Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I am under 18 and live with my dad and stepmom. I’ve been cutting for almost a year from depression and anxiety and basically not feeling like I want to be here. I HATE the idea of seeing a therapist and “talking about my feelings,” but apparently the school counselor told my dad I needed to see someone outside the school for help. The school counselor doesn’t know about the cutting, but I’ve talked to him a bit because apparently I have “anger issues.”

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So now my dad and stepmother are looking up therapists for me to go see. I really don’t want to talk to anyone about my “issues,” but it’s getting hard to cover the marks on my arms and legs and I don’t know how to stop cutting. And also I know they’re just going to keep me in therapy longer if I refuse to talk. But I REALLY don’t want my parents to know about me cutting myself or the suicidal thoughts I sometimes have. Can I get through counseling without my parents finding out about it? How much is the counselor going to tell my parents about what I say in therapy? —Under Rage

Dear Under Rage,

These are good questions to ask any therapist you see. Find out from them what their policies are regarding confidentiality with people in therapy under 18. Much of what they say will depend on legal and ethical guidelines based on where they live and what kind of license they have. When I work with people under the age of 18, I discuss in great detail with both the young person and the parents what those guidelines are. That allows everyone to have the same understanding and expectation about how the process works. It also allows the young person to decide how much to share with me and to be aware of what my responsibilities to report are.

Most professionals are obligated to report when a person in therapy, regardless of age, is in imminent danger. That danger could be significant risk of suicide or conditions of abuse/neglect. Thoughts of suicide alone, however, do not necessarily trigger a mandated report—it depends on the circumstances. There are many people who have such thoughts but no intention or plan on following through. What is essential, however, is that anyone who is struggling with thoughts of suicide finds sources of support with whom they can talk. A trusted therapist is a great option. There are also national hotlines where you can reach out for support 24/7.

I hear the frustration in your message about all that the adults in your world “apparently” believe to be true for you. Instead, look at what YOU can get out of this experience. You can have a voice and share your truth with someone.

I’ve worked with a number of people who also HATED the idea of talking about their feelings. Usually that stems from a place of fearing they would be judged, a massive discomfort with feeling vulnerable and exposed, and a reluctance to trust someone they don’t know well. All of those feelings are natural. I can share with you that all of those people, in their own time, came to trust me and the process. When you find a therapist you can work with, who allows you to share at your own pace, who offers you a safe place to speak your truth without fear of being judged, counseling can be an amazing experience.

If I can offer you a suggestion, don’t reject therapy completely because it feels like something being “done” to you. I hear the frustration in your message about all that the adults in your world “apparently” believe to be true for you. Instead, look at what YOU can get out of this experience. You can have a voice and share your truth with someone. You can get support for the anger, anxiety, and depression you say you’ve been feeling for a year now. You can have support in finding alternative strategies beyond cutting to cope with the intensity of the feelings you have. You can be seen. You can be heard.

Nobody can make you share what you aren’t willing to share. You are right, though, that refusing to talk or engage will likely limit your choices and your control over your situation. So, how can you engage in ways that work for you? Ask your potential therapist the tough questions about confidentiality and how they manage those issues. Find out if your parents are willing to let you take part in the process of choosing a therapist. Many professionals have directory profiles and websites that can tell you a bit about what they might be like to work with. I’ve had people meet me first before deciding to work with me. Many therapists are very willing to meet to assess fit, as we know a good fit leads to more positive outcomes. You might just find someone you can open up to who can offer relief from what you’ve been feeling.

Best of luck,

Erika

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I’m afraid of everything. I seriously mean everything. Spiders, clowns, heights, germs, dying, dogs, small spaces, large crowds, undercooked meats, darkness, terrorist attacks, natural disasters … I could go on. These irrational fears have been affecting my life for as long as I can remember, and I never seem to get over them. If anything, I only find new things I’m afraid of.

I did a ton of research to find a place to live that was least risky—no hurricanes, no tornadoes, unlikely earthquakes, the least number of bugs, etc. I’ve insulated myself as much as humanly possible. I’m still miserable and afraid.

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Only a small number of these fears actually have roots in personal experiences. For instance, I was once bitten by a large dog, which explains my fear of dogs. But I have never been traumatized by a clown, never been caught in a violent attack, never experienced a natural disaster. I never had a negative experience in an elevator, but I have a panic attack almost every time I step foot in one.

Why do these things bother me so much? Is it possible to “cure” fears that have no basis in personal history? I want to live more freely and feel better about normal things and occurrences that should, at most, evoke minimal discomfort. Please help! —Dread Locked

Dear Dread Locked,

You write that you are scared of everything and there is no reason for most of your fears. I disagree. I think you do have reasons, even if you may not be fully aware of them, and these reasons can be worked with.

Sure, if you’ve been bitten by a dog, it makes logical sense you’d be afraid of dogs—there’s a reason for the saying “once bitten, twice shy,” after all. But you don’t have to have been in an elevator, necessarily, to be afraid of elevators—claustrophobia (fear of being trapped in small places) and agoraphobia (fear of situations that might cause panic and feelings of helplessness) are both pretty common.

Some of the other fears you describe—fear of spiders (arachnophobia), fear of heights (acrophobia), fear of germs (mysophobia), fear of clowns (coulrophobia), fear of dying (thanatophobia), and fear of earthquakes (seismophobia)—are prevalent enough to have their own names, too.

You ask whether there is a cure. That’s a strong word, and while nothing is guaranteed, I feel confident in saying therapy can help you understand your fears better, which in turn may help you manage them in more effective and productive ways.

It’s telling to me that you describe your fears as irrational. If you look at these fears, you no doubt recognize they are about things and events that do sometimes happen or present problems in human experience, but remember: the brain is wired to protect itself. Consider your fear of dying, for instance. Would you agree most people fear death on some level? Fundamentally, fear of death is protective, as it is our brain telling us to make decisions that are in the best interests of its preservation. Your brain is in fact being rational, not irrational, when it tells you to, say, keep your distance from the edge of the cliff, or to slow down, or to not eat those two-week-old leftovers. (Thanks, brain!)

