Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I’m reaching out partly at the insistence of a few friends, who all seem to be worried about me and my antisocial habits. I guess the problem, as they see it, is I don’t go out and party like a “normal” person. You’d definitely call me an introvert. I’m friendly enough sometimes, but I’m also the roommate who slinks back to my room instead of engaging in prolonged interaction with my housemates. I prefer writing to board games, and Netflix to house parties. I spend a ton of time online and mostly interact with online friends. I do have a few close friends I’ve kept (or who’ve kept me) after college and various jobs I’ve had, and I enjoy their company. We occasionally do activities together like hiking or movie nights, but I can’t really handle large groups or loud noise. And those events only happen a couple times a month … or I only join in that often.

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So the rest of the time, I get told I should have more of a life, should go out more, should be more social. The problem is, I’m a bit worried too. I don’t want to force myself to make small talk with people, but it seems like that’s how you’re supposed to get ahead in life, in a career, or in both. I worry that I lucked out with the friends I do have, and won’t be able to make more.

I’m not unhappy as it is, but I’m tired of feeling guilty for declining social events and doing things that feel better to me. Are humans supposed to be more social? How much does my mental health depend on social interaction and events? And do I need therapy for social anxiety? —Going Solo

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Dear Solo,

Thank you for writing. Thank goodness, also, for the introverts of the world; can you imagine a world full of nothing but extroverts? Sounds like a reality TV show on steroids.

Your letter is interesting in that it seems as though others in your life find your social preferences problematic, while you for the most part sound okay with them. Who are these others who “insist” you reach out? And why are they insisting you come out and play? Do their “protests” seem one-sided/out of self-interest? Or is there a part of you that wants to be more socially engaged but is hesitant? It is hard to tell if they are being empathically supportive or a pain in the … well, neck.

I take it you are not long out of college, as it is mostly twenty-somethings who place such an emphasis on partying, as these friends seem to. Not having sufficient “party habits” is not something to worry about. In a way, the “party” is about dealing with the anxiety of transitioning into the big, bad world of adulthood; sooner or later, the party is over. I work with people for whom the party never ends, and they end up struggling to get clean and sober as a result. Perhaps your choices will look prescient and mature in a few short years.

At the same time, it sounds as if this is has stirred some internal conflict, or you wouldn’t have written. I would also add that you do sound socially active to a degree and not “shut in.” The ability to maintain close friendships is an admirable skill.

Do your social preferences affect your work presently? It strikes me that you are able to socially engage, meaning you could do so if a profession required it, but you prefer not to as it is as not as enjoyable—or, perhaps, safe?

I must confess, however, I detect a strain of … something … in your letter—sadness, perhaps, or confusion, or some/none of the above. I can’t tell if it’s due to others’ apparent view of your choices or something else, such as a strain of isolation.

Which leads me to this question: Is there something emotionally undesirable or unsafe or un-fun about joining others live and in person, as opposed to online? I say this as you mention “a ton” of online activity.

Some might genuinely not know how to answer that. Here’s a constructive way to process not-so-comfortable feelings, which many of us would rather avoid. You can try this alone, with a supportive friend, or even with a counselor: Next time you get told to “get out more and join the party,” pay attention to what you’re feeling inside. Do you feel guilt? Shame? Anger? Anxiety? Some/none of the above? It may help to identify body sensations—if they are tense or knotty, and so on. Try to identify these feelings as best you can.

Assuming “social anxiety” is a diagnosis—and I personally have a lot of ambivalence about such labels and diagnoses, since they often hurt more than help—I would say everyone experiences some degree of it. So try not to get hung up on such labels; if there is anxiety there, it exists on a spectrum and, based on your letter, does not appear to be “severe” or acute. You sound like you’re doing fine on the whole, and the issue is more subtle than extreme.

Next, try to recall earlier times you felt such emotions and within what context they arose. Did this happen in college? High school? Earlier?

Another question I would ask: Were you ever asked to join in group or family events, in the past, toward which you were not particularly enthused, even dreading? Were you made to feel guilty or bad for having these feelings?

Again, you mention you spend “a ton” of time online. This is not the forum to debate the pros and cons of online socializing, but since you mention it, I wonder what it is that feels more enticing or safe or preferable about online versus in-person activity. As a therapist and Gen Xer, my perspective is biased in that I have come to value face-to-face interaction over online socializing, for the most part. While there are friends whose distance makes this impossible, at the end of the day, online exchanges feel somewhat empty to me, not as enriching or colorful as being together in the same space. This is not the case with everyone, however.

One could write a book about the phenomenon of online socializing (and some already have); my basic theme here is to reflect on what is going on in your own psychological experiencing, and begin to understand your truth, to see where you feel comfortable as things are, and where you might—if you choose—want to explore further or try new things. We all have what psychologists call our “growing edge.” It is not a bad thing to nudge ourselves out of our comfort zones, at least a little, with some regularity.

Finally, assuming “social anxiety” is a diagnosis—and I personally have a lot of ambivalence about such labels and diagnoses, since they often hurt more than help—I would say everyone experiences some degree of it. So try not to get hung up on such labels; if there is anxiety there, it exists on a spectrum and, based on your letter, does not appear to be “severe” or acute. You sound like you’re doing fine on the whole, and the issue is more subtle than extreme.

There might, however, be some twinge of concern about your experience with other people and what it brings up, and so a discussion with a counselor could help, if only to satiate your curiosity and uncover whatever this possible conflict is about. Though from what I can tell, it sounds as though your fears are more future-based and concerned with “what if” than anything tangible now, besides the possible disapproval of others. But others’ disapproval may be inevitable for those who want to march to the beat of their own drum. Unless that itself is the issue that gnaws at you.

In the meantime, it sounds like you have a core of reliable friends, and in the long run that’s really all you need. I would be curious to hear more about a possible note of sadness or quiet discontent in your letter, if that is indeed what I’m detecting.

Thanks again for writing!

