I hate life. What is the most reliable and painless way to commit suicide?

You hate life, and I hate the kind of dangerous, self-lacerating whining that makes a painful life seem meaningless, when it isn’t.

Hating life is an understandable feeling, whether the problem is a hateful life or your own, reflexive intolerance of life’s general hatefulness. There’s no doubt that life is sometimes hateful, some people’s lives are more hateful than most, and some good people are more sensitive to its hatefulness.

There’s more than enough hate to go around, and you can’t help how you feel.

Any time you let hateful feelings shape your goals, however, you’ll make life more hateful (after a brief burst of genuine satisfaction) and destroy what’s left of your self-esteem.

Yes, taking your hate out on yourself may give you the satisfaction of protesting life’s unfairness and heaping guilt and contempt on your so-called friends. What it also does, if you think about it or survive to see what happens next, is define your life as a reaction to your hurts and the people you value least. It both fuels and destroys, hateful little fucker that it is.

What you really want (and what your survivors will try to do) is to remember the times you did better things and followed your own values. It’s not as exhilarating as being a nihilist, but exhilaration is, by its nature, short-lived. You shouldn’t be.

During its short run, hate is a lot more attractive and satisfying than reminding yourself about what you stand for and thinking about values and consequences. That’s why you need to work on building a philosophy and preparing for hate before it arrives, instead of boarding the hate train and then finding the will to get off.

You can do that by going to the right church or temple (one that doesn’t waste too much time on holy this or ecstatic that), hanging out or reading about people who’ve made the same journey, or getting the right kind of therapy. DBT (dialectic behavioral therapy), which borrows heavily from Jewish, Christian, Buddhist and 12-step ideas about living with anger, can be particularly helpful.

Therapy or no, you can find ways to keep your hate (and my hate for your hate) under control.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement for taking pride in good hate management. “I know what it’s like to hate life, but I won’t let myself forget what I value about life and my own ability to make it better. I can’t escape hate; but I will make myself strong enough to protect myself from its destructiveness and use its energy for my own goals.”

I feel like it’s finally time to confront a serious problem I’ve had for years; when I drive, I become filled with rage. My mother was the same way, and it was scary. She was never violent and neither am I, but the amount of anger I feel can’t be healthy, and I don’t want my daughter to do the same thing. I want to feel less furious.

I hope you’re not expecting therapy, a pill, or some Tibetan meditative experience to take away your anger, because it probably won’t.

Whatever causes anger—mommy’s genes, bullying by your older brother, or one rotation too many around a Boston-style rotary—it’s usually yours for life by the time you’re old enough to write me a letter.

Sure, psychotherapy may help, but my rule of therapy thumb is, if it hasn’t helped in a few months, move on. Therapy just isn’t that powerful (not even in my Harvard hands), and sticking with it when you’ve got anger to control delays your acceptance of the red-hazed reality you need to start managing.

What I’m really advocating isn’t to give up on therapy, but to give up on the idea that it will make you feel better by taking your anger away. Instead, use therapy (like DBT, see above) to help you manage anger.

I know you’ve probably seen kung fu monks master their anger by thinking pacifist thoughts while smashing bricks, and maybe you think channeling your rage into big muscles and loud thuds will improve your control while intimidating your tormentors into not cutting you off you in the first place.

Wrong, young grasshopper. The only reason martial monks don’t get sued for everything they own by everyone they lay a finger on is that they’re monks and own nothing. For the rest of us, the slightest adult physical altercation, combined with martial training, is as bad as a car-crash without insurance or witnesses: an endless goldmine for lawyers (and shrinks) at your expense.

So now that you’ve abandoned all hope of ever getting rid of your anger, you’re ready to improve your ability to manage it. Instead of tailgating those who dare offend your road-warrior sensibilities, learn to shut up and back off until you have a chance to think and decide whether a battle is worth fighting (almost never) and, if so, how to do it most effectively (by never appearing angry).

Feeling angry is unhealthy because it raises your blood pressure, but expressing it is even more unhealthy because it causes you endless misery that raises your blood pressure higher for longer.

You can’t control the former, but you can learn to get a handle on the latter (even if you can’t break a brick with your fist).

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement for taking pride in frustrated rage. “I hate the way other drivers ignore the road rules, put my life in danger, and never get punished. Teaching them a lesson would make them think twice about driving like assholes. My goal in driving, however, is to get from one place to another as safely as possible, without being endangered or diverted by people whom I least respect. I’m proud of my ability to eat my anger and never, ever fight.”

My husband and I have two kids, we both work hard, and he always used to find time to play with the kids and spend time with me, but in the last few months, he’s buried himself in online poker in the evenings, and the kids see a lot less of him (I do, too, and it’s been a long time since we had sex). He tells me there’s nothing wrong and that he’s not betting with real cash, but I know what I see, so I’ve told him we need to talk, and that’s what’s really infuriating, because then he won’t talk at all. My goal is to figure out why he’s stopped caring about me and find a way to get through to him.

You’re assuming there’s something bothering your husband that you can figure out and communicate about, because that’s what would allow you to fix things; that it’s not the poker that’s really the problem (or the not being poked).

Before you sit him down and try to take him away from the e-poker table, ask yourself what happens if it doesn’t work, which it often doesn’t, and clearly, in your case, hasn’t.

Remember, there are lots of reasons for him to shut down other than his having something on his mind. He could be depressed and/or stuck in some kind of bad habit that he can’t shake. Even on-line poker can become addictive, whether or not the money’s fake.

If you push him to talk when he can’t think of anything to say or can’t own up to the bad habit or isn’t ready to fight it, he’ll get quiet and sullen. Then you’ll feel more certain that he’s angry about something he won’t tell you about and angry at you, and you’ll be angry at him, and upset that you’re angry, and worried about the kids’ reacting to your anger, and it’s a mess.

The issue will feel more and more personal. You’ll wind up water-boarding him, which won’t get you useful information and/or do the marriage any good. You will bet the house, and you’ll lose.

Remember, he’s withdrawn from the kids, too, and probably from the dog. Your own behavior was OK before and it hasn’t changed; something just happened to your husband that you can’t control. Withdrawal always feels personal, but it isn’t. If he had a tell to reveal his true feelings, you’d know it, and it ain’t there.

Your goal shouldn’t be to fix your marriage, because that’s not in your power. It’s to protect yourself and the kids from feeling responsible for what he’s doing, make the best of it, and not let anger make things worse (though Lord knows you have reason to feel angry).

If his little habit starts cutting into his other obligations, or if he starts gambling in earnest, then you’ve got a bigger problem. For now, he’s holding the line, and if you can’t make the best of it, you can always bluff in the meantime.

