely for the red flags that might have given you warning, like evidence that he was needy or had broken up prior relationships when the feedback tapered off. If none of that was obvious, then neither was your error in judgment.

If this is a type of guy you choose over and over again, however, then you’ve got a bad habit that needs fixing and you should see a shrink/coach with that purpose in mind. On the other hand, as seems the case here, if you didn’t have the experience or data to warn you, then you’ve had a valuable/miserable learning experience.

You took a course in the college of hard knocks where tuition is paid in pain. That said, you should give yourself a good grade.

So before assuming you’re no good at relationships, name your standards. I’m sure you know lots of good relationships where one partner or the other gets withdrawn at times, and unless you’re an unusually outgoing person living an unusually lucky life, it’s only a matter of time before you or your significant other gets hit with an illness, loss or trauma that causes a shutdown. The test of a good relationship isn’t its connectedness (or, at least, not connectedness alone), but its ability to tolerate periods of unavoidable disconnectedness that life will inevitably bring.

You might also blame yourself if your depression made you do negative things, like drinking or turning into a blob. Even then, you wouldn’t have good reason to blame yourself unless you could have done better, and sometimes depression leaves you no choice. In any case, you’re successful at keeping yourself going when you’re depressed, and that deserves credit, not blame.

What you’re left with is the sad realization that, from now on, you must choose boyfriends who aren’t too needy or overly sensitive to your mood. Unfortunately, they might not understand you as well as a needy, moody guy would, particularly if they’ve never been depressed.

On the other hand, they won’t get upset when you fall silent, other than to be sorry you’re hurting, and they might not notice unless you tell hem. Ultimately, it’s not you or them that’s to blame, it’s just that some relationships aren’t strong enough to survive bad circumstances. Luckily, you are.

STATEMENT:
“I feel like my depression killed the happiest relationship I’ve ever had, but my experience tells me I can be a good friend, whether I’m depressed or not, and that’s the only standard that matters. So I’ve learned that love requires more than mutual passion and I will never go out again with anyone who requires happy feedback and shows no ability to tolerate pain in the ones they love.”

I’ve become very uncomfortable with a friend who has been very good to me. He’s the one who, when I was depressed, took me to the hospital, even though I didn’t want to go. He was right, I was suicidal and I needed help, but now I feel like he’s so good and reasonable and I’m the idiot-child whose diapers he had to change. I imposed my problems on him when I was totally out of control, so seeing him makes me very uncomfortable and ashamed. How can I get past this feeling of inferiority and embarrassment?

If you’re one of those people who has to learn to live with depression—and you are—one of your most important tasks is to get over your shame. I mean, shame is probably an unavoidable feeling when you’re disabled and have nothing to offer anyone but trouble, or at least that’s the way it feels. Still, you know on a logical level that you can’t be blamed for something you can’t help, and you’d protect anyone else from blame if you knew they had such a problem.

So at some point when you’re thinking clearly, you have a moral obligation to yourself to stand up to the negative thoughts and feel proud of yourself for surviving a very painful time—with a little bit of help, or more, from a friend.

Don’t give power to the side of you that values control at all costs and blames you for losing it. We all have those feelings, but they turn nasty and mean whenever we fail to meet their performance standards. Unfortunately, their standards lie in performance alone, when other values are what are important.

Ask yourself then how you expect other people to behave when they’re super-depressed. You got over your pride and allowed a friend to save you. Give yourself respect, and give that friend the credit he deserves; if he didn’t judge you then, he won’t do it now. Your friend did what a good friend should do and what you would have done for someone else. Don’t let shame deprive you of that friendship or reward his kindness with distance and discomfort.

You can’t help feeling ashamed, but what you can do is give attention to what you and he did with the depression and give respect where it’s due. Don’t apologize or act on your shame; let him know you’re grateful, that he did exactly what you needed him to do, and that you’re proud you survived with his help.