Kind regards,

Darren

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

Sleep is supposed to be restful, right? For a few years now, my nights have been anything but. I wake up exhausted because my dreams are more tiring than being awake. They typically involve a chase of some sort, sometimes by car or boat, but usually on foot. It always feels like I’m trying to move in mud, or like there are invisible arms holding me back when I try to run, and I can never get anywhere as fast as I think I can. When I try to shout in a dream, my voice comes out muffled and restrained. Very often, water is a prominent feature in my dreams—enormous pools, open seas, or floods.

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These dreams are becoming more and more violent, too. Though I almost never die in my dreams, the situation occasionally comes close. I find myself encountering and using weapons I’ve never even touched in real life, let alone used against someone. But my dreams present scenarios in which I must fight for my life, sometimes to the death. 

I am not a violent person, and the thought of killing someone, even in my dreams, horrifies me. I do feel stressed quite a bit in life, and I imagine that’s a big factor in my dreams. But it’s not like I’m encountering life-or-death scenarios or anything. My life is not filled with violence. I have never been to war. I do not play, and never have played, violent video games. Sometimes I watch scary movies or TV shows, but even those don’t fill me with the kind of terror I experience in my dreams. 

I’m growing weary of the trauma of dodging bullets in my dream life. I’ll take any hint or suggestion for how to calm my dream state, whether it’s to eat more leafy green vegetables or stop wearing socks. —Wildest Dreams

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Dear Wildest Dreams,

First of all, thank you for reaching out. I have much compassion for people experiencing nightmares, especially because our brains and bodies physiologically react as if the experience is happening in waking life. Losing sleep also affects memory, everyday responses, and overall health. The good news is nightmares are normal part of human development and are often exaggerated so we may remember them. Dream pioneer Jeremy Taylor writes, “All dreams speak a universal language and come in the service of health and wholeness. There is no such thing as a ‘bad dream’—only dreams that sometimes take a dramatically negative form in order to grab our attention.” In other words, nightmares are a healthy way for us to work through whatever life-changing event or deep internal changes we are going through so we can tend to their messages. Once we face our fears, become engaged with the emotions, and tend to the dream material, we can “transform the energy.”

Take comfort in knowing that when we remember a dream, it means we can do something about it.

Here are some thoughts on the particular themes in your dreams that might shed some light on what may be going on in your waking life. It is important to note that although humans share a “collective memory,” we are also individuals. To truly engage fully with a dream, one must be mindful of these nuances, including personal associations, experiences, and emotional content.

Take comfort in knowing that when we remember a dream, it means we can do something about it.

Chased or Attacked by Someone or Something

The “chase” dream is a common one, especially with women who feel particularly vulnerable in waking life. Often the dreamer is being chased by an ominous being (or beings), which could be anything from “the dark figure” with no recognizable features to monstrous entities such as dinosaurs or zombies. It is important to note who or what is doing the chasing, paying close attentions to the characteristics. Who are you killing? What types of weapons are you using? If it is a vampire, are you dealing with lifeless bloodsucking energy in your life? Perhaps there are parts or patterns that need “killing off” in terms of character traits/people/situations/habits in your life that are no longer working for you. 

Feeling of Paralysis or Heaviness

These types of dreams are common because there is an actual physiological paralysis that occurs naturally during the REM (rapid eye movement) stage in sleep so the dreamer does not physically act out dreams (and hurt somebody!). Sometimes this state might seep into dreams as the condition of not being able to walk, run, or move, especially when in danger. It could also be a symbol of feeling helpless or stuck in a situation in waking life. 

Water in Dreams

The big wave, pool, or flood in a dream is pretty common, and it often indicates either some emotional overwhelm in the dreamer’s waking life or “big material” coming out of the unconscious. Am I feeling overwhelmed? Am I not tending to my emotions? 

Recurring Nightmares and Emotions

You mentioned the nightmares began years ago. I would explore if there was any particular event that happened when the nightmares began. One of the main symptoms of trauma is the affliction of frequent or recurring nightmares.

In my experience as a therapist specializing in dreams, I have noticed that the more engaged a person is in the healing work, the deeper the healing that can take place. This includes getting support from a professional who is trained in working with nightmares and dream analysis.

Warm regards,

Linda

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I recently attended a family reunion (full disclosure: this was in the deep south) and was horrified to discover how closed-minded and bigoted my parents have become. My family has always been relatively conservative, but this last trip showed their true colors and ignorance. They made blatantly racist remarks, said awful things about LGBT people, and proclaimed their intent to vote against extended rights for minorities.

I was appalled, to say the least, and too shocked to speak articulately on the matter at the time. It’s 2016, and yet I felt I’d entered a time machine and been transported back to 1916!

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Now that the event has passed, I’m still troubled by their elitism and hatred, and I’m left wondering if there’s anything I can do. They live in an echo chamber of their own beliefs—meaning I know their community and friends just reflect their “values.” So I’m not very optimistic about being able to open their minds, let alone change their thought patterns and attitudes. Is it possible? Should I try regardless? In some ways I feel like I’m trying to single-handedly cure people who are addicted, so ingrained are their habits and backward ideals. I wish there were interventions for racism. —In Fairness

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Dear Fairness,

Thank you for reaching out and opening this often-challenging discussion. Family can be both interesting and complicated, and when we add in hot topic discussions they become even more so.

While I deeply appreciate your desire to affect change in your family, attempting to change a deeply ingrained belief system is very challenging. As you noted, these particular family members are in an environment where those who share those beliefs surround them. When that is the case, it is extremely difficult for anything other than those beliefs to stand. In fact, there is a theory called “confirmation bias” that shows people tend to look for and interpret information in a way that supports their beliefs; anything coming their way that contradicts that may not matter.

The only thing we really have power over is ourselves. While we may attempt to impact the world and those around us, we are responsible only for our own actions. Really, no matter how hard you try, you are not responsible for “curing” them or changing their minds, thought patterns, or beliefs. The best you can do is to offer the information to them; what they do with it is in their hands. If you try to take on the burden of changing your family system, you are assuming responsibility for something that is not yours—and that is an unrealistic burden to carry.

There is a saying that being a helper is like being a lighthouse—the lighthouse just stands and shines and doesn’t go chasing boats to save. I suggest you be a lighthouse in your family and shine with justice, kindness, love, and acceptance for all people.