STATEMENT:
“You’ve always been a great husband and father, and we’ve been a great family together, but the huge amount of time you now spend playing poker has made you unavailable, which has all of us hurting. I don’t think anyone, including you, has done anything wrong, but I wonder if you’re depressed or have got stuck in some kind of bad habit. It happens to good people. I wish you could see what’s happening and try to change it, but that’s your call. Meanwhile, I’ll assume you can’t be available and the rest of us will need to adjust. I’m sorry, because you’ll lose chances to share things with us and I’ll have to rely more on my friends when I’d rather talk to you. If I can help, let me know.”

After my kids went off to college, I dealt with it by drinking too much. My husband’s always worked long hours, so he didn’t notice at first, but I managed to get his attention by totaling our car (with our daughter in the passenger seat). We were both fine and I haven’t had a drink since that day two years ago, and, while my kids have been very understanding, I can’t seem to win back my husband’s trust, no matter what I do. I’ve done rehab, attended daily AA meetings, done my best to be a model wife by anyone’s standards, and it doesn’t seem to make a difference. My goal is to get my husband to trust me again.

Though there’s nothing you’d like more than to regain your husband’s trust, it’s a terrible goal because it focuses on someone else’s feelings about you, rather than on your own priorities and values.

Surely AA has taught you to respect the things you can’t control, and surely, after raising kids with him, you know your husband is one of those things.

You know, mothers who love to nurture and are particularly responsive to their kids’ needs often have a harder time coping with an empty nest. You are simply gifted at putting other people first and it’s both strength and weakness.

If emptiness starts you drinking, you feel terrible about letting down your family and the shame drives you to drink more. Thinking about your husband is unavoidable—second nature, even—but, as you’ve already learned, it’s dangerous.

If you haven’t relapsed by now, it’s probably because you’ve found your own reasons to stay sober. Perhaps the AA meetings have given you support that’s separate from your family and also, perhaps, a perspective your husband doesn’t have.

In AA meetings, alcoholics don’t have to feel ashamed of being alcoholic; they try to be proud of what they’re doing about it. They build a wall between their alcoholism and how they manage it and between the past and what they’re doing now. Every day, shame and sensitivity threaten to make them believe that they’re failures and their job is to protect and accept themselves.

When you and your alcoholism were outed, you were probably mortified before you discovered big advantages. Yes, you lost friends who couldn’t accept you, but then you didn’t need to worry any longer about their acceptance, and could feel much more secure about those who stuck with you and respected your efforts to get sober.

Your husband may not be able to accept and respect you as much as you deserve. If so, it means he loved the glossy version of you more than the real woman. You can’t control his feelings, no matter how painful they may be to both of you.

You must, however, protect yourself from trying to get respect from someone who may not have it to give. Better be sad and get it over with than pine over something or someone that’s lost, and best do all of it sober.

STATEMENT:
“My dear husband, you may well feel you can’t get back to the way you used to feel about me. I was always afraid of losing your respect and that’s one reason I covered up my drinking. Now that I’m sober, I’m proud of what I do. I take no responsibility for sometimes wanting to drink and never knowing whether I’ll drink again. I can’t take responsibility for your feelings. I can only take responsibility for what I’ve done with the problem, and I’m much prouder of that than I’ve ever been. If you can accept me the way I am, our relationship can be better than ever. If that’s not possible, then there’s nothing either one of us can do.”

Living with my mentally ill 30-year-old daughter is wearing me out. My wife and I can never leave her alone, but we also can’t take her with us because she gets uncomfortable when she’s around people she doesn’t know and says inappropriate things in a loud voice and has to get up and leave. The problem isn’t her, though, it’s my wife, who is so worried about what will happen if we put her in a half-way house with other sick people that she can’t think clearly about it. We’ve got some money, but if we paid for my daughter to have her own condo and a nurse to keep an eye on her, the money wouldn’t last long. Then again, if she continues to live with us, we won’t last long. My goal is to get my wife to see that we have to get her into a state-supported program, for her sake and ours.

You hope to get your wife to see that your mentally ill daughter needs to live independently, but if you were making any progress in that direction, you wouldn’t be writing.

Let’s assume then, at least for the moment, that your hopes are false and your wife can’t let go, and if she can’t let go, she’ll always be thinking of new ways to make your daughter feel more comfortable and better understood. Which makes your goal a more and more distant dream.

It also means less legitimacy for other priorities, like preparing your daughter for life after you’re gone, or tending to your own needs or the needs of other kids.

When your wife’s approach wears you out (and it will, if you aren’t a saint), you’ll get angry and then she’ll blame you for making your daughter feel unloved and causing conflict that makes her sick.

As such, your wife’s not letting go will make things worse, as will your own refusal to let go of pushing your wife to let go. So, let’s stamp out your presumably false hope and ask how to make the best of things if your wife won’t change course.

First, figure out what you think is the right way to proceed, given the limitations of your resources and the nature of your daughter’s illness. Whatever you do, don’t expect what you have to do to feel good, because whatever it is, it won’t produce a cure or happiness, and won’t provide the guilt-blocking pleasure of unrestricted giving.

Then get advice from experts about her illness and what public benefits exist. Talk to other parents who have dealt with this issue, and count your savings. After that, put together a plan that represents the best compromise for dealing with two absolutely unavoidable and insoluble problems: the riskiness of independence when you’re mentally ill, and the costliness of long-term care when you’re not super rich.

Finally, ask yourself what you can do to implement this plan without your partner’s help, while encouraging her to join you if she chooses. You need to be able to stand by your plan so that her fears or criticism won’t paralyze you or draw you into argument.

You can’t reassure your wife that things will turn out well, but you can show her that you believe your way is best. If you appear calm about your plan and confident that you’re doing the right thing, she may eventually feel less responsible for all the bad things that could happen to your daughter and better able to do what will work best in the long run.

STATEMENT:
I have a duty to push our daughter towards independence while also attending to other responsibilities. I know this will cause her pain in the short run and deprive her of help I wish I could afford, but can’t. If I put together the best plan I can, however, I can take pride in being a good parent and offer that confidence to my wife and daughter as an alternative to fear.

My wife and I recently retired and we’ve been looking forward to a good life together, but recently I noticed she’s been getting forgetful and I wonder if she’s developing Alzheimer’s, which runs in her family. I hate to admit this, but I don’t think I’m capable of taking care of someone with Alzheimer’s, even if it’s my wife, whom I love very much. I can’t talk to her about it, because I don’t want to frighten her, and most of the time when I think about what to do, I just want to get away. Should I persuade her to get an evaluation so it can be treated? My goal is to do something to prevent this disaster from happening.

