Dear GoodTherapy,
I had been seeing my therapist for 28 years. Around March, she was unwell. This was a rare occurrence in our time together. But her viral infection persisted until about six weeks ago, when she texted me to say she would not be returning to her practice. I was and am devastated.
I asked if it would it be okay to email her. She said yes, but when I did, she said she was still ill. Initially, I drew on our relationship, which I had come to internalize. However, as the weeks have passed, I have felt angry at the way it ended. And as a recovering alcoholic (dry for 10 years), I am fearful of the future. I would value your views. —Hung Out to Dry
Dear Hung Out to Dry,
Thank you for asking this question, and I imagine other readers thank you as well. Few things can be more painful than the sudden end of a relationship, particularly one in which we felt a strong connection and entrusted with our vulnerabilities. I can hear the loss and confusion you feel and what I presume is a sense of abandonment. These are huge, potentially overwhelming emotions. Congratulations for reaching out for help.
When therapy ends prematurely, especially when it is characterized by a deeply established relationship, it can feel like your world is being turned upside down. It is not uncommon to feel the way you feel. I imagine it is hard to understand what led your therapist to terminate her practice so abruptly and taper off communication. It is understandable to take this as a personal loss. In an ideal scenario, when a therapist plans to retire or end their practice, they communicate this plan with clients well in advance and they discuss and process the transition in session, perhaps even over time.
No doubt you have drawn many associations between the role of your therapist in your recovery and progress. It is clear from what you wrote that your therapist has been instrumental in your healing process. I would like to point out something else: YOU have made it through the challenges you have encountered during the time you worked with your therapist.
Unfortunately, sometimes illness and/or other circumstances beyond a therapist’s control may necessitate a less-than-ideal end to the therapeutic relationship. In this case, it is up to clients to pick up the pieces and move forward, perhaps with the help of another therapist. (It is worth noting, though clearly not what is happening in your case, that when a client leaves therapy prematurely or without closure, this presents another challenge for recovery.)
You mentioned that you recognize how you have internalized this relationship. No doubt you have drawn many associations between the role of your therapist in your recovery and progress. It is clear from what you wrote that your therapist has been instrumental in your healing process. I would like to point out something else: YOU have made it through the challenges you have encountered during the time you worked with your therapist. YOU have maintained your sobriety for the past decade. Your therapist was likely not with you during every one of your darkest moments, but YOU were. While you may have internalized the voice of your therapist when experiencing these dark moments, ultimately YOU have managed these circumstances. You made the decisions yourself.
It is understandable to fear what lies ahead for you. Hopefully, you are able to consider your future from a place of empowerment based on your past successes. Another important step is rebuilding your support network. This has been instrumental to you in the past and will likely continue to be instrumental in the future.
If you haven’t done so, you will want to explore options for therapy for yourself going forward. I see it as a positive indicator of success for your future that you formed such a strong alliance with your former therapist. You can do it again. The new relationship will not be the same because the therapist will not be the same. The new therapist will not always respond in the same ways, nor offer the same insights. This is okay, and arguably a real positive.
Change, though scary, can sometimes push us further into growth. You can explore options and consult with more than one therapist before starting anew. As you know, finding the right fit can make a world of difference.
I hope this feedback was useful, and I wish you luck as you move forward.
Dear GoodTherapy,
Ever since my dad died last year, I have had no one to talk to. And really, I had no one to talk to for the last three years of his life, ravaged as he was by Alzheimer’s.
I don’t have any other family. I have no close friends, no husband or boyfriend, and no children. It’s just me and my constant companions: emptiness, loneliness, and my 8-year-old dog Roxie. When she goes, my life will truly be meaningless. Sometimes I hope she outlives me. If God had told me this would be my life, I would have stayed put.
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I’m not kidding when I say I can go three or four days without saying a word to anyone. I write, but it’s just for me (except this letter). Writing is like talking to myself, so that’s something, I guess. And it keeps me from losing track of language altogether. Sometimes I feel like I’m starting to lose my mind the way Dad did.
So now that you know how pathetic my life is, go ahead and tell me there is “hope†if only I do this, that, and the other thing. I probably won’t believe you, but I wouldn’t be writing if I had given up completely. —In Solitary
Dear Solitary,
Your letter inspires my curiosity, not my advice. I’m not going to tell you to do anything because I believe you already know what to do—you’re just not ready. Perhaps you’re too mad or too sad. Both, maybe? What I will say is caring for your dad for three years took a lot out of you. You’re flattened, your energy seemingly used up.
It’s time for renewal. I think that’s why you wrote this letter. I don’t know what you do to care for yourself. I don’t know what you like to do, what you’d like to learn to do, or what you’d like to do differently, but you probably know the answers. Knowing what to do can be a lot easier than doing it, of course.
I’m not sure what you mean when you write, “If God had told me this would be my life, I would have stayed put.†Stayed put where? In a different house, job, city, state, state of existence? There are hints of hopelessness in your words, but there is always hope. Sometimes it helps when someone removed from your situation points it out. Speaking of hope, I hope you will consider working with a therapist for this reason. No good therapist is going to tell you what to do, but they will walk with you through the hardest parts until you see your own way forward.
