Dear GoodTherapy.org,

A few months ago I started dating a woman who has a lot going for her—great personality, whip-smart, professionally accomplished, lots in common including music and sports—but things have not been ideal in the romance department. I think a lot of it has to do with how she kisses me. She has this thing she does (almost every time) where she practically sucks my lips entirely into her mouth, uses her teeth, darts her tongue, and slobbers all over me. It’s way too wet and over-the-top for me, and it distracts heavily from anything else that might be happening. In fact, it not only makes me not want to kiss her, it makes me not want to have sex with her because I know kissing will happen. I have erectile difficulties with her in part, I think, because this is always in the back of my mind. (I have not traditionally had such issues with other women.)

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Before you mention it, I have talked to her candidly about this at least three times, as gently as I can. She knows our kissing isn’t working for me. She has given lip service (pun intended) to wanting to adjust how she kisses me. I have tried to lead the way a few times and asked her to do as I do. Yet she continues to kiss me like my face is a lollipop. I can’t take it anymore.

She is the only person I’ve ever dated who I’ve had this issue with. I am tired of mentioning it, and am starting to get the impression this kissing style is hardwired into her. If that is the case, I don’t see any choice other than to part ways. It’s just not sustainable (to me, anyway) to not want to kiss or have sex with the person I’m seeing. Any advice for me to try to salvage this before I kiss her goodbye? —Death to Smooching

Dear Smooching,

Your friend might benefit from some help and persistence. I know of another similar case involving a college student who thought kissing meant pushing his teeth very hard into his date’s teeth. Needless to say, this was uncomfortable to his partners, and so he soon had no partners—which was a shame because, like your friend, he has many things going for him.

He was inexperienced and trying to seem otherwise; he needed lessons in kissing and some patience, but even more than that, he needed to learn how to choose the right partner. He was dating the kind of person he thought he was supposed to like instead of someone he found truly attractive. This took some time to work out, as he had to let go of his assumptions and find out what came naturally to him instead of playing the part he thought he was supposed to play.

Your date’s kissing style, as you describe it, seems uniquely hers, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s what comes naturally to her. Like the college student, she may be playing a part and over-acting to make up for certain feelings, perhaps including inadequacy. Without knowing her, however, that’s purely speculation. On the other hand, she may feel her kisses are genuinely sexy—and perhaps to some people they might be, but they are clearly not sexy to you. In fact, they turn you off.

Like sex, kissing needs to deliver mutual enjoyment. Focusing on pleasing your partner while being pleased yourself can be uniquely satisfying. Clearly, your friend is not focusing on your desire. Do you focus on hers? Are you able to? It sounds more like you are trying to endure her kisses since they are not pleasurable to you. Even though you’ve told her, she doesn’t seem able to understand what you’re saying, or if she does, the information simply isn’t sticking. Perhaps there is anxiety around this issue on the part of both of you at this point, but it’s hard to say without getting her perspective.

Let her know you’re coming from a place of concern and wanting to make a good thing (the relationship aside from kissing/sex) better. Let her know that what is happening is preventing you from enjoying her kisses—and you so want to enjoy her kisses!

It sounds like your relationship is in its infancy, so I’m not sure how invested you feel in it, but you describe this woman as having a lot of desirable qualities you might not want to give up. Maybe it’s worth considering going to see a couples therapist or a sex therapist together. It sounds like it couldn’t hurt. If you’re thinking about ending things with her, you have everything to gain and nothing to lose by seeking help.

In the meantime, tell her what you like and don’t like—again. Continue to be gentle, but be honest and clear. Let her know you’re coming from a place of concern and wanting to make a good thing (the relationship aside from kissing/sex) better. Let her know that what is happening is preventing you from enjoying her kisses—and you so want to enjoy her kisses!

Also, ask her explicitly what, specifically, she finds pleasurable. It’s a two-way street, and if this kissing style has worked for her in the past, it’s possible your approach feels foreign to her. I’m wondering if you might both benefit from taking things more slowly. That means feeling your way through kissing, one movement and reaction at a time. If one or both of you is anxious, stop, relax, and wait until you’re ready to begin again. Starting, holding back, starting again, and releasing after a time—that’s sexy. Perhaps some wine, music, and/or low lights to help set the mood?

A kiss is still a kiss, as they say, but your friend needs to work on her style if she’d like more of yours. If you want to sustain or, better yet, improve your relationship, keep doing what you can to help her.

Kind regards,

Lynn Somerstein, PhD, NCPsyA, C-IAYT

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

My husband and I have been married for 27 years. About 10 years ago, his snoring became intolerable, and they ran some tests and diagnosed him with sleep apnea. They told him he could stop breathing and die if he didn’t get a CPAP machine. He refuses to get one, though, because he doesn’t like the way they feel at night.

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Because of his selfishness, I’ve started sleeping in the den because I can’t sleep through the night if we’re in the same room. It’s so disturbing. He literally stops breathing for a minute or two at a time and then suddenly explodes with noise as all the air comes rushing back into his body. Our neighbors have told us they can hear it in the summer months, when their windows are open. Still, he won’t budge. He said if he dies, he dies.

I miss sleeping with my husband, but even more than that, I miss feeling like he cares. I am so frustrated by his unwillingness to do what he needs to do. I don’t know what I can do if he’s going to be stubborn like this. What do you think? —Wide Awake

Dear Wide Awake,

No doubt when your husband continues to not do what you and/ or the doctor have asked him to do, this can be extremely frustrating. I couldn’t help but notice you use the words “unwilling,” “stubborn,” and “selfish” to describe your husband. I also hear how distressed you feel because it seems like he doesn’t care. I imagine there are probably multiple things going on. From your description, he won’t deal with this health issue because it is more uncomfortable for him to wear the CPAP mask than to do something that could potentially save his life and improve the quality of your sleep (and, presumably, your relationship satisfaction).

In order to address your concerns, I want to disentangle these pieces a little. There are multiple things going on, and consequently different ways to approach solving this issue. First is the untreated sleep apnea and possible health-related consequences. This, unfortunately, is not an uncommon issue. Many who are prescribed a CPAP mask find it unpleasant and soon become noncompliant with wearing one, even despite stern warnings from their treating physician.

Consult with the Medical Team

Does the treating physician know about your husband’s noncompliance? What has the physician’s response been? Perhaps the health care team can help increase his openness to giving this another try, as they likely see this issue regularly and may be able to directly intervene.

I imagine your husband, at this point, knows very well that his snoring disturbs you (and the neighbors), but perhaps he does not fully realize you really miss sleeping in the same bed as him and feeling like he cares. Perhaps hearing this expressed explicitly may open up a new path for your conversations to take.

Education can be a strong component—for example, explaining exactly what his test results revealed (e.g., oxygen levels, prognosis if his sleep apnea is left untreated), or simply communicating to your husband that for many people with sleep apnea, it is normal to take time to adjust to the CPAP before it feels comfortable enough to not feel burdensome.

That said, educational approaches may not be enough to change his mind. Additionally, if you feel the medical team is not empathetic to your struggles, you may want to speak with a different provider. Finally, have you explored other options for sleep apnea management? There may be other devices or procedures that may be able to help.

The second issue to address is how his refusal is affecting you. It clearly impacts the quality of your sleep, both in terms of not being able to sleep through the night because of his loud snoring and because of the frustration you feel. It is also clear that physically relocating to get a restful night of sleep is not your ideal. And when he nonchalantly states, “If I die, I die,” this seems to evoke a host of negative emotions in you, including hurt, sadness, and perhaps rejection and resentment.