Getting into a panic with the goal of preventing Alzheimer’s is as useless as being paralyzed with fear over anything you can’t help, from the Rapture to the weather forecast to the Red Sox prospects in 2010.

Yes, you can urge your wife to get a physical and whisper to the doctor that she seems a little forgetful, and that will get him/her to check out curable causes of memory loss, like vitamin deficiency and depression.

At that point, believe it or not, you’ve done your job. If you press further by urging her to get cognitive testing and trying all available treatments, you may well make your lives worse.

A better goal for almost all the chronic problems of aging is to do what you can to treat them and then forget about them. You don’t want her to become her illness; you want her to live her usual life as much as possible.

For most people with memory loss, there’s no impending disaster. It’s only later, if and when it becomes severe, that people lose their personalities and require constant watching.

In your wife’s case, later may be a long, long time away. Meanwhile, you’ve got a life together that you don’t want to ruin by worrying about something that may not happen. Your goal is to fight fear, do what’s necessary for a possible illness, and live life as usual.

Your goal also isn’t to be extra nice to her; forgetfulness can be irritating to live with, and if you try too hard to be nice, you’ll get extra nasty. Instead, just try not to be mean, and give yourself credit when you can keep yourself in check. That’s always helpful in marriage, whether your spouse is demented or not.

STATEMENT:
Reassure yourself. “If there’s something that will actually help my wife with her memory, I’ll do it. Otherwise, it’s business as usual for as long as possible.”

My father, a Holocaust survivor, is dying of cancer. I’m his only child, and while my mother is doing the best she can, I feel overwhelmed with responsibility and grief. I don’t know how to stop feeling so helpless, not just because I love him and can’t save him, but because he overcame so much to make life possible for me, and now all I can do is watch him die. My goal is to figure out what I can do for him since he’s done so much for me.

Don’t fall for the common misconception that you fulfill your duty to your parents by taking care of them and keeping them safe when they’re old. As a genuine geezer, Dr. Lastname can tell you with authority: you can’t, and it’s not your duty anyway.

No, I’m not telling you to push your dad out on an ice flow or forget about him, not for a moment. I am telling you to think about two things: what your goal will be for your kids when you get old and need their help, and how little you can do for anyone when they’re suffering from old age.

If you’ve made sacrifices for your kids, it’s for the future of your family, and you want your kids to do the same for their kids. The last thing you want is to deplete their resources, disrupt the stability of their marriages, or take them away from your grandkids.

My guess is that your father didn’t have a child after surviving the Holocaust simply because he wanted care during old age or revenge on the enemies of the Jews. If he’s like most survivors, his main goal was to do what he started out doing before the earthquake happened, which was to give love to the next generation, pass on good moral values, and not let unavoidable sorrow or anger interfere.

Perhaps the intensity of your sorrow is part of your inheritance as the only child of a survivor. Your goal is not to make it go away by holding on to him, but to bear it, as your parents did, while living a full life.

So your goal isn’t to devote yourself to your father’s care; it’s to help him if there’s something you can do that will make a substantial difference and meanwhile continue with your normal life priorities.

No, it’s not a process that will make you feel good; tearing yourself away from his care, even though you know you can’t do more, never feels good and you’ll be tempted to keep on doing more and more and more.

If you let your loving, protective feelings take over, however, you’ll wear yourself out, do him no good, and damage the life your father wants you to build for yourself and others. Your father survived impossible hardship; honor him by surviving his illness with your sanity and priorities intact.

STATEMENT:
Prepare a statement to protect yourself from irrational guilt and responsibility. “In my family, we are committed to caring for one another, but we are also committed to carrying on with life and we know there is only so much we can do when faced with life’s worst problems, like aging, death, and loss. I will do anything for my father that will really help. And I will try to bear the pain of losing him without faltering in my other responsibilities, as he did with his losses throughout his life.”

I know it’s a cliché, but I am a gay man with a cat I love more than anything in the world. The problem is that she’s 15, she’s having serious problems with arthritis (and general old age), and the vet has made it clear that there are ways to prolong her life but not without some suffering on her part. The last thing I want is for my girl to suffer, but when I think about living without her, it’s like my heart stops. My goal is to make a responsible decision even though just thinking about making the decision tears me up inside.

Responsible decisions about unhappy dilemmas will almost always make you feel worse, because the only choice you have is between less-pain-now-and-feeling-like-a-shit-later and gagging-on-the-bitten-shit-bullet-now-but-knowing-you’ve-done-the-right-thing-later. Be a shit, or eat shit. Viva life.

So if your goal is to feel happy about your beloved cat’s death, forget it. On the other hand, if your goal is to do right by your old friend, then prepare to suck it up and bear your sorrow proudly.

It’s dangerous to want to feel less pain, because in order to do that, you’ll need to stop being a sensitive gay guy. You’ll need to get tough, brag about your sports injuries, and trade in your cat for an iguana.

Furthermore, you’ll need sign up for my cut-rate lobotomy service. Don’t worry, I promise to keep my charges down until I’ve completed 5 and gained the experience necessary to put myself in the upper ranks of brain surgeons. It’s all in the wrist.

If you insist on being gay and staying true to yourself, however, you must accept your pain. In all fairness, you wouldn’t want to get over the loss of a close friend in 2 weeks. Feeling pain is part of honoring her importance. There’s no shame in that, or the cliche.

STATEMENT:
So give yourself a pep talk to remember that pain can have positive meaning if you make it so. “I’ve been lucky to share my life with a wonderful cat, who gave me the kind of conditional non-acceptance that only a cat can provide. She saw me through tough times and taught me that the only thing of real importance was seeing to her needs. I’ll do right by her and cherish her memory.”

My husband and I divorced two years ago after twenty-five years of marriage. Believe it or not, the divorce was amicable; I’ve never been truly happy in my marriage, and the second our youngest left for college, I told him I felt trapped and finally needed a chance to find myself. See, my husband was the first and only man I ever dated after a very sheltered, lonely childhood, and I’m haunted by the feeling that my life is missing something because there’s so much about life I feel like I’ve missed out on. Now that I’m on my own and have a chance to find my bliss—to be in a true, loving relationship—I wonder if my unhappiness from my husband stems from the fact that I might actually be happier with women. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s not something I ever even had the chance to consider before, and all I do know for sure is that life with my husband, especially sexually, was never really gratifying. My goal is to find someone, anyone, whom I truly connect with before it’s too late.

It’s nice if finding and making the right sexual connection gives you a greater feeling of connection to life and relationships in general, a realization of who you are, an acceptance of your place in the universe, etc., etc., whatever. That’s what certain of the early 20th century novelists were trying to argue, and maybe the whole sexual liberation movement of the 60s and 70s was driven by that hope.

