I have always had a problem with keeping friendships because of moving too much, anxiety, and some other reasons. Almost every friend that has come into my life seems to be very needy and I tend to become anti-social when this happens. My current best friend has showed many signs of being very clingy and a bit controlling; she buys me things when she knows I am busy just so she can hang out with me, she calls me frequently even though she knows I dislike talking on the phone, she is demanding and apologetic at the same time. I am confused on what to do because she is always there for me and I can’t always be there for her. Lately, I have been having so much negative feelings about her that I don’t want to work on the relationship and this is exactly my problem—I lose people because I let my feelings get in the way. Maybe I am not finding the right people to hang out with? I mean we have so much in common, but that might be the problem because we both have severe anxiety and what we hate about life seems to be all we talk about, so it’s just negative energy most of the time. I will admit I am selfish and should be more thankful that I have someone that understands me and is there for me, but I guess I am too unhappy in my life and unhappy with myself to be appreciative of the goodness in others. It’s something I would like to work on, but I don’t even know where to begin.

Whatever draws people into relationships– neediness, sex, an encyclopedic knowledge of “Law & Order”—it isn’t necessarily good for you. When you’re operating on instinct, you stop thinking.

It sounds like you’ve got a good idea of what’s good for you, and it’s a friendship that discourages whining and encourages breathing room and independence. Nevertheless, you give in to the pull of your instinctive need for needy, whiny friends.

Once you give in, you’re stuck. You like the close attention and some of the intimacy, but you also don’t like the high demands and expectations, so you want to pull away. That leaves you guilty, lonely, and more in need of a needy friend. The shitty friendship cycle remains unbroken.

Instead, get a grip and start to choose friends who are more independent and less fun to complain with. Don’t expect the getting-acquainted process to feel as natural and easy as it usually does, because if it feels too comfortable, you’re probably making the same mistake.

At the same time, discourage your current needy friends from expecting long windy complaint-fests. Keep the conversation positive, don’t share negative feelings, and stick to a schedule. You may be pleasantly surprised to find that needy friends get less sticky when you give them firm boundaries.

Don’t let guilt make you passive or discouraged. It may be impossible to change your relationship preferences, but you can have better relationships if you’re clear about what you want, force yourself to make better choices, and get the kind of friend you really need, not a needy friend.

STATEMENT:
“I feel like I’m a selfish friend who never gives as much as I get and resents the needs of others, but I believe I can do better if I find friends who are less needy. It’s time for me to find such friends, discourage needy behavior in others, and avoid indulging in it myself.”

My closest friend and I usually tell each other everything, and she always seeks my advice before doing something rash and probably dumb (she’s really ADD), and give it to her straight (within reason, and/or as tactfully as possible). The problem is that, when she wants to go forward with a decision she knows is risky (at best, really dumb at worst), I become the bad guy who won’t admit that I really don’t want her to be happy, even though, in reality, I just want what’s best for her. When she got together with her now-husband, I told her the situation was tricky (long-distance, financially rough, etc.), and when she stuck with it and complained to me about the whole thing, it was hard to be totally supportive. After a while, she took my worries about the nature of the relationship as me lying, actually hating her husband, plotting against her happiness, etc. So she didn’t tell me she was eloping hundreds of miles away until the last minute, and when I couldn’t make the arrangements with 10 minutes notice, she thought it was another lie, not a logistical nightmare. When I found out that I was the only person not told she was pregnant, that was the last straw; she said she wanted to talk about it, but her lying to me was so hurtful, unfair, and hypocritical that I didn’t see the point in trying to change her mind anymore, and it’s been months since we’ve talked. My goal is to do the right thing, and while I don’t want to hurt my friend and I miss her, my gut tells me it’s best to just let her live her life and protect myself from being hurt again, since she treats me like an enemy, anyway.

Whenever you find yourself giving a close friend constant coaching about her life, watch out. Intimate advice-giving makes a relationship feel very close and, at times, it may do some good; but you’re playing with fire or, more accurately, all the feelings your friend has towards her parents and everyone else who has given her advice and criticism over the years.

Given that she’s often impulsive (or so you’re implying), she’s probably received more than her share of disapproving advice and is touchy and defensive as hell. She doesn’t think you’re a liar—she thinks you’re her mom.

True, we shrinks give coaching and advice all day every day, but it works best when we keep it brief and business-like and don’t need friendship from the person we’re advising. When we start to care too much, we sound like parents and stir up the same damn hornets’ nest of negative feelings in those we advise.

Imagine, for a moment, removing the “tell each other everything” part of your relationship with your friend and then ask yourself whether the friendship might still be worthwhile. Yes, it would be less satisfying for both of you, but, if she really likes complaining about her life, she should get a dog (that’s my answer for almost everything). If you really like giving advice, become a shrink. Or a manicurist.

When the stinging goes down a bit, firm up your boundaries and see if your relationship becomes more positive. Say whatever honestly positive things you can possibly say about her husband, marriage, and pregnancy. Discount your months of withdrawal in a way that blames no one and signals no danger of confrontations—just wish her well.

Perhaps your performance will salvage the love and good times you’ve shared over the years. If not, you’ll hurt, but you’ll know you did the right thing, and that’s the truth.

STATEMENT:
“I feel unbelievably hurt by my friend’s shutting me out after we’ve been closer than sisters for many years, but I think she did it because we were too close, and not because she wished to hurt me, and there may be a way to build a better relationship. I’ll try to ignore the hurt, build on what was good, and see if a better kind of intimacy can develop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My best friend and I got together after 9 years of friendship. A couple of years before we got together, I was with a guy that my best friend absolutely hates and also works quite closely with. My friend and I love each other immensely, but after only six months it was all over and done with; his trust and jealousy issues got the better of him in our relationship even though there was no basis for it, and he called it off as he knows that won’t change about himself. While he loves me, he wants us to be in each other’s lives forever so broke it off. I thought it was something we could work on so never really gave up hope that he would return. We finally had a proper talk about all of it, however, and now I get that he is never coming back to me, but I still don’t know how to reconcile that. How can he give up on himself and his chance of love, and how do I stop beating myself up over the guilt I feel for being with that previous guy, when all that goes through my head is that had I not done that, we could still be together? I feel like I ruined what could have been the best thing in my life and don’t really know how to move on, especially when all I want is for him to have a main role in my life. How do I separate my friendship and feelings? How do I stop hating myself for what I’ve done?