Tell Him How You Feel

I imagine you have told your husband many times how you feel about his snoring. I imagine you have told him many times he should be using his CPAP. You’ve surely reminded him what his doctor has to say on this topic. How have you communicated to him about your own experience with this issue? Have you told him about the emotional impact his words and actions (or lack thereof) have on you? If so, how have you communicated this?

The way we talk to others about the impact they have on us plays a large role in the success of this communication effort. For example, consider how each of these statements might sound: Stating to your spouse, “Because of your selfishness, I can’t sleep in my own bed,” compared with something like, “I feel frustrated because I feel like you haven’t heard my concerns” or “I feel hurt because it feels like my concerns are dismissed.” While all of these statements may be accurate, not all of them are likely to be heard the same way. I imagine your husband, at this point, knows very well that his snoring disturbs you (and the neighbors), but perhaps he does not fully realize you really miss sleeping in the same bed as him and feeling like he cares. Perhaps hearing this expressed explicitly may open up a new path for your conversations to take. Sometimes, taking a closer look at how we communicate key messages may uncover new approaches that ultimately yield a desired effect.

Lastly, you may find that additional support via therapy—with or without your husband present—may be useful to you to help manage frustration and continue to identify solutions. Good luck!

Marni Amsellem, PhD

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I’ve managed to get to age 66 without writing a will. The thought has always terrified me, but now it’s more real than ever. As my kids start (gently) pressuring me to consider talking to a lawyer about finally drawing one up, I’m feeling more and more anxious about it.

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Death doesn’t really scare me so much, but having a document that my family will read when I die makes it terribly real. It brings up images in my head of them all going through it together and everything being so final. I know I’m at an age where I can no longer ignore it or put it off, but I stubbornly want to never deal with it.

Do you have any advice for someone who is anxious to tears about doing this? Or any thoughts about how to get through the process without falling apart? —Wills and Grace

Dear WAG,

I’m sorry to hear about your struggle. End-of-life matters are inherently unpleasant, but it sounds like your anxiety is running overtime and making those matters much worse. First and foremost, I recommend working with a therapist who can help you better understand the nature and origin of your anxious feelings. That insight may yield opportunities to identify soothing and coping strategies that make it easier for you to follow through on the difficult task of developing a will.

“Thy will be done”—sooner rather than later. And although you didn’t ask, this applies to health proxies and powers of attorney as well. These are important legal documents designed to safeguard yourself and your family. See a lawyer, then write, sign, and file these papers, which are designed to make everyone’s life easier, including your own. Tell your kids where they can find them. Give them copies.

The original documents should be kept in a safe place. Safe place doesn’t necessarily mean safe deposit box, because your kids will not be able to enter that box without your prior written permission. Arrange with the bank and one of your kids so they have permission to open the box; otherwise, they will need a court order. Give that kid their own key and let them all know where your bank is.

In fact, organize your financial documents and tell your kids where they are. I keep mine in the upper left-hand drawer of my desk, and my kids know that. Let your kids know the names and contact information for your doctors, lawyers, and bank. Make a list of important information and give it to them. You will also need to ask someone to be your executor, the person in charge of carrying out your wishes.

If it seems like I speak from experience, it’s because I do. I have a will, and it divides my estate among family members and gives a little bit to the public library and some other places.

I assume you have assets. If you become seriously ill, your kids may need these assets to help pay for your medical care. Make it easy for them in both your life and your death, which, you write, “doesn’t scare you.” Just thinking about it does! Yes, this all makes the prospect of your death terribly real. Death is terribly real for everybody; unfortunately, ignoring it doesn’t prevent it.

You worry about “falling apart” while getting this all together. I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I do know that by 66 you’ve done a lot of hard things, probably fell apart doing some of them, and then put yourself back together. Here’s your chance to do that again.

You write that you “stubbornly” don’t want to deal with your eventual death, but it’s your kids who will have to deal with it. Your kids will be dealing with their sorrow and maybe also their frustration with your unwillingness to prepare for their future without you. You sound like you love them, and I’m guessing if you’re 66 they may be in their 30s or 40s, which means you’ve seen them through many difficulties and perhaps crises of their own. Here’s your last chance—literally the last—to take care of your kids. Do it for your kids, if not for yourself.

You’re concerned about your family reading your will, but you don’t say what it is that concerns you. Yes, it is sad to think of your kids reading your final wishes and reacting to your death. It’s even worse thinking of them having to sort out your finances while they are in states of grief. They’ll be grieving if you don’t have a will or if you do have one, but I imagine they’ll feel worse if you haven’t prepared them for how you want things to go when you die. They have been asking you, after all. They’re concerned. Would they be angry with you if you don’t have a will?

You worry about “falling apart” while getting this all together. I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I do know that by 66 you’ve done a lot of hard things, probably fell apart doing some of them, and then put yourself back together. Here’s your chance to do that again. You might ask a trusted friend or relative if they can help, or you might consult a therapist along the way. Aging gives us many things to worry about; death may be the least of them.

It is very painful to imagine yourself separated from the people you love. You won’t know what happens next in their stories, and that is sad. I personally would love to meet my great grandchildren and their children, too, or at least see into the future and know their biographies. Our children’s lives will go on without us, as they should. But as their lives proceed, the part we played continues to live on within them. Keep those memories clear, lead the way forward, and show them a positive model of aging and death.

I wish you well as you navigate this struggle.

Kind regards,

Lynn Somerstein, PhD, E-RYT

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I left my job about two months ago, run-down and on the brink of something drastic because of how miserable I was. It was an extremely high-stress job in finance, and I was very good at it despite the long hours and the lack of creativity it took to do the job. Quitting it was a huge risk—I had savings, but no real prospects on the other side. I just wanted some peace after a decade of work that was at once mind-numbing and incredibly taxing.

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Since I left I’ve been making ends meet with some odd jobs, but after two months the thought is starting to creep in that I made a huge mistake. Life hasn’t been as fulfilling as I dreamed it would be, and though I have time and freedom now to explore hobbies I’ve wanted to take up and complete some lingering house projects, I seem to be … still stuck, somehow.

Maybe I had too many expectations for quitting? Did I build it up too much in my head? The company I just left has an opening, and part of me wants to return. My best friends are there, but I dread every other aspect of being employed there again. At the time, I thought quitting was the best decision I ever made and I vowed never to go back. Should I listen to my nagging regrets? Try harder to make a new life for myself? Or opt for stability and doing what I know? —Wealth or Worry

Dear WOW,

Thank you for your letter. As is so often the case (sayeth the psychotherapist), it raises more questions than answers. But first, let me make an observation or two.

We are often confused by the question of, “Is it the external circumstances that are the problem here, or is it me?” Typically, it is both. In fact, part of the problem can be seeing it as strictly either/or. Some of us grew up in misattuned environments, for instance, where we were always the problem. Some people in therapy also struggle because “they”/“him”/“her” is at fault.

There are always exceptions, but most of the time an external situation—especially a stressful one—is a catalyst for some psychological or emotional conflict we are sorting through. We cannot avoid seeing everything through our own “glasses” or filters. And everyone has ongoing, unsorted conflicts; there is no normal in this regard, as each person’s psychic conflict is highly individualized.