My suggestion is to offer the information to your family without the expectation that they can integrate it, accept it, or that it will change their beliefs. You can be a beacon of light in your family of acceptance and more progressive values, but also know that openly stating your beliefs may put you at odds with your family. You may face criticism and ridicule for stating your beliefs. Only you can determine if that’s something you’re willing to deal with in order to be a force of change. There is a chance your efforts will yield nothing, but there is a chance that others may be impacted. The trick is being able to go forward without expectations and without feeling as though changing your family is your job.

There is a saying that being a helper is like being a lighthouse—the lighthouse just stands and shines and doesn’t go chasing boats to save. I suggest you be a lighthouse in your family and shine with justice, kindness, love, and acceptance for all people. As you do so, your very presence may illuminate the dark places. When you hear your family members saying things that are racist, bigoted, or something along those lines, find ways to gently confront it. One way to call it out is when someone makes a racist, sexist, or bigoted joke, say, “I don’t get it. Can you please explain?” That way, they are forced to explicitly explain the “humor” behind the “joke,” revealing the issue. When you adopt this stance, you are not being confrontational while still illuminating the issue.

Most of all, be gentle with them and yourself. These types of thought patterns go way back and can be hard to change. While it is always worthwhile to challenge the status quo, also consider some ways in which you can make a difference for future generations. Maybe you can’t change old ways in your family, but you can work to impact how the newer generation sees the world. I’d like to commend you for your awareness and for your willingness to serve as an ally. We need more allies in this world, and your efforts are noticed and appreciated.

Sincerely,

Lisa

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I grew up in a large, loving family, and thought for most of my life that I’d have a few kids of my own. I do ache for a family all my own, children to shape, share, and dream with, and the life that comes with being a part of something bigger than myself.

But in an increasingly hostile and unstable world, I have found myself in recent years questioning whether bringing another soul into it is a selfish or irresponsible act. I am not generally a pessimistic person, but trends over the past couple of decades—violence, overpopulation, pollution, disease proliferation, climate change, and more—give me little reason to believe the world will be a hospitable or positive environment for any children I choose to have (by the time they become adults, anyway). I don’t think I’m being overly fearful. These concerns are real, and they’re not going away. If anything, they’re very likely to worsen.

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So where does that leave me? These concerns aren’t stopping most people from having children. All my friends are having them, blissfully leading their new, bigger lives seemingly without any consideration for what their children will face 10, 20, 50 years from now. I wouldn’t ever call these parents selfish or irresponsible to their faces, but I do think they are, at least to some degree. If I have children of my own, I think I’ll feel like a hypocrite. If I don’t have children, I may feel like I have the moral high ground but my life will be emptier, too. I don’t know how to reconcile these feelings.

Am I looking at this all wrong? Please help! —Conflicted About Children

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Dear Conflicted,

The tension you are describing, between general principles and specific emotions, is challenging to reconcile. You are essentially torn between your head and your heart. Yes, the world can feel like a dark and scary place, particularly when so much of the news we read and hear focuses on tragedy. And yes, overpopulation is a global concern. Your concerns are real, and thinking about the world that your potential child(ren) might inherit is not unreasonable.

I wonder, however, about the role hope has for you as you look to the future. Is it possible that our children and our children’s children might play a pivotal role in reshaping the world for the better? In many ways, hope in the face of bleak prospects is one of the most radical stances we can take, and there is little in this world more hopeful than bringing a new life into this world. The parents you see “blissfully living their lives” are likely incredibly concerned, like you are, about the world their children will inherit. Perhaps that makes them more likely to live intentionally and seek solutions to the issues we face globally.

If adding to the global population truly does not sit well with you, there are ways to parent and nurture children who are already in the world and who could benefit from having loving adults to share and dream with.

None of us knows what will come next—what changes the world will see, what surprises our futures have in store for us. If we live only with thoughts about the long-term future, we risk missing the joy that can be found in the present moment. Your expressed desire to experience “the life that comes with being a part of something bigger than myself” is powerful and reveals something about how you find meaning in the world. There are, however, many ways to experience that life. If adding to the global population truly does not sit well with you, there are ways to parent and nurture children who are already in the world and who could benefit from having loving adults to share and dream with.

As you try to reconcile your mixed feelings, it might be helpful to find a good sounding board to explore how you might live authentically without denying yourself opportunities to live meaningfully. Counseling can be a great resource.

One final thought: I hear your concern about feeling like a hypocrite if you make choices at odds with your stated principles. True wisdom lies in reshaping our beliefs as we learn more about ourselves through life experience. This isn’t hypocrisy, it is growth. As you explore your feelings, it will be important to be open to reexamining what you believe and to be compassionate with yourself as you change and continue developing your worldview.

Best of luck,

Erika

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

Three months ago, my husband returned from his second deployment to the Middle East. I was excited to see him and resume our life together, but he came back to me a changed man, and not for the better. He barely talks to me. He just sits there and watches television or goes out drinking or lays in bed all day. Every time I try to talk to him, he gets snippy and tells me to leave him alone. I can count the number of times we’ve had sex on one hand. He has made me cry numerous times and he acts like I’m not even in the room, let alone tries to comfort me or apologize.

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I have gathered from people I’ve talked to that he witnessed some horrific things while deployed, including bombings, shootings, and several deaths. He has told me he was shot at repeatedly. I don’t mean to downplay the effects that can have on a human being. I can’t imagine having been in that position. I don’t doubt that it would change me, too. I know he’s hurting terribly, and I want to help, but he won’t let me. He won’t let me in.

After talking it over with my parents, I’ve decided to leave him, at least for now. I just can’t subject myself to the hurtful language and behavior anymore. He’s not treating me like a wife or even a friend, but rather like the enemy. And yes, for the record, I feel guilty about leaving, but should I? I feel like I’ve done everything I can do. Maybe you have other ideas. I hurt for him, for me, and for our marriage. —Not the Enemy

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Dear NTE,

Thank you for writing. I read your question with a heavy heart, feeling sadness for your husband and for you. I would not blame yourself or consciously nurture guilt or shame. It sounds as though distancing yourself was a necessary last resort. I do not think your husband is fully conscious of what he is doing, nor do I think you are acting selfishly.