Some of these fears can also go along with emotional experiences—claustrophobia, for example, can be linked to early experiences. You may not have been stuck in an elevator at any point, but you may have a history of being stuck or trapped in other, perhaps figurative, more emotional ways. As a result, seeking and finding safety may have become paramount in your life. Based on the extent of your fears and the lengths to which you go to avoid feeling fearful, I imagine that being vulnerable—as we all are in one way or another—is not something that sits especially well with you.

Can you do anything about being fearful? Well, yes. I think your best bet would be to seek a therapist who specializes in helping people with anxiety, fear, and worry. Starting therapy can be scary too, of course, but working with someone who is grounded, accepting, and knowledgeable about how to help people in your situation is a fine step toward learning how to handle your feelings.

You say you’ve “insulated” yourself as much as “humanly possible,” but you are still afraid and “miserable.” Clearly, the actions you’ve taken to protect yourself, while well-intentioned, aren’t working for you. You yearn for some relief. You ask whether there is a cure. That’s a strong word, and while nothing is guaranteed, I feel confident in saying therapy can help you understand your fears better, which in turn may help you manage them in more effective and productive ways.

I salute you for identifying an issue that is blocking you. You’ve taken a fine first step by writing in and explaining your situation. I wish you well as you take the next step in addressing your fears by partnering with a qualified mental health professional.

Take care,

Lynn

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

My mom is nearing 70. She was widowed four years ago, and ever since then she seems to have given up on life. She barely leaves her house, doesn’t want to socialize or make friends, and has even started smoking again, despite being a lung cancer survivor. She falls asleep in her chair at 3 a.m., sleeps until after noon, feeds her dogs, then watches TV the rest of the day and night. She used to love cooking; now she eats cereal for dinner half the time. She used to love sewing; her sewing machine is collecting dust. She used to have many friends; some have died off, some are out of state, and she has no motivation to seek more. Yet she professes that she is lonely. Well, do something about it! Instead, she relies more on her children and guilt trips us if we don’t meet her needs—if we don’t call all the time or visit, to her we don’t care. (None of her kids live within an hour’s drive and we all have demanding jobs and families.)

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I’ve done some reading and I think she’s clearly depressed. I know she feels like her life has been gutted now that her husband isn’t in it. She has no one to take care of anymore, and probably feels a lack of purpose. That’s why my siblings and I are so adamant that finding one would be in her best interests: volunteer, go to church … something! But she refuses.

I really think therapy would benefit her, but (as you might imagine) she is opposed to the idea, saying there is nothing wrong with her. I tried to tell her that going to therapy doesn’t mean there’s necessarily something wrong with her, that it can support her healing from her grief and move on with her life, but she just isn’t buying it. I tell her that moving forward and living her life is what her husband would have wanted, and she agrees, but nothing ever happens. She is very set in her ways. I feel helpless, like I am watching my mother die right before my eyes. And I am angry she won’t help herself, since she is the only one who can. Any suggestions or advice for me? —Helpless Here

Dear Helpless,

The sadness, anger, and helplessness you feel are palpable. You are clearly very concerned about your mother, and based on your description of her, it does seem possible she is depressed and she might very well benefit from therapy. You can see all of this quite clearly, but she cannot—and that must be quite frustrating for you.

I imagine the feeling of “watching your mother die right before your eyes” evokes many feelings, even beyond feelings of concern for your mother’s health and well-being. You are likely dealing with your own feelings of loss of the woman your mother once was, and looking to the future with concern about your actual loss of her through death.

I wonder if engaging in your own therapy could be helpful for you. I imagine the feeling of “watching your mother die right before your eyes” evokes many feelings, even beyond feelings of concern for your mother’s health and well-being. You are likely dealing with your own feelings of loss of the woman your mother once was, and looking to the future with concern about your actual loss of her through death. Sometimes, these kinds of experiences can also raise feelings about your own mortality.

It also sounds like you are trying to change your mother’s behavior. While it is certainly understandable to want better for her, you cannot force her to do anything. Trying to force someone to do something, even if it is something that would be good for them, is almost always a recipe for frustration. Engaging in your own therapy might be helpful in accepting that no matter what you do, your mom might not seek therapy or take steps to heal. Once you accept that you cannot make your mom get well, you may be better able to identify what you can do to help her, and more comfortable stopping there and leaving it in her hands.

It sounds like your mom is expecting you and your siblings to do a lot, maybe more than is reasonable. When you’re unable to be what she needs at any given time, the “guilt-tripping” you describe can be a lot to bear. If you do, in fact, feel any guilt—reasonably or otherwise—therapy may also help you deal with that, along with any resentment the guilt-tripping behavior might elicit.

Finally, engaging in your own therapy might be helpful for your mom, too. You could be a good model of a healthy, functional person seeking therapy simply because you are struggling through a difficult life situation and trying to find ways to cope with it. You could talk to her about the value you find in therapy and how it helps you. She might even see it in potential changes in the way you relate to her.

I wish you peace and healing in this very difficult time.

Best wishes,

Sarah

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

My 5-year-old is a generally happy and sweet kid, but I have been noticing lately that her play can get pretty violent. She can be aggressive sometimes and say things like, “Let’s pretend to punch each other.” When we play together, she wants there to be “good guys” and “bad guys” and have them fight—and sometimes kill—each other. She builds guns and other weapons with Legos and uses them to have fights with her toys, gleefully informing me when one or another of her toys “dies.”

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Her dad and I don’t let her watch violent shows, so I don’t know where she is getting this—from other kids at school or from watching shows at her grandparents’ house, maybe? I’m worried whatever exposure she’s getting to weapons and violence is going to be harmful. I’ve tried to talk with her about it, but I’m not sure I’m using the right words. It’s really difficult for me to hear her play-act violence without saying anything, but I don’t want her to think she’s being “bad,” because I know she isn’t. How can I talk to her about this? —Puzzled Parent

Dear Puzzled Parent,

As a therapist, I want to let you know that this experience is common, and, actually, developmentally appropriate. As a parent, however, I remember being concerned myself when my happy (sheltered) kid started playing in this way. It may be that your daughter is hearing or watching kids on the playground, or perhaps has seen shows, but often it is hard to pinpoint a specific source of inspiration. Many kids, at some point, explore themes of aggression, violence, and death through their play.