Many people hate themselves whenever something goes wrong, picking apart everything they might have done different, from bringing an umbrella to not swinging on a pitch that was down in the dirt.

As long as you don’t think too hard, there’s no difference between could have and should have, leaving you with heaps of regret (along with ruined shoes and/or play-off chances).

Trouble is, the only way to defend your self-respect when things go wrong is to ask yourself whether you did your best and then believe in the answer. Otherwise, you’ve given yourself total responsibility for all bad things, which is pretty unfair (as unfair as having your “best friend” be jealous of a guy you dated years ago).

If you accept total responsibility for all sorrows, you also have no way of judging anyone else’s contribution; by deciding that you’re the one who fucked up/the one guilty party, you give any offending assholes involved a clean record and lose your ability to defend against them.

If you look back at the situation with a clearer head, you’ll see that a lot of what went wrong wasn’t just someone else’s fault, but completely out of your control. After all, you can wish you’d brought an umbrella, but you can’t beat yourself up for making it rain in the first place.

So stop giving yourself grief for losing your “one true love” and apply your own standards of right and wrong. By your standards, there was nothing wrong with your brief relationship with the guy Mr. True-love happens to hate, and there was no reason you could think of why, two years later, he should still get jealous enough to throw away the good thing you had going.

Instead of giving yourself a hard time, ask yourself whether intense jealousy that appears for no reason is likely to go away, and what it’s like to live with someone who’s jealous and suspicious and feels entitled to make it your problem. In other words, consider not just the circumstances for what caused things to fall apart, or how painful it feels, but the actual value of what was lost.

Relationships don’t need love as much as trust; if he couldn’t bring it to the table from the get-go, you’re biggest mistake was letting feelings instead of thinking guide you forward. You’re doing the same now, but you can separate your friendship from your pain if you can see your ex as the flawed, less-than-ideal partner that he is and adjust your expectations of him accordingly. It’s not a painless process, but it’s necessary if you want to stop torturing yourself, which is more painful (and much more useless) in the long run.

You wouldn’t punish a kid for doing nothing wrong: don’t do it to yourself. Be a fair judge, and, while it’s true, you’ll never cure your ex-beloved’s jealousy or win him back, you’ll treat yourself fairly and protect yourself from taking responsibility for your ex’s dark side.

When you learn to see the red flags, you’ll stop blaming and start crediting yourself for the preparation it takes to avoid heartbreak, rain, a fastball, or anything else.

STATEMENT:
“I can’t help missing the love we had, but I know that, for some people, jealousy is a curse that can’t be controlled and it’s impossible to live with. Next time, no matter how nice he is, if a guy tells me that jealousy has destroyed his relationships, I’ll stay away.”

I don’t know how to keep my daughter out of trouble, particularly since she doesn’t want help. She’s always flown into rages whenever she’s frustrated, and it got worse as she got older. She has learning disabilities, so she was often frustrated, and I feel for her, but the worst part is that she blames everyone else and thinks she has a right to hit anyone who deserves it, meaning anyone who makes her angry or “disrespects her” or “causes drama.” Now, at age 21, she’s living with me and I’m afraid she’ll even hurt me if I make those mistakes. She sees a therapist because her parole officer insisted, but she says nothing and it’s doing no good. I’m afraid for both of us. What should I do?

During the early years of childhood, parents assume that when their child has a tantrum, it’s their responsibility to calm them down, deliver the desired relief, and accept an apology or contrite behavior afterwards. Every now and then, especially beyond puberty, however, that’s not a safe assumption.

Ask yourself whether your daughter feels sorry about hurting people, especially you, or whether she wants to avoid getting into trouble. If the answers are no, and they seem to be, you can’t keep on thinking of her as an unfortunate kid who needs something you haven’t yet been able to provide. Thinking that way gives you responsibility for something you don’t control and forces you to keep your door open when it may be dangerous for both of you.

You’re not responsible for her rages or for housing her if you’re afraid of her; you’re responsible for helping her control her rages if, and only if, she agrees to try and you and she are reasonably safe.

Give her information about where she can stay if you can’t let her stay with you, and don’t be ruled by fear or guilt if she refuses your recommendations and threatens to hurt herself if you send her out the door. Your safety and hers may depend on her believing that she leaves when you say so, with or without a police escort.

Then write a contract of basically acceptable behavior, making it clear than any basically unacceptable behavior will require here to leave your home, at least for a day or two. The basic no-no’s should include not backing off when you tell her it’s necessary, not contributing her share to the house, and not taking drugs if you think they’re dangerous for her.

As the parent, you know what’s necessary to keep your house safe and your daughter from doing anything destructive. Don’t expect her to understand; just to agree and follow through. The same argument you used when she was a toddler applies now; because you’re the mom, that’s why.

Her not getting better doesn’t make it your responsibility to do more, but rather to define the limits of acceptable behavior so that you don’t make an unsafe situation even more dangerous. Even if you can no longer soothe her, you can still give her a well-deserved time out.

STATEMENT:
“I feel for my daughter’s pain and anger and I know she has good reason for her feelings, but I can’t hold myself responsible for giving her self-control. I won’t let guilt or fear stop me from telling her that she can’t stay with me if that’s what I believe is necessary. In the end, I hope that will help her to straighten out.

