What I would like to share with you, and in turn, hear you share your thoughts about, is chronic unhappiness. Is there ever an end to depression and its shadow? Is there a way to “get over it’? My goal is to be able to live beyond depression and to actually grow from it. Sure, I hate those books where people claim to be grateful to their depression… but I hate it mainly because I resent their ability to feel that way! What do you think?

There’s no way to “get over” problems you have no control of in the first place and, no matter what form it comes in (shitty in-law, brain tumor, Hurricane Earl, etc). Chronic unhappiness is high on that “uncontrollable” list.

So now you have to ask yourself what it means to “get over” an uncontrollable problem. Usually, it means you’ve asked yourself to do the impossible and thus given yourself a chronic headache to top off your chronic unhappiness.

Know your exact strain of chronic unhappiness so you can figure out what you can and can’t do with each one. Depression is unique in being a thought-distorting illness: it’s more than a poor outlook or a bad mood caused by bad luck or a rough divorce (or both at once). It’s a bad mood that goes on and on, even when you win the lottery or hit your 50th anniversary.

As an illness, it hits you with a variety of complicated, brain-related symptoms, like messed-up sleep, appetite, focus, energy, social urges, and sexual reflexes, and that’s not counting the storms of anger and/or anxiety. It’s a bad mood on steroids.

Having an unhappy life, on the other hand, can make you depressed, but not necessarily. Some people with happy lives can get very depressed, and some people with grumpy personalities aren’t depressed, although other people may wish they were. In each case, figure out, through trial and error, what you can and can’t do. Each strain is unique.

To “get over” your “getting over,” try cognitive therapy. It protects you from negative thinking by attacking the plausible, idiot assumptions you make without thinking, the most dangerous of which is that you should be able to get over chronic unhappiness.

Once you’ve done what you can do with your particular flavor, whatever that is, give up and chill out. It’s time to go on with work and relationships, however much your chronic unhappiness hurts or slows you down. The better you do that, the more you’ll grow.

No, no one should be grateful to aging, loss, and chronic pain—I think we’d all be happier with fewer “growth opportunities”—but there’s no choice. This is the life we’ve been given, so take pride in what you do with it, with or without depression (or a brain tumor).

STATEMENT:
“I don’t know why these blues won’t leave me alone. Maybe I inherited them as part of a gene-package deal from my creative, reach-out-and-connect-with-people ancestors. In any case, I’ve done what I can to manage them and I haven’t let them make me lazy or isolated or self-absorbed, and that’s a major accomplishment (which I’d be happy to do without).”

My younger brother is four years younger than me—that makes him 26, but you’d never know it because he acts like a freaking toddler. He’s not mentally impaired, he’s responsibility impaired. He dropped out of college to “find himself,” and he’s still searching, sometimes getting crappy jobs but mostly going on “adventures” and landing our parents with the bill (and sometimes the bail). I love him, but the older we get, the more I worry, because our parents won’t be around forever and I can’t be the one to clean up his messes—I’m not rich and I have my own kids to care for. Is there anyway to get him to take life a little more seriously?

Sorry for the obvious response, but the real question is, are you serious?

I’m sure your brother would say he’s serious about experiencing joy and living in the moment and that you ruin your chance of present happiness by worrying too much about things that aren’t going to happen. In other words, he’s not going to change.

Even thinking about trying to reform him will backfire and trigger conflict. You’ll give your brother a worried look, he’ll return that with a look of tolerant condescension, and your parents will accuse you of undermining his confidence. This will all leave you stewing about good deeds, their punishment, and his bullshit.

Forget about your responsible feelings and figure out what a good sibling should do to help one not-so-good. Your parents have shown you that rescuing him does no good, so rejoice. Since they’ve proven there’s not much you or anyone can do that will actually help him, there’s nothing much that you have to do, period.

When he makes a mess, help him help only when you think it will do good and it’s not someone else’s job; that won’t be often and it won’t drain you dry. The rest of the time, give him your best wishes, condolences, and directions on what he can do if he can get it together.

Don’t expect to feel comfortable, at least not at first. Your guilty, responsible feelings will be stirred up, but if you don’t keep those feelings hidden, other people will stir the pot. If experience and logic tell you that you’re not responsible, believe them and act accordingly, regardless of how you feel or what the rest of the family has to say.

Announce, don’t communicate. Let him know what you think is best without paying much attention to his response. Yes, it would feel better if you could get him to agree, but your need for agreement opens a door you want to keep closed.

He’ll keep his carpe diem attitude, and all you have to do is keep your end of the bargain, on your terms. He can go find himself, and you can find some peace.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement to keep you from trying to change him or win him over. “As much as I want to protect my brother and parents from his irresponsibility, I know I can’t. He will wind up in horrible messes. I will not stop loving him, caring for him, or doing for him if there’s a real chance to help. Most times, it will hurt to watch him suffer, but I will not turn away.”

I decided recently to listen to my friends and family and see a psychiatrist about my depression, but I don’t know whether I’ve made the wrong decision, or whether I’ve just chosen the wrong doctor. Basically, I decided to get help because I feel helpless, but my doctor wants me to do a lot of the work myself and doesn’t really help that much. It’s not just he wants me to ask myself a lot of questions (and answer them—if I had the answers, would I really be paying him?—but also deal with my insurance company and read up on the medication he suggests (he tells me about them, sure, but he says I owe it to myself to read up on them on my own, and that doesn’t make sense to me since he’s a doctor, knows everything about the pills, and he could just tell me himself). My goal is to figure out whether therapy is worth it, or whether I’m just getting help from the wrong source.

I hate to sound like your psychiatrist, but ask yourself what you have a right to expect from treatment, given what you know about its limits and your resources for paying for it.

If you want, you can spin things positively by saying that you’ve heard about good new treatments that can really help and that you’ve got great insurance that you pay a ton of money for. Of course, you’d probably be full of shit.