I think in all of this it can be helpful to remember the true function of play. Children play to explore their world, to experience in fantasy things they might not experience in real life, and to try things out safely. It is not unusual for kids, particularly rule-following kids, to embrace the role of “bad guy” in their play. For young children who are not often in control of their world, what greater relief and excitement is there than to play-act as the ultimate rule-breakers? Also, children are naturally curious about life and death and how everything works. Play-acting the death of their toys is one way they process safely any fears or concerns they might have or try to make a big concept feel controllable.

The glee you describe in your little girl may simply be a reflection of the joy of being in complete control of her universe. She is all-powerful. How fun is that? As long as these impulses are expressed through play and not manifesting in aggressive, hurtful behavior beyond playtime, there is likely little to be concerned about.

There’s also a somewhat innate destructive urge that can be seen in any toddler on a beach relishing their demolition of a sand castle. The glee you describe in your little girl may simply be a reflection of the joy of being in complete control of her universe. She is all-powerful. How fun is that? As long as these impulses are expressed through play and not manifesting in aggressive, hurtful behavior beyond playtime, there is likely little to be concerned about.

You are right not to want her to think she is being “bad” by engaging in this play. One helpful approach is to express curiosity. For example, you might ask her why she wants to pretend to “punch each other.” You can engage in some complicated, choreographed, slow-motion “fights” that could actually be fun and enjoyable for both of you, while talking with her about why you would never actually harm each other in real life. You can also ask her what happens to a toy when it “dies” and explore her understanding of what that means. Asking her to tell you what it means to be a “bad guy” or a “good guy” can give you some insight into her developing sense of morality—and even if she chooses to be the “bad guy” in play, that doesn’t mean she actually embraces the dark side.

It is natural as a parent to worry about all that our children will be exposed to when they are not in our care, and yet, as they get older, more and more of their time will be spent beyond the walls of our homes. We can’t prevent them from hearing and seeing things we might not like. What we can do is equip them to handle their experiences. Ongoing conversations about what we believe is important, how we believe we should treat people, and what impact our words and actions have on others around us can help our children navigate the various messages they receive.

If your child remains generally happy, sweet, loving, and able to express empathy, it is likely she is using this play in healthy, developmentally appropriate ways. It is also likely a phase that will pass. If, however, you see some concerning behaviors going beyond the scope of play, you may want to consult with a child therapist to address those concerns. Your child’s teacher can also be a great source of information about how your daughter’s behavior at school compares with what you see at home, as well putting it in context with the other 5-year-olds in her school.

Best of luck,

Erika

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

My husband and I have been together for five years and have a great marriage that includes a very satisfying and active sex life. I’ve never cheated on him, and to my knowledge he’s always been faithful to me. But I have always been a natural flirt. It’s almost instinctive. The words come out of my mouth before I even realize what they are sometimes, and I’ll touch someone’s arm or shoulder before I even realize I’ve done it.

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Part of it is that I’m a social butterfly, and my ease in relating to others has won me a lot of friends over the years. But the flirting gets me into trouble sometimes, and I’m not sure what to do about it. Don’t get me wrong: I flirt with my husband more than anyone. But I also flirt with other men (and even women sometimes) in front of him, and while he never said much about it in our first couple of years together, he tends to point it out a lot now, and has admitted it bothers him.

I want to respect my husband’s feelings, and I really don’t mean to hurt him. At the same time, by stifling what comes naturally to me, even when the flirting is innocuous, I feel like I am stifling an essential part of my personality. What can I do to reconcile this? —Flirting with Disaster

Dear Flirting with Disaster,

So your flirtatious behavior is hurtful to your partner, you know it, and you’re doing it anyway. What is the possible “disaster” you allude to? Is it breaking up with your husband or something else?

You say the flirting is innocuous, but I’m not so sure it is if it gets you into trouble with your husband. Accurate or not, from your words it sounds a bit like you’re looking for trouble.

Flirting comes naturally for you, and you feel you would be “stifling an essential part” of your personality if you didn’t flirt. Is it possible that using the label “natural flirt” to describe yourself—which sounds like talking up an enviable talent or skill—is a way for you to downplay the behavior and its potential ramifications? Being good at something doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a good thing to do.

You say you are a social butterfly and thus have a lot of friends. That is a good thing. How would you describe the “butterfly” part of yourself? Where does it come from? Do social butterflies always flirt? What would you lose if you didn’t flirt the way you do? Would people still like you and want to be around you?

You say the words sometimes come out of your mouth before you know you’re saying them. That can certainly lead to disaster. It might be worthwhile, in social situations, to train yourself to pause and think before you speak. I’d venture to say social success goes beyond the simple measures of how effortlessly you banter or many people you attract. Considering the implications of your words and behaviors before they become actions is an essential part of effective communication.

I don’t know much about you from your letter, but I have worked with people in therapy for whom flirting was a way of feeling close, reassured, important, and loved by others. It’s possible to have many friends and be lonely in certain ways. If I were your therapist, I would explore this possibility with you to see whether there might be some loneliness—perhaps emotional or existential rather than physical in nature—under the surface of your behavior.

You write that your husband has admitted your flirting bothers him. You also write that you flirt with others in front of him, which doesn’t sound innocuous.

I’m not your therapist, of course, so I urge you to work with a therapist near you who can help you get to the root of all this. It may also be worthwhile to see a marriage counselor with your husband, as couples counseling can help you both open up safely and understand each other better. Sometimes, the most important part of communication is simply feeling heard, and therapy creates an impartial space for that to happen.

You write that your husband has admitted your flirting bothers him. You also write that you flirt with others in front of him, which doesn’t sound innocuous. He may feel belittled. Many people wouldn’t like being in that position. Perhaps your aim is to tease him? If it is, does he know that? Does it matter?

What does his anger mean to you? Does it make you mad at him? Do you resent him or feel he’s overreacting? Do you listen, acknowledge his feelings, and pledge to honor them? Where do things go off track?