I’ve always been close to my younger brother but I kept quiet about my objections to the woman he married, although she sure came with baggage—a mean ex-husband and 2 unhappy kids. Recently, however, it turned out that the mean ex-husband wasn’t entirely wrong, and she is indeed self-centered, bossy, and nasty and shows very little respect to my brother or, in one memorable episode, our parents. When she cussed out my mother, I’d had enough, and let him know I thought she’d gone too far. Since then, as you might guess, my brother has not been eager to talk to me and certainly doesn’t want to talk about his marriage, even though my main feelings for him are positive and protective. I would do anything to get him to seek help, since he won’t talk to anyone in the family, but I don’t know how to get through to him. So how can I get him to talk to someone?

There’s a common notion that shrinks are good at getting through to loved ones who won’t listen to anyone else; that a psychiatrist can double as a spiritual Sherpa, able to guide the stubborn up Mount Issues to the Summit of Personal Insight.

What people forget is that shrinks aren’t Sherpas, we’re strangers—we lack facts and a vivid, first-hand impression about whatever the rotten thing is that they should be advised against—and there’s no reason to believe a stranger can succeed where a sibling can’t.

All we know about our patients is what they tell us (supplemented, maybe, by second-hand accounts from their relatives, whom we know even less about), and if they don’t see a problem, even if you do, they wouldn’t tell us about it in the first place.

The other problem with counting on a professional third party to talk sense into someone is that confrontation often drives defensive patients away. Unlike you, however, we won’t be seeing one another at family events for the rest of our lives.

So shrinks don’t mind acting as messengers—everyone has to make a living, and we aren’t being asked to lift heavy furniture or sing—but it doesn’t work, and it isn’t free.

On the other hand, you might do better at getting your own message across if you could keep your negative feelings under control and adopt a professional stance. After all, professionalism isn’t about not having feelings for your clients/patients, it’s about keeping those feelings out of the conversation while helping someone think through their best interests.

As much as you want and feel entitled to share your negative feelings of disgust and outrage with your brother, put them aside for the greater goal. Instead, talk to him about your wish that his marriage work out well for him and ask him whether the partnership has developed the good, positive things he hoped for, more than enough to outweigh the “baggage” of his wife’s other obligations.

If he bristles at the mere mention of baggage, take a step back and focus on his needs again. If he sticks with you, proceed with caution and watch your word choice carefully. After all, semantics are everything during a tense negotiation, so, when talking professionally about his asshole wife’s bad behavior, do NOT call it bad behavior. Talk about it as “conflict” or “difficult feelings” or “control problems.”

Again, take your lead from him, alluding to her problem if and only if he sees her as having a problem, and describing her as a good person who has less control than one would wish. Make it clear you only want good things for both of them, even if what you really want to do is tear both of them brand new assholes.

If he worships her absolutely, then the conversation will be short. Chances are, however, that your brother holds his wife partly accountable and wishes to talk about her problems, but can’t until he’s assured you won’t condemn her.

Stay focused then on the state of his union and whether or not he can help her to change. Assuming he hopes that she can and you know better, urge him to consider what he’ll do if she can’t. He has to Sherpa is own damn self, but your job is gently getting him to realize that there’s a hike in the first place.

STATEMENT:
“I hate to see the way my brother and our family are disrespected by his wife, but I have the experience and skills to stay positive while I urge him to think about what he can do, if anything, to make the situation better for everyone (including his wife) and whether or not this partnership is likely to go where he wants it.”

I like to do things for people, but sometimes I spread myself too thin, and my friends sometimes accuse me of not delivering on my promises, and sometimes they’re right, which just makes me feel superficial and disloyal. When I try harder, however, I then find myself promising even more and delivering less, so I just can’t seem to prove myself. I wonder what’s wrong with me that I keep doing this to myself.

Focusing too much on your promises, particularly when you like to give, will usually draw you into a cycle of over-commitment, broken trust, guilt, and, of course, a renewed need to make more promises. The need for redemption (like message-delivery, see above) is a major source of my business.

People who like to do good often assume that the opposite is doing bad, or not doing good enough, or failing to keep your promises, when, in reality, it’s not that big a deal, particularly when you consider the many things you don’t control that don’t reflect on your character whatsoever.

You might think you gain control of your goodness by making promises—keep them, and you’re a good person, entitled to self-esteem—but the opposite is true, because of that little problem, mentioned above, of your having imperfect control and being obliged to do lots of other things, and not enough time to do them. The more control you want, the less you get.

What counts most is keeping commitments with people who depend on you the most—who make the most commitment to you—and doing what you can with what you control while taking into account other commitments to your own survival and betterment. In other words, while it’s not an easy thing to do, it’s important keep your priorities straight.

So, instead of letting guilt or a need for redemption push you to over-commit, learn to improve your self-management. Take commitments under advisement, consider your resources and other promises before opening your mouth, and respect your good intentions without submitting to them automatically.

When it comes to performance ratings, use the same system you would use for anyone else: whether you’ve been doing a good enough job at being a self-supporting person and friend and relative, given what you’ve had to put up with and the resources at your disposal.

If you rate yourself after careful thought, rather than relying on the flushed aftermath of having done a good deed, you’ll give yourself better management and steer clear of many troubles. You won’t be driven crazy by the need to be good if you learn to be satisfied with doing your best.

STATEMENT:
“I always feel better about myself when I can do good for others and I hate not keeping my promises, but I know it’s not the worst thing in the world to over-commit and I’ve developed my own standards for deciding whether I’m working hard enough at being a good friend and making the world a better place.”