You don’t need to do months of research to know that no treatment has yet been acclaimed as a cure for mental illness or any other life- or personality-related problem.

Plus nothing you’ve read (or probably haven’t bothered to read) about the effectiveness of any current treatment implies that it works 100 percent of the time or that the treatment, if medical, is safe from possible side effects.

In addition, every method of “screening” for depression that you’ve heard about involves a questionnaire, right, rather than a blood test or scanning machine, which means that the burden for enduring, measuring and tracking the results of a trial of treatment falls, inevitably, on you the patient. And those are unfortunate facts of life whether you’re rich or poor, smart or stupid, board certified or not.

That’s the next problem: you’re not rich. And while you bristle at having to deal with insurance limits, you can’t afford insurance that would give you unlimited mental health treatment because it doesn’t exist. All insurance puts a limit of some kind on the amount of treatment you get and, unless you know what that limit is, you’ll use up your resources too quickly and have no idea about what, if anything, entitles you to more.

In addition, insurance limits your doctor’s fees and the amount of time s/he can afford to spend on a visit, so don’t fall for the professional who is ultra-amiable until your money runs out. Instead, look for someone who gives you what you most need in as little time as possible. In other words, beware smiles and frills because they may drain your limited resources.

Depressed people like yourself also tend to get negative and helpless ideas, which make them act negatively and passively, which makes them yet more depressed. That’s why mental health clinicians will push you to challenge your negative assumptions, learn more positive ways of thinking about your problems, and put the breaks on the depressive cycle.

It’s a cognitive kind of psychotherapy and is very helpful, although it’s often unpleasant in the beginning because you need to clamp down on your natural instincts. It’s a mental workout to make your non-depressive muscles stronger. No pain, no gain.

So yes, therapy of all kinds can be worth it, but you’ll be the one doing much of the work, not because someone else is slacking, but because mental illness sucks and both treatment and the resources to pay for it require careful management—by you.

Now you just have to decide what’s harder—doing the work or doing nothing. It might not be what you want to hear, but there’s no psychiatrist out there with a better offer.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement to keep you positive about a negative treatment process. “It’s hard having an incurable illness and knowing that the treatments are iffy, take a long time, and can easily use up my insurance before helping me, but I owe it to myself to give every reasonable treatment a try and become and good resource manager because that’s what I have to do.”

I’ve been in therapy for five years, and while I like my therapist a lot, I’m moving soon (my girlfriend got into grad school on the west coast), so I’m ending my treatment with her. She asked me recently though whether I was going to continue my treatment in my new town or whether I thought I’d taken it far enough, and I realized I honestly don’t know. She had some suggestions in terms of determining when and why to end therapy, but to be honest, they didn’t really help. I’ve been in therapy long enough that I don’t really remember how I coped beforehand, and while I feel much less tormented than I did when I began therapy, I’m not sure if my state of mind will crumble once I’m no longer getting help. How do you think one can determine when therapy has run its course, or whether there’s more to be done?

There’s a simple way to figure out how much talking psychotherapy you need: imagine paying full fee for it.

Before you crunch the numbers, ask yourself why you started therapy in the first place. Forget self-improvement, introspection, or generally pondering your bellybutton. Figure out what’s so bad about the way you feel and/or handle your life that you need to continue to spend lots of time and money on changing it.

Having failed to solve your problems over the past 5 years, you should wonder whether you can realistically expect a cure in the next year (no way) or whether you need maintenance treatment to keep you from slipping backwards (which is what you’ve been wondering all along).

At the same time, go back to the original question and ask yourself how much you can afford to spend on treatment each year and whether you should hold a few sessions in reserve for use in emergencies.

Unless you’re rich, don’t waste time worrying about how stopping treatment will make you feel. Instead, try stopping and see what happens. Even if you miss your therapist’s support, lose confidence, and re-experience your nervous stammer, suck it up, give it time, and the earth will continue to turn.

Next, think of therapy as a course that’s supposed to give you a specific marketable skill in exchange for your hard-earned debt. Don’t think like a college kid; you’re not there to party, please your parents, or become cool. If the first few sessions don’t deliver what you need, drop the class.

If you do have ample insurance coverage for therapy, don’t let it make you forget basic resource management skills. For one thing, many insurance policies are stiffening the limits on outpatient psychotherapies and are about to force you to do the above.

For another, being an active manager protects you from unnecessary dependence and time-wasting. Give your therapy specific goals, then examine how close to those goals you’ve come.

If therapy is more about discussion, then save the insurance hassle and start a search for a fun hairdresser. You can get your hour of talk and never have a bad hair day.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement that keeps you focused on making the best of limited resources instead of going for all-you-can-eat and then feeling deprived and abandoned. “I like psychotherapy and feel it’s been good for me, but it’s time, before it eats up more time and/or money, to think hard about how badly I need it, how well it’s working, how much is necessary, and how much I can afford to pay for it. The more I answer these questions for myself, the less likely I am to depend on experts to tell me what I need.”

My family, whom I’ve always been close to, has never liked my wife—they didn’t like her when we were dating, they did a shitty job of hiding how pissed they were when I said we were going to get married, and they still don’t like her now. I know she can seem pushy and anal-retentive, but she’s a good person and she’s been incredibly supportive of me. When we started dating, I’d just lost my job, but she stood by me and even helped me find work again. When we needed a new place to live, she took charge. I’ve tried to get my family to see her the way I do or, if they can’t, at least be polite, but they always manage to undermine her plans and mock her way of doing things, and it drives her nuts. I can’t keep forcing my family on her if things don’t get better, but I don’t want to stop seeing them. My goal is to get my family to change before they drive her, and me, away.