I guess I’m concerned that flirting with others is already causing problems in your marriage, and those problems may grow. It’s easier to work on problems before they get too big, or entrenched, in a relationship. Relationship problems tend to worsen if they are not addressed. Where might that lead in your case?

Do I sound a little extreme? Maybe. But something in what you’re not saying makes me hear an alarm bell going off between the lines.

Thank you for writing bravely and honestly about this issue and how you’re contributing to it. I hope you find a solution, perhaps with the help of counseling, so that you and your husband can enjoy many mutually happy years together.

Sincerely,

Lynn

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

My oldest child is 7, and many of his friends receive an allowance from their parents for doing chores around the house. I never gave the idea of an allowance much thought, as I didn’t receive an allowance for chores as a kid and don’t personally feel it’s necessary. But seeing his peers spend money and buy things for themselves (nothing major, just small toys or candy) makes my son want the same freedom. Plus, I’m facing a shocking amount of criticism from other parents in my son’s friend circle. I had no idea this was such a contentious issue! Those parents all say that giving an allowance teaches kids the importance of earning money through hard work, as well as the value of saving money, spending it wisely, etc.

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Of course, like any parent, I do see the merit of providing an incentive for tasks, especially when so often it’s like pulling teeth to even get them to put a dish in the sink. But I also feel strongly that chores are not the type of labor that deserves a reward, since contributing to household duties is something they will have to do their whole lives without compensation. In many ways, I feel like offering an allowance is instilling in them the idea that they’re entitled to payment for doing chores that are not above and beyond the scope of expected responsibilities.

Is there an argument for or against an allowance from a long-term mental health standpoint? Or is there a certain age when it’s better to introduce an allowance system? I know in the grand scheme of parenting the issue of an allowance, either issued or withheld, probably will not “make or break” a kid. Just curious whether you have any insights about lasting lessons a child might learn one way or the other. Thanks! —Raincheck, Please

Dear Raincheck,

This is such a great parenting question!

The first part I’d like to address is the criticism you are getting from peers. You are entitled to make parenting choices that work for you and your family that are aligned with your family’s unique values. The judgment you are feeling from the other parents is unfortunate—and ultimately their issue, not yours.

I’d also like to separate the two issues of chores and allowance. Chores are great for kids, assuming they are age-appropriate. They teach competence, life skills, and the importance of contributing to the family (something that combats entitlement and enhances gratitude). It is absolutely okay to expect your children, even as young as 3 or 4, to contribute to the household by picking up, feeding animals, setting and clearing the table, and other achievable tasks.

You are also correct that combining allowance and chores can be problematic. It shifts the focus from contributing to the family as an expectation, or social relationship, to a fee for service, or business relationship. What happens if your child feels he doesn’t need the money? Does that excuse him from feeding the dog? Combining the two also runs the risk of fostering a sense of entitlement—I’ve heard many kids, when asked to do something for their parents, ask, “What will you give me?” If they have been trained to believe task equals payment, this reaction is to be expected.

The allowance does not have to be exorbitant. It does not need to match what your child’s peers are getting. There will be plenty of times over the course of your parenting life when your children will compare their treatment to that of their peers (today, allowance—soon, phones and cars). You are under no obligation to match what their peers or peers’ parents are doing.

An allowance, however, is also pretty terrific for children. It teaches them the value of money. It gives them some independence. It allows them to contribute financially to gifts for friends or family and feel some pride and ownership. It also encourages them to learn about decision-making and delayed gratification. If they want a toy that costs $15, do they want to spend their savings on trinkets that cost $2,if they know it will delay their ultimate goal?

Allowances also encourage conversations about values. Some parents set up a system by which kids put money in spend-save-share jars. The share part is for donating to a cause of their choice. If that is something you want to encourage, there’s no better way to teach that lesson than having them involved in deciding what to give and to whom.

The allowance does not have to be exorbitant. It does not need to match what your child’s peers are getting. There will be plenty of times over the course of your parenting life when your children will compare their treatment to that of their peers (today, allowance—soon, phones and cars). You are under no obligation to match what their peers or peers’ parents are doing. However, conversations with your children about why you are making the decisions you are making will help them develop a keener understanding of your family values and priorities.

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I hear your struggle with incentivizing chores. Some parents choose to make chores a basic expectation (this is what we do). Failing to meet those expectations results in losses of privileges (screen time, dessert, play dates, etc.). There are also ways to encourage chores by instilling in your children a sense of pride of accomplishment. Letting my son hear me brag to friends and family about how well he did his “jobs” without prompting has accomplished far more than any sticker chart or reward system ever did.

You are right that this is not a “make-or-break” kind of parenting decision. It is, however, a tremendous opportunity to intentionally foster the skills and values you hope your children will possess as adults. If you want to read more about this topic, there’s a fantastic book by Ron Lieber called The Opposite of Spoiled. It delves into all of this and more and is incredibly informative and accessible.

Best of luck,

Erika

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I grew up in a fairly religious household where sex was rarely discussed (and when it was, it was talked about for the purposes of conception). Now, in my 30s, I have renounced many aspects of the religion I grew up with and come to realize some of the harm it caused in my life—including giving me a very problematic view of sex.

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I’m a virgin and have barely even been able to masturbate, let alone approach intimacy with a partner. I feel ashamed and guilty whenever I try, even though I tell myself over and over again that self-exploration is healthy and necessary. I desperately want a relationship, too, but can’t fathom the idea of overcoming my nervousness about sex and exposing my body (nudity was condemned in my family as well).

While I am still a child of God and am waiting for marriage to have sex, I would like to be more open to physical acts of love and more self-accepting when it comes to touching myself. Can you tell me why shame and embarrassment persist around the subject of sex, even after I have released so much other negativity that was ingrained in me through my childhood faith? How can I shake the bad emotions that arise instantly when I feel aroused or try to indulge my thoughts and fantasies about sex? —Shackled by Shame

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Dear Shackled,

First off, I want to say how much I respect and admire you. Clearly, you have worked hard to release the “negativity” that was part of your childhood. That is a huge undertaking, and you have accomplished a great deal. Nevertheless, you want to go further. You write that although you have achieved great self-understanding, there is an important aspect of your life that you would like to change—shame about sex.