I have been in therapy for 8 years, sometimes weekly, sometimes monthly or less, depending on life events and finances. My goal has always been to find some peace or grace in being me. I told this psychiatrist the first time I met with her that I “pattern like a duck,” meaning that I form strong and sometimes obsessive attachments. My attachment to her started that day and, this many years later, is still fierce and often painful. She is appropriately nonjudgmental and vacillates between thinking that the work for us is in this attachment and suspecting it’s a form of resistance. I can’t seem to focus on anything else for more than a couple sessions. I have read (obsessively) about attachments in therapy..,either to luxuriate in my own, or to get some understanding of what it is that has a hold of me and what it would take to get past it. Am I supposed to “work through it”? What does that look like? Am I supposed to ignore it? The only positive thing about this unspecified longing for her is that I have attached less to other “marks” during this time. Otherwise, I feel stuck. I think about just leaving therapy to get some distance from her and this dynamic, but I would rather just get over it. HELP (and thank you).

If you approach therapy with the goal of finding “some peace or grace in being me,” you’re in for a long, dependent journey with your therapist, mainly because, with a goal as loose as that, your journey has no real end.

This is the point, of course, where we say your goal is actually a wish, an ambiguous feeling not necessarily connected with your priorities or values. It’s a nice notion, but it’s not necessarily something you can control, and not something tangible enough for your therapist–or this therapist—to help you figure out.

Unless you connect your wish to something concrete, I can’t tell whether your duck-patterned tendency to get over-attached to people prevents you from finding good friends or a partner, or just causes you embarrassment and pain that interrupts your desired peace.

Sometimes people in psychodynamic therapy—shrinks and patients both—forget about this connection because the treatment process is interesting and feels fraught with significance. It’s dangerous, however, to lose your way.

Instead of transferring some of your feelings about others onto your therapist in a way that allows you to examine them, you’ll wind up transferring your energy, attention, and engagement, whereupon therapy becomes more important than life. Remember, your shrink is a hired hand, not a life partner; treatment is supposed to help you manage your life problems, not provide a sheltered alternative.

By now, you should also know that a tendency to get over-attached is part of your personality and unlikely to change. After all, if it hasn’t changed in 8 years of therapy, or in all the years of your life up to now, it’s probably yours for life.

So, putting aside your wish to be a different person, ask yourself whether your urge to over-attach is really screwing up your work or relationships, and use that as your new therapy starting point.

For example, if you’re over-attached to someone who is not a good friend, then use your therapy to figure out how to get free. Don’t waste time figuring out why you choose the wrong friends or get over-attached, because that’s just a way of avoiding the pain of doing what you gotta do. Suck it up, do it, and be proud that, whatever your feelings, they don’t control your choice in friends.

On the other hand, if you’re managing your life fairly well in spite of over-attached feelings, give yourself credit for that achievement, declare your therapy a victory, and withdraw your troops.

You might not find your desired peace, but most people don’t. Instead, you’ll have found something much more useful; the point of therapy, or, even better, therapy’s end.

STATEMENT:
“I may never know why I attach like a duck, but I won’t let my feelings prevent me from breaking up with bad friends, finding good friends, and being a good friend.”

I don’t know why I couldn’t stand living with my ex-wife. We married young, but she’s a nice person and we raised a good family for 15 years before I pulled the plug. I think it was something about us both being, well, very attractive people—we were also attracted physically—that made the relationship feel wrong after years went by and I felt I was living with a stranger. Now I’ve got an amicable divorce and am dating a woman I really like, but the other day I got panicked by the idea that the same thing will happen again, and I’ll wind up feeling smothered by having to live with someone I don’t really know. My goal is not to screw up another relationship if I’m really incapable of having one.

Too much love and not enough friendship may have done in your Romeo-and-Juliet marriage, but that doesn’t mean you can’t love or do better the second time around. You’re not telling me that you repeatedly get close to girls and then run away; you’re just afraid it will repeat one more time.

It’s ironic that winning someone you really, really long for is dangerous because, if you want someone that badly, you probably don’t really know them. The fairy-tales rarely cover this part, but if you win your true love, that’s when your troubles begin.

You don’t usually yearn for someone because of who they are, but because something about them triggers your needs. They’re rich or beautiful or make you feel very, very good. Friends, on the other hand, are usually great to be with because they don’t trigger strong needs, so you feel comfortable being yourself. The fact that you’re not feeling too needy allows you to relax and makes the relationship more real.

First, consider your own definition of friendship, and ask yourself whether you can accept this girl when she’s being a jerk and whether she accepts you under similar conditions. Ask whether she’s solid and trustworthy, and whether those qualities are confirmed by what you know about her past, her family, her other friends, and reports from your private detective.

Then see what happens when you have your next closeness-panic. If she doesn’t over-react and you still want to hang out with her after you’ve calmed down, you’ve proven to yourself that she’s good with nervous Nellies and that your attraction to her is stronger than your fear.

If she does freak out, then you’re just a pair of beautiful strangers, and it’s time to look for a new partner whom you like more than you need.

STATEMENT:
“It’s horrible to pull apart a not-so-bad marriage with a decent partner, but I tried hard and didn’t give up easily. Now I’ll do my best not to make the same mistake, and hope that I can find the one additional ingredient I need in a relationship to make it comfortable and lasting.”

I have a friend who has a history of being diagnosed with depression, self-mutilation and, recently, suicidal thoughts. She was forced to seek treatment with a counselor in HS (now 24-years-old) whom she said was no help, and now she says she won’t ever seek treatment again because it won’t help her. She acknowledges she has issues that need addressing, but she doesn’t believe in mental illness diagnoses, states she just needs to “deal” with it. However, all we talk about is how much she hates her life, hates feeling this way but isn’t willing to do anything about it. I’ve told her she’s an adult, and makes her own decisions and no one can force her to do anything, but I’ve been very honest with my concerns about her, and that she needs help. I don’t want to treat her with kid gloves or enable her but I also don’t know how much I can push her, since I know its her mental illness that’s clouding her view of the world/reality. How can I continue to be a good friend without beating my head into a wall and enabling her?

For many people, “help” and “cure” have become interchangeable words, as if good motivation and proper treatment will always make things better (tell that to the common cold).