Then talk about other things, be friendly, and give the old friendship chemistry a chance to reassert itself. You went through trauma together, and now you can help each other with the recovery.

STATEMENT:
“Depression always has a way of making me feel humiliated, but it can never really humiliate me as long as I fight it as hard as I can. I will take pride in my survival and in the good friendships I’ve nurtured that have helped me survive.”

When my wife is feeling fine, she’s a reasonable, hard-working, dedicated woman who believes in helping others, but then she gets into this grim, obsessed mood and knocks herself out and then gets mad about how people don’t respect or appreciate her and she just doesn’t care any more. Yesterday, she told the boss she didn’t care if he fired her, because she didn’t care. If he fired her, it would damage a career she really cares about and, besides, we need the money, but when I tried to tell her she needed to shut up, she told me she didn’t care about our marriage or about living any longer, particularly if I didn’t support her. What do I do to stop her from hurting herself?

As we’ve said before, there are a lot of people out there who either don’t believe in mental illness, or do believe it exists but don’t really understand what it is. The former usually believe in Xenu, the latter are baffled by “Hoarders.”

Either way, the easiest way to explain mental illness to those types is to describe the disease as a demon, and yes, it’s a sad fact that people are quicker to understand satanic possession over an actual illness, but such is the biz.

As for your wife, some good people get into very black, destructive moods that are hard to describe, even though most of us have felt it at some time in our lives. It’s the kind of mood when you’re ready to cut off your nose to spite your face (and then turn to a loved one, telling them they made you do it and you hope they’re satisfied).

Those good people have the demon, and, if it’s bad enough, it’s a kind of mental illness that can be sudden, random, and completely out of their hands.

Some people are more vulnerable to those moods because they’re particularly sensitive or perfectionistic; they forget their own priorities and lose themselves in doing a good job or caring for others or making someone else happy. If they can’t succeed, they get exhausted and flip out. It’s worse in the afternoon, or when they’re tired and haven’t eaten.

If you send them to their room, they’ll trash it, beginning with whatever they value most, to show you how little they care and how bad they feel—this is the cutting-off-your-nose business described above. There’s not much you can do to help someone who’s sick/possessed in this way except to try not to not make it worse.

Start with not trying to confront her; otherwise you’ll just become a target and foil for her negative emotions. Instead, let her know you appreciate her hard work, know how upset she is and share the feeling that life can suck. Offer her some hot chocolate and/or a foot massage.

Then tell her you support her quitting, but you want her to do it when she’s feeling better and can do it properly. If she hates you for saying that, tell her you’re happy to give her some alone time and take a walk. Then hope you come home to an intact living room.

Later is when you’ll discover whether she’s the kind of relatively normal demon-possessed person who has perspective most of the time and wants to work with you and/or a therapist to gain better self-control, or whether she’s a permanent victim who can’t get past her anger and is sure you’re responsible for it.

In the shrink trade, we call that kind of person a “bad borderline” or “severe character disorder.” We can’t help them, because that demon/disorder problem started when they were young, took over, and convinced them it’s always someone else’s fault.

From what you said, however, she’s got values and priorities that aren’t totally reactive to her anger, most of the time, and she doesn’t always blame it on you or the boss, so there are lots of things she can do to strengthen her rage-management. Medication sometimes helps, but in my experience, what always helps is “DBT”, a behavioral treatment that is a lot like AA, as explained in the book Skills Training Manual for Treating Borderline Personality Disorder, by Marsha Linehan.

Read what you can, talk to experts, whatever it takes to help you understand what’s going on. If you can see her illness as something she can’t help instead of Biblically evil or self-indulgent, you will feel less obliged to stop her attacks and better able to suggest management tools for keeping her demon/disease under control.

STATEMENT:
“I hate watching my wife self-destruct when she’s tired and enraged, but there’s only so much I can do without making it worse. I know the problem isn’t me and I’m sure it’s here to stay, so I’ll encourage her to work on managing it, particularly when she’s feeling better.”