It sounds here as if the job was undoubtedly stressful, and no one can fault you for being a “quitter” since you hung in for a decade! One of our most basic needs is precisely what you stated—peace. I can confirm that the financial industry is anything but peaceful, what with the advent of ever-faster technological tools which seem to increase impatience from management and demand on workers. It is inherently a nerve-wracking business since it involves money, which touches on widespread fears and needs for security, leading to ongoing, socio-cultural anxiety and neurosis.

So the pressure was on, and from the sound of it, you prospered. That is no small feat. Clearly, you have marketable skills and can perform under pressure, to your credit, with a solid résumé that speaks to a decade of experience in a stressful environment.

Yet, in spite of your palpable relief at leaving, something lingers: self-doubt, a creeping sense of “what if I goofed?” This, to me, is probably the most emotionally significant part of your story.

Stability is, at least in part, an inside job. I have worked with quite a few wealthy individuals in therapy who were terribly unhappy. (I am not saying being able to pay bills and rent is insignificant.) In this case, though, it sounds like you have sufficient funds for now and can “make ends meet.” So rather than focus on the externals (the job opening, the company) or looking in the rearview mirror (“did I screw up by quitting?”), I would suggest you take time for sustained, empathic self-reflection.

Have you considered speaking with a therapist, career counselor, or another professional who has experience helping folks with precisely these concerns? Something new awaits—something good, I am sensing—but it’s hard to know which door to open, or where the door can even be found. This, in turn, stokes fear.

I strongly sense there is also a sense of conflict within yourself that wants security and certainty and peace or serenity, a sense of wholeness within the kind of work that truly, in the long run, is right for you. This is a tricky balance, one that requires more work and exploring on your part, but I am sure it is possible. You might not find perfection, but I am certain you can get inside the ballpark.

Renowned psychoanalyst D.W. Winnicott would call this yearning for peace as coming from your “true self,” while mythologist and Jungian author Joseph Campbell might call this process the beginning of your “hero’s journey,” or journey to authentic selfhood.

Campbell stated that the hero most often refused the “call to adventure” at first, deciding to take that journey only when backed into a corner. Carl Jung himself felt it is only when cornered, or up against a wall, that our conscious mind surrenders to deeper, creative forces seeking actualization, carrying us forward like the currents of a river.

Or, as an old Zen parable puts it, we are the train on the tracks, but we cannot be the tracks.

I sense, in other words, that you need to give the quieter “other side”—which wants peace or something different, which nagged you to quit the job—a little space and patience to speak up. (Journaling can help in this regard, or talking to a professional or a trusted friend.) There is always existential anxiety at giving up a path of certainty—the financial job, where you know you can succeed and make a good living—for the blank canvas of what next. But that is precisely the adventure! In a way, we need that anxiety to keep our search in motion. And it is trial and error; don’t give up if the answer doesn’t appear right away. It will, though answers come in bits and pieces. Dramatic “aha!” moments are, for the most part, best left for movies and television.

I’m guessing your courageous decision, which was a bold and necessary step to protect your sanity and serenity, has provoked deep-rooted voices—parental, perhaps?—that are saying things like, “Are you crazy? That job paid $_____ a year! Now what are you going to do? Watch daytime TV?”

That is the voice of fear. Fear tends to lead to black-and-white perception, where you are either secure or screwed.

But you have marketable skills, as I say. From a more neutral vantage point, I would guess you have options. By calming your fear and finding outlets for existential self-soothing, you might start to see that you could, for instance, work part-time for a company or even for yourself. And you are making ends meet, which might be good enough for now until you find something that resonates.

It can be overwhelming when what we are looking for hasn’t been found or doesn’t seem to exist (yet). This doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It just means you may need a little time and support to do something naturally difficult but, it sounds like, essential.

Have you considered working for yourself? Many folks are overwhelmed and confused by money matters (my hand is raised); could you do some independent advising or work for a smaller or less daunting firm, even part-time? Sometimes companies hire people for short-term projects, via a recruiter for instance. During that time, you could explore other options: volunteering, taking informational interviews, and so forth.

Corny as it sounds, this is a prime opportunity for you to stretch your wings. Daydream a little. Is there anything you’ve always wanted to try, or even go back to school to study? Is this the time to go to grad school in the evening for your philosophy degree or take a creative writing or guitar class? There is more to life than work, and we are not defined by work alone; for many, it is the least defining point of identity.

Try browsing online job sites, A to Z, and see if anything jumps out at you, something you never even thought of. Maybe you yearn to do some socially or environmentally conscious work (as a random example); could you end up as an investment adviser for a nonprofit? Could you do some combination of corporate and nonprofit work? Do you want to chuck finance altogether and teach English in Asia or Europe, or find a finance job in an international firm and live abroad?

It is possible you could write your own job description and follow it up with persistent footwork to make it happen. It sounds like you have a rare combination of gifts: a financial talent along with integrity and a need for something more personally fulfilling. You have a soul, and it is speaking to you. The soul—or the unconscious, or true self—does not always speak in digestible sound bites, which means we need to find ways to listen deeply to that quiet inner voice which is telling us something vital.

I have worked with people in your situation, and they have prevailed by not giving up. One was an attorney at a movie studio, and he was miserable. He was on-call 24/7, and despite working on prestigious projects, he felt depleted and beat up, with no time or energy to find a partner or start a family. Eventually he decided to get training in estate law, and now runs a quiet little business with a partner, with weekdays that end at 5 p.m.

It can be overwhelming when what we are looking for hasn’t been found or doesn’t seem to exist (yet). This doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It just means you may need a little time and support to do something naturally difficult but, it sounds like, essential. I would just remind you that you have options, per the above.

It’s natural to experience awkwardness after a decade of living a certain way and then stopping. You are carving out a new way of living, day by day. Give yourself credit for doing something brave. You can always go back—to your previous job, or others like it—though I can’t help but conclude that, on a soulful level, you truly don’t want to. So, keep the search going and I am sure the answers will come.

Thanks again for writing!

Kind regards,

Darren Haber, PsyD, MFT

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

My daughter won’t listen to me! She is 15 and thinks she has everything figured out. She yells at me all the time and says nasty things. I caught her using drugs once, and she’s definitely having sex. She also sneaks out at night sometimes and skips school. This is more than just a rebellious phase. I don’t know where she gets it from, but it’s not me!

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I don’t know what to do about it, either. I want to be a good, supportive mom, but I can’t stand by and watch this. I’m really worried about my daughter’s future. She doesn’t seem to care at all. I would appreciate any insights or practical suggestions you have beyond recommending counseling, as there is no way she would go. —Mystified Mom

Dear Mystified Mom,

Thank you for sharing what sounds like a deeply painful, and even frightening, situation. I imagine it is heartbreaking to hear your daughter yell at you and say nasty things. Seeing her engage in risky behaviors that could have serious consequences likely evokes a sense of anxiety and helplessness.

Sometimes in situations like this, where you can’t control the behavior of someone else, it is best to shift the focus to the only person you can control: you. It is clear from your writing that this is very difficult for you and you do not know what to do. So, while you can’t force your daughter into counseling, you can certainly go. It sounds like you could benefit from the kind of safe and supportive environment that counseling affords. Beyond support for yourself, once a counselor gains a deeper understanding of the dynamics at play, they might be able to offer to some suggestions for ways to connect with your daughter and help her.

Sometimes in situations like this, where you can’t control the behavior of someone else, it is best to shift the focus to the only person you can control: you.