Sadly, the help your friend needs, just like a cure for what ails her, may or may not exist, depending on her luck, the severity of her issues and whether she sees them as hers or just a reaction to other people.

Regardless of treatment, the normal course for severe problems like depression, eating disorder, and urges to hurt yourself are the same; off and on, for many years. There is certainly no cure, and very rarely can anyone provide the help to stop recurrence completely.

Don’t then assume that treatment would make your friend feel better if she were “willing to do something about it,” because, unfortunately, this might not be true. After all, she was willing to try something, and it simply failed to take.

Instead, find out what she knows about the various kinds of treatment available to her and what she thinks about their possible benefits and risks. If she lumps them all together as useless because the one didn’t work, you have good reason to warn her against the power of negative thinking when people are in pain and/or depressed.

If you can persuade her that depression-pumped negative thinking has clouded her judgment into fearing and avoiding options that are worth exploring, you’ve also provided her with some excellent cognitive therapy and shown her that she needs it—a beneficial trifecta. If not, you’ve shown yourself that she’s too negative to be logical, you’ve been as helpful as you can be, and you just can’t get penetrate her depressive pseudo-logic.

Never buy the idea, however, that you have to get better to get better. If she has, in actuality, exhausted all likely treatments and nevertheless keeps trying to work and be a good friend, respect what she’s doing, because that’s what beating an illness is all about.

It’s easy when treatment works, but the true heroes are the ones who keep on going when it doesn’t. If you’re there for her during that struggle, that’s the best kind of help there is.

STATEMENT:
“I hate to see my friend suffer and I’m worried that she could do herself serious harm, but I know that mental illness and negative thinking can brainwash good people and that help, from me or a professional, is not necessarily the answer. I will always insist that there is a hopeful way forward, but accept the fact that she may not agree and that argument is not helpful.”

I can’t stand the way I’ve become a disorganized idiot when I used to be incredibly good at juggling multiple responsibilities. I’m only 35-years-old and, while becoming a father has been stressful, it shouldn’t have destroyed my basic organizational abilities. Admittedly, I ‘ve been through a major depression or two, but I’m in a good mood now, I love my work, I’ve got a great wife, and my life isn’t a lot more complicated than it used to be. Nevertheless, I ruminate over tasks that go nowhere, get distracted before I get important things finished, forget my priorities and miss important meetings. I’m a mess, I’m an incompetent ditz, and I hate it. Medications haven’t helped so far, and neurological tests show nothing. There must be something that will give me back my competence.

If there was some way to restore your mojo, you probably would have found it by now, because you’ve had yourself evaluated and tested, and you’ve tried treatments and nothing has worked. In other words, here lies your mojo, may it rest in peace.

It’s sad, but I’ve seen this kind of acquired ditziness happen to people who’ve had a bad depression or two, as well as to people who’ve been concussed. Things may get better in the long run.

Meanwhile, a part of your brain has shut down, even though you feel normal in every other way and nothing shows up on an MRI. Only a voodoo doctor will notice the missing mojo, and your insurance won’t cover all the chicken blood that likely requires.

On the plus side, there’s lots you can do to help yourself if you stop trying to turn the clock back and substitute your old brain for the one you’ve now got. Yes, it’s humiliating, but so is a colonoscopy. Accept it, and you can keep yourself in the clear.

You can ask your wife and friends for help, take a course on organizational techniques, buy a to-do calendar book to write down priorities and create a schedule. You can also put alarms into your smartphone, and set up habits for checking your book, your messages, and your checkbook. Accept the need to learn simple, dumb-looking methods for doing things you used to accomplish intuitively, and you may be able to compensate 100% for your dysfunction.

Ambitious perfectionists fight this notion, because they want to control their lives in their heads. They get mad at themselves for losing control, then depressed, then more dysfunctional, and then more depressed. They also keep me from becoming unemployed.

Fighting your ambitious nature will not be easy, but remember, your goal isn’t to be who you were; it’s to be organized enough to make a living, run a family, and keep your life together, that’s all. The next step is to accept that what used to feel like “that’s all?” is now “that’s a lot.”

STATEMENT:
“I feel like a brain-damaged ex-whiz kid, but my real goals haven’t changed. If I can force myself to endure rehabilitation, and become competent enough to keep my major commitments, it will be the biggest achievement of my life so far.”

Please Note: In responding to suicidal goals, as in the case below, we do not presume to offer emotional support. If you’re at risk of hurting yourself, you should, of course, go to an emergency room, discuss your state of mind with a professional, and decide how much support you need in order to remain safe. In most of the cases we encounter, however, our correspondents are not simply suicidal; they are familiar with treatment and have come to believe that it won’t help. Often, we must agree that their feelings are unlikely to change in the near future. What we try to demonstrate, however, is that negative feelings create falsely negative and hopeless beliefs and that there are ways to recover your strength and perspective, even when the pain won’t let up.

I’m considering suicide. My life is a joke. I am in my late 30s and female and I have never had a relationship with a man. Several men have used me for sex and at least 2 of them begged me not to tell any of their friends they’d had sex with me. I’ve never been loved, been held, been listened to, been cherished. I’ve just been used like a toilet. On the outside I’m pretty. I can hold a conversation and I have a reasonable number of friends. But I hate myself and I don’t feel good enough. I was abandoned by both parents and I was raped for the first time when I was about 2-years-old. It’s like men I meet can smell the self-hate on me and they treat me accordingly. I do not have even one person in my life who cares about me or who I could trust. My friends are there to go for drinks or dinner with me if they can find nothing better to do but they are not there to be supportive ever, in any way. What is the point of me continuing to live?

It’s horrible to feel that you don’t belong to the human race, except for your ability to satisfy the needs and cravings of jerks.