My wife gets paranoid sometimes, in spite of the fact that, after every episode, she agrees she won’t let it happen again. She promises she’ll see her therapist and take her medication but then, for some reason, she decides the side-effects are unbearable and stops them without telling anyone. A couple weeks later, she tells me she can’t stand living with me and moves out. She also tells me they’re plotting against her at work and planting microphones in her desk and she’s going to go to her boss and, by the way, she thinks her psychiatrist has been talking with him about her so she won’t see him any more. She gets loony, and she sort-of knows it when she’s her usual self, but not when the madness is on her. My goal is to get through to her and prevent her from losing her job or leaving me for good.

Paranoia is hard to prepare for or prevent; it’s one of those disorders that makes you wish that it came with a rash or ache, because some very sane-looking people have paranoid ideas that are very plausible until you realize they’re talking about the aliens, FBI and/or Virgin Mary.

It sounds like your wife keeps her paranoia buried well enough for her to be a good partner most of the time, so treat her that way, despite the weird fears lurking behind her eyeballs. She’s a regular person whose “possessed” brain is whispering bad things in the background which you and she know aren’t real and aren’t her.

Of course, your feelings about the matter are strong–her relapses put you through hell—but if you push or infantilize her, you may trigger the paranoia, and you’ll be the target. So keep your intense feelings to yourself while making it easy for her to take her medications and see her shrink.

Have a plan B for the times when she loses it, so that you don’t lose it yourself; the calmer you are, the better you’ll be able to help her. Prepare yourself for the bad times when you have to go against all your spousal instincts and back off.

As you know from the times when she’s taking her meds, they’re not a cure and, so far, nothing prevents relapses. There’s no reason, however, to think that the relapses will get worse; and at some point, treatments will get better.

When relapses occur, however, don’t blame her or yourself. Treasure the times you have together when she’s herself and hope that her crazy spells will be brief and leave her career and relationships relatively undamaged.

Being a borderline and being paranoid are two very different things, but the rules for caring bystanders is the same; if you can’t avoid the illness, just do your best not to be a target.

STATEMENT:
“It’s awful to have my wife’s personality taken over by someone who fundamentally mistrusts me, but I know it’s not personal and we’re a good team when she’s herself. I can’t protect her, but I know the difference between her and her paranoia and maybe that knowledge will help her find her way home.”

I have struggled and do struggle with mental illness. I am 29-years-old and live in my parent’s house with my 2-year-old. Although I have been in school and have worked a few jobs, I can’t seem to stay on one path once I’ve made a decision. I have a very difficult time making decisions, whether they are big decisions or small ones, and once I do finally make a decision I often drive myself crazy changing my mind a billion times. I break up with my boyfriend every few weeks because I’m doubting my decision of being with him, then I turn around and try to mend it because I’m doubting my decision about breaking up. I booked a trip and spent the whole two weeks prior wondering whether I should go, worrying about something bad possibly happening. I struggled right up until the morning of my flight, almost cancelling and not going to the airport 15 minutes before boarding time. This problem has contributed to ruining relationships in my life and I’m very tired of dealing with it. Why am I constantly plagued with indecisiveness and how can I cope?

Your were right the first time; what’s bothering you isn’t indecisiveness, it’s mental illness. That’s one of the many conclusions you don’t have to second guess.

It’s mental illness that makes you unthink everything you think; if it were indecisiveness, it would arise more from a wish to avoid decisions or uncertainty about what you want. Your problem seems more like a mental tic that obsesses you with doubts and alternatives every time you make a plan.

What’s clear is that you’ve tried to lead a life. You’ve gone to school and tried jobs, in spite of the agony you experience about every decision. You break up with your boyfriend, but you also try to keep relationships going. Every day your head is abuzz with doubts, but you don’t seem to give up.