In reality, however, sexual identity is just one factor in what makes human connections meaningful, and you can’t be sure that your feeling of disconnectedness is a matter of sexual identity or, in a broader sense, that it’s within your control.

If it isn’t, your goal of finding a better connection can become self-destructive, because then you believe that you’ve failed to find meaning in your life, which is worse than the pain of feeling lonely and disconnected.

So here is what no one has been telling you about the birds and the bees: no one is guaranteed a connection. Sometimes people feel disconnected because of their personalities: think Aspergers, cowboys, sea-captains, Richard Nixon.

Sometimes you never have the opportunity to find people who are on your wavelength. Life can be lonely and sometimes there’s no solution, and some solutions are worse than the problem.

It’s no coincidence that a major source of connectedness is shitty-but-intense relationships. Yes, it’s easy to feel connected if your lover is dramatic and sexual. That’s the kind of person who will ramp up the volume whenever things get boring and insist on a big fat fight so you can have a teary, sexy make-up.

You may have seen such a person on TV, on, say, Maury, or in reality, ruining the life of a friend; great sex, total misery, good for reality TV and, later, a gold mine for clinicians like me, who enjoy hearing about the drama and feeding off it without having to live it.

So your goal isn’t to connect, but to try to connect if you can, and if you can do it in a way that’s consistent with your values.

Look around for someone or something to connect with, but be warned that, if it hasn’t happened by now, it may not be meant to. You may have the wrong kind of personality; or, unless you’re careful, the connectedness you find may be bad for your health.

It’s not all bad news though; if you don’t find what you’re looking for (and I’m not saying you won’t—I don’t know you—I’m just worried by the fact that, if connection hasn’t happened after all these years, it may not happen at all), the lack of connection doesn’t make life meaningless. That notion, again, is romantic bullshit. It’s more important to have relationships that can grow over the years and that share life events and are honest, without necessarily becoming intense or sexual.

If you’ve raised children who know you love them, and shared parenting and life’s problems with a husband over many years without killing one another, you’ve accomplished two of life’s biggest achievements and made the world a better place, even if your feelings didn’t go ting-a-ling.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement to protect you from making too big a deal, or too personal an issue, of your connectedness. “I’d like to find someone or something that grabs me more than what I’ve found so far, so I’ve done everything I can to give myself a better opportunity. But I also value what I’ve done—being a good, caring mother and wife—and nothing can take that away. And if I don’t find what I’m looking for, I can take pride in knowing that I’ve been brave, taken risks, and pushed myself as far as possible without losing my commitment to being a good parent, doing good work, and being a good friend.

My wife and I have been together for a long time—I don’t want to get into numbers—but it’s only been fairly recently that she’s completely lost interest in intimacy, and while I know that’s what happens with age and such, this whole change has made me feel not just frustrated, but a bit emasculated. I’m not saying that I’m as eager as I used to be, but she really seems completely turned-off by me physically at this point, doesn’t even want to be close, and even though she doesn’t seem angry at me in any other way and assures me she’s just urgeless, nothing can convince me that something isn’t wrong. Either way, the whole deal leaves me feeling irritated and patronized. My goal is to figure out a way to get my wife to respect me again.

Even if your wife doesn’t respect you—and there’s no reason to think she doesn’t—there’s nothing you can do to change her feelings except make them worse by attacking her for not having her old sex drive. At that point, you’ll certainly never get laid.

Don’t make the mistake of equating sexual attractiveness with self-worth. Obviously, that’s the way our nervous systems are wired, and the media take full advantage of that wiring to sell products (feeling attractive feels good!). Unfortunately, like most things that make you feel good, it’s not terribly good for you.

So it’s not surprising the media perpetuate another stupid notion; that a strong sex drive is a normal part of being a healthy, attractive person. Bullshit. Sex drives vary tremendously, and without notice—even for the outrageously attractive.

Some people have lots and some little; the less sex drive you have, the smarter/more logic-based your decisions about people and relationships, so obviously there are advantages both ways.

And here’s one of the saddest things: even if you find a partner whose sex drive is very compatible with yours, there’s no guarantee it will stay that way or that, if yours or hers drops off, that doctors or healthy living will fix it. If anything, it’s more like the opposite.

You’re almost guaranteed that, sooner or later, things will change for her and/or you and not at the same time. You’re fucked…and not. Really, all the books and articles on sexual therapy and the availability of sexual therapists should shout out the truth: there’s seldom a cure.

Now that you’re properly bummed, let’s get to the good part. Your sexual incompatibility is not personal and, if you can keep yourself from making it so, you can make things better.

No, you can’t expect your wife to enjoy herself the way she used to (unless you and she get lucky and her sex drive, for whatever reason, comes back) and, if your pleasure depends on hers, too bad.

If she can give you pleasure without being excited herself, however, and you have the time and a positive relationship, you should be able to negotiate yourself into some fun you both can feel good about (or at least less frustrated).

It’s not that she doesn’t value you enough to have sex, but she may value you enough to agree to compassion sex, which, while not ideal, is better than no sex at all.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a proposition that protects you both from any implication of failure. “We’ve been lucky to have a wonderful sex life and it’s happened, in part, because we both enjoy sex. But it’s also happened because we’re good friends and we like to give one another pleasure, so, even though your urges have disappeared, we may still be able to have some sexual fun. How about I do more of the shopping, so you have less to worry about, and then we can take a little time to relax in bed and I can try to give you a little pleasure to match the great sexual pleasure that you give me? I continue to find you attractive. I want to find some other way to give you pleasure. Think about what I can do to make this work for us.”

My next door neighbor is your typical Mrs. Kravitz…always in my business asking me personal questions. Lately, she’s taken to walking into my driveway while I am working to get more dirt. My proposed solution to remedy the uninvited driveway visits is to add on to the existing fence, cutting down the easy access. I don’t want to have a conversation about “why” I am putting up the fence, so I am just going to do it without letting her know. My only fear is that there will be some kind of future confrontation because this neighbor gets insulted at the drop of a hat. My goal is to protect my boundaries, one way or the other, without having an angry neighbor to deal with for the next 30 years.

Using a fence to block out your neighbor’s intrusive curiosity may work…unless it actually does the opposite.

After all, it may just serve to whet her appetite, and pretty soon, she’ll have you under 24 hour surveillance with Predator overflights and under-eaves webcams. You’ll look like Wile E. Coyote writing away to Acme (or the German Democratic Republic) for ever-more-advanced fencing.

In other words, your goal isn’t to stop her, but to try. If your goal is to stop someone from prying when you can’t, you’ll go nuts, and your helplessness will draw her like a magnet (and your misery will draw you to me like a magnet, trust me).

