Thanks for your question. I guess the simple and perhaps even smart-alecky answer would be, “Don’t talk about politics and stick to sports!” I have very good friends who disagree with me politically and we are so passionate about our respective views that we simply agree to disagree. With others, I find it a little easier to have a more moderately tempered exchange; for example, I have a college buddy on Facebook who has drifted to the opposite end of the spectrum as me, but he has a sense of humor and pokes fun at my “side” and we have a good-natured sparring relationship about it. I could not do that with everyone.

But on a broader and philosophical level, your question points to a very psychologically significant phenomenon—related to change and, perhaps, loss.

The sometimes jarring fact of the matter is people change. There are friends from my past, as I sit here in middle age, whom I would no longer recognize. Some I am happy to stay in touch with via Facebook, and some I just can’t find common ground with anymore. A lot of this is about the present: the ongoing, indestructible present moment, which creates a context around what remains in common today. And other than a shared past, there are some with whom we just don’t share much in common anymore. Sometimes a new place—geographically, emotionally—can change a person, which changes his or her relationships. Sounds like your friend has changed for reasons that, I’m guessing, have little to do with you, but do affect the friendship.

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We all exist in a particular context, often fleeting, ever shifting. (This would be related to what Buddhists call “groundlessness.”) In the case of your friend, you and he shared some very intense experiences in a common setting, but obviously things have changed in more complicated ways than can be assessed by the human eye. It sounds to me like you would have to make an adjustment to “fit” this new situation by listening to the “jibber jabber” of your friend’s politics. Perhaps these politics have become important to him for some reason that blocks more friendly relating. Could you ask him to drop this as a topic? Or is life too short to even bother at this point?

I was curious about the notion of an “obligation” to him, and I think that warrants further investigation. Why “obligation”? What are the risks of not following this new “requirement”? My sense is that not staying obligated might bring with it a loss of a kind that could be symbolic for you: for example, this friend was like a brother, and losing him might be related to experiencing a brotherly loss of a kind. Maybe you feel you’ve lost too many “friends” lately. Is there a loneliness losing him might touch on? Or perhaps there are people in your life like him, and for some reason you feel like you “owe” it to them to stay uncomfortable listening to opinions that seriously clash with yours. There is something abrasive about feeling “forced” to listen to political opinions that don’t jibe with yours; it sounds as if it might be more of a monologue than a conversation. “Fun for one,” as a friend likes to say. It does you no good to force yourself in such situations. I suppose you could try to “understand” his positions, if you’re interested, but that’s a lot of work on your part, and it may or may not be worth it.

More importantly, why hold on to this particular friendship if it’s no longer fun or friendly? It sounds like your college pal now wants your audience as more than a friend, from what you’ve said. Assuming he’s going to cling to his political points of view, what purpose does it serve by pretending a friendship is there that has changed or even faded away? I get a sad feeling while writing this, since people do come in and then out of our lives in a way that can spark specific feelings in us, depending on who we are and how we process these experiences.

In short, see if getting politics out of the equation helps, or if by continuing this friendship you are staving off inevitable feelings of loss that, unfortunately, are as difficult in life as connections are rewarding. You seem like a nice, considerate fellow, and I’m hoping there are people in your life whom you can spend more time with, rather than forcing a situation that no longer suits your particular context. Thank you for writing!

Best wishes,
Darren

First, I want to tell you that you are absolutely entitled to all of your feelings—even the ones that seem to contradict each other. Relationships are very complex; there is room for many different emotions. You may be able to achieve a little bit of peace if you give yourself permission to end the war between hurt, helplessness, confusion, guilt, resentment, and fury. You don’t have to choose; you can have them all.

From what you have written about your mother, it seems like she is in considerable pain and struggling with a lot of her own issues. It is very possible that her intensely protective behavior toward you is indicative of her own deep wounds. She may be trying to protect you from sustaining the wounds that she has experienced in her own life. In other words, her behavior is not about you, but rather her own suffering. Sometimes realizing this, and constantly reminding yourself of it, can go a long way toward not taking her behavior personally.

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Her behavior is clearly taking a toll on her, you, your relationship with her, and probably many other relationships in her life—remember, this is about her, not you, so it certainly impacts her relationships with others. It sounds like she could really benefit from being in therapy, if she isn’t already. You may wish to encourage her to pursue this. That said, at the end of the day, your mom has to make her own choice about whether to get help. While you can suggest it, encourage it, and even offer to help her find it, you can’t make her do it.