There’s a special kind of torture in trying to make peace in vain. If we all had Hillary Clinton’s job, we’d probably just give up and wear pantsuits, too.

At least your peace-making efforts are not doubly cursed with your wife’s accusing you of being unsupportive and not standing up for her…or maybe you’re not telling me the whole story because you’re forever protecting your wife’s back.

Either way, I assume that sharing your concerns with your family hasn’t worked. Indeed, telling them they’re hurting your wife’s feelings may feed their hope of changing or punishing her or driving her away, and then they’ll act worse. If so, it’s time to shut up and give up on trying to solve this problem and instead ask yourself how to make the best of it.

Don’t feel too responsible for everyone’s pain, just because that pain got triggered by your choice of mate. Your wife knew that your family was part of the deal and that pain is unavoidable with certain types of in-law.

Your parents should value your wife for being a strong, steady partner and, if they were grown up, they’d assume that spending time with people you don’t really like and smiling while you do it is an essential part of leading a family, as it is for managing any organization.

Alas, it seems the parent has become the child, so here’s some parental advice from a more mature source; life is hard, bad interpersonal chemistry is unavoidable, and you make conflict worse by taking too much responsibility for improving it.

Accept things the way they are and count the advantages of continuing a painful family relationship, including retaining contact with people you love (even if you don’t like them or the way they behave), sharing meaningful family events, and providing your kids with a sense of where they come from. Then decide how much family time is necessary to conserve what you value while minimizing the pain.

Besides, while you can’t change interpersonal chemistry, you can control what time you arrive and leave, and what subjects you’re simply not going to talk about. If they want to dig into your wife, don’t fight it, just change the subject and exit early if need be.

You’ll never be one big loving family, but you’ll always be family, even if it’s for short periods fewer times a year. It’s not fair, but it’s the best thing for your marriage, your sanity, and a life free of pantsuits.

STATEMENT:
Give yourself a mandate that protects you from having to share anger, guilt, or explanations with your family. “I’ve tried to build a friendship between my wife and family and it hasn’t worked, but that won’t stop me from being a good son and keeping family relationships as positive as possible. If I do what I believe is right, I need never expose myself or my wife to argument or pointless discussion, no matter who in my family feels otherwise.”

My wife and I are concerned about our daughter’s boyfriend. They seem quite serious, and we’d be happy to see her married and settled down, but he seems like a bully. It’s not just that we think he’s not good enough for her, but we’re genuinely worried that he could become abusive, if not physically, then verbally. He’s so combative and humorless it makes us wonder what we did wrong, since we thought we provided her with a happy, jovial home life growing up. My wife has tried to talk to her about it, but my daughter assures her that he’s a good guy and says we’re not being tolerant or supportive of her adult choices. I want my daughter to figure out who he really is before it’s too late.

As parents of a marrying daughter, particularly one who likes defending the misunderstood and obnoxious, you have less control than a drunk at a cruise’s open bar.

Try to protect her, and you’re attacking her baby/lover and pushing the two of them even closer together. You know you’re in trouble when, in trying to help her, you find yourself making dramatic speeches that sound like they come from a movie.

Instead, take poker lessons, or at least listen to Lady Gaga, and prepare to keep your feelings well hidden if you want to avoid making things worse.

Yes, life is that bad; you put decades of love and care into raising a kid, and this is what you get. The good news is that it happens to really good parents, so don’t waste time blaming yourselves or your wife. The bad news then is that there’s no mistake to undo. Life is unfair, and you’ve been tagged by the fickle finger of fuckin’ bad luck.

Now that you’ve cried and accepted your fate (and perhaps asked yourselves who Lady Gaga is), there is much you can do.

Begin, as usual, by expressing respect for your daughter’s love and good intentions. It’s an insult to suggest that her fiancé is an asshole, but you can wonder if the rough edges (of such a wonderful guy) are likely to get in the way of his employment, parenting, or relationship with her friends. You can also contradict the idea that love is going to change him or make his difficulties go away, without suggesting that it’s anyone’s fault.

Having created some non-personal, non-critical ways for her to think about her future, you can let subsequent events speak for themselves while you raise an eyebrow and, pointedly, say nothing. Speeches are weak and melodramatic– silence is a stronger statement.

You’re not blaming him for being a fuck-up; you’re simply expressing concern about the burden that will eventually fall on her in the worst case scenario and noting when events seem to be falling into that category. You’re being an impartial judge, even if the verdict sucks.

STATEMENT:
You need a mission statement that blocks off fear and blame. “We know you love one another and that you have a tremendous capacity to nurture him and be nurtured by him. But we see marriage as two people carrying a load together, as well as a matter of love and feelings, and that’s why we urge you to consider whether his problems will get in the way of his doing his share, not just in terms of emotional support but making money and raising kids. Having said that, we’re happy for you and will welcome him into the family, hoping things turn out well.”

My husband worries a lot about my drinking and depression but, to my mind, I don’t think my drinking is a problem and I don’t think I’d be depressed if I wasn’t worried that he’d leave me. For the sake of our marriage, I’ve agreed to stop drinking for a while and go to AA, but I really feel that my drinking wasn’t causing me any problems and that I’m doing this to make him happy, which makes me feel weak and angry. I want to get him to accept me the way I am before I can’t take it anymore.

You’re in a tough spot, because partnership really can’t work without acceptance, and acceptance is not something you can control. The more you force acceptance, the harder it is to achieve. Accept that, buddy.

If you try too hard to get his acceptance, you’ll hide whatever you think he won’t accept, which means putting your drinking in the closet and going to the mall instead of AA meetings.

On his end, if he tries too hard to make the relationship work, he’ll pretend you’re not really drinking or that you’re going to change, which also means no real acceptance.

The sad fact of life is that you are never going to change who you really are, which, at the very least, is a girl who enjoys drinking, and he’s going to have to take it or leave it. On the other hand, if you present the issue positively and he considers it realistically, maybe acceptance will occur, now that you’re not forcing it.