Not to downplay your suffering in the slightest, but your husband has been to hell and back. His feelings and behavior are not inconsistent with other veterans exposed to such horrific trauma. It may be posttraumatic stress (PTSD) or dissociative numbness or some/all of the above, but I do know that too many of our veterans are not receiving the treatment they need and ought to have, considering their selflessness and risk. Not long ago I read that PTSD is not a qualifying condition for receiving the Purple Heart, that only obvious physical injuries qualify. This, I think, indicates the stigma of shame and corresponding ignorance accompanying mental health issues, which only superficially appears to undermine stereotypes of “bravery” and so forth. As always, we tend to be afraid of what we can’t tangibly see or explicitly define, and psychology remains a curious mix of art and science (and philosophy, and literature …).

Yet what could be braver than facing one’s own inner “demons”? A veteran I once treated briefly for addiction said he found facing “the monster within” was more frightening than actual gunfights he’d seen on assignment. Your husband is in the awful predicament of needing to process indescribably hellacious experiences, within the right setting with a trained professional, of course. This could never be expected of a partner or loved one.

Acute trauma also, as indicated by your empathic, eloquent question, affects the families of those suffering, as the traumatized one’s behavior pushes others away. You, too, sound traumatized in being neglected, shut out, demeaned, and so forth—painful experiences for someone who, I surmise, longs to reconnect with a long-absent spouse.

It is interesting that some people, including some professionals, call patterns of psychological suffering “disorders.” But if you put it in context, both you and your husband are having a normal, human reaction to extreme circumstances which would be “disordering” to anyone. Being abused in childhood or traumatized in battle might, for instance, lead to addictive or depressive (or other) issues, though it’s worth asking whether it is the person or their traumatizing experiences that are disordered.

Your husband returned to “normal life” with profound suffering and perhaps shame, and reacts by “acting out” (I mean this non-pejoratively) what he is feeling, keeping you at a painful distance and emotionally wounding you in the process. Perhaps he feels too overwhelmed or ashamed to express his pain and corresponding inadequacy, and so he enacts his trauma on those closest to him as a way of unconsciously expressing what he feels inside but cannot express, hiding his vulnerability defensively, even hurtfully. Clearly, there is some kind of unbearable risk for him in allowing the kind of intimacy you so understandably want and miss.

Often trauma makes a person into a kind of wary rescue animal—strong but brutalized, rowling or hissing angrily over and over again at anyone who approaches, until they can, slowly and painstakingly, learn to trust again. It is hard, if not impossible, for us to do this without the proper support.

His own repressed or dissociated trauma feelings are, in other words, probably similar to what you are feeling: shame, a sense of feeling torn, abandoned, and abandoning (since he may also long to reconnect but is too terrified or wounded to do so, perhaps guilty or ashamed he left you behind or is doing so now in his withdrawal). In a bizarre way, he may feel he is protecting you from the chaos within; if he feels he is drowning in unexpressed pain and terror, he may not want to pull a beloved into the maelstrom. He may say, in other words, “You couldn’t handle it,” while you respond, “Try me.”

Often trauma makes a person into a kind of wary rescue animal—strong but brutalized, rowling or hissing angrily over and over again at anyone who approaches, until they can, slowly and painstakingly, learn to trust again. It is hard, if not impossible, for us to do this without the proper support.

Of course, what your husband may be missing or repressing is that the distancing itself is hurtful to you and the relationship, and ultimately self-sabotaging, since what he (likely) needs most of all is human connection, emotional safety, and deep validation of his suffering, in a way that confirms (and not undermines) his manhood. (He may unconsciously feel he is “the enemy” for being so “weak” and shamefully afraid, may feel shame or guilt that he could not protect or save those who died—again, a common reaction.)

At a certain point, however, we have to get in the lifeboat even if our loved one refuses to do so. It is an impossibly painful choice. This leads me to reiterate, again, that there is no “right” decision here for you. You can stay and risk drowning, or find safety yourself while anxious you have “left him behind.”

If only we could somehow culturally redefine “strength” to mean addressing and healing, rather than avoiding or numbing, our own psychic pain and isolation. If only, in such a masculinized culture like the police or military, emotional sensitivity is not equated with being “wimpy,” etc. It’s actually the “keep a stiff upper lip and carry on” mentality that is dangerous after the battle has ended.

Perhaps, then, you can role model for your husband the kind of strength I’m talking about. I cannot recommend enough the following: support, support, and more support. I strongly suggest you seek out the kind of education and emotional assistance your husband needs. Is there a “wives of veterans” group, in person or online, from which you can find sustenance, both practical and psychological? Can the local or online VA provide helpful info? I would bet what you are experiencing is also not uncommon. It is too early to abandon hope, and helping yourself is helping the relationship since you are 50% of the equation.

You might also seek out counseling, either individual or group, via a therapist with specific training and experiencing in this area. Trauma resulting from military service or firefights is not quite like any other, given the specifics of military culture, codes of honor and bravery, and so forth. You can look via GoodTherapy.org, if you like. But do find something, because this is agonizing, if not impossible, to handle on one’s own. Ending the pain of your guilt and isolation will make it easier to communicate with your husband, and I would urge you to not make a final decision until after you have found some peer or professional support.

I thank you again for writing. You, too, are doing your country a duty in attempting to help yourself and your husband address the wounds he carries inside.

Kind regards,

Darren

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I recently attended my father’s funeral, which was a very large gathering with family, friends, and people in the community. He touched many lives and was well-known around town, so hundreds of people showed up to pay respects. Tears were shed, handshakes and hugs were exchanged, and memories were shared. It was an emotional day, to say the least … but I didn’t even come close to crying. In fact, I haven’t cried at all since he passed. I’ve tried, because it seems like the thing to do, and because people have been telling me things like, “You just have to let it out,” or, “You’ll feel so much better afterward.”