Remember, however, that those feelings almost always beget more falsely negative beliefs, particularly about relationships. Whether or not you’ve done anything wrong, you feel infinitely rejectable, comfortable in the company of jerks, and anxious around people you respect, since you know they will reject you for your anxiety and fundamental worthlessness.

You distrust other people, but it’s your feelings and instincts that are far more suspect. In turn, you can’t trust your feelings to guide you in relationships (even more so than the rest of us).

If you do, you will seek out jerks and excoriate yourself after real or imagined rejection, and of course, life will appear meaningless and full of relationships that always end badly. Being needy strips away the friendship filters that would otherwise keep jerks away and it makes non-jerks look like jerks or, even worse, like people whose rejection would be devastating.

For instance, after starting to trust a potential friend, you might be so hurt after noticing that she was slow to answer your calls, even if that dearth of calls was due to a busy work week or broken phone, that you would feel you could never trust her again and would feel like hurting yourself. It’s hard to make real friends when your own sensitivity is such an enemy.

Don’t give up, because there are other ways to build a more rational, positive set of beliefs that can protect you from dark feelings, even if they can’t ease the pain. They don’t require you to risk a relationship; all you need do is assess your own response to the hardships of your life, using reasonable criteria for judging your effort and the difficulty of your accomplishment.

If, while bearing the scars of neglect and abuse, you’ve picked up skills, earned a living, and treated people decently, you’ve accomplished something you have good reason to admire. Forget whether anyone else knows, understands, or respects what you’ve done. Then forget the fact that you continue to hurt like hell, (when you’re not feeling numb). You know what you know, and it’s your opinion that matters most.

If only therapy could help you make better choices and avoid negative distortions, or at least give you a sense of being respected and valued; but it often doesn’t work that way. Instead, relationships with therapists often fall victim to the same false beliefs that ruin potential friendships.

Because of your age, I’m assuming you’ve tried therapy and it hasn’t worked. You aren’t alone in having that experience, but it is possible to see beyond it. Don’t be surprised if a relationship- or emotion-focused therapy or support group hasn’t helped. Don’t give up hope, because there are other approaches that can help you grow stronger.

DBT (dialectic behavioral therapy) is a kind of cognitive-behavior therapy that can help you maintain your perspective and fight negative thoughts and actions. It’s taught as a course, and discourages participants from sharing strong feelings or engaging in intense relationships. As such, it doesn’t offer relief from loneliness, but it does provide ideas and mental exercises to root your self-worth in your own values and actions and thus protect your beliefs from distortions caused by fear, sensitivity, and loneliness.

When emptiness consumes you, it’s almost impossible not to feel like a disposable loser. If, however, you can make an honest assessment of your accomplishments, and acknowledge that there has also been triumph and survival despite tragedy, you will get stronger and find reasons to live and respect yourself.

If you review the things that you’ve done without the approval or involvement of others, jerks and not, you’ll see that you’re not just a member of the human race, but an exceptional one.

STATEMENT:
“I’ve never found a friend and often feel that life has no meaning; but abuse left me determined to be independent, treat people with respect, and be a good person, and I value what I’ve accomplished, regardless of self-hate or loneliness. I will build self-respect on my own actions, and hope that someday I will have the strength and luck to find a friend.”

My mother only has one sibling, but I’ve never met my uncle because he’s had severe agoraphobia for the past 30 years. My mother says that it started right before he graduated high school (he stopped talking to his friends, stayed in his room more, washed his hands compulsively, etc.), and it’s been going on since then. The only person he regularly communicates with is my grandmother, who also supports him, and while he sometimes talks to my mother, he doesn’t let her see him, and, like I said, I’ve never met him because if I’m in the house he won’t talk to anyone or leave his room (this is how he treats anyone who isn’t my mother or grandmother). My mother says that my uncle’s too macho to admit he has a problem, and “too Italian” to ever leave his mother’s house. I guess my problem is that my grandmother isn’t in the best health, and I know that nobody else in the family has the resources to take care of my uncle when she’s gone. Plus, I mean, he’s sick, so my goal is to get my uncle some help.

If almost every chronic illness is a test of character, agoraphobia is one of the most challenging. The fear goes far beyond anything you’ve experienced; think of it as a migraine headache where, instead of pain, you’re flooded with fear and the only relief is to hide out.

Yes, there are treatments that can dull the fear and help people recover their lives, but they take effort, they’re not a cure, and, somewhere along the line, they require people to leave their caves and endure some additional anxiety. It’s no wonder many people with severe agoraphobia will accept tranquilizers or use alcohol, but will not stick with any other kind of treatment, particularly if they have to leave home to get it.

So don’t blame your grandma or your uncle or put responsibility on anyone, including yourself, to get help. That bird has flown, leaving much pain and helplessness behind. Respect your grandma for carrying an extra load and your mother for bearing the sorrow of losing her brother.

Now that you’ve given up on helping your uncle directly, however, consider an alternative. Ask yourself whether he would accept behavioral treatment if he had no place to stay. Consult with experts and find out what would be available to him if he were flushed out of his hideout.

Obviously, eviction would make him more anxious in the short run, and might make your grandmother and mother guilty and anxious as well. If you believe there’s a positive alternative, however, encourage them to consider offering it to him. Urge them to trust their idea of what would benefit him in the long run and to ignore their gut response to seeing him in pain.

If they’re ready to push him out, good for him. If not, your mother will encounter this option further down the line, after your grandmother dies and the family can no longer afford to keep her house/his prison.

You’re right to fear for your uncle’s health and your family’s future, but as long as fear imprisons your uncle, you are all, to some degree, stuck.

STATEMENT:
“I’m sorry my uncle has a painful mental illness and I don’t want to add to his pain, but his current dependence on the family can’t last forever and he might do more for himself if he had less support and more encouragement to man up and get treatment. There are 2 generations ahead of me with responsibility for his care; but if, after learning more, I think they’re overprotecting him, I’ll let them know I respect them for caring for him, I’m concerned about what will become of him when grandma is dead, and I have a plan that might allow him to get stronger, regardless of his fears or urges to disappear.”