I find myself wondering if you have tried approaching her with concern outside of an incident. When you’ve just caught her doing something she is not allowed to do or when you two are in the middle of an argument, neither one of you is in the best place to have a constructive conversation. However, when there’s relative peace in the home, a conversation can go a lot better. I wonder what would happen if, during such a time, you knocked on her door and asked if she had a minute to talk and simply expressed concern. Perhaps you could try something along the lines of, “It doesn’t seem like you’ve been very happy lately and I’m concerned about you. I know we haven’t been getting along very well, either, but I want you to know you can talk to me. I’m here for you.” Even if she doesn’t jump at the opportunity in the moment, perhaps you are planting a seed that might produce fruit down the road.

I’m also curious how long this behavior has been going on. How significant is the change? For example, did she go from being a fairly obedient child who got along well with you to what you have described or was her behavior always difficult to manage? In thinking back to when all of this started, is there any triggering event you can identify—perhaps a change in the family, a significant loss, a move to a different school? Developing some thoughts about what might have prompted this change in her could also be helpful in trying to understand and connect with her.

Parenting a teenager who is acting out can be incredibly difficult. I hope you will get the support you need for yourself. You just might find it opens you up to some different approaches to connecting with your daughter. Best wishes on this difficult part of your journey.

Kind regards,

Sarah Noel, MS, LMHC

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I need some friendly feedback with a problem I am stuck with. I am a 60-year-old male who was diagnosed 23 years ago with gender dysphoria. I have just “dealt” with it by staying in the closet, seeing a therapist as needed, and basically choosing not to entertain the idea of transition for family concerns. I am now single again, have met a nice cis woman, and would like to get serious—but I am unsure if I should be totally open about this part of me. I have always been a person of integrity, honest and truthful, which sometimes hurts others but it’s who I am.

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When I shared this with a woman once before, it ruined a chance for marriage. She was unable to even talk about it and chose to walk away. I never transitioned even partially or lived as the opposite gender. Is it important that I mention this now?

I realize society is more supportive than ever before, but there are still plenty of folks in the world who abhor anything that does not fit into the male-female binary. I have read numerous accounts where other men in a similar situation never said anything, got married, then out of the blue would share this part of them or would start cross-dressing again and naturally the wife was taken by surprise, shocked, and confused. Usually, the marriage ends and everyone is hurt.

I haven’t cross-dressed in 20 years and have no plans to start up again, but this doesn’t ease my fear at what might happen if I come clean with my new partner and prospective wife. What to do? —Questioning

Dear Questioning,

Thank you so much for writing in with this topic.

When I first sat down to reply, my inclination was to offer what I hope will be received as comfort: reassurance that you have multiple choices regarding your own communication. You are under no moral obligation to disclose any idea about gender (or anything else) to another person if you don’t want to. Your gender is your truth, and your gender does not make up the entirety of who you are.

But I imagine you are writing to a therapy website for a reason. If you were okay continuing to do what you’ve already done in relationships (after at least one very powerful, very negative experience disclosing in the past), I don’t think you would have taken the time to construct this letter.

I would like to gently challenge the narrative you have about your disclosure “ruining a chance for marriage,” shifting the blame away from you individually. Was it not your partner’s rigidity about sex and gender that pushed you away? Can we think about this as a paradigm incompatibility rather than a mistake you yourself made?

In general, if someone is looking for a “serious” relationship (as you say you are now), a critical part of the early stages is getting to know the other person and collecting evidence for whether you will be compatible long-term, is it not? It sounds like some of the anxiety you are experiencing is the normal anxiety of any person in a new relationship—“Will this person turn and run if I share what I really feel inside? Is it safe to trust this person?” Of course, in your case, some of the baggage also carries a gendered focus you have been painfully discouraged from sharing in the past. So far, though, you’ve only alluded to a sharing of ideas, which I hope any partner would remain available for.

I think deconstructing and delineating gender roles is helpful in any relationship, not just in a relationship where one partner is transgender or gender dysphoric. It sounds like you may not decide to “medically” transition in a surgical or hormonal sense, but wouldn’t it be nice to break out of the confines of masculinity as they may be prescribed upon you?

I imagine you have witnessed a great deal of social change regarding gender roles across your lifespan. From this, and from other life experiences, what have you come you expect from yourself, and what do you need in order to feel supported, affirmed, and loved in your relationships? If this includes permission to be fluid and expansive in your expressions of gender, then that is something you are entitled to pursue. If this includes simply the space to air what you’re thinking, free of judgment, that is also completely reasonable. If the relationship is healthy, your partner should not attempt to serve as some sort of mind police for which thoughts are and aren’t okay for you to have and for you to explore. In my experience, our identities, thoughts, and desires are not very good at obediently conforming to socially-sanctioned categories.

When I am working with someone who has come to therapy to explore their sense of gender identity, one of my subgoals is to help them seek out affirming community outside of the therapy room. Whether you decide to formally “transition” or not, having folks around who will appreciate your honesty and not force you to adapt to rigid and even false categories will help you feel more liberated in all of your relationships.

You don’t mention what region you live in, but I will acknowledge that certainly some places are friendlier than others toward those who don’t fit into a simple male-female binary where biological sex and expressed gender align. I also won’t pretend that my own age bracket (I’m 29) isn’t generally more accepting of gender expansion than your generation in many cases. But that doesn’t mean the resources for support and understanding aren’t out there. To find in-person support, PFLAG, a wide-ranging national organization, should be able to connect you to affirming transgender resources within an hour’s travel or so of where you are living if you are living in the States. I’ve also listed some other online communities in the Resources section at the end of this article.

It is nice to have the freedom to speak difficult and complicated truths within our partnerships. But it’s not just nice: this freedom also forms the foundation of safety and trust.

I have found that establishing a social support net that can “catch” you when the going gets tough—whether this support comes remotely or in-person—can, in a sense, lower the stakes of a relationship. You have reinforcement. But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a specially-reserved form of terror for our most intimate partnerships, particularly if we have experienced abandonment following the decision to open up in the past.

In 2007, I gave a report on what was then referred to as Gender Identity Disorder, which included a description of the legal entitlements of spouses to recipients of this diagnosis. If individuals were married, spouses used to be required to sign off on a medical decision if their partner was seeking sexual reassignment surgery. Remembering this report has me thinking now: what are the functions of disclosing gender dysphoria to one’s partner? Is it to clear the air, or is it maybe to help them plan for some sort of action? It summons the idea that our identities are most often formed in relation to others, and that to have a partner who challenges gender might mean we challenge our own identities, too. Marriage and intimate partnership can create a sort of collaborative identity formation, but this doesn’t mean you should sacrifice that which is precious to you.

Are you interested in wearing differently-gendered clothing in the presence of your partner or in trying out different kinds of sex other than p-i-v intercourse? These are behaviors of interest to a broad range of people, including those who do not identify as trans. I do not ask these things to suggest that gender dysphoria is the same as having a cross-dressing kink, or is a kink at all. I ask because my ideas about communication on the topic of gender dysphoria are informed by the same kind of openness and honesty I encourage when working with sexual minorities and kinksters.

My concern for you continuing to maintain the status quo of past relationships is that our unrealized desires so often have a way of breeding resentment if pushed away or neglected for too long, either by ourselves or by our partners. It seems you have more than two decades of experience with this.