If you begin by admitting you might well be fucked, then you’ll probably try cheaper options first (unless you already have).

For example, you can always give her dumbed-down answers, or claim you can’t talk to her because you’re listening to an important message on your ipod, or provide her with an endless amount of detailed information about your lawn fertilizer and the cost of hot water before then asking to come over and bore her some more. You know people who can bore you to death, so learn from the masters.

Overcome your normal human need to give people what they ask for; that’s the nice guy reflex that cold-callers and friendly, pen-palsy Nigerian phishers rely on when they ask you questions about your money or political affiliation and assume you’re too polite not to answer.

Being a nice guy is great in some situations and dangerous in others, and it’s your job to decide when it’s right and ethical to stonewall someone’s need to know. No, you don’t want to wait until you’re angry because anger, once expressed, bonds you more tightly to someone you want to have nothing to do with. Act before you get angry and before you show how you feel.

The better reason for refusing to respond is that you perceive yourself targeted with a, one-sided need that it’s not your responsibility to meet. Then give yourself permission to refuse it.

Good fences might make good neighbors, but when your neighbor’s crazy to begin with, there’s no fence in the world that can make that neighbor be anything but sucky.

STATEMENT:
Prepare a statement that expresses your ethical rationale for doing what others might perceive as hurtful rejection. “I like to make people feel comfortable and listened-to, but I recognize that some approach me with one-sided needs that I have a right not to meet. I don’t wish to humiliate or show disrespect. They may not realize what they’re doing. If they can’t stop themselves from intruding on me, however, I will do what I can to stop them.”

My father was your classic gruff, no-hugs, distant daddy. He never wanted girls, but he got three of them, and seemed to resent the shit out of us for it. I was really angry at him for most of my adulthood because of it, but now that he’s in his 80s and not all there, I know I should make peace with him before he goes. The problem is that I’m reminded of him by all the other men in my life. My ex-husband ended our marriage because he thought I was too distant, and I’ve lost other relationships since then for being too “cold.” My goal is to forgive my father, but I don’t know how when, even now that his brain’s going, his legacy continues to ruin all of my relationships.

As I’ve said before, it would be nice if you could have a good cry with a therapist about unrequited love for a distant dad, then receive a “It’s not my fault” hug, and, in the end, go forth prepared to love and be loved, totally cured.

That goal may be worth a trial of therapy, but usually things don’t work that way; that scenario is such fantastical bullshit it evidently deserved an Oscar.

Whether it’s genetics or the impact of childhood, the result is always the same. If you’re hot, you’re hot, and if you’re not, you’re not. Trying to change yourself when it’s impossible makes you a self-centered, impoverished, therapy-dependent gal who doesn’t expect to begin her life until she can change her personality.

So don’t try to warm your cold, cold heart (or your father’s) if you’ve tried and it hasn’t worked. Your goal is not to change, but to manage the iceberg you have so you can act like a decent person, even if you don’t feel like it. Succeed where daddy probably didn’t even try.

Parenthetically, in some situations, cold hearts may help people survive or make better decisions, so they may sometimes be an advantage. Warm hearts can cause just as much trouble if they’re unmanaged, so join the Cold Hearts of America and learn cold-hearted pride.

Or, if you can’t find a nearby chapter, ask yourself whether and when your cold-heartedness makes you act like a jerk (your friends will tell you if you can’t figure it out for yourself). The point of the exercise is not to please your friends, but to provide yourself with behavioral measures for acting decently.

It’s up to you to decide which measures to adopt. Don’t count on your heart to be your guide, figure out how you should act and then try to do it, and I promise, a funny thing will happen.

The more you push yourself to limit your snits and sulks, stay in contact, pull yourself out of your cave, and keep your angry and injured feelings to yourself, the more sympathy you will have for your father.

You may realize that, lacking your perspective, your father could never see what a cold-hearted jerk he was being. On the other hand, the advantage of your perspective obliges you to endure pain and take on a task that he never considered.

Just don’t bother laying the blame for that pain at your father’s feet. From that aforementioned sympathy will come compassion, which is as close to forgiveness as you’re going to get.

STATEMENT:
Prepare a statement to protect yourself from unrealistic criticism. “I believe in being a good friend, partner and parent and regret the fact that my instincts often work against me. I won’t let that keep me from trying. I’ll develop my own standards and try to meet them. And, instead of being ashamed of myself for having a cold heart, I’ll be proud of doing my best with the rational, Vulcan mind that I have.”

I have been basically bedridden now for almost a decade with constant pain and fatigue, and I’m not even 50. I have been diagnosed with many auto-immune diseases, as well as central nervous system disorders that have led to constant pain, and am on a diet of many medications for pain, neurological disorders, and sleep. I find myself asking why bother? I have lost so many years of my life; my “thrill” in life is getting through a grocery trip. My body is weakened and aged, I cannot please my husband, my now grown children see a mother who is weak and sad. Before this, I was an active, involved, strong woman looking forward to a wonderful active life with my husband, and ready to see my children become healthy adults with families of their own. Now I see a life of pain that no medication has been able to stop, the constant craving of sleep, and utter depression.

If your goal was to be have a wonderful active life with your husband and watch your grandchildren grow, you were screwed before you began.

We all wish for a life like that, but the reason I’m open for business is that none of us can make such a life happen, even with a perfect start and wonderful marriage, not in this world. So if you make a goal of wishes like these, you’ll feel like a total loser when uncontrollable things happen, like incurable illness and pain.

A better goal is to find a partner who is sufficiently strong, caring, and devoted to kids so that he will shoulder the load when you can’t and stick around when you’re not much fun to be with. Lucky for you, you’ve succeeded.

Your goal with your kids is to show them how to be good, caring, productive people in spite of all the unfair shit that life will throw at them, and that’s what you’re succeeding at now.

Your husband and kids may be sad and hurting for your pain, and you’re hurting for theirs. Happiness and pain relief, however, were never what was most important about your goals, so never say that you’ve lost “so many” years of your life.

For all those years, you’ve coped with illness while raising a family. If you put aside the negative thoughts that pain and depression have put in your head, I’m sure your family still considers the day better if you’re around than if you’re not, so that’s many years of living with pain, and sharing life with your family.

I’m old enough to have many dead friends, some of whom died painfully. Some reached the point where pain was too much and it was a relief to go, but one secret that doctors know, and people who care for dying patients, is that dying people often show us how to live. They discover their priorities and share their courage.

It’s painful to work with them but also enriching, and so it has been with my friends. I think of them often when I need to remember what’s more important than pain.