That’s why your goal shouldn’t be to win acceptance from your love; it’s to find out if your love can be accepting. He doesn’t need to like your drinking, but you need to know whether he can accept that it’s part of your package and accept the whole deal.

Instead of getting him to accept you the way you are, begin by accepting yourself. Forget how much you like to drink and ask yourself, on the basis of your own experience and what you’ve read, whether drinking gets in the way of anything you hold dear, like your health or making a living or being a good woman and a good friend. If in doubt, stop drinking for a while and see if there’s any difference.

Once you know your own mind, lay things on the line with your husband in a positive way. Of course, if you’ve come to agree that you’re a lush, let him know that you want to stop drinking because you believe you need to, and not to please him.

Otherwise, state your differences positively while letting him know how much you’d like him to accept you, if he can. If he can’t, then that’s a sad reality you both have to accept on your own.

STATEMENT:
Prepare a statement of your own views that is not overly reactive to his. “I respect your concern for my drinking and regret that it worries you. I’ve looked hard at how much it affects my health, work, and friendships. In the end, I don’t see it as causing me problems and, as much as I love you, it won’t help our relationship to appease unfounded fears. I hope you’ll accept my decision. Meanwhile, I think we should drop the topic of my drinking and, hopefully, move on to other things.”

My daughter is severely bipolar and lives with us so my wife and I can try to make sure she takes her meds and doesn’t hurt herself. We aren’t always successful—she’s practically an adult now and hates when we parent her—so she stopped taking her meds because she thought she didn’t need them anymore. Now she’s extremely manic, maybe using hard drugs, and extremely irritable. We’re absolutely helpless and there’s nothing we can do because she won’t talk to us. Our goal is to get her to listen to us, stop drugging, and get back on her meds.

Mental illness makes all families helpless; after all, it’s hard to have a dialogue with someone whose brain is diseased, irritable, inattentive and unresponsive. You’d have better luck reasoning with a rabid wolverine.

If you believe that your only power derives from your ability to have a heart-to-heart talk with her, then you are, indeed, helpless. The good news is, you’re wrong. After all, you can help wild horses improve their self-control without first teaching them English. Thus, you, too, can become a bipolar whisperer.

As parents and landlords, you control a number of powerful incentives, like access to money, car, refrigerator, shelter, and, oh yeah, money. That doesn’t mean you can control her or her illness, but it does mean you can create some pretty strong reasons for her to do the good things she needs to do.

Set rehabilitation goals for your daughter that you believe are truly essential, which will probably include sobriety, doing enough household chores in order to live independently, controlling violent behavior, and stopping sudden impulses from affecting her safety or treatment. Add or subtract from these core goals, based on your own experience and other parents’ war stories.

Once you know your priorities, announce them and back them up with rules and incentives for following them. I said announce, not converse. If you’re too worried about her anger or hurt or lack of understanding, you’ll be ineffective.

Don’t pick a fight, but don’t hold back on saying what you think with friendliness, conviction, and optimism. Tone of voice is as important as content. Don’t end sentences with a rising, Valley Girl inflection that asks for approval. Use the same calm, assertive energy praised by Cesar Millan.

Yes, there’s a risk that she’ll do something dangerous or force you to ask her to leave, but a bipolar-veteran parent knows how to manage crises without appearing to panic. It’s a risk you need to take, and be prepared for, because the alternative is way worse than facing an angry four-legged beast.

STATEMENT:
You need a statement that says, “This is what we believe, here are the rules that are required for self-control and independence and this, very simply, is what will happen if you don’t follow them. There are no punishments and we do not believe you are being stubborn or childish; but we will withhold privileges and, if necessary, ask you to live elsewhere for a while if we think it’s necessary, either because your behavior makes it impossible for us to live with you, endangers your safety, or blocks you from making progress.”

My wife and I liked to party when we first met (nothing too crazy, we just went out a lot), but we just had our first kid, so we now spend a lot more time at home. My wife used to be a fun, bubbly person, and she still sort of is, but ever since the baby was born she’s been really stressed out, worrying that something bad will happen and the baby will die. Not stuff she could possibly prevent, just a random act that would kill our child, and the stress is so bad she is haunted by visions of our son in a casket. I think she’s dealing with this stress by drinking a bunch of wine with dinner and getting a little more than tipsy. I’ve told her to relax about stuff she can’t prevent, but she says she can’t help it, and I don’t like that she’s drinking too much, and where that’s going to go. I want to see my wife get some treatment that will relieve her stress so she can stop drinking too much.

You might wonder how wanting to help someone could be bad, and it’s because, as goals go, it’s often one you can’t reach. If you don’t accept that fact before making your plans, you’ll make things worse.

Here, for instance, there’s a good chance she’s too busy drinking and/or avoiding her problem to heed your good advice and, at least at first, she may not be able to stop herself (and if she could stop herself, you probably wouldn’t be writing me in the first place).

If you sound frustrated, frightened or critical when you talk to her, it will make her worse. Your goal is to see if you can help her, not force her into help. You can bring a wife away from wine, but you can’t force her not to (fret and) drink.

Once people get into the habit of using alcohol to treat anxiety, they often can’t stop, particularly if they’re waiting to feel better before stopping. All the while, alcohol makes anxiety worse (as well as depression, mania…the only things it doesn’t worsen are weddings and sporting events).

So, your goal for her drinking isn’t to reduce her anxiety so she won’t feel like drinking, but to provide her with reasons for stopping drinking, now, regardless of whether it makes her anxiety worse, (which it will), while she also searches for tools to feel better. You can’t make any of that fear go away, but you can give her good reasons to find ways to ignore it and focus more calmly on your baby’s bottle than her own.