In fact, the only thing you do have control over is your behavior. It sounds like your mom is behaving in some pretty self-destructive ways and she is really hurting you. While it can be tempting to try to find ways to control her—to make her get help, to make her see that you have sacrificed so much to be there for her, to make her know that she is loved—you simply cannot. Your mom is the only person in the world who can control what she does. Likewise, you can control what you do. So, it is probably time to shift the focus to yourself. Partnering with your own therapist to work through the hurt and pain, which likely lurks beneath the fury, can help you stop personalizing your mom’s behavior and develop more productive ways of coping.

In addition to therapy, I would suggest being compassionate and patient with yourself, and doing all that you can to make yourself as comfortable as possible. It can be very painful to have a parent like this. Everyone deserves to have a consistently loving, nurturing mom who makes them feel safe. While your mom was unable to provide this for you, maybe part of your healing will be learning how to provide it for yourself. Try to take good care of yourself—eat well, exercise, and get a good amount of sleep. Seek out friends and family members who you trust and feel safe with to support you. You’ve been so focused on your mom for so long, it’s time to keep the focus on you and your needs.

Kind regards,
Sarah

I’m so sorry you find yourself in this position. I imagine you feel like you either have to be disloyal to your mom and tell your dad, or be disloyal to your dad and keep this secret from him. That is a no-win situation.

So, let’s look at it differently.

Relationships between intimate partners are complex, and your mom and dad will have to figure their own stuff out. Your mom’s choices about her relationship with your dad and the consequences of those choices really are between the two of them. I am not here to pass judgment about your mom’s apparent infidelity. I will say that her asking you to hold her secret is a betrayal of her relationship with you. It is part of the unspoken parenting contract that parents don’t put their kids in a position to have to choose which parent to betray or be loyal to. That’s not right or fair. It doesn’t matter if this was a one-time thing or a pattern of behavior—it’s not your role to weigh out the details and possible consequences.

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I suggest you have a conversation with your mom but, for now, leave your dad and his feelings out if it. Focus instead on what her request is doing to you and to your relationship with her. Asking you to hold her secret is asking you to carry the responsibility for her choices. That is a breach of trust with you that could have long-lasting implications. It cannot be your responsibility to cover for her, nor should it be your responsibility to inform your dad. This isn’t about you loving her enough to keep her secret; it is about her loving you enough not to ask you to. You cannot force her to own her actions. If, however, when presented with your feelings she still chooses to put you on the middle, you may want to ask yourself what you are protecting.

None of this is easy, so if you find yourself struggling, I suggest finding a therapist near you to work through some of this with. No matter what happens, having some support may be beneficial in helping you move past this.

Best of luck,
Erika

It’s easy to understand why you feel hurt; your experience with this therapist is a reminder of previous abandonments in your life. Perhaps those abandonments are even the reason you are seeking a therapeutic relationship—so you can work out your feelings. Good for you! Working through complicated feelings, and arriving at a better understanding of why you feel them, is one of the great benefits of psychotherapy.

You have an “ache in your chest,” need help, and have the courage and wisdom to seek it. Unfortunately, you did not find the help you were looking for this time, but I hope that this experience will not put you off of therapy, and that you will try, try again with someone new. Although I don’t know some of the specifics regarding your situation, it seems to me that your experience with this particular therapist is not typical.

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I am not sure of the exact timing of your sessions, such as when your treatment started, when the first three meetings took place, and when the hiatus occurred. Knowing the sequence and the rhythm of the proceedings would make it a bit easier to understand what might have happened. In any event, although you describe your relationship with the therapist as “on and off,” you were committed to the treatment and you felt surprised when you called to schedule your fourth session and found that she was unavailable. Clearly, you were expecting her to wait for you to come back and you felt hurt when she wasn’t there. In short, you were “on” but she was “off.”

Best I can tell, the therapist ended treatment over the phone. The usual practice is to meet together in person before terminating treatment. I agree with you that a face-to-face meeting would have been more appropriate. It is possible that the therapist’s time simply filled up while you were away and scheduling became more difficult, but I wish you had both tried to find a time that worked for the two of you to meet. That clearly would have helped you move forward, if only in the direction of another therapist you would feel more embraced by.