You write that you feel ashamed and guilty about your sexuality. Shame and guilt are both powerful emotions, but very different from each other. Guilt has to do with feeling bad about something you have done. It’s hard to endure, but shame is worse. Shame is about who you are or, more accurately, who you think you are (based on the influences in your life)—no good, bad, worthless, and so on. If you feel guilty about something you have done, you can make retribution or decide to never repeat the action. But shame? Shame is about your core being, your whole self, body, and soul. I get the feeling from your words that shaming might have been part of your experiences growing up. Shame is used to belittle and control people; it is a tool of hate, not of love.

You describe sex as almost a great unmentionable in your childhood home, surrounded by prohibitions about nudity, masturbation, and adult relationships. Sexuality has something to do with love and loving, because sex is, finally, a loving physical and emotional expression of closeness with oneself and another. In fact, sexuality is an integral and intimate part of a person’s very being—and being in loving connection, the very opposite of shame.

You write that you are a “child of God.” I don’t know how you express your spirituality, but I wonder if you have come across this quotation from Ephesians 5:20: “For no one has ever hated his own body, but he nourishes and tenderly cares for it, as the Messiah does the church.” In short, take care of yourself, body and soul, with complete love.

I recognize—and maybe you do, too—that this sounds easier said than done. For many people, the shame they experience surrounding sex stems from societal and religious taboos that have developed over many generations, making it a particularly difficult subject to reconcile new feelings around. I urge you to be compassionate with yourself as you work through your feelings, which clearly aren’t comfortable for you. It’s hard to overcome a lifetime of conditioning.

Many people experience negative feelings about the body. You wonder how you might overcome yours. I would start by working with a therapist around issues of loving yourself, emotionally as well as physically. Therapy can be very helpful as you gradually unlearn the negative feelings that are attached to your sexuality.

I find myself wondering how you care for yourself. Do you provide yourself with proper rest and physical care? Do you beautify yourself and your environment? Do things you like? Do you recognize and then give yourself what you need? Respecting, caring for, and loving oneself may gradually bring you closer to your body. Again, be kind to yourself.

Many people experience negative feelings about the body. You wonder how you might overcome yours. I would start by working with a therapist around issues of loving yourself, emotionally as well as physically. Therapy can be very helpful as you gradually unlearn the negative feelings that are attached to your sexuality. The experience of talking about your feelings with a compassionate other may itself be a way to lessen your feelings of shame as you bring them to light on your terms. This is a gradual process. There is no hurry.

You might also find physical outlets, such as sports or yoga or hiking, for example, that you enjoy. These are ways to perhaps feel more at home in your body.

As you gradually feel all of who you are, and the joy in and around you, you might also discover the joy of companionship with someone special. Often, people who are new to sex are worried about how they will do, as if sex were a test or performance to be graded. There is a simple remedy for such feelings. Rather than focusing on yourself and if you’re doing things right, you can focus on what your partner finds enjoyable as your partner finds ways to please you. As you treasure each other, your intimacy may deepen and grow.

Thank you very much for asking this delicate question. I hope my answers are helpful, and I wish you a blossoming of your full self.

Take care,

Lynn

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I’ve been seeing this wonderful girl for over three years now, and my parents still have not warmed up to her. She and I are a perfect fit, very compatible, but not too similar. We introduce one another to new experiences, resolve our differences pretty well, and have fun together. It seems like the only piece missing is the fact my parents—whole family, really—don’t approve. They’re nice enough when we’re all together and have never been cruel to her outright, but my sister has made comments on the side about how I “could do better,” and my dad says vaguely insulting things like, “I always pictured you with someone … different.” I’ve also heard them mock her voice and make some jokes at her expense.

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I’ve never asked what, exactly, they find fault with, but if I had to register a guess it would be that my girlfriend didn’t go to college and has a nontraditional job. She’s not a deadbeat, by any means, and she’s still one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. She just doesn’t fit their view of what a well-educated person on a definite career track looks like. Otherwise, she blends very well with my family in terms of humor, ideology, political beliefs—pretty much any category that actually matters.

I really, really want to marry this woman, and could see myself popping the question in the next six months to a year, except that I desperately want my family on my side when I do. We’re a relatively small, tight-knit group, and it’s important to me that they at least see my love for her and understand she’s here to stay. Does this require a family meeting-type scenario to iron out our differences? Or should I just forge ahead and hope they jump on board and become supportive soon? —Meet the Mockers

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Dear Mockers,

This is quite the dilemma. It sounds like you have found a partner with whom you’d like to build a life. While this is a beautiful thing, it is complicated by your family’s less-than-enthusiastic embrace of her. I imagine this leaves you feeling pulled between the people you love most.

I’m curious about how you have handled the times when your sister declares that you can do better or your dad says he imagined you with someone else. Do you push back against this and let them know this is a woman you love deeply and with whom you can imagine spending your life? If you have not, I wonder if talking to them about how serious you are about this woman and how unacceptable you find their remarks to be would sufficiently address the issue. Perhaps if they knew she was here to stay and you wouldn’t accept them being unkind to her, they would realize they needed to get on board, as you say.

I’m curious about how you have handled the times when your sister declares that you can do better or your dad says he imagined you with someone else. Do you push back against this and let them know this is a woman you love deeply and with whom you can imagine spending your life?

I find myself wondering if your girlfriend is aware of your family’s lukewarm feelings toward her. If she is aware, how does she feel about it? Does this cause any conflict between the two of you in your relationship? If she is aware of their feelings, perhaps a “family meeting-type scenario,” including her, as you suggest could be helpful for everyone involved. You may even want to enlist the help of a family therapist to help everyone talk through the conflict.

I’m also curious about the dynamics in your family. Is your sister in a serious relationship? Are you the first to try to bring someone new into the family? For some families, this can feel threatening in a sense. They might even see her introduction to the scene as a threat to your place in their lives.

Hopefully, through some conversations with your family, possibly including your girlfriend and/or a family therapist, everyone can come together. If not, you might need to decide how to proceed with your relationship with your girlfriend without your family’s support. These situations can be very painful, and you might find it helpful to partner with a therapist to help you process your feelings and determine the best course of action.