Sure, remind her about the availability of treatments; but don’t be surprised if she just wants you to leave her alone because treatment makes her think about her fears, and she’d rather not/would rather open another bottle of red.

Don’t tell her that going to treatment will be enough to make you happy, because treatment is not always effective and it’s useful only if she undertakes it for her own reasons, rather than to get you off her back. Don’t tell her treatment will definitely make her happy, either, because if it doesn’t, you’re a liar and the fault is still yours.

Encourage her to consider her options, including cognitive therapies with ideas and mental exercises to counteract negative thoughts, behavioral therapies with physical exercises to reduce anxiety, and medical treatments that might ease both anxiety and the intensity of her visions.

Her biggest danger is not the pain of anxiety, but that her fear will drive her to give up doing what matters and stop her from being a good mother and wife. The fear scares her, but it’s her fear of that fear that drives her to drink, and that’s where you need to start.

STATEMENT:
Prepare a statement that gives her positives alternative and encourages choice, not compliance. “You’re a strong woman and great mother, and I’m sorry that you’re tortured by fearful thoughts, but I’m more worried about the way your efforts to avoid those thoughts are interfering with your life. Instead of figuring out whether there’s a treatment worth trying, you’re panicking and using alcohol for relief. I know for a fact that alcohol makes anxiety symptoms worse, while it also undermines your ability to make tough decisions about treatment. You’re good at decisions. Don’t let fear make them for you.”

My daughter likes to bring her young son to our house on weekends (she’s a single mom) so he can see his grandparents and she can relax. Of course, my wife and I love to see him, but he’s getting to the age where he can walk and likes to grab everything he can get his hands on, and she doesn’t seem to notice. He’s knocked books off of shelves, broken some plates, and I recently wrenched my bottle of Lipitor out of his hands just as he was getting the lid off. I’ve told my daughter that she needs to watch him more closely, and she assures me she has a mother’s intuition and always stops him before he does anything wrong. She’s wrong, and my wife and I are too old to keep up with him. My goal is to get through to her, and protect our grandson, without getting her pissed off.

Forgive me for saying so, but I’m guessing your daughter’s obliviousness isn’t new. That and a lack of condoms is probably one of the main reasons she’s become a single mother.

If you’ve been wrestling with her obliviousness for years, now is the time to stop. She’s been your daughter a long time, and if you (and having a kid!) haven’t gotten through to her by now, it’s time to raise the white flag.

It’s sad and scary to admit that her obliviousness is not going to go away and will always force you to bear an extra burden of parental worry, but if you don’t accept this fact, you’ll clash, drive her away, and reduce your chance to make things safer and hang out with your grandchildren, even after they can control their limbs.

Your goal then isn’t to get through to her, but to do what you can to improve your grandson’s safety. Do what you can afford, be it toddler-proofing your house or hiring a teen babysitter/child-chaser who can walk around for hours bent over at 90 degrees.

For your sake, hide your worry and resentment. If your negative feelings show, she’ll feel you don’t trust her (which you don’t) and then avoid you. With luck, however (and given her track record), she’ll be too oblivious to notice how you feel.

Expect problems and look for dangers, while at the same time conveying pleasure and confidence. Behind closed doors, you can share your fear and resentment with your wife, but in front of your daughter, keep a poker face.

In the long run, maybe you can teach your grandson to watch out for himself, but resist the urge to follow him with nanny cams. The hardest thing you need to do, after you’ve done what’s reasonable, is let it be. Enjoy being grandparents and lock up your Lipitor.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement to keep your fears in check. “We did a reasonable job teaching our daughter about safety and responsibility (as did others), but she just doesn’t get it. Now we watch out for her and our grandson, when we get a chance. Our biggest achievement, however, is not solving the problem, because we can’t. It’s bearing our worries, keeping quiet about them, and not letting them spoil our relationship with her or our ability to get on with life.”

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.”

I’ve been getting increasingly nervous about my aging parents, particularly because my mother, who’s a very vigorous near-90, likes to ignore the real risks of continuing to vacation in their old, 2 story, roughing-it country home. She loves to garden, take vigorous walks, build fires, and keep to the same routine she had when she was 40. I know I’m a nervous person—I’m a nurse, and I’ve had to deal with an injured leg since childhood—but I’m haunted about what could happen to her if she fell down and it’s no place for my dad, who’s very frail after a stroke. When I said something to her yesterday about how she should hold onto my father’s arm when he walks, she told me to mind my own business. I’m the only one of the kids who lives nearby, so their safety is my business. How do I get her to understand she needs to be more careful?

It’s understandable that you worry about your parents, but even if they were both freakishly healthy and lived in a hermetically sealed bubble, the sad fact is, they’re both going to die.

[Moment to process.]

Yes, your aging parents are lucky to have a caring child nearby, particularly someone who’s medically educated, as you are. You also know, however, as someone who’s lived with a crippled leg, how necessary it is to take risks if you want to live a full life and how important it is to make those risk-management decisions yourself.

Your goal isn’t to breathe easy, knowing that your parents are safe as can be, or make yourself responsible for their safety. As much as you’d like them to be safe, they can’t be, so those goals would drive you and them crazy (and provide me with a steady income).

Now that you know you can’t make them safe or ease your own fears, you’re ready to think creatively about realistic risk management, knowing that bad things (like death, but lesser things, too) will happen.

Your goal isn’t to prevent those bad things from happening, but to help your parents do whatever they’re willing to do to prevent them, then forget about them, and live their lives (and let you live yours).

Instead of nagging them to be more careful, offer to get them professional advice on how to manage risks from slips, falls, fainting spells, medication mistakes, and assorted worst-case scenarios.