I made the executive decision today to not participate in our airport’s body scan or pat down procedure, and now my whole family is f*cked. I had my “no more than 3oz bottles” in their “official” airline approved baggies, so obviously I arrived at the airport planning to suck it up and be a team player. When we got to the security checkpoint however, I discovered there was not enough scope (or vodka) in my 3oz bottles to get me through the required security procedure. I started having flashbacks dating back to a sexual assault 20+yrs ago, and called off the idea of being a team player. I’m pissed at myself for ruining our plans, and equally pissed that my husband (who knows about my past experience) thinks it’s “silly” that I couldn’t just suck it up and go through it like everyone else. My kid’s are totally confused now as to why we are at home and not at Grandmas. I know from news stories I’m not the only one having a problem with our new security procedures. I know I don’t “owe” anyone an explanation, but it seems avoiding their questions is only making matters worse. How do I explain, without really explaining, why I’m refusing to put myself back in the position that clearly was not in my best interest at the time?

If you’re reactive to your feelings in public, for any reason, life becomes more dramatic, unpredictable and sometimes humiliating. You want your junk, physical and emotional, untouched.

Unfortunately, most times you do end up saying something emotionally, it doesn’t come out cool, leaving you and everyone else feeling a bit violated.

There are, however, some advantages to being emotionally reactive, particularly in the anxious way you describe, even if those advantages don’t involve airports.

For one thing, emotional reactivity is probably the strongest attractive force between people, stronger than sex or a shared political party affiliation. No, seriously, you probably have a gift for connecting with others, which is why you have a family to embarrass in the first place.

For another thing, you panicked rather than blowing up. Chazz Palmentari (and Macchiavelli) say it’s better to be feared than loved, but that’s within Mafia families, not ones that get along.

Among your flesh and blood, it’s better not to have people walking on eggshells for fear that you’re going to explode and then sneaking off to see their shrinks. Chazz may get his way more easily, but people stop sharing things with him, and, after a while, even the Don gets lonely.

You didn’t tell airport security they were creeps, or your family that they didn’t care, or the TSA to say hello to your little friend. You simply said that you can’t take it and requested to go home.

Another positive thing about your reactivity is that you remain realistic. You’re not saying that you hate yourself for being sensitive and can’t stand it anymore; you’re saying that you know feelings of being overwhelmed sometimes come back to haunt you and probably always will, and that you need a way to deal when those moments arise.

So, even though you’re reactive, you’re also accepting your lack of control over your lack of control, which is a huge plus. As positively as you’re dealing with things, there are other steps you can take to make things even better, and the first step is attacking the shame.

Shame is a powerful force in making your anxiety worse; you get afraid you’ll embarrass yourself, which makes you more anxious, which makes you come closer to losing control. Fight it by telling your family that some people get overwhelmingly anxious sometimes, and you’re one of them. You’re good at controlling it, but sometimes it gets the better of you. That don’t make you a bad person, it’s just part of who you are.

Then, if you haven’t done it already, check out the treatments that might improve your control. Begin with cognitive and behavioral treatments, like “CBT,” positive imaging, relaxation training, etc. They don’t have side effects, and if you have insurance, you have nothing to lose but your time. Alternatives, when it comes to a traumatic situation you can anticipate, include taking a tranquilizer an hour before.

For now, congratulate yourself for your realistic outlook, write your representatives about changing TSA regulations, and learn to accept all the emotional junk that comes with who you are.

STATEMENT:
“Knowing why I get anxious doesn’t change the fact that my fear can get triggered at the worst possible times. I accept this fact and take pride in how well I tolerate and recover from anxiety without letting it ruin my life or make me act badly. I’m open to learning new methods for managing anxiety. I don’t apologize for what I can’t control.”

When I was a child, I was sexually abused by a neighbor. It really haunted me for years—totally screwed up my time in high school—but when I got to college, I finally spoke out about it, got into a support group, and met my closest friend there, who experienced something very similar. I’m in my 30s now, and after years of therapy and various support groups, I feel at peace with my past. I have my own family now, I have a job I really enjoy, and while I still get flashbacks and sometimes get overwhelmed by anxiety, I feel like I’m doing OK. My friend, however, along with others in the abuse survivor community, thinks that I’m regressing into denial; she thinks that unless I confront my pain everyday, it’s going to build up and destroy my life again. I care about her a lot, and she’s helped me a great deal, but I have to disagree. If my goal is to feel okay about what happened, should I continue on my own path, or continue with therapy and support?

There are those who believe in pursuing complete “healing” and “recovery” after trauma; no surprise, I’m not among them, but I’m also not insisting you take my opinion as %100 correct. A first, I know.

Instead of accepting my point of view, or your friend’s, ask yourself how you define “complete recovery,” how often you see anyone with severe symptoms of anxiety who is able to control them completely, and whether you can find evidence of a treatment with objectively documented sure-fire results.

While seeking support from fellow victims can be very positive, not every person who experiences trauma recovers in the same way. You can gain from their comfort and advice, but only you can decide what your recovery means.

If you devote yourself to complete recovery and it doesn’t exist, you’re not only wasting time and money, you’re magnifying and prolonging the ability of trauma to define your life. No, Virginia, life doesn’t always offer you closure, but it always offers you the opportunity to make bad things worse.

I think you’ve done the best you can with childhood trauma and deserve credit for bearing the pain without letting it define your life. Yes, you still experience pain, but that’s not a sign of your failure to deal with issues. It’s life and you’re brave.

It’s also positive that you don’t dwell on the evil of the neighbor who traumatized you, or your need to see him punished or exposed. Yes, of course it was evil, and we all know how satisfying it is to see evil punished. Usually, however, evil people are evil because they don’t see the evilness in what they’re doing wrong and never will. The meaning of punishment to them isn’t regret for what they’ve done, but just that they were caught by people who over-react and ignore greater evil, etc.