STATEMENT:
Help out your family by writing a statement. “I know it gets depressing when I seem to get weaker and hurt more, no matter how much good love and care you give me. But I want you to know that my time with you is precious and that I’m proud of how strong you’ve been and what a good job you’re doing. It’s normal to get discouraged, overwhelmed, and angry. It’s also normal to give up and bicker and get away from this burden. But we haven’t done that in this family. In this family, we hang together and try to help one another and I’m proud of you.”

My husband and I were having problems for a long time (we both acknowledged this), but then, as things were coming to a head, he suffered a severe stroke. From that point, the status of our marriage seemed unimportant; he was my husband and he needed my help. For over a year, I stayed with him through physical therapy, rehab, just several grueling months of watching him learn how to speak and walk again. He’s still not 100%, but he’s no longer dependent on me or anyone else…which is why I want to talk to him again about getting a divorce. I’m not sure whether I’m just worried about being perceived as a monster (I know, who cares what other people think), but whether I really am being a monster, even though we were talking about divorcing before his stroke ever happened. I know he’s in an impaired state now, but just because he has to suffer a burden for the rest of his life, doesn’t mean I have to suffer our marriage. My goal is to go back to the things the way they were before the stroke, and go forward from there.

To my mind, living up to your marriage vows is important. That said, living up to your vows isn’t just a matter of keeping your promises, because there’s too much you don’t control about what happens to a partnership after it’s formed.

Your wish for your marriage is that you support one another through thick and thin, but reality may make mutual support impossible and turn the marriage into a severe burden for one or both of you. This happens frequently if your partner has an addiction or a problem with other out-of-control behavior. It also happens when it turns out that you just can’t get along.

Despite your best intentions, your marriage goal is not to support one another unconditionally, but to do your best to create a good partnership and manage it constructively if it’s not.

In deciding whether or not to stay with your husband, accept that, of all the factors involved with your next move, your feelings are not what’s most important. Someone may be a pain in the ass to live with, but you and your kids, if you have them, may be better off with the marriage as is, regardless.

Yes, you may be able to provide better care than he could get elsewhere, but, if you really can’t get along together, being trapped in a close relationship by his disability will be hell for both of you. Accept the reality of your bad chemistry before considering alternatives.

It’s unlikely that your decision will make anyone feel good because that’s not possible. Your goal is not to make a decision that feels good, but to assess the good and bad that will come about from staying together versus splitting up, and arrive at a decision that makes the best of things.

Don’t focus on what other people would think, or what you would feel, or what could have been. Focus on what makes the most sense for the future.

STATEMENT:
Write a statement that will help you make your assessment without being overly influenced by anger or guilt. “I’ve done a good job of caring for my partner and I think he’s strong enough to be OK if I decide to leave. Now it’s my job to add up the value of staying versus going. I’ll assume, at this point, that the bad chemistry between us can’t be helped and is nothing but a fact that I must include, without blame, in my decision. I can’t expect my decision to make anyone happy in the short run. But if I’ve tried hard to make our relationship work and to find a good way of dealing with the fact that it doesn’t, I’ll make a good decision.”

I can’t seem to make a decision about the life/death issue. I want to want to live, or have the balls to call it quits. Shit or get off the pot. It takes too much damn energy vacillating.

“To be or not to be”—that’s still the question, right? Well, it’s also a question I never like to answer or hear.

Shakespeare or no, it’s a bad question to ask, because most people who ask it don’t really want an answer; they want an antidote to their hurt or someone to blame for not providing it.

It’s similar to the way Boston taxi drivers ask the passenger whether to take the Pike or Storrow to Logan airport — to have someone else to blame when, either way, they inevitably run into heavy traffic.

I know, the question expresses your deepest feelings. It also wears out friends, drives them away/proves that no one can help, and confirms your right to be very, very unhappy. The whole cycle sucks and it’s unhealthy. Keep asking it, and somebody will go ahead and hurt you more.

Hamlet, after all, was once a nice guy, A-student, and highly respected politician-in-training. Then some anguish over loss and hard decisions pushed him to ask his famous question and become increasingly self-centered, murderous, whiny, paralyzed, and dangerous to his friends until a couple of them tried to assassinate him, which shocked him back to his good old self just in time for his death scene, which would otherwise have been a relief. Goodnight, sweet recovered asshole.

And that, for whatever reason, is what I usually encounter when people ask me this question, often telling me they’re traumatized by something they don’t want to talk about, have a suicide plan they’re ready to implement, and are speaking into a phone at a location they refuse to disclose. They’re not just deliberating life vs. death, they’re challenging me to reduce their despair; otherwise, it’s my bad.

They can’t help feeling angry and despairing—their feelings are authentic, and I never buy the idea that the question represents nothing more than a plea for help or attention—but by channeling their feelings into an unanswerable question and posing it to others, they invariably make a bad thing worse.

So I won’t tell you to live or not live. But, until you decide to end it, try to forget about your pain, make a living, and be a good person. Pursuing your usual goals will distract you from pain and navel-gazing and protect your from becoming a full-time victim to whom more trauma and bad things will happen to happen.

And yes, if you stop measuring your pain and challenging others to respond to it, you’ll have more energy to consider how to make it better. Like trying various therapies and medications, and giving yourself enough time to recover from loss and depression.

Ask people, including me, how to make things better, and we’ll offer suggestions and heart-felt support. Ask us whether you should live or die, and we’ll stop a conversation you shouldn’t be having, even with yourself.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement you can use on yourself to stop poisonous rumination. “I feel despair and death is starting to feel attractive, but thinking about suicide will make the pain worse and ruin what I value about my life and what I respect myself for. Sure, I’m fucked, but as long as I’m living, the best thing I can do is live according to the values I’ve always had, and not let pain stop me, unless or until it does.”

My son drinks too much, and when he’s drunk, he gets into serious trouble, like fights, arrests, or both. My husband and I have done all we can to keep him out of jail with a clean record—this town is small, and the cops know our family—and also get him into rehab, residential and otherwise, or just on probation, anything to try and keep him clean without jail-time. He just got arrested though (again) for violating his probation (he was high and violent), and I don’t know what else I can do. I keep waiting for him to hit bottom and turn his life around, but instead he keeps falling further and further down, and unless I try something new, he’ll definitely end up in jail and probably wind up dead. I don’t want to give up on him, because that’s the same as killing him, but I feel like I’m out of options. My goal is to figure out an alternative to letting my son die.

The sad news is that you don’t have much power over your son’s life or death, and trying to exert a power you don’t really have will make him worse. That’s why, unless your son is presently choking on a sandwich and you know the Heimlich, saving your son’s life is a bad goal.

Since you can’t save it, your efforts will do nothing more than make him think you’re in control, and allow him to forget the sad fact that no one is in control until he finds the strength to control himself, if he can.