If that doesn’t work, leave their doctor a message encouraging him/her to do the same and if that doesn’t work, take a course yourself and do what you can. Then, you’re finished and enjoy the veggies from the garden.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement for keeping your responsibilities in check. “As much as it would hurt to see my parents injured and as much as it scares me to think about it, I respect their determination to live independently as long as possible, despite the risks. I can do more for them by offering good advice than by inducing guilt. I will take pride in doing this job well, regardless of whether they accept my advice. Indeed, the less I can do and the more helpless I feel, the more pride I’ll take in not letting my management interfere with their choices.”

Two years ago, my wife was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. We’re both overweight, but she also used to be a smoker, so her health’s always been more of an issue than mine. We were both warned that if we didn’t get better eating and exercise habits, we’d be in trouble, and now she knows her diabetes puts her at much higher risk of heart disease, hypertension, infections, and kidney disease. Well, two years later, and I’ve started taking the dogs on long walks, stopped eating from the vending machine at work, and lost some weight. My wife, on the other hand, hasn’t really changed her habits at all. She says she’s eating less crap at work, but at night she’s making the same unhealthy (delicious) stuff we’ve always eaten, and she always says she’s too tired to walk with me. I don’t know what I can do aside from nagging her, and that’s not working, so I’m really worried that she’s going to go downhill fast and that I’ll lose her. My goal is to get save my wife from herself.

As much as you’d like to keep your wife around as long as possible, you know that your influence over her health habits is limited, and trying to control her health will cause you more conflict and probably drive both of you to an earlier grave…which contradicts your purpose.

Unlike the concerned daughter above, you don’t have the luxury of ignoring the inevitable; she can’t make her parents immortal, but theoretically, you can help your wife to change her habits. If you’ve ever tried to change any of your own habits, however, you know it’s never really that easy.

Weight control, for example, should be easy because putting food in your mouth and swallowing are supposedly voluntary actions. In reality, people don’t have that much control over their habits or their health. Ask anyone who’s eaten at Cinnabon.

It takes great effort, not everyone can do it, and other legitimate priorities, like raising kids and making a living, get in the way. Biology is powerful, and our bodies are designed to survive famine, not taste-bud seduction.

Accept that she has a chronic, incurable illness and you’ll start to be more helpful. Instead of nagging, offer advice on impulse management and eating better (but don’t force that advice, because then you’re back to square one).

If that doesn’t work, ask her doctor to do the same, and if that doesn’t work, learn CPR, read up on living with a diabetic, and enjoy your time together. After all, you don’t want to ruin the quality of your relationship for the sake of a little more quantity.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a nagging-restraint statement. “It’s hard to watch my wife’s unhealthy habits, but I’ll do more for her by keeping my feelings to myself, offering advice if she wants it, and enjoying her while I’ve got her. A good marriage always requires tolerating the pain of traits you can’t change, and this is more of the same.”

I’m not crazy about my grown-up step-kids, but they’re not bad people, they just tend to be disappointed in me for some reason or other and then complain to my wife, who then tries to smooth out our relationship by telling me about their issues and urging me to talk with them, maybe with a therapist. She’s very nice about it, but every time I try to speak up about what actually happened or clear up a misunderstanding, I sound like I’m calling the kids unrealistic and self-centered (which they are) and it makes things worse. My wife doesn’t blame anyone, but it distresses her that I and her kids don’t get along better and I hate to see her unhappy. So how can I improve things with my step-kids when we really don’t see eye to eye?

Your poor step-headaches. They’re unhappy and assume that mom should play diplomat.

Instead of justifying their complaints with “I’m just being honest” they should really say, “I’m just being an enormous jerk.”

This is a good example of honest sharing by people who are honestly unhappy with you but haven’t given much thought to whether there’s anything you can do about it (other than by being someone else). They haven’t even considered whether making them feel better is your responsibility.

Unlike them, don’t assume it’s your responsibility to return the favor with an equal amount of honest sharing—not unless you want to give your wife a headache and enjoy a long, dirty bout of Greco-Roman mud wrestling.

If, as you say, the step-sort-of-adults want you to be someone you aren’t, and it isn’t a matter of your bad behavior, then you can’t make them happy or reach a better understanding by improving communications. If only you were behaving badly, you could make things better by improving, but you’re not, so you can’t, and you’re fucked.

Whether her kids complain to you or her, your job isn’t to work things out (unless you believe it’s really possible); it’s to live up to your own standards for being a respectful step-dad and keeping conflict to a minimum.

If you can’t make things right for your wife, you can respect her wish to improve family relationships while minimizing your exposure to criticism. The technique is simple, but requires you to shut up about your real feelings and give up on the idea that your wife can understand your predicament.

So let the step-kids complain all they want. If these were actually your kids, you would’ve imparted an important lesson to them early on: when it comes to sharing feelings, honesty is not always the best policy.

STATEMENT:
Here’s the formula. “I know your kids are not entirely happy with me and I’ve given careful thought to the problems they’ve shared with you. I intend to let them know I’ve heard their concerns and, to the degree that I can, I’ll make things better. If, as I suspect, some of their distress arises from differences in our personalities, we can’t expect it to go away or be resolved by discussion, but we can certainly learn to accept one another, avoid negative interactions, and make the best of your wonderful relationship with your children, which I am determined to support in any way possible.”

I know I’m good at what I do (let’s just call it finance), but I get held back because I’m terrible at networking and socializing in general. So much of my business is about going out and making connections, and I find talking to strangers, especially ones I’d like to work with or for, to be the most painful and awkward experience in the world. I get incredibly self-conscious, feel like I’m talking too much or too little, get distracted and antsy, and just want to go home or back to work. I also don’t drink anymore—I was never a drunk really, but I thought it held me back in college—so that makes my awkwardness even worse. If I don’t learn how to shmooze, however, I’m never going to get ahead. My goal is to get over my awkwardness.