No one knows why you have such a curse, or why anyone has mental illness. Maybe you have an excessive amount of a gene that normally causes reasonable self-doubt and helps people survive. Enough of that gene, and you’re the tribal leader; too much of it, and you’re a nervous wreck.

No one knows what causes illnesses like these, and there’s probably no single cause, but one thing is sure, and that’s that you haven’t caused this and don’t control it. Despite that, you’re doing good things to manage it. You’re letting your parents help and you’re committed to raising a child. You’re living a full life, even if it’s a painful one.

Don’t let your doubts persuade you that you’re defective. You’re afflicted, but you’re moving ahead, and every day that you manage to do some chores, be a good friend and mother, and look for work if you can, you’re overcoming your affliction.

As you probably know, medications sometimes reduce self-doubtful ruminations. The only way you’ll know for sure is by trying them, if you haven’t already, and being patient during the process. Another major way of managing this kind of torment is to fight the negative thoughts of self-doubt by developing a positive perspective and philosophy. Your ruminations will characterize you as a failure, and you need to find ways to fight back.

For now, keep living your life and developing your management skills. Treatment can make you a stronger manager, but in the meantime, be proud of what you’re doing to keep the mental turmoil from ruining your day to day activities and relationships. You might doubt your choices, but you have no reason to doubt yourself.

STATEMENT:
“I feel paralyzed by indecision and guilty about my inability to commit, but I have little control over this mental flip-flop tic and there’s nothing wrong with my wish to hold a job, stick to a decision, and be a good friend. I’ll keep on fighting for my values, look for ways to manage my ruminations, and respect myself for living a full life in spite of the way they sometimes cripple me.”

I’d like to leave my last marriage behind, but my ex won’t let go. She was the one who was always unhappy with me, but when I finally left, she said I had abused and abandoned her. She quickly found a new boyfriend to move in with her, but if she heard I was dating (from my next-door neighbor, whom she quizzes), she’d tell me she wouldn’t send the kids over if there was any chance that my friend was sleeping over. She changes visitation at the last minute just to see if I’ll react and threatens to go to court if I don’t like it. What can I do to get her to stop?

Obsessive love is creepy and destructive, as anyone with a casual knowledge of Lifetime movies can tell you. Maybe all love can cause obsessive thoughts, but some people lack either the will power to control what they do or the perspective to see what they’re doing or both. Then you (and your pets, family, bunnies, etc.) are in trouble.

Fighting and arguing with an intense ex makes things worse. Showing intense emotion of any kind gives her that connection she craves. If you show her you’re upset, you’re showing her how to get you next time.

Of course it drives you crazy; she’s upsetting the kids and portraying you as a villain, not to mention distorting the facts, spreading lies, and breaking agreements. You have every reason to be worried, enraged, and fearful for the kids—and even more reason to keep your feelings to yourself.

Pull out your poker face and put it on. If you have experience dealing with unhappy customers or clients, now’s the time to use it. You must respond whenever necessary, of course, and that will usually involve threats to visitation or major intrusions on your privacy. Your response, however, must not show fear or anger. It must express confidence in your ability to stop her if and when you think that time has come.

Your goal, of course, is not to win a contest or humiliate your ex. Her obsession is like a demon that has devoured her, so even though she can’t help it, her demon-controlled mind will fight to the death. Your job is to avoid feeding it and build a protective wall around your emotions and activities that it can’t get through.

Yes, you were married to a demon and now you aren’t. That’s the good part. Unfortunately, exorcism and revenge fantasies are for movies. What you’ve got to do requires patience, time, restraint, and courage. And maybe better movie channels.

STATEMENT:
“Although my ex-wife often makes me feel helpless and unhappy, I know that she’s nuts and can’t help it. I used to think that divorce or mediation or time or reason would help, but they haven’t. Now I have to use the careful techniques of a demon-whisperer to disconnect her from my life and make sure that her bad behavior doesn’t pay off.”