It is nice to have the freedom to speak difficult and complicated truths within our partnerships. But it’s not just nice: this freedom also forms the foundation of safety and trust. I am admittedly biased; as a relational therapist, I have a strong leaning to encourage others to put all their cards on the table and to keep the lines of communication open. But I’m not alone. For example, in his “sexpert” blog, Reid Mihalko claims that it’s what we’re NOT saying that’s damaging our relationships. He makes the following case for transparency:

“If you share the things you think might end the relationship and the relationship doesn’t end, now you’re having a Relationship with a Capital R! Sure it’s scary to say the scary things, and it’s bound to kick up a lot of emotional flotsam at times, but what if you and your partners could work through it? What if letting the “cat out of the bag” built more trust and a deeper sense of security and intimacy than wondering if your partner is withholding important things from you?

When you say what is not being said, especially the big, bad, hairy, scary stuff, you model for your loved ones that they can share all the things they’re not saying, too. Over time, you get to know your partners more as they get to know you more, and you’ll realize that they’re choosing to be in a relationship with the real you, not some façade of who you think they need you to be.”

I will admit that we do not live in a universally gender-progressive utopia, and it is certainly not often safe—emotionally or physically—to disclose our grapplings with traditional gender roles. As an example of complex intersectional identities, Asiel Adan Sanchez shares a complex narrative about how their relationship to a Mexican cultural identity complicates their gender identity narrative and how the traditional notion of coming out can lead to cultural and ethnic erasure. I won’t pretend these categories are simple. I also don’t know your cultural context, your given family history, or how long your previous relationships lasted: certainly these factors can reasonably affect your choices about how you experience and express gender. Since you are the only one who has to live your life, only you can know what decisions are best for your specific context.

Your letter brings to the surface so many ethical quandaries we all wrestle with regarding intimate disclosure! To what extent are our partners entitled to the regulation of our minds and of our bodies? No matter how you answer these questions for yourself and your new relationship, I sincerely hope you find a safe, affirming, and healthy way to explore feelings, roles, and identities—not just in a confidential therapy room or anonymous online forum, but in the safety of romantic partnership as well. I wish you the best!

Warmly,

Sharon Glassburn, LMFT

References:

1. Adan Sanchez, A. (2017, July 7). The whiteness of ‘coming out’: culture and identity in the disclosure narrative. Archer Magazine. Retrieved from http://archermagazine.com.au/2017/07/culture-coming-out
2. Mihalko, R. (2012, March 20). Say what’s not being said: Reid’s formula for difficult conversations. Reid About Sex. Retrieved from http://reidaboutsex.com/difficult-conversation-formula

Resources:

• Center for Gender Sanity
• The Gender Book
• Gender Spectrum
• Trans Mentors International
• Transgender Support Live Chat:
• World Professional Association for Transgender Health

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

Ever since my ex and I broke up a few years ago, my interest in sex has been declining. I have dated a few people since my breakup, but sex just isn’t the same. My libido isn’t what it was, and I just don’t feel “the need” the way I used to. While we were together, my ex and I had a consistently scorching-hot sex life. Sex was extremely important to me and a major source of connection. Now? Most of the time, I can take it or leave it.

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Part of me wonders if this is more about getting older and less about something else. I’m 44 now, and I know it’s normal for a man’s libido to decrease over time. But it wasn’t so long ago I was having sex almost daily and it still didn’t feel like enough. The difference is pretty stark, to the point I regularly turn down sexual overtures in the dating world, even when it’s been a week or two. In fact, it’s been a source of discontent in the relationships I’ve tried to develop. I’m not used to being the one to turn down sex.

I don’t feel like attraction is the issue, and I masturbate about as frequently as I ever did. I have to think there is some sort of mental block that is getting in the way of my enjoyment of sex. Maybe my sexual triggers aren’t being triggered enough. Or maybe my needs are evolving and my body is taking the cue. I honestly have no idea, but I miss the old, sexual me.

What do you think is going on? —More Bothered Than Hot

Submit Your Own Question to a Therapist

Dear Bothered,

Thanks for your question. Almost nothing is more personal than our sexuality and associated feelings and desires, so I appreciate your candidness.

Additionally, few aspects of our human being-ness are more complex than sexuality, so without more background I can only give a hunch as to what I think might be happening. I’ll try to be as honest as you were.

The short answer to the question “what is going on?” is: quite possibly a lot of things.

I hear what sounds like anxiety in your concern, maybe even an undertow of loss in missing “the old, sexual me.” Could it be you also miss the old sexual relationship? Your feelings of loss seem to sync up with the loss of your ex, which implies this relationship was of profound emotional importance in addition to being “scorching hot.” In fact, the scorching-hot experience is also powerfully emotional: passionate, spontaneous, wild, and playful. Sexuality is such an overwhelming experience because it involves all of us: body, mind, spirit, emotion, intimacy or closeness with another (relationality), and so on; hence its magnetic psychological force.

As to your specific issue, first I would seek a medical checkup, just to rule out any possible physiological causation.

Ruling out medical challenges, I would reflect upon just what it is you lost, in terms of emotional relatedness, when you lost this partner. I would assume, for instance, that they made it “safe” to be yourself, to let intimate aspects of yourself roam free. What made it so, as best you can guess?

As I read your question a second time, an idea occurs to me. You talk about sex as though it is a free-floating activity, almost as if having a partner is incidental to your sensual pleasure. But the more I study psychology, the more it seems to me that our existence is relational, very much bound with important others. Sigmund Freud himself often hypothesized that masturbation was a way to relieve the sexual attraction to a forbidden or incestuous other—a kind of furtive substitute for sexual longing. (Though it would take Carl Jung to expand the meaning of “connection” or fusion beyond the literal.)

I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that your loss in sex coincides with losing your ex. I’m curious what it is about this other person that created such powerful chemistry between you—and what led to the end of the relationship.

Ruling out medical challenges, I would reflect upon just what it is you lost, in terms of emotional relatedness, when you lost this partner. I would assume, for instance, that she or he made it “safe” to be yourself, to let intimate aspects of yourself roam free. What made it so, as best you can guess?

It is not unheard of that a couple will have a fiery relationship in the bedroom, but struggle to relate, empathize, or communicate. I’m thinking particularly of romantic experimentation where needs or desires are “sexualized” and satiated physically—nothing wrong with that—while unspoken emotional or psychological differences have yet to be addressed or worked through.

I often work with people who can express a strong, historically unmet need to be seen, valued, and respected only via sex or sexual role play, but not in more mundane daily interaction. In other words, the vulnerability is only physical or literal. Eventually, the relationship deteriorates if the emotional/psychological differences are not addressed. The work of the therapy is, often, in helping a person identify and articulate their needs, often difficult given highly critical or absent parents, though sticking with it often leads to more freedom and options in all of a person’s relational arenas.

Another way of putting it: sexual satisfaction can temporarily soothe an emotional anxiety or injury unexplored in the relationship, or a sense of frustration or estrangement, leading to only a fleeting sense of connection—which still does not address the relational friction.

The more I write and think about this, I’m tempted to say what’s happening here may best be described as growing pains. I believe it was the novelist Graham Greene who said that, as we age, companionship becomes more valuable than sex. This often begins to happen slowly as we creep into middle age.

In that regard, you sound right on schedule, though I know it can be unsettling, and even trigger feelings of grief and loss, if solitary sexual activity has been of consolation to you. Your current dilemma, then, could be facing a newfound vulnerability after losing a person who co-created a highly exciting chemistry. It is often the case we desire to share our existence with another more strongly than is consciously believed, whether it be primarily sexual or platonic or somewhere in between. This is often an uncomfortable or even painful adjustment—but not indicative of anything wrong with you. In fact, quite the contrary.