In general I don’t consider myself a very emotional person, though I’ve been known to shed a tear at sad movies. And I cried when my childhood dog died in my 20s. So it makes me feel even worse that I was able to express some emotion at those times and not now, at a clearly more impactful loss. And it’s not like I hated my dad, either. We’d grown apart in recent years, but I have positive memories from my childhood when my dad was around and not away for military service, as he often was.

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My two siblings are grieving in “normal” ways, and they definitely think I’m some kind of monster for not crying at all, especially at the funeral. Meanwhile, I’ve been the one with a clear head on my shoulders to help our mother arrange the memorial, get her finances in order, etc. So at least some good has come out of my apathy. But I do wonder why I’m not reacting more strongly, and whether I should be doing something to make myself move through grief more.

Would it be helpful to try to make myself cry? Does crying need to be a part of grief? I don’t want to draw the grief process out unnecessarily if I can instead just move forward. —Dried Up

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Dear Dried Up,

A parent’s passing can be a momentous time in one’s life—and assuming we know and outlive them, we all experience it eventually. Each of us will react in our own way. That means we will cry or not, feel sad or not, feel free or not, feel glad or not. Whatever our feelings or, more accurately, mixture of our feelings, we will be affected—some people more, some less, some more openly expressive, some less. That’s all part of being human.

You dubbed yourself “Dried Up.” I was surprised when I read that. What does it mean? Then I thought, “dried up” implies that what was wet before is dry now. I wonder if there were times in your early life when you were unhappy, and now you’ve reached equilibrium.

You write that you cried when your dog died and you also cry at certain movies. Some movies are arranged to make people cry; that’s their purpose. And when your dog died, you were in your 20s, a time when people start truly becoming adults. Although I don’t know you well enough to unravel what made you who you are, it’s certainly possible your dog’s death may have been associated with the end of your childhood. If so, you may have cried both for the dog and also that it marked the ending of a precious time in your life.

Now that your father has died, you wonder why you don’t cry. You wonder if there is something wrong with you, perhaps. That presumes that crying is not only normal, but mandatory.

Who says you have to cry? Every person experiences grief in their own way and in their own time. Everybody expresses their emotions differently, and there is no right way to do it.

Who says you have to cry? Every person experiences grief in their own way and in their own time. Everybody expresses their emotions differently, and there is no right way to do it. It’s a purely individual matter. You write that you are generally reserved emotionally—that’s neither a positive nor a negative attribute, but rather a description of your place on a continuum of emotional expressiveness. Some people are more openly expressive, some less, just like some folks have brown eyes and others have blue eyes.

Your siblings seem to have precise ideas about the right and wrong ways to have feelings and subsequently show them. I wonder if this is not part of a larger story about how you relate to one another. They are not pleased with you because you did not display grief as they did. Do you all have to be the same? Is there only one way to be?

You speak of your apathy. I’m not sure I understand what you mean by that, and I wonder if you might mean impassivity rather than apathy, so I looked up apathy in the dictionary. Merriam-Webster differentiates apathy from impassivity: “Impassivity stresses the absence of any external sign of emotion in action or facial expression.” What’s wrong with that?

I definitely do not think you should make yourself cry. You shouldn’t make yourself do anything. Just be yourself and let things take their natural course.

Take care,

Lynn

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I grew up in a fairly loving, supportive environment, and I don’t understand why I’m so filled with self-loathing. I hate my appearance, my mannerisms, my personality—everything. Most of the time I don’t understand why someone would want to date me or even be my friend.

A bit about me: My parents got divorced when I was young, but it wasn’t the messy, hateful kind I sometimes read about. They both loved me and I remember spending equal time with both of them. We’d go on trips and I remember being happy. I’ve had friends all my life, and though I got teased a bit in school (like I think all kids do at times), I wasn’t tortured by bullies or scared to go to school.

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But around the time I got to high school all of my jokes started being at my own expense, and my friends would get tired of my self-deprecating humor. A couple of people have told me it makes me difficult to be around—but, of course, that just makes me hate myself even more.

I’m nearing my 40s and am single, and would like to find a partner at some point, though I’m not sure I deserve it. Everything I see keeps saying, “You have to love yourself first,” and, “No one will love you unless you love yourself.” Is that true? I want to like myself, but I have no idea where to start. Any suggestions? —Accidentally in Loathe

Submit Your Own Question to a Therapist

Dear Accidentally,

To some extent, yes, it is true that until you love yourself, you are unlikely to be able to receive love fully from another. It doesn’t mean others won’t love you; it means you might not be able to experience their love, might question their love, and ultimately may push their love away.

It sounds as if you have been struggling with this for a very long time, and I wonder if you have explored counseling as a way to learn more about where these feelings of self-loathing and dissatisfaction come from and how to combat them. If you haven’t tried counseling yet, I strongly recommend that you do so.

Those messages you’ve been giving yourself (and those around you) can change. It begins with exploring the radical notion that we all are worthy of love, even when we don’t feel worthy.

From your description, it sounds as if your self-deprecating humor may have started out as a bit of a defense mechanism in high school. It’s not uncommon to use jokes at our own expense to defend ourselves from feelings of insecurity and fears of rejection. A common thought is that if we can name our faults ourselves, nobody else has ammunition to use against us, and the sting of another’s insult will somehow be less painful. What often happens is this defense mechanism becomes a habit. Then it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. We downplay our self-worth until we cease to believe we have any.

The good news is habits can be unlearned. Those messages you’ve been giving yourself (and those around you) can change. It begins with exploring the radical notion that we all are worthy of love, even when we don’t feel worthy. It begins with finding the things about ourselves that we do appreciate (even if they are small). Often, when I ask people in therapy to share their strengths, they struggle to identify any. When I rephrase and ask what their loved ones would identify, they are able to list several. Starting to see your gifts and strengths through the eyes of others can be a place to begin as you move toward eventually claiming your own value and self-worth.