Kindly,

Sarah

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

First of all, my partner does not hit, abuse, or commit any acts of violence toward me. It’s the main reason I haven’t left yet. I’m writing because I’m curious whether addiction alone is a valid justification for leaving.

I’ve heard of the “three A’s” (abuse, addiction, and affairs) that are warning signs and signals a relationship is in trouble. And I know everyone probably thinks their case is special, or that their lover is different than anyone else who abuses, cheats, or develops an addiction. I am aware the cards are stacked against me. So how does an optimistic person weigh all of those “givens” and make a choice about the future of a relationship?

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I have so much hope that my boyfriend will realize one day soon the strain his alcoholism puts on his health, our finances, and the plans we make. I catch glimpses of this realization occasionally when he sobers up (briefly). He has agreed to get help once or twice, but it never lasts. We’ve known each other for over a decade, and I loved the person I met all those years ago! I’m exhausted and sick of being the one person to try to remind him who he was.

Am I foolish for holding out hope that he will one day be that person again? Is there a chance I could get him the help he needs? —Hoping Against Hope

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Dear Hoping,

Thank you for writing, and I’m sorry you’re in such a difficult situation.

The short answer to your first question (is addiction a valid reason for leaving?) is yes, with this caveat: it’s not so much the “addiction,” per se, but your boyfriend’s “straining” behavior (as you put it) while under the influence.

Your excellent question also signals one of the reasons living with an addicted partner is difficult: the dual nature of the person’s personality (sober versus not sober). It’s like living with two people, but only you know it. When something this distressing is unacknowledged, a person can start to feel like they’re losing their mind. This lack of acknowledgment of your experience creates a sense of isolation that is itself is a form of abuse, where “crazy” starts to feel normalized or we become numb to it—until it grabs our attention again and we ask ourselves, “Why the hell do I put up with this?”

Except it’s hard to say “get lost” to the sober version of the person we care about. That version may show remorse, contrition, regret, etc., a stark contrast to the non-sober version’s selfish, mean, and spiteful behavior. Episodes of the latter are often forgotten or downplayed by the sober version, perhaps accompanied by an apology that rings rather hollow.

You have an extremely difficult decision to make, and for that you may need support. You can look for Al-Anon meetings—highly recommended—near you by doing an internet search. There are also online support groups, books on living with an addicted partner, and so on. There are also highly trained and skilled counselors and therapists who specialize in addiction and living with an addicted partner. I urge you to get support before you make any big decisions.

Some prefer meetings to therapy; with others it’s the other way around. I find that a combination of therapy and meetings can be most helpful. In meetings, we find others who can relate to us, to cut down on that soul-wrenching isolation, shame, and other pain.

Addiction puts everyone, including the addicted person, in a no-win situation. Just as someone with alcoholism can’t seem to live with or without the bottle, you love your boyfriend but can’t live with or without him. Leaving and staying are difficult.

Addiction puts everyone, including the addicted person, in a no-win situation. Just as someone with alcoholism can’t seem to live with or without the bottle, you love your boyfriend but can’t live with or without him. Leaving and staying are difficult. There is no “right thing to do,” necessarily. Even partners who are physically abused (men included) can find it terribly difficult to leave; it is hard to leave someone we love, especially if we have a history of tolerating emotional abuse, relational chaos, or trauma. (We often cannot help being attracted to what is familiar.)

You would not be shamefully “dumb” to stay, nor shamefully “selfish” to leave. In fact, sometimes it is such a gamble that jars the addicted person back to reality. It is usually action, not just talk, that gets a partner’s attention.

Some might suggest it’s important to have compassion for the addicted person, and I would agree—to a point. Have compassion, yes, but also set boundaries against hurtful behavior you have nothing to do with and cannot influence.

A good therapist can help you do the painful work of taking care of yourself. We can feel guilty or neglectful if we set boundaries and look after ourselves, especially when an addicted person under the influence lashes out at us for “ignoring” them. But as with a child in tantrum, consistent and firm limits are important.

My usual advice to people in your situation—barring anything life-threatening or physically injurious—is to take very small but manageable baby steps. For instance, telling your partner (while he’s sober), in as neutral a way as possible, what behaviors are hurtful to you, and what you can and cannot tolerate. Start small. Example: “I need to talk to you. Is this a good time?” If not, “When is good? Tonight at dinner?” Then, at the right time: “I don’t mean to criticize, and this is a little hard to say, but please stop lashing out at me late at night. It really hurts.” You might add, if the hint is not obvious enough, “You seem more angry and attacking when you drink.” Again, try to stay with a neutral tone with a focus on your own pain rather than your partner. Other-focused comments such as, “Boy, you’re one angry drunk,” or, “When are you going to stop drinking like a fish?” are unlikely to lead in a positive direction.

One can argue facts, but not feelings. If a partner is unwilling to listen to feelings, consistently stonewalls, or becomes defensive, then the relationship is in trouble—addictive behavior or no addictive behavior.

If your partner says, “Well, you hurt me too! Stop being so critical!” you can say, “Okay, I’m willing to hear feedback too. Can we both agree to do some work on this together?” If you are both struggling with this, relationship counseling can greatly help. The point is to work toward peace and productive communication, not the same old cycle over and over again. Some people reading this might say, “Why is it up to me? I’m not the addicted person here.” To which I would say, quoting Al-Anon, “Do you want to be right? Or do you want to feel safer and happier in your relationship?”

If these conversations go nowhere, and if efforts to get outside help fail, then perhaps leaving becomes the only realistic option. Again, sending a firm message—I cannot tolerate such hurtful behavior—is crucial. Though difficult, making such a decision may do wonders for your self-esteem and sense of empowerment. It may also trigger sadness or grief.

I wish you the best of luck, and again reiterate that you are not alone. Please seek support. Admitting a need for help—for you or for a loved one you can’t seem to get through to—is often the bravest thing a person can do.

Kind regards,

Darren

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

You have to help me—I feel like I’m living a terrible nightmare! I am not the type to snoop, but recently I’ve been seeing signs my husband might be gay. There’s what I think is evidence on his phone of random meetups with men, pictures … and even one lengthy text exchange with a man at his company. I didn’t read the whole conversation, but it seems to be a developing relationship. They were flirting and talking about feelings, “seeing where this goes.”