You’re accepting a world in which evil is a part of life, and you’re not letting it stop you from doing good. It’s our job, not to eradicate evil and find complete peace, but to learn to protect ourselves in a world that will always include creeps and psychopaths.

Respect your goals and perspective, and resist the temptation to defend yourself to your friend. On this issue, insist on your right to stand by your own point of view and not discuss it. True friends will always respect your decision.

STATEMENT:
“I know how much pain can ensue from being abused as a child. I regard the fact that I still experience that pain as an unavoidable fact of life and am proud that I’ve done much to fight shame and prevent trauma from interfering with my life. I manage it well. I use my knowledge to protect my children. I am less interested in punishing people who cause that pain than in preventing them from hurting others. I’ve had time to develop my own views on this subject and those are the ones that matter.”

My old college roommate is one of my closest friends, and he’s always been one of the most generous people I’ve known. When I got laid off and totally broke, he got me a job at his company, and when I first started working there, everything was great. Now he’s my boss and things are very weird. Outside of work, he’s the same old guy—we carpool to work and crack jokes like always. Once we get into the office though, he’s a different guy, not just serious, because that would make sense (he’s my boss, after all), but really nasty with me. He snaps whenever I ask him questions about work stuff, like I’m an idiot who didn’t follow directions and is wasting his time. I really don’t think I’m asking him to do anything above and beyond, just regular employee/boss stuff, but he’s a total jerk about it. I want to stay here because I need the money and like the company as a whole, but I’m afraid that if I do stay, our friendship will fall apart. Then again, if I leave, he might also take that personally. My goal is to keep my job and my friendship intact.

Fortunately, you don’t have to worry about your friend firing you anytime soon. Instead, you have an opportunity to choose whether to lose your friendship or your job.

As Jack Benny once famously said, when a robber barked “Your money or your life,” “I’m thinking, I’m thinking.” And, of course, you could wind up losing both.

There’s no way you could avoid being your boss’s close friend, nor could you predict that working for him would become an exercise in torture, but now the question remains, how to set up boundaries to protect you from this mess.

Before making your choice, remember that there’s always a good way and a bad way to communicate with someone about personal conflict (and thus avoid the choice, if possible).

The bad way, of course, is to rely on the ease and intimacy of your friendship to share your feelings about what a dickhead he’s been. It’s hard to imagine a response that won’t include the word “ingrate” and leave you with a shitload of blame with sugar on top, along with the steaming remains of your relationship.

The good way is to be professional and business-like as you tell him that you want to improve your work relationship so it can be as positive as your friendship, and that you’re wondering about how to do your job better and/or report to him differently. Put aside your hurt and anger to consider the possibility that your learning style may rub him the wrong way (although it may delight him when you’re not on the clock) and that having you report to someone else may ease some of the tension.

However personal his criticism feels, or however personally it’s meant, it’s not really personal as long as you’re doing your best. He’s being mean either because he’s always a bear at work (with other people as well as you) or he has a rage allergy to your work-style. That knowledge won’t ease your pain, but it will help you respond as if you’re trying to work things out with an important client, instead of slamming a raging asshole.

If, in the end there’s no way to ease the personal sting of your work-place humiliation, decide whether it’s more important to avoid hunger and homelessness. In other words, work often requires people to eat shit for a living when times are tough, even if that shit is served up by one of your oldest friends.

If your bank account tells you it’s necessary, remember to smile, take pride in your survival skills, and remember that your friend is still being generous…just with abuse.

STATEMENT:
“I may not be able to avoid the pain of personal humiliation at work, but I’m proud of the way I try to manage it while doing my best to look for my next job. It also hurts to lose my trust and respect for a friend, but there’s nothing I can do about that except not make it worse, which requires a heroic effort, and that’s my challenge.”

I work for a small business run by a husband and wife out of their house. I’m one of a handful of employees, and we’re all pretty close (we have to be, the offices are tiny). I like the wife—we’ve gone shopping together once or twice, and she gives me dating advice—but, weirdly, I’m actually closer to the husband since we’re both from the same town, like the same music and movies, etc. I’m not attracted to him, I swear, but I do like talking to him about our shared interests, and I can tell it’s pissing the wife off. I love this job, and I really like my bosses and co-workers—we’re like a family—but I’m not sure how to keep my job and keep my friendships while keeping the wife happy.

Comparing record collections is fun, but getting calls from collections isn’t. Which will happen when you have no way to pay your bills.

In other words, work is work, and it’s more important than the friendships you’ve described, so stop relying on work for your friendships or you’ll wind up with neither. That’s what happens when you ignore boundaries and follow your feelings.

In the beginning, being friends with the bosses seems like a compound win. You don’t have to worry about losing your job, or being criticized, or not knowing where you stand. They like you, they really like you, and they like your work. No reason to be anxious, and it’s a promotion for the self-esteem.

Nothing that feels so good is good for you, however. Your all-day intimacy can pull the husband away from his wife; after all, they’ve been married awhile and share management responsibilities and a bank account, so there’s got to be some bickering and bruising that will make your sweet, respectful relationship with him seem preferable to his marriage.

His wife should worry, and so should you, because trouble in the home-office is not good for business or your job security, just an increase in production of drama.

So chill and be friendly in a professional way. Stop sharing personal information, keep the chatting short and superficial, and if you need distraction in the workplace, listen to music on your computer via headphones.

STATEMENT:
“It feels nice to be closely involved with a happy, friendly ‘work family,’ and particularly with its leaders, but my overall priority is to hold my job and not interfere with the power structure, even if it requires me to stifle a natural, heart-felt need to be close and valued. I will put my own sense of doing a good job, and my belief in the value of minding my own business while doing business, ahead of my need to be valued by those I respect.”