You wanted to say goodbye and achieve some closure to understand what was going on and maybe even feel better, as you mention in your letter. I’m curious as to what you feel a proper ending looks like—what you want to say to her, and what you want her to say to you. What are the “loose ends” you want to tie up? These are important issues, and I hope you discuss them with your next therapist.

You also asked for advice about what to do next. Again, I hope this experience won’t stop you from starting anew with another therapist. Find a therapist who can help you learn how to participate in a relationship that is, simply, “on.”

Best wishes,
Lynn

Thank you for your question. Boy, oh boy were you put through the wringer. My heart ached to read of your experiences. I suppose the short version of my answer would be to see a therapist soon as you can, if only for the reason that you mention suicidality from your teens and depression today. This is not to be alarmist, but depression is something you don’t want to go unaddressed for long, more a sign of trauma than any “character issues.”

Clearly, your mother’s traumatic flight and your dad’s withdrawal left psychological scars that now need attending. This is not to blame anyone; the tragedy of mental health issues (you mentioned your father’s depression) is that those afflicted often end up passing on their condition by creating, as the authority figure in the home, a psychological mood or atmosphere of depression, anxiety, etc., which children are liable to absorb. They don’t call them the “formative years” for nothing. These wounds are passed along from generation to generation until someone has the courage to say “enough” and get some professional help. The good news is that you are young and in an excellent position to get help, and in so doing, start life over again and find contentment and purposeful living. Your experience, believe it or not, can be a vehicle for compassion and empathy for others down the road.

I am a fan of author and psychoanalyst George Atwood, who says in his excellent book The Abyss of Madness that, to paraphrase, people become depressed when depressing things happen to them. There are so many ways in which your trauma would upend anyone’s psyche. The most common question people ask me is, “Is this normal?” I usually say I gave up on normal a long time ago. Also, we therapists can relate to the childhoods and suffering of the people we work with more than we sometimes let on.

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Yet another wounding occurs when the abandonment pain is not acknowledged or permitted to “exist.” A depressed parent may withdraw for self-protection and neglect the child, who cannot help but take it personally. Of course, as a young adult you now want to drink alcohol and blot it all out. What happened was wounding indeed, but not only were you alone with the abandonment, but you also had no one to even acknowledge or help you cope with its scarring legacy. Thus you were in the impossible situation in that you couldn’t have or not have these feelings; the terrible loneliness you experienced was compounded by not having a caring witness to empathize and help bear your very understandable feelings—a kind of solitary confinement.

You sound like a psychologically resilient person who survived a very difficult upbringing, who cares enough to do something about it now. I would encourage you look for a therapist who understands the kind of trauma you experienced, someone who is willing to be patient with you as these injuries to selfhood—which, actually, you seem to have borne quite nobly or you wouldn’t even be writing—begin to heal. Consuming vast quantities of drink or drugs is understandably tempting, but I encourage you not to. In the end, it will only erode your self-esteem and, in a sense, repeat the abuse by neglecting the hurt that needs a safe place for healing. You’re worth the effort (even if it doesn’t always feel like it). Thanks again for writing.

All my best,
Darren

Thank you for reaching out and asking these important questions. I appreciate how hard it is to ask for help and I’m really glad you did. I am going to share my thoughts on your situation as candidly as possible.

You say, “I’ve never cheated on my wife,” and I would venture that you are talking about never having had sexual contact outside of your marriage. However, there is another side to infidelity that many people are unaware of or fail to acknowledge—the emotional affair. An emotional affair is when a married or committed partner turns to an individual outside of the partnership to fulfill emotional needs. The situation you are describing with your coworker sounds like an emotional affair, especially because it appears that your wife is not aware of the type and amount of contact you have had with this woman.

While affairs may progress in any number of ways, they don’t generally “just happen.” Affairs happen by a series of small compromises: sharing secrets with someone other than your partner; doing things with someone that more often than not should be reserved for your partner, such as going to the movies or having nice meals out; and hiding behavior. Eventually, many people find themselves in an all-out affair. While I’m not suggesting that you are having an affair, you are certainly on a slippery slope, and it is apparent that this “friendship” is taking a toll on your marriage. Even if nothing has happened yet, there is a very real possibility that could change very quickly.