Don’t hate your own awkwardness. People who have a heightened sense of shame about their social behavior become more awkward, which makes them more ashamed, and you’re spiraling into social phobia. It’s like stuttering; the more you think about it, the worse it gets.

It’s true that, when you’re in school, social awkwardness seems to condemn you to being a nerd loser who never gets laid. Fortunately, nerds have their revenge, and they get it, not by becoming socially gifted, but by entering a world that also rewards skills, reliability, and experience, and this boosts their confidence as they get older.

While networking is a big part of the business world (as you know, most business school tuition should include a bar tab), it’s not the only way to get ahead. You could get your job to pay for further business courses, or try to talk to/impress your boss one-on-one in a small talk, anecdote-free environment.

If small talk is necessary, you don’t have to be talented to learn how to do it; you just need to be humble enough to stumble through exercises that others could do easily. Again, accepting your disability makes it easier to manage it.

In the meantime, when you do find yourself at networking functions, don’t get tied up trying to be the cool guy you aren’t. Try for more one-on-one conversations, sip your Diet Coke, and enjoy a night out with your awkward self.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement to chart your course of self-improvement. “I value my achievements and values but recognize that I could use better people skills. There’s no point in criticizing myself for being ungifted in this area. I’m proud that I’m willing to work on my weakness if and when I think it’s necessary.”

When my mother starting dating my soon-to-be-step-father, I was upset. It’s not just that my father had only died six months earlier, but that this guy was clearly a user and a nowhere near good enough for her. I’m in college, so at least I didn’t have to live under the same roof as this jerk, but I’ve already gone out of my way to avoid him and it’s really annoyed my mom that I haven’t tried to get along with him. Plus it means I’ve spent last time with her, and we used to be really close. When she told me they were going to get married, I freaked out, and now she’s says that if that’s how I feel then I’m not invited to the wedding. I think what my mom and I need is a face-off to get everything on the table and sort out this mess. My goal is to get my mom back.

You’ve got every reason to worry about your mother’s taste in men and its impact on your relationship; after all, her choice has the potential to cause you (and possibly her) great pain, at a time when you’re grieving your father’s death.

Unfortunately, however, all you can do is worry, and after that, you’re fucked. There’s nothing you can do to make things better and lots to make things worse.

Sometimes people feel that grieving entitles them to special consideration, but those people are delusional.

Loss triggers the worst in everyone bereaved, which becomes a chain reaction. Death is hard, but so is life, and you don’t get to cut in entitlement line.

If you go with your feelings—and you’re entitled to them—you’ll make things much worse. You want a face-off because you want to believe you could get through to your mother in a one-to-one conversation. Confrontation is supposed to be “empowering,” which is usually code for, “a giant waste of time.”

You’ll tell her she’s being stupid and insensitive to your feelings, and she’ll tell you you’re an immature brat, and you’ll both repeat yourselves several times at higher volume until the talk is over and no subsequent talks will be scheduled until her third wedding anniversary (or, as you see it, her messy divorce).

Remember, Hamlet had it even worse. True, he had even more reason to be angry (his stepfather had murdered his father and was eager to get him out of the way, the play he wrote for his mother failed to get his point across and got bad reviews, etc).

Being a character in a play, however, he naturally had lots and lots of feelings, all of which he communicated, and his family situation definitely deteriorated as a result. You see, there’s lots you can learn from Shakespeare, namely, ye shall shut up.

Your broader goal isn’t to vent your spleen and get mama back (which won’t happen), but to minimize the damage to yourself and avoid drawing your mother and fiancé together in an alliance based on her fight with you.

Instead, keep your feelings to yourself. Lie low, finish your studies, eat cake at the wedding. Choose peace with your mother over your worries and righteous indignation, because no matter how much you hate her choices, choosing to suck it up is probably what your father would want.

STATEMENT:
Here’s a statement to keep you on course. “I’ve lost the family that I thought was my rock. I don’t know when I’m going to stop hurting. What mattered most to my dad is that I finish my studies and try to support Mom and if that’s impossible, try to stay out of fights. I can’t salvage or rescue my family or stop the pain but if I can keep on course, with all the sadness, loneliness, and irritation I feel, I’ll have accomplished something amazing.”

I was a real fuck-up when I was in high school; I cut a lot of class, got high a lot, got my girlfriend pregnant…she ended the pregnancy, but it was a huge mess. My oldest and only son is now 13, but he’s already becoming a chip off the old block. We’ve always gotten along so well, and I thought we were still getting along, but then I found pot in his room and my wife said she found a condom wrapper in the trash. We live in my wife’s small hometown, so nobody knows about my history, but now my son is going to have to walk around with that reputation, nevermind that he might ruin his future or end up with child support. My goal is to get my son to snap out of it and not fuck up his future.

It’s great that you and your son are good buddies, and that you understand him well, so don’t wreck things by trying to over-control his choices.

Yes, of course you’d like to save him the pain you went through, and you’re terrified of what might happen if he lacks the luck that kept you out of serious trouble. If you act on your feelings, however, you’ll turn your buddy into an enemy, and probably a nightmare.

Look at the bright side; he’s still at home, and you have lots of opportunity to give him good advice and back it up with incentives that are extra strong because he’s relatively dependent. (It’s much harder after he has a car and job).

You understand his problems, having had them yourself, so if you can just keep your emotions safely under wraps, you can be the good coach you never had yourself—you’re in his own live-in “scared straight,” without the scaring him part.

So, in order to be useful to him, start by creating a boundary between what you think will help your son and what your feelings want you to express that would not be helpful.

It’s helpful to discourage marijuana use with whatever monitoring and enforcement system you like, but it’s not helpful to tell him he’s bad, ungrateful or defiant (even if he is), or to present your efforts as punishment, or to generally give him a bad guy to rebel against.

It’s helpful to discourage unsafe sex and unsafe relationships, the latter being those that are overly close and therefore likely to blow up with lots of rage, misery, and distraction. It’s not helpful to tell him he’s got to follow your rules or else.