Best of luck,

Erika

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

So I know “crazy” isn’t an acceptable term these days, but it’s a term I genuinely identify with, since I don’t know what’s wrong with me and find myself making decisions and doing things even I would say are crazy. I often experience irrational hatred toward people I barely know, especially if I want something they have or think they’re extremely attractive. I’ll obsessively text an ex after we break up, or I’ll pick a fight with a friend for no apparent reason. And then I have this brain-fog feeling afterward and can’t help wonder if it was really me who did those things. I remember it all and feel guilty and cry … and then keep doing similar things!

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I feel like I leave the destruction of a tornado in my path. My friends, though they seem to stick around, have called me crazy, and we joke about how I’m the “hot mess” type. But they keep me at arm’s length, and deep down I know they’re right to do so. Things aren’t adding up in my own head. I don’t want to be manipulative and passive-aggressive, and I don’t want to act so irrationally and keep driving people away. Help? —Still Crazy After All These Tears

Submit Your Own Question to a Therapist

Dear Tears,

Well, I see you have kept a sense of humor. And you have a circle of loyal friends, too. You understand and agree with how they see you, and how they protect themselves by “keeping you at arm’s length.” All of these are strengths you should be proud of.

Nevertheless, you’re puzzled by your behavior, which you say leaves “the destruction of a tornado.” You describe yourself as angry, obsessive, manipulative, passive-aggressive, and hating in some instances. You say your actions “don’t add up” and are irrational. You describe a “brain-fog” feeling that makes you doubt if it was really you “who did these things.” Then you remember it all, “feel guilty, and cry.” You think you are crazy, even though you feel the word “crazy” is unacceptable.

I think you have made a wise and courageous first step by writing in to ask this question. Now it’s time for the next step, to consult with a therapist in person. That can feel a lot scarier than writing, but you will get a more valid opinion from someone you see in person and can talk with. Why not consult a mental health professional and see what that person thinks? Do you have a medical doctor? Perhaps there is a physical problem causing you distress. That can be a good place to start. Without more information from you, it would be inappropriate for me to speculate as to what might be going on beneath the surface.

I think you have made a wise and courageous first step by writing in to ask this question. Now it’s time for the next step, to consult with a therapist in person.

Check your resources. Are you involved with a religious leader who might refer you to someone who can help? Is there a school near where you live that might have a referral service? Who might help? You might see a professional such as a social worker, psychologist, psychotherapist, or psychiatrist.

What is it like to see a mental health worker? Typically, you will call for an appointment, meet with the therapist, explain your concern, and answer questions about yourself—the kinds of questions, actually, you are already asking yourself, as I can see from your letter. You can also ask questions of the therapist, such as what might be the problem, how long does it take to work on this, what happens next, have you worked with someone like me in the past, how did that go, and what do you think?

Just as the therapist is getting to know you, remember that you, too, are getting to know the therapist, and your opinion matters. Do you feel comfortable, even though you might feel nervous? Do you find the therapist likable? Do you think you will feel more at ease to speak freely after a getting-to-know-you period?

Thank you so much for writing in and asking this question. When people ask questions, they open up the world for themselves and for others.

Take care and good luck,

Lynn

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

I’m a wife, mother of two, and have a great career in the legal field. I’ve been supporting my husband since we got married three years ago while he finished his degree, which he did nine months ago. The plan was for him to start his own career after he graduated, but he has had no success finding a suitable job and is quickly losing hope for finding work in the field he studied.

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He has a history of depression, and I think he is quite depressed. The only types of jobs he can get right now are for minimum wage doing things like janitorial work. He is unwilling to do that type of work out of concern it will kill his spirits and make it harder for him to get a job he really wants.

Instead of focusing what little energy he has on finding the job he wants, now he’s talking about going BACK to school to study something else with better career prospects. Needless to say, I’m not too keen on this plan, as I didn’t think I was signing up to be the sole breadwinner for the first five to seven years of our marriage, if not longer. It’s starting to feel like he’s taking me for granted and instead should be redoubling his efforts to put the degree he just attained to use.

I think he expects me to go along with his new plan. It’s true that I can afford to provide for the family by myself indefinitely, but that doesn’t sit well with me and it doesn’t feel fair or reasonable. I am afraid to bring up my true feelings about this out of fear it will worsen his depression and sense of hopelessness. His mental health seems precarious as it is.

He’s a good father despite not being my children’s biological dad. He’s a good husband, too, aside from this ongoing saga. I just don’t know what to do. I want to be with him, but I don’t know if I’m willing to go down this road again. I don’t want to resent him, but it feels, in a way, like I have three children. What do you think? —Sugar Mama

Dear Sugar Mama,

It sounds like you and your husband BOTH may be depressed, and you appear to be somewhat angry, too, about his inability to find a decent job and help support the family. I feel for you both. It’s hard to carry this load alone, as you have been doing for three years already. I imagine it’s hard for him to be carried by you, too, and to not be able to find suitable work.

I don’t know what kind of career he has in mind for himself, but it is true that some fields are slow starters. Maybe he’s thinking he made the wrong choice for himself professionally and wants to correct this mistake. Maybe you’re thinking you made the wrong romantic choice and want to correct that, too. At the very least, you feel burdened.

You are afraid to talk to your husband about your fears. I understand your concerns, but communication is a top priority in a deep relationship. Learning how to discuss difficult things together is part of learning how to get along with each other. It will serve your relationship well both now and in the future.

Despite his real problems work-wise, you state he is a good father to your children, even though they are not biologically his, and he is a good husband to you. These are priceless gifts. His ability to be caring, loving, and nurturing are important contributions to a happy family life.

You are afraid to talk to your husband about your fears. I understand your concerns, but communication is a top priority in a deep relationship. Learning how to discuss difficult things together is part of learning how to get along with each other. It will serve your relationship well both now and in the future.

I wonder if you have each considered counseling. Your husband might benefit from consulting with a career counselor, and it sounds like you both could benefit from couples counseling and perhaps individual therapy, too. Your family seems strong aside from this issue, certainly worth working to save, in spite of your resentful feelings. Love is a great and important gift. If talking this through with your husband (with or without a counselor present) would help preserve your marriage, consider it an investment in your family.