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There are a few significant things that make a relationship with someone outside of a partner so enticing. For one, it’s new. As anyone who has ever purchased a new car can attest, the newness of the car is exciting. You can’t wait to show it off, tell everyone about it, and you burst with excitement every time you drive it. After a while, however, the newness wears off and you get accustomed to it. Then, you become more aware of its quirks and maintenance costs. At this point, some people will trade in for a newer car to try to recapture that feeling.

In marriage, the concept is the same—when you met your wife, it was new and exciting. Now, after 32 years, two children, two grandchildren, and a life together, the newness is gone. The excitement has worn off, and you know this woman like you know yourself. I suspect that is part of what makes the relationship with this other woman so exciting—it’s new. There are new things to learn, explore, and share, while with your wife you may be feeling like you’ve been there, done that.

Starting a new relationship after a long marriage can be exciting, but I must caution you that the friendship you describe is steeped in fantasy; almost every new relationship is. At this point, your life with your wife is full of responsibility and with the daily tasks of living—the bills, kids, grandkids, work, college tuition, and household chores. The relationship with the other woman doesn’t have any of those components now, but should you choose to end your marriage and start a life with her, those elements will be present along with the added challenge of blending families. Before you make any big decision, it’s important to step back and look at this from a realistic perspective, beyond the fantasy and romantic idealization.

Finally, you state that you want to be happy and that you’re concerned that you will lose the opportunity to live your days in happiness. From my perspective, happiness is an internal condition. Viktor Frankl reminds us that the “last of the human freedoms [is] to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” You are making your happiness contingent on what happens in your life and your relationships, when your focus really ought to be on how to find fulfillment, happiness, and joy in your life on your own. If there is one thing that is constant in this life, it is that nothing stays the same. Therefore, the highest task of living, in my opinion, is learning how to surf the waters of life and maintaining an inner sense of peace, joy, and happiness … no matter what is happening.

You do not have an easy choice to make in this situation, and I would encourage you to seek out someone to talk with you about this. A good therapist can help you navigate the waters and help you become aware of things you may not presently see.

Best wishes in the journey,
Lisa

The intensity of your feelings is coming through loud and clear. And it is understandable. Being a full-time caretaker can be all-consuming and exhausting. You never get to leave your job. Doctors and nurses who work with high-needs populations get to go home at the end of their shifts, and they aren’t personally connected to their patients. Caretakers of family don’t have either of those luxuries, and it can take a significant toll on their health and well-being.

Before you can focus on being a more tolerant or compassionate caretaker to your husband, I think it might be wise to focus on taking care of yourself. Are you engaging in any self-care practices? Even simple practices such as going for walks, taking hot baths, reading a good book, or spending time with friends might allow you to cool off and help recharge you. Are any other family members, relatives, or friends in position to pitch in from time to time and give you a much-needed break?

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It sounds like you are dealing with a lot of anger toward your husband since he played a significant role in creating the situation you are both forced to live with now. You are absolutely entitled to your feelings of anger. Having said that, it seems like they are eating you up and morphing into bitterness. This does not feel good. You don’t deserve that.

Working toward forgiveness may help in coping with this. People tend to think that forgiveness is for other people (the people who are being forgiven), but it is often more for the person who is doing the forgiving. It is certainly a process, but beginning the process might alleviate some of the anger and bitterness you are experiencing. You deserve that relief.

It sounds like you need more support than you are getting. There are a lot of caretaker support groups out there, and some of them are free. Ask your husband’s medical providers if they know of any local support groups you can join. You can also go to the American Diabetes Association website to get connected to an office in your community that will likely have caretaker resources available.

The bottom line is this: The better you are able to take care of yourself, the better you will be able to take care of your husband, and the more comfortable you will be while you are doing it.

Best wishes,
Sarah

First, let me applaud your courage in seeking out therapy and for reaching out to GoodTherapy.org with your question. It is no small thing to acknowledge that one needs help, so bravo to you for taking those steps.

Your question of how to open up to a therapist is quite common. Many people feel overwhelmed at the possibility of sharing their deepest, darkest secrets and pain with a virtual stranger. It seems especially frustrating when you are paying for the services but still can’t seem to open up. However, this is perfectly normal, and many people find themselves in that position. There are a few things that might contribute to this: you may not have developed the level of trust you need to feel safe with the therapist you are working with, you may be fearful of being judged by the therapist, or maybe you are afraid that opening the pain of the past might be too much to handle. There are many reasons for people not opening up in therapy, so I will give you some ideas on how to get things going.