For men especially (though this certainly can apply to women, too), sexuality can come to represent, symbolize, or have personal meaning in many ways: as a means of finding freedom, fulfillment, and validation or a sense of being strongly valued and desired. The magical feeling of sex or romance can arise when we sense that our very being is desired by another, that this deep, profound desire is in sync with another’s desire for us.

This connection can feel transformative. It can loosen the grip of existential alienation or isolation so many of us struggle with, in an era of mostly technological connection. Some of the people I work with in therapy report feeling most “horny” or sexually hungry during or just after a period of grief.

Is it possible the situation is also difficult because your main means of consolation (sexuality, masturbation) is elusive, or less effective, in the aftermath of the breakup? That can be an unsettling realization, indeed, though by no means hopeless.

As we get older, we hopefully discover there is more to partnership than just the physical mechanics or hydraulics of sex. It sounds like you could really be yourself with this person, that you could both reciprocate and find exciting similarity of passion in the bedroom; what, I wonder, prevented this from happening outside the bedroom as well?

In other words, it sounds like you made a profound emotional/relational connection, which you deeply miss. One plus one equals three, meaning two people in deep connection create a third element: the relationship itself, in all of its maddening glory. You found unique chemistry with this person. How could it be the same on your own?

You could, if the relationship is irreparably over, ask yourself what qualities of this person you found so attractive, what it is that made them so special, especially in bed? What didn’t happen in the overall relationship that prevented it from continuing; can you look without heavy self-criticism at your participation here, your 50%, and see if anything can change to attract or keep the next person you’ll hopefully meet?

Perhaps the answer to the latter is emotional closeness, companionship, or friendship—and some deeper self-understanding, maybe even via counseling or therapy.

I can understand your painful sense of loss, bewilderment, anxiety, and even frustration at the dilemma you describe so honestly. At the same time, there is a chance to “make lemonade” by finding or seeking the succor of deeper human connection and self-awareness, with a new partner and/or others who can relate or identify with what you’re going through. It sounds like a kind of (pardon the cliché) midlife crisis, and this is not uncommon in the slightest.

I hope this gives you some food for thought, and I thank you again for your candor.

Best,

Darren Haber, PhD, MFT

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I’ve been married for nine years and have two children. This past month, my wife told me that she no longer loves me and she needs space. I was diagnosed with depression a year ago and she says the episode changed me and I am no longer the person she married. She now wants time to “find herself” and to try and “discover her love” again.

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Since letting me know about how she feels, she has become very distant and spends most of her time reading books or giving her attention to friends. She also refuses to talk about the situation; she says that just makes things worse and will push her further away. She says she will chat to me when she is ready.

I’m really not sure what to do. I feel completely unloved and stuck in a situation where I’m with someone who doesn’t want to be with me. While I’m trying to be supportive to her, it also hurts to know I’m with someone who doesn’t love me anymore. I still love her deeply. —Feeling Unloved

Submit Your Own Question to a Therapist

Dear Feeling,

How very painful it must have been to hear your wife say those words to you. It is not unusual for feelings to ebb and flow over the course of a relationship, but hearing a partner say they no longer love you is hurtful. On the one hand, it sounds like your wife wants to “discover” her love again—meaning she has not closed the door on the possibility your love can be rekindled. She may be on a journey of her own and may need time and space to get there. However, it is difficult to rediscover love in a vacuum. It sounds as if you feel as if you are in the dark about what your wife wants or needs and what a reasonable timeline might be, which is a frustrating and scary place to be.

It also sounds as if you feel her withdrawing from you and your relationship, which also can be painful. You may be ready to engage, but she is not. When you experienced your depression, I wonder if you experienced a similar need to withdraw from the relationship. Is there anything in your experience of the past year that can help you understand what she is experiencing?

No matter the path you choose, it will require both of you to engage in conversations about how to move through this process, particularly as parents of young children. The way the two of you communicate and navigate this uncertain time will have an impact on how you are able to parent together.

While she may not be ready to talk about the situation, it is reasonable to ask for some parameters. You can’t rush another’s process, but you can discuss a timeline for check-ins. This doesn’t mean requiring big answers of one another, but there needs to be a way for the two of you to share information so you both can make good decisions. One of those decisions may be to not stay “stuck” in a situation where you feel unloved. Your relationship needs to work for the two of you, and if your needs are not being met, and especially if you are feeling more and more hurt and isolated, it’s fair to consider whether staying in the relationship makes sense for you.

There is much to sort out for each of you individually and both of you together. My recommendation would be for each of you to work with an individual counselor to clarify your needs and what you are able to offer one another, and, if your wife is willing, to work with a couples counselor who can help the two of you decide how to be in relationship together.

I have known couples who needed to take a break from one another in order to find ways to reconnect. For some, that meant separating for a time while working in counseling together. Others found ways to do so without physically separating, but by establishing clear guidelines for how to be together during a transitional time. No matter the path you choose, it will require both of you to engage in conversations about how to move through this process, particularly as parents of young children. The way the two of you communicate and navigate this uncertain time will have an impact on how you are able to parent together. Finding ways to parent effectively together may provide opportunities to reconnect as a team and rediscover one another as partners. Opening lines of communication without pressuring one another to have answers is an important step to take, and one that may need the support of a professional.

Best of luck,

Erika Myers, MS, MEd, LPC, NCC

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I am a mother of one child, and I share custody of that child with her father. I’ve been divorced for seven years, and for the last two I’ve been seeing someone I’ve become really close to. We’ve lately been discussing getting a place together, but there’s one thing that’s been bothering me—he doesn’t seem to like my child. He’s not mean, short, or even rude. He just doesn’t engage her, doesn’t talk to her much, and doesn’t seek out interactions with her. In fact, it’s like he’d rather pretend she isn’t there, unless he has to do otherwise. He prefers to go out and take trips when my daughter is with her father, even though I’ve said frequently that I’d like to include her in the future, at least some of the time.

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My daughter is 8 and reasonably well-behaved, well-mannered, energetic but not too wild—in short, she’s a typical kid and acts like one. There are no underlying factors of health or behavior that might complicate the situation, and she really seems to like my boyfriend and though she hasn’t yet seemed to notice that he often brushes her off, I’m worried she’ll begin to and be hurt by it.

I’ve tried to talk to him about this, but he says he likes her just fine, it’s just that he doesn’t know how to talk to kids. It was a relief to hear that the first time, and I said he could talk to her about anything—a show she likes, the book she’s reading, or her friends at school, etc. But the next time they were around each other, nothing changed. This has become a pattern, and so I’ve mostly stopped bringing it up.

I haven’t dated much since my divorce, so I don’t have anything to compare this to. Is this normal? Should this be a deal-breaker? How can I find out what’s really going on, and whether it’s something that can change? —Mulling Mom

Submit Your Own Question to a Therapist

Dear Mulling,

Thank you for sharing what sounds like a deeply complex dilemma. Dating when you have a child is so very hard because you are ideally looking for two connections—one between you and your partner and another between your partner and your child. It sounds like you have one of those connections, but not the other, and you’re trying to decide where to go from here.

I find myself feeling curious if you’ve talked to your daughter about how she feels about your partner. If you haven’t, it seems like it might be time. Invite her to be honest, and ask simple questions. Does she like him? How does she feel when she spends time with him? Is there anything she doesn’t like about him? What does she wish was different about him? Keep the questions directed at her experience of him; do not ask her to weigh in on your decisions about the relationship—that’s too much responsibility for a child to take on. After such a conversation, you may have a better understanding of her experience of him.

Even with an understanding of how she feels about your partner, it’s important to remember you are the parent and you are responsible for making the best decisions for your daughter.