I have been wrestling with depression for years now and my maternal side of the family has a history of depression and suicide. I don’t feel that I can do this on my own anymore and need help. I don’t want to just take a medical cocktail of antidepressants. My question to you is how do I go about finding a therapist and/or doctor that will be most helpful to me.

The first step for getting treatment for your depression seems simple– don’t get depressed about treatment for depression. After all, depression’s just another form of pain unless it twists your thoughts into thinking that not getting rid of it is a kind of failure that marks a meaningless life.

As long as you realize depression is a persistent ailment, just like persistent back pain or diabetes, you’ll have an easy time making treatment decisions because you won’t regard using treatment as evidence of weakness.

The fact that your family has had depression and suicides doesn’t indicate weakness or failure on the part of anything but your genes. Suicide is terrible, but it often happens to good people who’ve lived meaningful lives and been good friends in spite of lots of depression, which doesn’t make them failures—it makes them heroes.

If depression causes you a lot of pain or makes a noticeable difference at home or work, the very least you should do is get help in fighting the negative thinking. While using therapy to find the cause of your depression and get rid of it is usually useless when the depression is long-lasting and familial, using many therapies to protect yourself from feelings of weakness and failure is often a necessity.

A therapist is like a thesis adviser for an academic; you have a topic you want to explore, and you’re looking for someone who both understands that topic and supports your approach. If you start treatment with someone and it doesn’t gel, chalk it up to bad chemistry, not your own failures, and continue your search.

Whether a therapy helps you to keep a positive perspective is easy for you to evaluate; you can tell whether a particular therapist is a good coach or has good ideas, or when you’ve got little more to learn from someone and need a fresh point of view.

Yes, a sustaining therapeutic relationship helps, but not if you come to feel it’s necessary for fighting negative beliefs. Sometime that special therapist won’t be there, or your insurance will change and you won’t be able to afford to see him/her, and then you won’t have the tools to manage your depression on your own. Your goal in talking to a nice, warm therapist is to pick up positive ideas, practice using them, and report back on how you’ve done. Don’t cling to the warmth or the need for their approval.

Make sure you try behavioral treatments, including exercise, which at the very least can distract you from depressed thinking (but don’t punish yourself if your depression makes you too tired or listless to exercise regularly). If, as often happens, the non-medical treatments can only help so much, it’s time to consider medical options. Usually, medical options have a higher risk, but they should be considered if and only if you think the alternative is worse.

If you use a sound risk management methodology to make your decision, respect yourself. Never call antidepressant treatment a “medical cocktail” unless you would say the same about chemotherapy for cancer or pills for high blood pressure.

In addition to having a greater (although not terribly high) risk, antidepressants are a pain because they take weeks to work and often (30% of the time) don’t. So after becoming a risk-manager in order to make the decision to use or not use them, embrace your inner scientist and prepare to conduct an experiment—on yourself. It’s hard, risky work, but if you feel it’s necessary, it’s worth taking on.

In the end, do everything you think is reasonable and required. Use the low risk treatments first, the higher risk treatments when needed, and be prepared for mixed results at a slow pace (that in no way reflect on you or your effort). Needing help or medication doesn’t make you weak; it makes you sick, but strong enough to do something about it.

STATEMENT:
“If I found a medication that relieved my depressive pain, it would be hard not to feel that I’ve taken an illegitimate shortcut. I know from experience, however, that there’s nothing illegitimate about treatment that reduces depressive pain as long as it doesn’t create risks that are worse than the pain itself and that the only illegitimate way to treat depression is to regard it as a weakness.”

I’d like your advice in helping my sister, who is starting to act crazy again, but she won’t accept anyone’s help. She was in the hospital several years ago for hearing voices telling her she was a friend of the Virgin Mary. Now she’s starting to talk fast again and calling the company that I think she was fired from, saying she believes they’ve sent her on a special project and she needs to report back. She sometimes sounds ludicrous, and I can’t help laughing, but I’m afraid where this will end. How can I get her help?