Also, you might have noticed by now that would-be saviors usually wind up madder than shit and ready to murder the person they want to save; it’s one of life’s little paradoxes that happens almost inevitably.

You can’t save him so you try a little harder, get a little more tired and frustrated, encounter a source of resistance that you’re sure you can overcome by becoming more forceful and, voila, you’re ready to murder the kid yourself.

Then you feel terribly guilty and more responsible and resume the saintly approach, so being part of a cycle that generates a big source of my business.

[There are a couple books that illustrate how to do the difficult but supremely worthwhile task of continuing to show love to someone you know is dancing on the edge of a precipice while accepting that loving them is the only thing you can do; George McGovern’s Terry, My Daughter's Life-and-Death Struggle with Alcoholism and Norman McLean’s A River Runs Through It.]

If it’s not in your power to let him live or die (unless you have secret powers/a deadly sandwich), then your goal isn’t—can’t be—to back away and let him die . It’s to keep your fear and anger to yourself while encouraging him to do better next time, to keep on loving him, knowing that you’ve done your best and that, despite all of that, he may not live much longer.

STATEMENT:
Write a statement to protect yourself from false guilt and dangerous over-responsibility. “I love you and I see your wonderful strengths, but I haven’t found a way to protect you from a life-threatening weakness that isn’t getting better, and I know you haven’t found a way, either. I’ll never give up on you. I’ll always love you and offer help if you find the strength to use it. Many people have found a way to control themselves when it seemed hopeless. Meanwhile, I want us to share good times when we can and not think about the bad times any more than we have to.”

I’m an early middle-aged woman, lucky enough to have the problems that come with getting saner and older. I grew up in one of those sad alcoholic homes from which I never gave up working to extricate myself. I screwed life up at first but have been recovered from alcoholism over twenty years, similarly recovered from eating disorders (bulimia, anorexia, binge eating), returned to the school I had ditched to finally graduate with honors, kept jobs (now retired) and, a real miracle, I have been married to a terrific guy in my sobriety and am (for real) happily married. I have solid loving friends. I’ve seen therapists for the depression, which intermittently interferes but even found a half-assed but useful medication. A good life…except for the real problems that come with age. That wonderful husband has a couple of chronic diseases, my best friend died of the cancer I survived, and everyone is dead in my small original family. I am experiencing that trapped childhood feeling of being in a world in which I am helpless and those I love are hopeless and going away. I realize I must just feel the hurt and keep on anyway, but I am tired, and my stamina is more fragile now. I disappoint those I love and make mistakes more. Goal in writing you: To get a better grip on myself and accept more deeply that I cannot change the pain of life. I would like to not keep blaming myself, a old bad habit that lingers. Sorry I’ve gone on so long but I guess I wanted to show that I have really tried to help others and myself even if I’m whining now.

You see your goal as rising above the pain of aging, but you can’t fool me (remember, I went to Harvard): your deeper goal is to help people, to the point that their aging has worn you down and caused you to forget that you have other goals. For example, not getting worn down unless it’s really necessary.

So it’s not aging that’s your problem, but what aging has done to your ability to help others while keeping your priorities straight. That’s what I think is causing you the most grief. After all, if you were old but weren’t as responsive to the needs of others, all you’d have to worry about is your bad back and Tivo’ing NCIS.

On top of ascertaining your real goal, I can also guess you’re not from Samaria, so you don’t have a Samaritan license (funny, you don’t look Samaritan). That’s the first thing that’s wrong with your initial goal—wanting too much to help others.

Second, helping others feels good, so you know it’s got to be bad. Third, it makes you feel less guilty (even though you did no wrong in the first place) which is the same as two.

Fourth, it elbows out your other responsibilities, like enjoying your few remaining days and being nice to your not-yet-dying friends. Fifth, it makes you tired, depleted, and depressed and in need of my services…actually pretend I didn’t say that, because I need the work, but finally,

Finally, six, it will make nice people hate you because they have to be needy and dying to get your full attention. Again, this wish doesn’t discriminate based on age.

You and I know what’s wrong with very nice, recovered alcoholics: they’re addicted to helping others. So your goal isn’t to help others; it’s to ration your help so you have time and energy for equally legitimate and necessary priorities, like making a living, being a good friend to those who can give as well as take, and feeding your own soul.

Yes, you carry sadness and are surrounded by it, but the more you focus on it, the more helpless you’ll feel, which will make you sadder, until you’re stuck in a pit.

So accept the sadness, as you do, and start over. You’re fucked, your husband is fucked, and, as the old Spiritual says, “all God’s children be fucked.” Hallelujah. Both your sadness and his illness, however, haven’t stopped you from caring for one another and making one another’s lives richer.

Indeed, your sadness has probably made you a better writer and more empathic friend, and your ability to manage depression, alcoholism, and an eating disorder has given you strength that I’m sure has benefited others.

I’m not saying you’re lucky—that’s bullshit—but stop focusing on your inability to make sadness and loss go away, and instead on what you’ve done with it, and be proud. Be proud of being unlucky and not letting it stop you, turn you inwards, prevent you from using your gifts, cripple your friendships, or inhibit you from taking risks.

You feel like shit, but it’s just a feeling. Your actions are a triumph and that’s what you should be reminding yourself. Now stop whining and be proud.

STATEMENT:
Prepare a statement to block off the helpless misery of your meditations on loss. “My life has included more than its share of pain, loss, and out-of-control behavior and I’ve been sensitized to seeing the sad side of life. But I have been unusually good at living a full life in spite of my feelings, gaining control over my behaviors, and turning into a good person who gives courage to others. That was always my goal and that’s what I’m doing. I’m not really helpless at all.”

Recently, I suffered a health setback and I don’t know whether I’ll ever get better. Without getting specific, I have physical problems that are hard to talk about with anyone but my closest friends, but they slow me down and I don’t get as much done as I used to, either at work or home. I’m in my 40s, and I’ve always been active, productive, and social, so most people don’t know what to make of the change in my behavior. The real issue that’s come up involves my work, because my boss will notice, sooner or later, that I’ve taken a lot of sick days and that I’m not getting as much done. I believe in your philosophy of living by your own standards and not depending on what others think of you, and I’m worried, in any case, by how he’d respond, so my goal is to keep quiet about my illness and respect myself regardless of his questions or criticism.

There’s enough unavoidable pain in life so that you don’t have to embrace additional pain in order to build your pride. This includes the pain whose nature we dare not speak.

Besides, you have other priorities than proving your toughness to yourself, like making a living, taking care of people who depend on you, and making your relationships no more difficult than they have to be.

Pride in your toughness is unaffordable; instead, embrace shame, and be proud that you can.