Even with an understanding of how she feels about your partner, it’s important to remember you are the parent and you are responsible for making the best decisions for your daughter. For example, if the conversation with her validates your belief she is unaware that she is being brushed off, this doesn’t mean she will remain unaware. You indicate a concern she will notice and it will hurt her. I think that is a valid concern. As she grows, she will almost certainly realize his disinterest in her, which may be hurtful in the moment but may also send a message to her about what she should expect in her own relationships.

You ask how you can find out “what’s really going on” and if it can change. This can only be addressed with him. It sounds like you haven’t seen any change in his behavior with your daughter and the conversation between you and him is so unproductive that you have ceased having it. Perhaps it’s time to consider enlisting the support of a couples therapist. If both of you are willing, a therapist can help you to move beyond this impasse and have a more productive conversation.

If he is unwilling to engage in therapy with you, it might be a good idea to engage in your own therapy. This is gut-wrenching. You’ve found a relationship you feel happy in after your divorce but question—with good reason—what the impact might be for your daughter. There are no easy answers here, and having the support of a therapist could be helpful as you try to set a course for your future.

Best wishes,

Sarah Noel, MS, LMHC

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

How can I make my family understand that I’m not ready for marriage yet? For most of my life, I have been told by my parents (mostly my mom) to stay away from boys and to focus on my schoolwork and landing a good job. Now that I’m older, my mom comes out of the blue and starts lecturing me on finding a boyfriend, getting married, and having kids. I’m comfortable being on my own right now. —Happily Single

Submit Your Own Question to a Therapist

Dear Happily Single,

Parents are like that—mothers especially. They know what they want for their daughters, so they tell them how to get it and nag them until they do. It’s fine for your mother to have ambitions and ideas as they relate to you, but it is not okay for her to push them on you. She wants you to want what she wants for you—not what you want for you.

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You don’t say whether you fulfilled your mother’s expectations to “stay away from boys” and focus on schoolwork and getting a good job. Parenting directives of that nature come from a good place and may be appropriate when you’re a teenager. You don’t say how old you are now, but I gather you’re not a teenager anymore. And while your mom may still mean well, only your internal directives matter now.

In your mother’s eyes, getting married and having kids is the next step. Perhaps you will want those things in the future, perhaps not. The bottom line is you’re not there. You are not ready to get married and have kids and you are self-aware enough to know that. So stick to your guns. Now is the time to explore who you are now and to pursue the life you envision for yourself now.

Learning to advocate for yourself, to not take the bait, isn’t easy. But you may find it an enormously helpful life skill that comes in handy more times than you can imagine, and in a great variety of situations. Just because someone invites you to an argument doesn’t mean you have to go.

But what can you do about your mother? How can you make her stop? I’d start by suggesting you tell her to back off, but I have the feeling you’ve done that and it hasn’t worked. You can’t change her and make her stop talking about what she wants you to do, just as she can’t change you and make you do what she wants. But you can change how you respond to her.

You might try a karate master’s technique and let your mother’s energy just whiz by you. Summon your internal energy or resolve. Focus on your strength and feel your power. Let your mother’s words flow past you. Focus on your breath, stay centered, and let her words go by.

My grandmother used to say to me, “I’m going to tell you something. Promise you won’t get mad.” I would promise, then listen to what she had to say and get mad anyway. This went on for years, until I learned to say, “If you know I’m going to get mad at you, why do you say it?” After a time, she stopped handing out her free advice and we got along much better.

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You might take a similar approach, but one that could prove effective right away: keep your response centered on your feelings about the behavior, not the behavior itself. Use “I” statements, not “you” statements, as the latter tend to elicit defensiveness when the goal is empathy and understanding. When your mother throws out a line with the hook, “When are you going to find a nice boy and settle down and get married?” you can refuse to bite and tell her succinctly, “I know those words come from a place of concern for me, but I have made my position on this clear. It hurts me when my feelings are ignored. It makes me feel like I can’t be who I am.” See if that makes a difference. If she continues to press and you continue to feel burdened by her expectations, you might consult a therapist in your area who can help you learn strategies for coping with the distress your mother’s words are causing you. Again, you can’t change your mom, but you can change how she affects you.

Learning to advocate for yourself, to not take the bait, isn’t easy. But you may find it an enormously helpful life skill that comes in handy more times than you can imagine, and in a great variety of situations. Just because someone invites you to an argument doesn’t mean you have to go.

If you’d like to read more about this, check out Pema Chödrön’s audio book Don’t Bite the Hook: Finding Freedom from Anger, Resentment, and Other Destructive Emotions.

Kind regards,

Lynn Somerstein, PhD, E-RYT

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I have been with my boyfriend for going on three years. A couple of months ago, he said he thought it would be “healthy” for us to be able to have access to each other’s phones. He wants to be able to read my text messages whenever he wants and says he’s okay with me reading his too.

I thought this request was odd, to say the least. I told a couple of friends about it and they also said it was weird. Neither one has an “open phone” policy with their partners. They think it speaks to trust issues on his part.

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We don’t have a history of infidelity, so that can’t be it. I’ve never betrayed him in any real sense. The only thing I can even think of that created any sort of weirdness in our relationship was when I got hit on at a friend’s wedding. That was about six months ago, and while I did accept a friend request from the guy on Facebook, we have only exchanged a couple of comments on public posts. Friendly, but nothing racy. My boyfriend mentioned our interactions once but not in a way that would suggest he felt threatened or insecure. Anyway, I asked him if that had anything to do with his request and he said no.

So I’m not sure what’s going on, but I don’t like knowing my boyfriend insists on seeing my messages. To avoid giving him cause for alarm, I told him I’m fine sharing. We keep our phones unlocked now and he is free to look at mine whenever he wants. Though I’ve never witnessed him doing it, I know he does. I have never looked at his. I just don’t feel a need.

What do you think is happening here? Am I going about this the right way? Should I insist on a boundary? —Open-Ended

Submit Your Own Question to a Therapist

Dear Open-Ended,

Thanks for writing in. I, too, have some concerns about this “open phone” policy and understand your reluctance, which I encourage you to pay more attention to. Before expounding, however, I’m going to briefly discuss what, exactly, a “boundary” is, in my clinical experience, since the term gets thrown around a lot while meanings differ.

Since I like to work from a point of view I call “emotional mindfulness”—and what are love and intimacy if not emotion-based experiences?—I think of a boundary as an inflection point beyond which one will suffer in an unacceptable way. This point of departure most often concerns a specific behavior which causes a person a level of distress or suffering they are not able or willing to tolerate.

It is, in other words, a way of warding off a negative emotional experience, which is why it’s so important such things be discussed in a relationship with as open a mind and heart as possible—even or especially when they don’t “make sense” or conflict with our own way of viewing things. Concrete statements can be debated, while feelings remain indisputably personal: “here is how someone ought to behave in a situation” versus “this is what upsets or hurts or feels positive about this.”

My sense is you and your boyfriend are somehow missing each other in this regard. On the one hand, you say, “To avoid giving him cause for alarm, I told him I’m fine sharing [phones].” Thus, after some internal deliberation and perhaps anxiety, you agreed with his request—except you are writing to me about it, indicating there remains some anxiety or reservation.

The concern I have here is that the focus has become centered on the mechanics rather than the emotional meaning of this sharing. By “meaning,” I refer to how you both think and feel about what’s happening and how it impacts the relationship. In a way, the background dilemma has been tabled, not solved.