It’s tough to respect an illness that makes people act silly and ridiculous, and tougher still to believe you can’t get through to someone who seems, in many ways, to be in control of herself and able to care about you in the way she usually does. If only mental illness came with a rash or flu that made it easier to recognize and accept.

You’re right, however. Your sister’s illness is serious, it could get her into big trouble, and, in spite of her apparent lucidity, it can be very, very hard to help her. Especially if she’s too sick to know she needs help in the first place.

As hard as it is to be depressed (see above) and to respect yourself when you have depressive symptoms, depressed people usually know they’re sick and are ready to accept help, even if it feels humiliating. With mania, however, people often can’t see themselves as being ill. If respect were measured in nothing but feelings, you could say they respect themselves too much.

If you push your sister too hard, you may provoke a fight, which does no one any good. Manic people are often irritable and ready to fight or flee (often on motorcycles, cars and airplanes, and in the middle of night, and often while underdressed). Don’t let your concern for her become an impassioned plea that triggers her great (naked) escape.

Persuade her, if you can, with calm reason, emphasizing the positive. You think she’ll feel better and calmer if she sees a doctor, and you’ll be happy to drive her to an emergency room and wait with her while she gets an evaluation. Don’t argue about what’s wrong with her, just express confidence in your belief that there’s good help available and that you can lead her there, if she’ll let you.

If persuasion fails, be aware that your ability to intervene depends entirely on her demonstrating dangerous behavior. The moment she says or does something that shows, in an obvious way, that she could hurt herself, put herself into danger, or hurt someone else, you have acquired the critical information that allows police to take her to an emergency room and emergency room clinicians to commit her. At that point, the hope is she becomes lucid enough to want treatment herself.

Until that day comes, it takes great patience and restraint to live with a manic person. Respect yourself for your kindness and tolerance, be patient, and remember, no matter how unreasonable or naked she becomes, you’re doing the right thing.

STATEMENT:
“It’s agonizing to watch my sister act crazy and feel like I’m doing nothing, but I’m really doing a great deal by waiting, caring for her, trying to steer her towards help, preparing to intervene if she gets worse, and tolerating the helplessness.”

People like to think that trusting an inner voice—their gut, their instincts, the force, etc.—will always lead in the right direction. In actuality, instincts and body parts are better known for causing instant urges (a.k.a. “feelings”) that ignore logic and implant convictions that the sky is falling, love occurs at first sight, and advertising never lies. When it comes to major decisions, don’t trust your gut (which, as we’ve pointed out before, is literally full of shit). Find out facts and figure out the odds before doing something that scares you, titillates you, or gives you an enormous Visa bill.
-Dr. Lastname

My brother is a good doctor, and an especially good one given that he’s struggled with depression his whole life. When his own illness needs attention, however, he becomes a terrible patient. He doesn’t get depressed often, but when he does he obsesses about the possible side effects of each medication and so doesn’t take what’s recommended, takes half the prescribed dose, or insists on his doctor giving him something less harmful (and much less effective). The result is that he drives his doctor (and me) crazy and takes a lot longer to get better. When I tell him he’s over-reacting to his fears, he tells me “I’ve learned to listen to my body.” I know he’s a doctor, but I think his body’s lying. What can I do to help him when he’s sick?

It’s a sad fact of mental illness that it often prolongs itself by disabling a person’s ability to seek and select appropriate treatment. Like any smart disease, it knows from self-preservation (in all the ways your brother does not).

That means you can’t necessarily get through to your brother by reasoning or addressing his fears. In your brother’s case, it’s unlikely, not just because you and his doctors have tried and nothing works, but also because he is a doctor, and the side-effect of trying to treat a doctor is a giant pain in the ass.