Having an incurable condition brings out the worst in people if you’re not careful, and sometimes it brings out the worst when you are. Your wife and kids (and boss) will try hard to get you back to your usual, happy self, and then wonder where they, and you, have failed.

An incurable condition will tend to make you grumpy and depressed, and they’ll blame your negativity, not your pain, for making you sick and them miserable.

Your boss, if he notices a change, will launch into his usual executive procedures for establishing accountability, restoring motivation, and developing an explanation that will satisfy his boss that the problem is under control. If you don’t give him an explanation, he’ll assume he’s running into psychological resistance, try harder, piss you off, get a more negative response, and so on.

So watch out. You’ve got an incurable condition—”fucked” is the medical term—and you’ll be double-fucked if you don’t counteract the negative impact it will have on your relationships.

If the details of your illness are private, that’s fine, but the fact that you’re ill, especially if it affects your performance, isn’t something you can afford to hide from your employer if you want to stay in his employ. Speak up, and respect yourself for doing so, not in spite of it.

STATEMENT:
Write a statement to shield yourself from the expectations of others (and yourself). “I’ve got a condition that I’m working on with my doctor and the good news is that it won’t kill me, but the bad news is that it’s painful and makes it harder for me to get my work done and be as energetic and social as I used to be. So I need to prioritize carefully, while I try to keep the pain managed. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you think I’m falling behind in any major way. My feelings won’t be hurt, and it will help me adjust my priorities and be as effective as possible.”

I’ve always gotten some attitude at work because I’m a woman (some people seem to act like that’s the only reason I’ve gotten as far as I have), but recently, due to the economy, I’ve been dealing with a lot more disrespect. Frankly, the opposite should be true, and I should be getting loads of appreciation for doing twice the work I used to after so many lay-offs. Instead, people think that it’s not fair that I get to keep my job, and while the sexist stuff was annoying, this recent turn of events has made things almost unbearable. I’m sick of not being appreciated for my talent and hard work and instead having to deal with everyone’s bullshit and bitterness instead. My goal is to get treated appropriately for a job well done, simple as that.

While appreciation certainly makes the job easier—it makes most things in life easier—it doesn’t cut it as a goal, if only because need for appreciation makes you easy prey to anyone who gives you lots of appreciation, twice as much work, and no more pay. I can’t abide your goal to be a sucker.

Appreciation also makes you reactive to other people’s feelings, instead of to your own reasons for being there, so don’t quit a job because everyone at work is critical, and don’t stay because they tell you you’re marvelous.

Remember what you’re working for: money, not love. Unless you’re a bad prostitute.

So life is hard, you don’t have a trust fund, and you need money for survival, independence, self-reliance, and the support of others who depend on you. If appreciation was your first priority, you’d be a volunteer or superhero.

Your goal then is to make as good a living as you can while conserving enough time and energy for the rest of your life, particularly your other responsibilities. It’s to contribute an honest day’s work and, if possible, do something meaningful, and if the peanut gallery doesn’t like it, fuck ‘em.

If you find yourself in a demeaning, bullshit job that you nevertheless think is necessary and better than anything else you can find, respect yourself for doing it. Do it up to your standards, not theirs.

It’s never easy to ignore torment, but think of the nerdy kid teased by Neanderthals; whether he ignores them or fights back, he’s screwed either way. At least you get a paycheck and far fewer wedgies.

STATEMENT:
If you decide the job is necessary and the pain unavoidable, write yourself a statement to protect yourself from the disrespect that is part of the job’s sewage content. “I have my own good reasons for doing this job, in spite of the shitty way I’m treated. It’s a demeaning way to make a living, but I can’t find anything better, though I’ll keep on looking. So I respect myself for working and I will keep up my standards while looking for alternatives.

Ever since my mother died, I’ve been feeling pretty low, and now my wife says I’ve been really hard to be around and wants me to talk to a professional about my grief (I’m writing you instead). It’s true that my mother and I were very close, and losing her has been very, very hard for me, but I think my wife is overreacting. I’m going through a hard time, sure, and maybe I’ve been a little over-reactive, but this is how grief works, and if she can’t handle it, it seems like her problem, not mine. I’ve got a short fuse now, but this’ll pass sooner than later, and I don’t need a doctor to tell me that. My goal is get my wife to realize that I don’t have a problem.

The question here isn’t whether her bad feelings are an over-reaction to your grief; if that were the question, we’ve have to do instant replays of your conversation, listen to your tone of voice, then do a poll of the audience.

In the end, one of you would feel validated and the other would go looking for a more sympathetic friend. A consolation prize of turtle wax might be involved.

People often see couples therapy for that kind of refereeing and, as I’ve said many times, it’s usually a waste of time. The question here isn’t whether she thinks you’ve been mean, but what you think after you’ve examined the evidence.

Of course, when you’re irritated by her being irritating, it’s even more irritating to be told you need to see a shrink. Then, if you dismiss her feelings, she’ll feel worse while having more reason to believe she’s right, and so it goes, back and forth.

Stop it, shut up, and think. Step back from the irritation, then, and be business-like. Gather your own data, re-examine what you said to her and ask people you trust whether you’ve been nasty or mean lately.

Remember, anger is one of the most common and crippling symptoms of depression, and it can destroy relationships at the time you need them the most, making you more depressed. Depressive anger is yet another example of how frequently nature kicks you when you’re down, and how careful you must be to manage yourself during a time of crisis. If you do what comes naturally, your problems almost always multiply.

If you decide that grief is making you nasty and depressed and is driving people away, then your goal isn’t to find a more understanding wife or become a hermit, but to improve your self control and get back to being a guy you can respect.

You can’t get your mother back, but you could lose your wife if you aren’t careful. By the way, self-control hurts, and in the short run, it hurts far more than venting. But that’s the way it is, because in the long run, it hurts less than losing your wife.

If you can’t get enough self-control, or if you can but it’s hurting too much, therapy can help. Not by making you feel better understood (if that’s what you want, you’re heading for trouble), but by helping you improve your self-control while respecting the fact that it’s hard when you’re hurting. It will also help your marriage, and give you a whole new level of appreciation for advice like ours.

STATEMENT:
Write a statement to un-justify nastiness as an expression of grief and remind yourself of better goals. “It hurts to want comfort more than I’ve ever wanted it before and feel that I can’t get enough from those who are closest to me. But I didn’t choose my wife because she’s the warmest bosom in the world and, even if she is, I’m not sure any amount of comfort would be enough. I’ve got to manage my grief with whatever comfort is there, not expect more, and not act like a jerk. Later on, if I decide I need more comfort, I’ll try to find it without damaging what I’ve got and what I value.”