The fact a guy hit on you at a wedding became understandably concerning for your boyfriend; this guy then “friended” you on Facebook, which you accepted. While your trusting of others isn’t a bad thing unto itself, I would hope you can see how that might have been anxious-making for your partner, perhaps due to some of his own history (just as some of yours may have impacted your decision to friend the guy and/or agree to share phones).

In all fairness, your boyfriend did not come out and discuss his concerns explicitly, which is part of the “missing each other” I mention above. He took a literal or physical approach rather than risking vulnerability in discussing it. You may have taken a similar route in agreeing to share your phone when you were hesitant, both of you bypassing the emotional risk or vulnerability so crucial to building closeness or intimacy.

I find generally that all behavior, especially when it concerns a close relationship, is a kind of communication, sometimes revealing intention that may or may not be conscious. On some level, your boyfriend’s impulse to check your phone—which will require checking and rechecking because it doesn’t address the underlying emotional problem, another reason it’s only a Band-Aid solution—is a way of saying, “I don’t trust you.”

Your decision to friend this fellow—and here I’m reaching a bit—could mean you do not like to feel constrained, for example in who you do or don’t befriend or interact with. You might believe, “I told him I’m taken, he gets it, and I’m fine with it.” Of course, your boyfriend could harbor similar sentiment about checking your phone: “I’m not suspicious of anything in particular, it’s just a way of shoring up trust and makes me feel better.” It sounds like both of you are facing common human anxieties that might, if mutually shared and understood, lead to deeper understanding and a strengthened emotional bond.

The “I’m” and “me” parts are key. It’s hard to put the “we” above “me” in any relationship, especially when we don’t get the other person’s point of view (more on that in a second), or if that POV conflicts with or appears to get in the way of our autonomy, freedom, and so forth.

I find generally that all behavior, especially when it concerns a close relationship, is a kind of communication, sometimes revealing intention that may or may not be conscious. On some level, your boyfriend’s impulse to check your phone—which will require checking and rechecking because it doesn’t address the underlying emotional problem, another reason it’s only a Band-Aid solution—is a way of saying, “I don’t trust you.”

It could also be saying, “I do trust you, but I get so anxious about this that I must have validation or confirmation. It’s hard to say no to this need to know.”

Your deciding to friend the guy at the wedding is a way of saying, “Hey, you can trust me, I’m loyal to you.” It could also be a matter of “I have a hard time saying ‘no’ as it might hurt the other person’s feelings, so it’s safer to just agree.”

Both of you overlap in saying, “Please understand this, don’t be hurt”—agreeing with the other’s behavior in a way that misses the underlying, more vulnerable anxieties or hopes for understanding. Thus, the relationship remains anxiety-laden, which is probably why you decided to write in.

In either case, you and your boyfriend have real (and understandably human) vulnerabilities around trust and betrayal. It’s worth sitting down with each other for an open conversation in which you try to hear the other person out in terms of their hopes and fears. If this feels uncomfortable, reach out to a therapist who can help facilitate things in an impartial way.

Perhaps your boyfriend was once betrayed by a partner, leading to anxiety around a repetition of this; perhaps you once said no to someone and it backfired or hurt you. In either event, I would think the solution has to come from within each of you in a shared way, rather than a physical or concrete way of controlling anxiety and postponing some stepping-outside-the-comfort-zone. We cannot avoid the need to emotionally stretch—sometimes awkwardly, uncomfortably—in the growth required for long-term intimacy.

I see this in couples counseling all the time, where one person needs to turn up the volume on their wants or needs (yourself, in this case), while the other needs to dial it down a bit in terms of intrusiveness or demand (your boyfriend)—while both partners attempt to center on the emotional vulnerabilities driving the conflict, rather than resting in an external solution. Putting the cart before the horse is something we all do, though the “horse” (i.e., the relationship) only ends up feeling blocked, restless, or cagey.

I hope this helps. Thanks again for writing!

Darren Haber, MFT, PsyD

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I don’t think my relationship with my boyfriend is that bad, but some of my friends beg to differ. Mainly, they are concerned about some of the language he uses with me. He can be crass at times, for sure, but I don’t think he usually means to make me feel bad. I tend to look at it like he’s just “being a guy” since it’s how I hear guys talking to each other sometimes. Maybe he just looks at me as “one of the guys” and it’s a comfort thing?

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For as long as we’ve been together (going on two years now), he has called me “b—-,” “c—,” and “w—-” pretty often. Like, at least one of those at least once a day, and usually way more. Sometimes he says these things when I make him mad, but more often than not it’s like he uses these terms in place of my real name, almost like a playful nickname? I have asked him once or twice why he does it and he says I shouldn’t overthink it and they’re just “terms of endearment.”

Obviously, I’m used to it after all this time, but whenever he does this when my friends are around they gasp or come to my defense. Privately, a couple of friends have told me my boyfriend is being emotionally abusive when he calls me names, and that I should not tolerate it. I made the mistake of telling my boyfriend that my friends considered what he was doing emotional abuse, and he just got defensive and actually did it more, as if to make a point. I don’t see him stopping. I can’t decide if it bothers me (or should bother me) or not. Do you think I am being abused? I don’t want to leave him since I don’t feel all that unhappy in general, but I also hate to think I am in an abusive relationship! —Sticks and Stones

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Dear Sticks and Stones,

The only people who can really evaluate how a relationship is working are the people who are in the relationship.

That said, the behaviors you are describing would naturally raise concerns with those who care about you. The words he is using, especially “c—” and “w—-,” are aggressive words that are generally considered pretty disrespectful. The fact he uses these words when he is angry is a red flag. As far as terms of endearment go, they aren’t very endearing. You are not “one of the guys”—you are his partner. There is a difference.

The true indicator, however, is how he would respond if you did ask him to stop. If you decided you did not want to be called those names, even affectionately or playfully, would he respect your wishes or would he dismiss them? Telling you not to “overthink” things seems pretty dismissive. Your attempt to raise the issue about your friends’ feelings seemed to increase rather than decrease the behavior. That is not a sign of someone who is willing to take in alternative perspectives or be sensitive to the needs and feelings of others. Those are warning signs to pay attention to.

Only you can decide if your relationship is working for you. I would encourage you, however, to think beyond the words and explore how your needs are being met in the relationship and how you feel when you are with this person. Do you feel cared for, loved, and respected?

You do not have to be bothered by words if they don’t bother you. You don’t have to be bothered by words because your friends are bothered. It is important, however, to pay attention to how your boyfriend handles conflict and responds to your feelings. Is he willing to adjust his habits if they are hurtful to you? If not, then your friends have reason to be concerned.

Generally, how we speak to people is a reflection of how we think of them and usually a strong predictor of how we treat them. Using dismissive, disrespectful, or derogatory language tends to distance us from the humanity of the other person and allows us to ignore their feelings and needs. This may not happen intentionally, but it is often a side effect of that kind of practice.

Only you can decide if your relationship is working for you. I would encourage you, however, to think beyond the words and explore how your needs are being met in the relationship and how you feel when you are with this person. Do you feel cared for, loved, and respected? Do you feel your needs are valued and attended to? Do you feel like he is your number one fan and will support you through tough times? Does he help build you up when you are feeling low? Do you feel good about yourself when you are with him?

If the answer to these questions is no, then language is not the biggest issue in your relationship. And if that’s the case, you may want to speak with a qualified therapist who can help you sort through your feelings and your options.

Best of luck,

Erika Myers, MS, MEd, LPC, NCC