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I’m devastated and confused, and unsure where to turn. My husband and I are rarely intimate, which is an issue we were trying to work on, since we’ve talked about starting a family. I still thought we cared about each other deeply. We get along well, laugh a lot, and typically have a policy of honesty with one another. Or I thought we did. We were good friends before getting together, and we always talked and shared everything. I do remember, years ago, him saying he’d had a fantasy about being with another guy, and I believe I responded supportively and nonjudgmentally. It wasn’t like I thought he was going to actually cheat on me, let alone with a man. I just thought it was a fantasy. I have fantasies of my own that I would never act out.

He doesn’t know I saw his phone, and I don’t know how to confront him about it all. I can’t imagine living with this information and just waiting for him to bring it up himself. Can we work through this? —Dazed and Confused

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Dear Dazed,

It sounds like there are a couple of issues to tackle here. I hear your concerns about your husband’s sexual orientation, and I also hear some deep pain at the prospect of his cheating or being dishonest with you. Both sound like they are causing you significant distress.

I’d like to start first with the cheating issue. The loss of trust in a relationship can be devastating and hard to come back from. No matter the circumstances, if you fear your husband has been unfaithful, or is even considering being unfaithful, that is a painful feeling to sit with. Staying silent is not likely to bring peace of mind. Waiting for him to bring it up leaves you in a holding pattern that can make you feel powerless. Confronting him, however, brings its own set of fears. I strongly encourage you to find a therapist who can help you navigate through all of this with you as you decide what path to follow.

If you suspected your husband was having an affair with a woman, would your response be clearer? What if your husband is bisexual? How might that impact your view of your relationship with him and your future?

As to your original concern, wondering if your husband is gay, that lends an additional layer of complexity to your situation. If you suspected your husband was having an affair with a woman, would your response be clearer? What if your husband is bisexual? How might that impact your view of your relationship with him and your future?

Regardless, right now you are operating on suspicions, but without bringing your husband into the conversation there’s a huge missing piece. Perhaps he is, in fact, gay. Perhaps he wants to stay married and start a family, and also explore relationships with men. Without talking with him, you won’t know what he is thinking, which leaves you trying to respond to a situation with incomplete information.

You do have an opportunity to decide for yourself what your limits are and what you need in order to feel able to stay in a relationship with your husband. Talking with a therapist can help you gain clarity about what your needs and boundaries are. As for your final question—can you work through it?—that depends entirely on the two of you and whether your relationship can meet both of your needs. Figuring that out will require open and honest conversations, perhaps with a counselor who has worked with couples facing similar issues.

Best of luck,

Erika

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I figured it was time to write in with this question since I just got out of my car shaking with anger for the third time this week. I’m not sure whether my luck is worse than most when it comes to near-accidents and inconsiderate drivers on the road, whether I deal with these instances worse than most, or what.

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Obviously, I think I’m a great driver. But everyone thinks that. To me, it feels like I get cut off in traffic all the time, people honk at me when I’m doing perfectly reasonable things and obeying the law, and I’m usually very considerate when it comes to people merging, etc. But I find myself yelling at other cars and drivers multiple times a day, flipping people off, and having strong emotional reactions to other people’s behaviors on the road. I can’t arrive anywhere without feeling anxious and very angry. I’m willing to admit I dish it out, to some extent, but it still feels like the bulk of the injustice is done to me.

I know you can’t help other people (or me) become better at driving, but can you help me figure out how to get from point A to point B without seething and compromising the health and safety of myself and anyone around me? —Driving Me Mad

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Dear Driving,

Oh, so you’re the one who flipped me off yesterday?

I’m kidding. I also would agree with your assessment that, yes, most drivers (myself included) seem to think their driving is just fine and it’s all the other bozos on the road who need to get it together. You’re not the only one muttering, “Hurry up, slowpoke!” … and so on. In that sense you are not alone, especially should you live in (or ever visit) a major metropolitan area such as Los Angeles, the Bay Area, Boston, Seattle, or Washington, D.C., all with notorious commutes.

I could not presume to tell you what, exactly, is at the root of your so-called “road rage,” but I think it’s a good thing you’re addressing it. All of us get irate from time to time, but this sounds like it could be escalating and ought to be curbed somehow, lest you get so distracted you end up in an accident or an altercation with another driver. It also might be affecting your blood pressure, digestive system, and so forth. A surplus of stress always takes its toll.

One facet of your letter has to do with, to my ears, control or lack thereof. We are of course powerless over other drivers, though it’s easy to forget that when we’re sitting in our cars, in our own little bubble of comfort. It can be jarring, even scary, to sense chaos threatening that bubble, with other drivers following very different rules and protocols, or appearing to not give a damn about anyone else. Sometimes it seems every driver (except us, of course) has the attitude of “Me first, out of my way!” So it goes in the age of the selfie.

Combine this with our typical American individualism, our assumption of a right to “do things my way,” and our ever-expanding demand for speed and you get a prevailing ethos of anxious impatience and jitteriness. As one billboard for a smartphone recently declared, “It really is all about you.”

But look a little closer and I think you’ll find that anxiety, even existential dread, is a subtly unacknowledged factor behind much of this. It may sound like a stretch, but hear me out.

Driving is a quintessentially American activity, and our sense of community has shrunk so much that, in a way, our freeways and highways are some of our last shared public spaces. But we seem to have lost, in many ways, even this fleeting sense of “shared” space; all of it seems to have morphed, at least in part, into “my space.” Stop by your local Starbucks and what do you see? Everyone doing their own thing with their personalized headphones, laptops, or smartphone screens, tuning out the world. We crave a comforting bubble within which to operate, free from intrusion, the borders of which are under our control. This may be a kind of bulwark against chaos, a way of self-soothing our era’s growing uncertainty, where the rules of engagement (see our current national election) seem as undefined and disorderly as ever.