This is a decision you must make together. If you both want to stay together, or if you’re deciding on perhaps parting, please act to find counselors or social workers who can help you with this choice. Professional help can allow space and clarity to make any important decisions.

Marriages need to be cared for by both partners, but sometimes outside circumstances don’t favor family life—in fact, it can seem like they conspire against you. I hope you’ll do everything you can, together, to prevail. Silent resentment never works.

Good luck and take care,
Lynn

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

My sister has taken advantage of our mother for years. Beginning in her teenage years, she has lied, stolen money, used drugs, left home several times, used physical violence against family members, and run up charges on numerous television and phone accounts. She also drove our mother’s car frequently, with or without permission, and had several traffic accidents, totaling two separate cars, before she could no longer be insured as a driver.

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Each time our mother has insisted she move out, she eventually comes back with some new sob story—her friends stole her money, her boyfriend cheated on her, she lost her job, she’s sick—and she is allowed to move back in. Our mother feels sorry for her because she has a lot of health problems, and she also doesn’t want to abandon her child, but my sister is 26! No matter what is given to her or done for her, she continues to lie, steal, and manipulate. Our mother has to sleep with her wallet under her pillow and shift her money between accounts regularly so my sister cannot access it, and she is still in debt from years of taking care of my sister’s many bills.

My sister is also a constant source of stress to her. She can barely leave home for a weekend without worrying that something will go wrong. For example, last time she tried to take a weekend trip, my sister disappeared for two days after promising to take care of her dogs, so she had to spend hours on the phone trying to find someone to come by and look after them.

How can I convince my mother to stop enabling my sister’s bad behavior? —Sister Act

Dear Sister,

Thank you for your question. Let’s get right to it.

Unfortunately, you may not be able to convince your mother to stop enabling your sister. It sounds as if your mother is well aware of the issues and challenges your sister presents, and is still willing to support her, even at great inconvenience to herself.

The questions to consider with her, however, may include: What about this is working for your mom? What needs of hers are getting met by supporting your sister? My hunch is she has some strong beliefs about what being a good mother means—and that may include supporting her kids through good times and bad. She also may be afraid of what might happen to your sister if she did not support her. Whatever her beliefs, they are contributing to her willingness to continue on in this way. Having an opportunity to understand why she is doing this could be helpful for you.

There is a school of thought that suggests enabling dysfunctional behavior does more damage than engaging in firm boundary setting or “tough love.” However, there are many exceptions based on specific situations, so there is no clear-cut “right” answer.

The next set of questions is harder, but centers on how well this pattern is serving your sister. There is a school of thought that suggests enabling dysfunctional behavior does more damage than engaging in firm boundary setting or “tough love.” However, there are many exceptions based on specific situations, so there is no clear-cut “right” answer. It might be helpful if you and your mother worked with a therapist who has experience with family circumstances similar to the ones you describe. It could give you and your mom a chance to voice your fears and concerns while working with a trained professional on addressing those concerns in ways that feel right for you and for your mom.

It also sounds as if you might benefit from an opportunity to let go of some of the feelings you’ve been carrying about your sister, which therapy can also help with. I hear the concern you have for your mom; I also hear the frustration you have with your sister for her behavior. It is also not unusual for siblings to feel resentment when another sibling “gets away” with certain behaviors. It can feel unfair, at the very least. Harboring negative feelings such as resentment, however, can be toxic and keep us in a state of anger and frustration that ultimately don’t serve us.

For your sake, even if your mother isn’t willing to engage in therapy with you, I suggest exploring it for yourself. You might find ways to engage with your sister and your mother that bring you peace.

Best of luck,
Erika

Dear GoodTherapy.org,

Our son, who turned 18 last month, is about to graduate from high school. He’s a great kid, an Eagle Scout, and a straight-A student (3.96 grade-point average). He’s the president of his senior class and has multiple full-ride scholarship offers from elite schools across the country, including Stanford and Princeton.

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So why, pray tell, would he possibly want to join the military? This is the dilemma our family faces. Bernie Sanders isn’t president. College isn’t cheap. A quality college education is unaffordable for many families, including ours. By the time our son would complete his service, it seems doubtful at best that opportunities like this will still be waiting for him, and we won’t be in position to help him much. We feel like he is leaving not only free money (and a lot of it) on the table, but also his future, and for what?

His mother and I both see the nobility in wanting to serve our country and we admire him for it, but this decision puts not only his financial future at risk but also, potentially, his life. It’s an unstable world we live in, and not too many people who enlist these days manage to avoid deployment. We’ve tried to talk some sense into our son, but he says he’s made up his mind. Easy to say for someone who has never had to pay for anything in his life.

Please help us. How can we convince our son that going to college is a much better choice than going to war? —Dumbfounded Dad

Dear Dumbfounded,

Thank you for writing. I can’t help but think the answer to your question lies in the emotional undertone of the question itself.

As I’m sure you already know, the teen years are often a roller-coaster for teens and parents alike. It’s a phase marked by intense contradiction, as a burgeoning young adult seeks individuation and freedom while under the care and protection of the very people they are trying to separate from. It’s easy to get lost in the minutiae of curfews, driving privileges, allowances, homework, drugs, sex, and so on.

Though I find it a worthy question to ask, what is really at the heart of this? Usually it’s anxiety or fear. On the parents’ side, there is the fear the child will be somehow unsafe, now or later, and is throwing away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Parents fear that the kid who struggles in school may not be well enough prepared for college later; the kid who experiments with pot may be “setting themselves up for failure” down the road; and the son who says no to full-ride scholarships at elite schools has somehow gone off-track. What the heck is he thinking? That does it, I’m putting my foot down!

The teen, meanwhile, worries about the same thing, only from a different angle. Can I survive and flourish—socially, financially—once I’ve left the nest? If I’m too reliant on mom or dad now, what happens later when I’m working or at college? I can’t rely on them forever. I know they want me to take these scholarships, get an education, but I want a different kind of education. What’s wrong with that? To hell with ’em! I’m on my own!

Anxiety, in other words, rules the day, as each side feels disrespected or abandoned or shut out by the other.