As an overall rule, it’s helpful to share your own vulnerability to the needs and desires that are pulling at him and state your reasons, based on experience, for not giving in to them.

It’s not helpful to portray yourself as morally superior or as a frightened protector of his image in town. He doesn’t need a visit from the ghost of ruined reputations future. Sure, you’re more his dad than his friend, but being his dad doesn’t make you his judge. Be reasonable, and he might just follow your lead.

STATEMENT:
Give yourself a pep-talk before trying it out on him. “I shouldn’t be surprised that my son has my own impulsivity and eagerness to try everything, and those are good qualities if he can learn how to manage them. It will be no easier for me to control his behavior than it was for my parents with me. Judging from that experience, I’ll get nowhere showing him anger or fear. So I’ll choose my battles carefully and explain my limits in terms of their long-term benefit and try to look calm and friendly, regardless of how I really feel, and hope for the best.”

I’m an older woman with two advanced degrees in creative writing (one from Iowa, la di da). My career, on the other hand, hasn’t risen beyond doing commercial writing, be it technical or ad copy. I get published in small journals here and there, but after my first novel got a handful of rejections, my agent dropped me, and I haven’t been able to finish another novel in order to get a new agent and sell the first. My limited number of published pieces has also made it hard to get a teaching job, even though I got degree number 2 specifically to enter academia. So now I’m stuck working in advertising, and while it’s a good steady job that pays well, it still kills me a bit inside. Nevermind that I’ve absolutely struggled with depression my whole life, and while I take a handful of medications to control it, it’s just an added level of difficulty. Nonetheless, with my illness under control but my dream still very much out of control, my goal is to make this job work so I can settle and maybe even be happy.

You could say writing is a stupid career choice, given the unlikelihood of making money, and that academia isn’t much better, given the current job market. It’s as stupid as counting on a career in the NBA because you’re good at basketball.

The truth is, a large part of being a writer isn’t a matter of choice; it’s who you are, and trying to find a life that fits. It’s not so much a bad choice as a bum calling, with inspiration necessary but never promising to come when called.

The good news is that you’ve got a day job that involves writing, you’re making a living, you’re gathering experience that may inspire your next novel, and you can always find some teaching opportunities that will spiff up your credentials. For your parents, it’s very good news.

I know, my congratulations do nothing but cause your inner-writer chagrin. That voice says you’ve failed to fulfill your creative purpose, find your voice and message, connect with an audience, or put together something that moves people.

The good news, again, is that there’s nothing I or anyone can say to quiet that voice, because it will never let you be entirely happy. Short of getting a lobotomy, that voice will be your most constant companion, and if you succeed in writing a book that sells, his demands become more relentless.

So invent a good, kind speech for your inner narrator to tell yourself. You don’t control the result, so your job is to respect the effort. Consider the many writers and immortal characters, from Chekhov to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who remind us that we don’t fight against hardship to win, we fight to fight, regardless of the result.

If you’ve learned to carry on despite depression, you can keep on going even if your job isn’t ideal. Your story isn’t dramatic, but that’s precisely what makes it heroic.

STATEMENT:
Let your narrative voice frame the meaning of your efforts. “I wish I could do more writing and teaching, and someday I may, but in the meantime I have good reason to be proud of the compromise I struck between the need to make a living and the wish to do what I love, because it’s hard, it’s the best I can do, and it’s for a good cause.”

I was a promising graduate student in English, doing well, respected, enjoying talks about books and ideas, when something happened and I just faded out of the real world. Nothing traumatic happened to me. I didn’t get dumped or mugged. I just stopped getting my work done and the extensions grew longer and longer on my projects and papers until finally I had to leave without getting my PhD. Whenever I try to go back and finish off my old projects, I just stare at the computer. I’m sort of depressed and medications have helped me feel a little better, but I’m still not good at getting things done. Now I’m teaching high school English and the kids like me and I like teaching, when I’m prepared, which isn’t always. I never know when I’ll get paralyzed and not prepare a lesson plan or fail to grade papers. My goal is not to be the total fuck-up I’ve become.

Some people regard procrastination as a kind of laziness resulting from a secret loathing for work, or a rebellion against bosses, or a rage against life in general.

Those same people, however, are the ones who see mental illness as an emotional failure. They’re not all Scientologists, but they are all wrong.

The evidence is growing that procrastination arises from disordered neurology, the equivalent of “chemical imbalance” except sadder and scarier, because what’s happening is brain damage. You’re probably not firing on all cylinders, literally, since brain images shows cells missing from critical locations.

It happens to lots of people who’ve had depression, even when the depressed feeling gets better. It’s true, theoretically, you could grow new brain cells, but in practice, the damage often doesn’t improve.

I blame your neurons, not to let you off the hook, but to show you that, while you’ve got more ambition than most, you’re running on less horsepower. Which means your diagnosis is, you’re fucked. The good news, as always, is that there’s no point in blaming yourself, and there’s much you can do once you accept that you’re fucked and stop feeling ashamed.

No blame, but there’s no escaping the hook, and it hurts more because you have high ambitions, which causes more depression, and so on. You might not be able to meet deadlines, but you can still cook up brilliant thoughts, and there are worse ways to have a busted brain.

I know, it’s hard to feel proud when the teacher is farther behind on his homework than the kids, but that’s the way your equipment works, so do your best with it.

STATEMENT:
“I still care about English literature and teaching, but I have trouble doing what’s necessary for reasons I can’t help. So my goal is to try to provide good teaching by using a number of tricks, including asking my friends to help me stay on task and stick to a work schedule. I don’t know if I can teach a good course, but I’ll try, and I respect myself more for trying to get half-decent work out of a busted brain than great work from one that’s super-gifted.”