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If you’ve ever heard the saying, “If something scares you, you must do it immediately,” this will sound familiar. You have to build trust with your therapist AND with yourself—with your therapist, you need to know that he or she has the capacity to hold whatever pain you might share, and you need to know that you can handle sharing your past without falling apart, losing control, or being overtaken. The best way to do this is by taking small steps. First, I suggest talking with your therapist specifically about your inability to open up. This type of honest conversation can be a bridge to building trust in other areas. Second, after having that conversation, intentionally decide to take risks and share honestly in your therapy sessions. Even if you don’t want to share the trauma of the past, you can say, “I’m really anxious because I want to share, but I’m afraid of …” Simply naming the anxiety when it appears can help clear the way through it.

Finally, many people are concerned that the therapist will judge them when they share openly. While I can’t say that there aren’t therapists who judge, they are firmly in the minority. Therapists generally hold a genuine space of empathy and high regard for the people they work with, knowing that each individual has had a unique “pain journey” and that seeking help is not a sign of weakness, but rather of deep strength. Your therapist is a stranger only as long as you keep him or her that way. By taking small risks and building trust, you will deepen your relationship with your therapist, which will help your therapy progress.

You can make this therapeutic experience what you want it to be by taking ownership for how it has gone and making active choices in how to handle it going forward. I believe that you want this to work, and I believe that it will because you are willing to work. Best wishes in your journey!

Sincerely,
Lisa

Thanks for your question. Six years is a long time to be living with this kind of uncertainty! And not only is this situation more common than you might realize, but the concept of certainty, or security, is often at the heart of this existential dilemma—which is something all of us want and need, though it often proves elusive.

When we begin an affair with someone who is unavailable (via marriage or otherwise), there is certainty in the fact we definitely want him or her but can’t. This creates a very specific kind of focus around the question, “Will he or she leave or not?” If the answer is “yes,” very often it seems to be “evidence” of our worthiness: that we and not the other woman (or man) is the winner. We may start to feel resentful of our lover’s spouse, thinking he or she doesn’t deserve the one we love. There may be guilt, too, or most likely a mixture of conflicting feelings and desires.

Then one day it happens, and he or she is ours—except the imagined happy life we’d been yearning for isn’t exactly all that; it may even be more complicated, our feelings difficult to untangle. It’s common that, rather than wanting the partner to choose us, we find ourselves preoccupied with “proof” that the past will not repeat itself, that our beloved will not leave us for someone else.

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The reasons for this are varied, and some or none or all of what I’m about to say will apply to your situation. Take what you like and ignore the rest. But just know that this kind of thing happens more often than is discussed (for obvious reasons).

There is a safety (i.e., certainty) in becoming involved with someone who is unavailable; we can love while focusing on the wanting, rather than the vulnerability that comes with actual availability. I don’t think we’re to blame entirely; this arrangement usually fits a template of our early experiences where caregivers were sporadically or consistently unavailable. It is absolutely thrilling to be chosen over an “outside” person, in a reversal of what we experienced earlier, where caregivers appeared more interested in things besides us (another child or family, for instance), which of course is a terribly painful abandonment that follows us into adulthood in the form of insecurities, needs, hopes, etc. To be chosen over another appears to be a reversal of abandonment that lands us on solid relational ground at last. We can then finally create or co-create the well-founded home we have dreamed about.

But how solid is it? After all, we might then ask, “Well, if he or she left his/her spouse before, who’s to say he/she won’t do it again?” Behind or beneath this question are a slew of factors that I think may be worth some serious reflection, either alone, with a trusted friend, or with a counselor. I would suggest doing this before going to your husband to verbalize any concerns.

It can be disconcerting that certain fears never go away. We learn to live with them, tolerate them, but they can never be banished, especially if we experienced relational traumas early on, such as abandonment, neglect, or abuse. We may have felt unabandoned when he or she chose us, but the underlying fear—because it is rooted in our own histories and psyches—hasn’t been banished, leaving us to wonder if we may, in fact, be abandoned yet again. The “proof” we were seeking is not, it turns out, as iron-clad as we hoped; there are no guarantees he or she won’t leave us for someone else. (There is never such a guarantee, actually.)