Recognizing his response as inherently unreasonable and illness-driven, however, can build your confidence in your own opinion to the point where you don’t have to persuade or argue. If he insists on listening to his body, you can serve some truth to his brain.

Yes, medications have potential side-effects and some of them can be dangerous or unbearable. On the other hand, that’s true of all medication, which means you don’t choose a medication because it’s known to be safe, but because it’s relatively safe compared to the condition it’s treating and less risky to try than doing nothing. He probably tells all of his patients that, even if his body isn’t giving him the same message.

Don’t then reassure him that medications are safe, things will turn out well, or his body will deliver good news, because you’ll just be burdening yourself with responsibility for easing his anxiety. Instead, acknowledge his anxiety without offering it respect.

You don’t need to be a doctor to know that he’s anxious, life is hard, medication uncertain, and anxiety is a symptom of his illness. In your opinion, however, he needs to man up, stop listening to his body or the many fears his illness is pushing through his body like a speaker, and start to follow through on the decisions the professional, reasonable side of his brain has already made (or that have been recommended by the doctor he chose to advise that side of his brain). Appeal to the part of his mind that is healthy, instead of negotiating with the part that’s sick, suffering, and nutty.

Patients of any profession have a right to trust their instincts, but when you’re suffering from a disease that pointedly impairs instincts and strengthens fears, it’s time to admit that your body’s voice is secondary and get a second opinion.

STATEMENT:
“It hurts to see my brother suffer and dither, but the best I can do is to refuse to listen to the dithering, remind him that he makes good decisions (when he’s himself) and urge him to follow through on his current treatment plan, which represents those decisions. If he can’t, I may feel helpless, but I’ll believe in my message, deliver it when I can, and take pride in having done my best.

I still don’t understand what went wrong with my marriage. He was my best friend, we got along well, he liked his work, and we had 3 wonderful kids. Then he decided I was boring and got a divorce. My heart always told me he was the right guy. If I can’t trust him, I’m not sure I can ever trust anyone. My goal is to figure out what went wrong and get my confidence back.

It’s not uncommon to hear someone describe their spouse (or, more likely, their ex) as their “best friend.” And if that someone had known their spouse for years, gone through hard times together, and seen evidence of loyalty, fidelity, and reasonable self-control, then “best friend” would be the right term. May they get matching necklaces and/or tattoos and live happily ever after.

The problem is that there’s a big, sad difference between that kind of best-friendship and feelings of closeness that can arise quickly from interpersonal chemistry, mutual interests, common enemies, and one or both parties trying very hard to be attractive.

Instant best-friendship can feel just as close and important as the real thing, but the major, crucial difference is that the person you feel extremely close to is someone you don’t really know from a hole in the ground.

So forget about how well you got along with him and what your heart told you; those are feelings, like the body messages above, to take under advisement. Ask yourself whether your husband was good at standing by his friends and not getting carried away by ambition or new attractions.

Chances are this is not the first time he’s gotten tired of the old and jumped to whatever made him feel better. You just didn’t want to think he would do it to you, because your heart was having such a good time and you didn’t want to spoil the party.

Nobody wants to hear it when their heart is broken, but the only way to get over being dumped is to suffer for a while and learn from what went wrong. Don’t learn to distrust people or your own sense of being loveable and acceptable to those who know you well, because that’s not the problem.

Instead, learn to distrust your heart when it insists on working solo, without the ol’ brain as a co-pilot. Learn to trust your experience, which tells you that people don’t change, and that you can trust people who have always been trustworthy, once you know them well enough. You can still listen to your heart, but insist on hard proof.

Your heart may now tell you that you and the kids are rejectable, but don’t listen. Anyone who knows and loves you will also disagree with that, especially your real best friends.

STATEMENT:
“Being dumped by my trusted partner has left me hurting and doubting, but I have no reason to doubt myself or my own ability to be a good wife and friend. The only thing I need to improve is my asshole radar.”