Your letter is full of understandable parental anxiety focused mostly, it seems to me, on the future. He is “potentially” risking his life or possibly throwing away opportunities that may or may not be “waiting for him” later on. One could say these scholarships are once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. You could also say any kid with the smarts to get into these schools with a 3.96 GPA, and with a willingness to take the road less traveled, will likely continue to find opportunities. I know plenty of struggling adults who went to Ivy League schools, and successful people who went to community college, then specialized in grad school or elsewhere later on.

You have, again understandably for a parent, developed a vision for the best path forward for your son. What father wouldn’t want his son to go to Princeton or Stanford? I empathize with your confusion and frustration. I imagine you’re tearing your hair out.

But this is the great challenge of this mind-warping transition phase. As a parent myself, I foresee a time when my daughter will announce to us she has decided to become a doctor or lawyer (or better yet, a psychologist!)—which means, of course, that when she’s 18 she’ll announce to us she’s skipping college to join a punk band or travel to Antarctica to save seals. We want our kids to be safe; they want us to back off so they can test limits, take a bite out of the world, and dance near the edge. This is itself the delicate, anxious dance between teens and parents at this complicated phase.

As I often do in this column, I’ll throw out my 2 cents regarding some practical suggestions, followed by a more psychological angle.

First, talk to your son—as neutrally as possible—about what you’re seeing as the risks involved. The idea here is to model balanced decision making. Make sure he knows your “agenda” is only to talk through the decision with him. Does he know what a rare opportunity these scholarships actually are, how few kids get into these schools, for a free ride, no less? That these schools provide first-rate opportunities for networking and lifelong connection for just about any field of interest? That he could always enlist after getting his undergrad degree, or try college first and then decide? You could also talk about what assistance you can and possibly can’t provide both now and later.

Which branch of the military is he most interested in? What about it, specifically, draws him? What are they offering in terms of higher education down the road? What about any interest in specialty training? Also, to your points about his safety, is he interested in being deployed on dangerous assignments or tours of duty? If the answer is yes, would he be interested in doing some more research, such as talking to veterans who have served where he’s interested in going?

I don’t know your son, so he may or may not be taking some of his cues from you. If he is, try as best you can to be an example of curiosity over judgment, and most of all empathy for what he hopes to gain from the military.

I don’t know your son, so he may or may not be taking some of his cues from you. If he is, try as best you can to be an example of curiosity over judgment, and most of all empathy for what he hopes to gain from the military.

Empathy is the key, saith the psychotherapist. By this, I mean I would try to get as curious as you can about what draws him. Does he like the idea of discipline, training, and order? Is it weaponry and combat he’s interested in? Is it the idea of the safety of a “strong” institution to which he will belong, a new kind of family?

Listen for the hopes and yearnings more than the literal aspects. Then you might—as calmly as you can—explain why this is difficult for you (and possibly your wife). You have your own hopes and wishes for him as a caring dad.

Try to avoid a trap a lot of us fall into, which is playing the “this isn’t normal” card. Example: “It’s not normal for a kid as smart as you to enlist and blow off Stanford; it’s just not rational.” The implication there is he’s weird, an oddball, or worse. It will probably make him dig his heels in even deeper. Make your statements personal, not about “what kids your age normally do” or in the vein of “what’s really best for a guy like you, though clearly you don’t see it, is …” It’s possible he does see it and wants to do something else. Better to say, “Well, here’s what I foresee for you, and why, and I guess I just don’t get it, so help me get it.” Or, “As your dad, it makes me uneasy to think of you in harm’s way. We think that’s rare or never happens, but it does. I’m not saying don’t do it, but I am saying be clear about the risks.” You could also ask the gutsy question of, is his seeking out enlistment a way of compensating for something he felt he never got at home or school? You might also be listening for how he thinks this experiencing will point him toward whatever definition of manhood he has developed.

But again, be respectful, as this is his dream, his decision. You can disagree with it, but I would honor the fact the son you love finds it important.

Parenting can be extremely difficult, and it’s a never-ending duty. But sometimes kids somehow have to do the one thing they know drives us batty. It can be a test to see if they will still be loved by us in spite of their decisions, or that they are capable of making their own decisions completely free from parental influence. If there is any element of rebellion in his decision, try to be understanding rather than dead-set against it, as that puts you in opposition and back in the tug-of-war.

I wish you the best of luck, and encourage you to post any follow-ups to let us know what happens.

Thanks again for writing!

Best wishes,
Darren

I hear your frustration coming through loud and clear and it is totally understandable. You’ve been out to everyone for over two decades and feel deeply liberated by it. You know you’d like to celebrate your love and commitment to your partner publicly, but instead you feel pressured to speak about nonexistent women you are dating. The contrast between how you and he are living your lives could not be more stark. Since you are also sharing your lives, there is bound to be discomfort for each of you as you try to bring the other over into your way of being.

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This is a deeply complicated issue and one that is threatening not just to your relationship but also to each of your identities. You identify as a proud and out gay man, and this relationship is pushing you back into the “closet” to a degree.

This is a deeply complicated issue and one that is threatening not just to your relationship but also to each of your identities. You identify as a proud and out gay man, and this relationship is pushing you back into the “closet” to a degree.

Although American society has made progress over the past 30 years with regard to LGBT rights and acceptance—legally marrying your partner, for instance, was impossible until relatively recently—there is no question that discrimination and stigma are still problematic for many. Perhaps a large part of your partner’s identity is connected to his work, and if coming out costs him his work, he may feel like he is losing a large part of himself. This may be creating a power struggle in your relationship as you each try to hold on to your identities. Even if that’s not the case, it is clear this situation creates discomfort for you in your relationship.

Considering the depth of these issues, partnering with a couples therapist could be invaluable for the two of you. Through couples work, you could each explore these identity issues and how they impact your relationship. Engaging in the process together might offer an opportunity for each of you to develop a stronger sense of empathy for the other’s position.

If your partner is unwilling to go to therapy with you, you can engage in your own therapy to explore some of these issues and have the support of a therapeutic relationship as you try to figure out what you would like to do to feel more at peace.

Kind regards,

Sarah