At the same time, most people I know feel enormous pressure to perform in a variety of ways: as a student, parent, worker, partner, all or some of the above. Strangely, the need for speed has only ratcheted up the pressure on expectation for faster, more. Some of us have more than one job while juggling big payments and debts. Our economy is now globally competitive. Thus our bubbles of comfort—within our cars, homes, and laptops—may become a way of soothing the terror of not being productive or inventive enough in an ever-more-fierce, demanding, chaotic world.

I’m sensing a deeper fear or resentment against having to make these hazardous journeys, without proper protection, almost like a child being sent into a school full of bullies, without anyone realizing what hazards you’re actually facing.

One senses this on the road, where there is anxiety about feeling blocked or treated as insignificant, or aggressively affronted by a stranger; one Buddhist author I admire, Chögyam Trungpa, said speed is equivalent to aggression. I might tweak that a little to say assertion, as a defense against anyone intruding on “my space,” or the equally unsettling prospect of feeling insignificant or intruded upon (“This is my road, not yours”).

Thus you might develop compassion for the situation as a whole, including your own anxiety—make space “around it,” as it were, as anxiety is basically fear. I often find the outside world becomes a reflection of our own internal state. (Pema Chödrön writes nicely about this in her books.)

Finally, there seems to be an almost childlike terror in your message, a fear of loss of control, of frightening or sudden intrusion. I don’t think one has to take a strictly Freudian interpretation toward “They cut me off!” as (literal) castration anxiety. Though perhaps there is a symbolic fear on your part along the lines of feeling disempowered, helpless, that takes the concrete form of anxious agitation and anger on the road.

My therapist’s ears perked up at the phrases “injustice” and “compromising health and safety.” My intuitive mind wants to link these two together and start to speculate on how such a compromise feels imposed upon you, whether you like it or not. I’m sensing a deeper fear or resentment against having to make these hazardous journeys, without proper protection, almost like a child being sent into a school full of bullies, without anyone realizing what hazards you’re actually facing. What, in other words, is the larger or broader emotional context of your life? It can be easier to be angry at faceless drivers than those closest to us, loved ones or family; is it possible these rude drivers (and there are many) are not the only ones you’re resenting? If this is the case, why? What is making you angry or anxious in your other situations—at home, at work, with family, and so on? (Anger is usually the “first line of defense” atop deeper emotions.)

I sense, in other words, a more personal injustice being felt by you, one that is coming out behind the wheel. You might confide in a counselor to release some of whatever angry or hurtful emotions you might possibly be sitting on, maybe communicate them to the right people to help you with whatever feels burdening or imposing. Perhaps a counselor can help you figure out what these emotions are, as sometimes we genuinely don’t know, only that they keep popping up out of nowhere.

Most of all, allow some empathic space for yourself to be human. This is a more common problem than you might think, which is why I’m so glad you wrote in. More often than not we are, for all our hyper-individualization, in the same collective boat, trying to right said boat through choppy waters. Thanks again!

Kind regards,

Darren

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

Apparently, I am the only person in my life who has remained unaware that I have a huge problem with talking to myself and narrating my own actions. A friend told me the other day that I talk to myself incessantly. I asked around, and everyone in my life who spends any significant amount of time around me confirmed it. I’m shocked, since I actually can’t stand it when other people do this around me.

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I mean, I’m not totally oblivious—every once in a while I’ll catch myself talking while I’m alone doing some banal task. Putting the dishes away, “Oh, that doesn’t go there.” Or grocery shopping, “Why, oh why, are there 437 different types of ketchup?” Stuff like that. But I seem to do it around people, too. I can’t get out a credit card to pay for something without, “Where is that card? Oh, I left that one on the table. Better use this …” blah, blah, blah.

It’s incessant, now that I’m aware of it. I don’t want to fill space like that, or make other people uncomfortable, or waste breath saying these things that have absolutely no value. Not to mention people often are fearful or wary of someone who mutters to themselves all the time.

Why did I start doing this? Does this say something about me or how my brain works? —External Monologue

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Dear Monologue,

Thank you for your question. Although what you describe—unknowingly narrating your world to yourself out loud—is neither uncommon nor an apparent mental health concern, I wonder when it started, what else might have been going on at the time, and why the behavior troubles you so much (that it may trouble anyone else is a separate issue).

Sometimes when we’re under a lot of stress, this sort of thing happens. Maybe you’re trying to figure something out, as people do when they’re faced with a difficult problem. Maybe you’re concentrating so hard that the words escape, a sort of unconscious blowing off of steam. Or maybe you’re just looking for an intelligent conversation!

Then again, saying something out loud can be a way to help yourself process your experience or remember something, like reciting a shopping list or a speech you’re going to have to make. Maybe you just like externalizing your thoughts into background music. Maybe this is your way of enduring the boredom of banal tasks. Maybe all of the above.

I want to be clear about one thing: Talking to yourself does not mean you are going “crazy,” if that’s what you’re afraid of. It just means you’re talking to yourself. A LOT of people do it. A lot of people even find comfort in it.

Also, why are there 437 different kinds of ketchup? I’d like to know too.

It’s possible your inner voice is trying to make itself heard, to help you get to know yourself deeply, but so far it hasn’t figured out how to make contact; it mostly just makes noise instead. Perhaps you could find a creative activity of some kind that allows you to just let your voice rip. Or just let it rip any old time, so long as you feel safe and you’re considerate of others around you. (It’s true that some people are disturbed when they hear a conversation with only one participant, which doesn’t mean the behavior itself should be interpreted as disturbing. Who hasn’t muttered to themselves?)

I want to be clear about one thing: Talking to yourself does not mean you are going “crazy,” if that’s what you’re afraid of. It just means you’re talking to yourself. A LOT of people do it. A lot of people even find comfort in it. The relationship you have with yourself is the most important one you’ll ever have, after all—and how you talk to yourself can nurture or even potentially hurt that relationship, so I encourage you to try not to criticize yourself about this.

A bit more advice: Listen to yourself. Pay attention to what you’re saying, and even more importantly what you’re feeling, when you’re talking. And find someone sympathetic and knowledgeable to talk to—someone besides you, of course, such as a trained therapist—about the unsettling feelings that surround your experience. Understanding those feelings and where they’re coming from may inspire more compassion for yourself and the behavior you describe.

Take care,

Lynn