The traumatized, wounded part of ourselves needs to be heard, and this is, in part, a way of announcing itself. The critical voice within may attack us (or our partner) for the “wrongness” of what happened (“how could you be so selfish or reckless,” etc); there may be guilt about how this relationship has come to be, but most often this, too, is connected to the terror of abandonment (i.e., a repetition of actual past abandonment), and our yearnings for connectedness are suddenly subject to self-doubt, and questions arise about whether we’re worthy of happiness. (“You’re not all that; you’re a cheater, too,” and so on.) Of course, certain qualities or behaviors of our partner may stoke these fears, but if we truly, at the core, did not trust this person, we would never have pursued him or her. These fears are spurred for the most part by the historical trauma I’m discussing herein. We may zoom in like a laser on possible “signs” of such abandonment happening and interpret them as such, stoking our anxieties, but the cause of it is usually a terror of yet another experience of being left behind.

It’s something of a cliché in our pop culture to believe that (as Sting once sang), “if you love someone, set them free.” But the existential truth, I believe, is that we really do have to give our partners the dignity of their choices, and your partner has chosen to be with you now. That same respect is due us, since I believe that the majority of us are not malevolent and are, in the main, doing the best we can. Why not give the relationship a chance? It probably has a better chance if you take the risk of trusting him; otherwise, it could become a self-fulfilling prophecy where fear and anxiety suffocate any chance you might have. We can’t always help who we love; the point is to understand our choices rather than simply give them the thumbs-up or -down. I think the more important question is why we choose who we choose, rather than it being “right or wrong” (which only obscures the deeper issues).

Of course, once you have a clear sense of what those underlying motives are—once you understand what “your side of the street” looks like in terms of facing your inevitable psychological demons—then you might be able to reveal your vulnerabilities to your partner and verbalize what does and doesn’t help you in your personal quest for healing. (For example, “Do you mind telling me where you’re going for the time being? I appreciate you indulging me in this as I work on myself.” As opposed to, “Where are you going? Who are you seeing? What are you up to?”) Our partners can greatly support but cannot replace that healing process. In a way, we need these types of things to show us where the healing needs to occur. The danger is in expecting that a relationship can supplant past injuries. Vulnerability is inevitable.

Paradoxically, making peace with the worst of the past seems tied to a more secure future. Thanks again for writing.

Best wishes,
Darren

It sounds like there are two main issues for you right now: managing your feelings and hesitation about dating someone with a teenage daughter, and dealing with your fears about how your family will respond to your situation and the woman you love.

The fact is your girlfriend is a mom. Nothing is going to change that. You can wish it weren’t so, but that is a big part of who she is. It also may be that her experiences as a mom made her into the person you fell in love with.

I’m curious about where your resentment is coming from. Is it mostly coming from fears about how your family will react, or are there other issues at play? You knew she was a mother when you started dating her. You have been in a relationship with her for a year. If you are uncomfortable with the idea of moving in together, you owe it to her, yourself, and your relationship to have an honest conversation about that. Her feelings may get hurt, but avoiding the issue and letting these feelings fester in secret can do much more damage to your relationship. If you need support in how to have that kind of conversation, you may want to reach out to a therapist in your area for individual or couples work.

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Dating someone who has kids can be complicated. Something that makes your situation potentially even more complicated is the spread of ages. You are, in fact, closer in age to the daughter than the mother. How much of that is factoring in to your unease? Would you feel the same way if her daughter were 7 instead of 17?

As for how your family reacts to your relationship, you cannot control what your family thinks or feels. They may disapprove of your relationship. They may disapprove of your girlfriend. It is up to you how much importance you give to their feelings. At 26, you are an adult who can make his own decisions. If the way your family feels about your partner is a deal-breaker, then it is important to be honest about that. Her past is not going away. If, however, you choose to be in relationship with this woman, it is not fair of you to judge or condemn her for her past. Your family can choose to disapprove. Only you can choose to let that matter.

I hope this helps shed some light on your situation. I hope you can resolve your internal conflict and highly recommend seeking the support of a therapist to help guide you through it.

Best,
Erika

Although I can’t know what is happening in your therapy and how this may pertain to your question, clearly this is an important issue, and I hope you will discuss it directly with your therapist. I can understand that perhaps you feel reluctant to bring it up, but the ensuing conversation might be very helpful, and it could move the work you are doing together toward a deeper understanding of your relationship with her and, most importantly, with yourself.

Any emotional reaction, especially one as pervasive as what you describe, contains clues that you want to identify and investigate. For example, at some stages of development obsession is quite natural, and your obsession might be pointing toward a difficult time in your life that needs work. Young children, for example, are obsessed with their caregivers, often their mothers. If this is the root of your issue, you might learn that there was a difficult experience in your childhood that needs to be looked at. Maybe when you were very young, a toddler or a baby, you had fears that your mother or another important person in your life might leave you, never to return—that you might be abandoned. Perhaps you did in fact lose someone you loved. Teenagers, even adults, are sometimes obsessed with someone they see as a role model. They are obsessed because that person is someone they want to be and knows things they need to learn.

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An interesting aspect of therapy is an experience called “transference.” Transference means that the feelings you have for someone important in your life are unconsciously transferred to another person—in this case the therapist. We all have feelings like that; it’s quite normal. For example, people at work often relate to the boss as if the boss was their father or mother, and they might not even know it. Or your irresponsible coworker might remind you of your younger brother or sister. It’s helpful when we become aware of such feelings and then take care to recognize and correct them rather than simply reacting. Therapy can help you do that.

Let’s talk about therapy, some of its general goals, and how they may apply to your situation.

1. Speak your mind to your therapist, without concern for feeling silly, looking stupid, being insulting, or whatever worries tend to stop you from speaking up. Honesty makes for a strong therapeutic relationship.
2. There are many different kinds of obsessions—obsession with the Internet, with sports, with movie stars, with teachers, even with one’s therapist. A therapist, after all, is someone who is trying to help. It makes sense that we become attached to kind and helpful people. Who wouldn’t? Maybe, for you, this is a rare experience of being truly understood, you can’t quite believe it’s real, and you don’t want to let it go.
3. The love and gratitude we feel when we are accepted and understood is boundless. Certainly, I feel greatly attached to my teachers, mentors, and therapists. The thought that these connections are partly real and partly transference is kind of sad. “What,” I might think, “you mean this isn’t real?”
4. It is real, the feelings are real, but they are not to be acted on—they are to be explored with words only. These feelings and the therapeutic relationship are on a different and special plane, apart from the everyday world in certain ways. That is the tragedy, glory, and power of any deep therapeutic relationship.

How lovely that you have such strong feelings about your therapist. It means that you have been reached at a deep level, which has given you and your therapist a strong energic ground from which to proceed.

I hope this has been helpful. Please let me know what you think. Take care!

Respectfully,
Lynn

That sounds very frustrating. It also sounds like it might be causing you some anxiety, which might be perpetuating the attentional issues you are experiencing. Does this ring true? If so, next time you feel this happening you might want to try taking a few deep breaths, direct your focus to your breathing and then gently remind yourself to focus on the task at hand.

I find myself wondering if your mind is often going to the same thing when it wanders. We all go through challenging times in life that can make it difficult to focus on what we are trying to do in the present moment. For example, if you’ve recently experienced the loss of a relationship, you may find your mind wandering to that person, to memories of time spent together, to sadness about an unknown future, to the fear of loneliness.

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If, however, this issue seems to have no connection to a recent loss or transition in your life, I might wonder if you are feeling bored or restless with where you are in your life right now. Sometimes a difficulty focusing can be an indicator that it is time to shake things up a bit.

It might be helpful to you to partner with a therapist to try to sort through some of these things and see if you can develop an understanding of how this came to be a part of your life. If you do choose to meet with a therapist, it might be a good idea to try to find someone who has some expertise in attentional issues. While it is possible that the issues you are describing are a natural part of some sort of a transition in your life or an indicator that a change is needed, it is also possible that something else is going on. Perhaps there is an undiagnosed attentional issue that could be identified and worked on or treated. A therapist with expertise in attentional issues will be able to help you distinguish between these possibilities and help you move to a place of greater peace and focus.

If you haven’t done so already, I also recommend seeing a doctor to rule out any possible medical causes.

Best wishes,
Sarah