Can you use your compassion and commitment for yourself, too? If not, why not?
Had you always lived with your father? Had you always lived the same way? You cared for your dad, Alzheimer’s and all, for three years. You know plenty about commitment and devotion to others. I wonder where and how you learned. Did someone once care for you that way? Can you use your compassion and commitment for yourself, too? If not, why not?
I have a lot of questions. Maybe too many. Do you ever question yourself? You write, so I’m guessing you do.
You are clearly lonely, but you know how to reach people if you want. You’ve put yourself in solitary confinement. I wonder what you’ve done to deserve this. Or what you think you’ve done.
Is it punishment or choice? Maybe you like having time alone, too. After all, you don’t have to take care of anybody except yourself and your dog.
You think your life is “pathetic”? I don’t think so. I think you’ve got plenty going for yourself. You just need to decide to use what you have.
Take care,
Lynn Somerstein, PhD, NCPsyA, C-IAYT
Dear GoodTherapy.org,
I’m done with my family. With the exception of my brother-in-law, they have all become angry, nasty people (dare I say racist in many cases). Their beliefs are the polar opposite of mine. Some of them believe and say things that would be very hurtful to some of my friends, and I find it deeply offensive. Of course, they think it’s my problem for being offended. Apparently there is nothing wrong with them and I just need “thicker skin.â€
You know what? No. If not for our shared DNA, we wouldn’t even be friends. Why should I pretend to like you just because we were put on this earth in circumstances that caused us to have to tolerate each other?
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I have to tell you how alone I feel right now. I hate that I feel so out of place in my own family. It feels like a choice between morality and loyalty. I choose morality. My brother-in-law tends to grin and bear it, but I can tell he is struggling with this too.
I’m not sure why I am writing. I’m just really sad right now. I don’t feel like I have a family, even though they are alive and well. And I don’t know what to do about that. —On My Own
Dear On Your Own,
I’m so sorry you find yourself in such a painful place. We are living in polarized times where the differences between us can feel like insurmountable gulfs. There are many people finding themselves at odds with friends, family members, and coworkers in surprising and hurtful ways. There is no one way to manage these hurtful experiences; we can only find the path that works for us.
People can disagree, and yet, with compassion and empathy, hear one another and find ways to connect. It sounds, however, as if you have raised your concerns with your family and have been brushed off and had your feelings dismissed. That is not what you might hope to experience from those who are, in theory, closest to you.
I hear you framing your dilemma as a conflict between morality and loyalty. Perhaps the issue is better understood as one of mutual respect of one another’s humanity.
I hear you framing your dilemma as a conflict between morality and loyalty. Perhaps the issue is better understood as one of mutual respect of one another’s humanity. You have tried to share your feelings and discomfort and have not received understanding, compassion, or respect. It would be understandable if you did not want to continue being in relationship with people who seem to care so little about how you feel. That isn’t disloyalty, that is self-preservation.
Given how hurt and isolated you feel, it may be helpful to talk with a licensed therapist about your feelings of loss and disappointment. You can explore how you want to move forward and if there may be ways to stay connected with your family that would not be so painful.
Each of us has the family we were born into and the family that we create. Both can be supportive parts of our lives, but sometimes we have to move away from one toward another that serves us better.
Best of luck,
Erika Myers, MS, MEd, LPC, NCC
Dear GoodTherapy.org,
I grew up in a dysfunctional family. I know every family is a little dysfunctional, but my parents were a special case. They were always trying to catch each other cheating. Back before cell phones were a thing, Dad would sneak down into the basement and listen on our house’s landline. Mom would hide a camera in Dad’s office. It was like a bad spy movie.
As an only child, getting caught up in their spy war was inevitable. When I started doing normal teen stuff like sneaking a boy into my room, my parents would magically “know,†even if they were fast asleep at the time. They would parrot back private stuff I said to my friends over the phone, then laugh when I freaked out. After years of gaslighting, I seriously thought I was losing my mind.
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I know now that my parents were the messed-up ones, not me. But I still have all the habits I learned as a kid. I don’t talk about anything that could be used against me. I have a phone, but I’m leery about using it unless it’s an emergency.
I know this kind of paranoia isn’t healthy. I want to change. Coworkers and friends have told me to see a therapist, but telling somebody my darkest secrets sounds like my worst nightmare. The only reason I’m emailing you is because I know this is anonymous (and because I’m using my throwaway email).
I know deep down that most therapists would not blackmail me. But when I think about contacting one, I freak out and start thinking, “What if this is a bad one? What if they have hidden cameras in their office?â€
Trust isn’t a switch I can just turn on. I have barely any faith in my own memory some days, much less in a person I don’t know. Is there a way I can get help without throwing myself into a panic attack? —Cautiously Pessimistic
Dear Cautious,
I am so deeply appreciative that you took the risk to write in with this question and share so much of yourself. Even with the anonymity and “throwaway email,†I imagine sharing the details of your life is quite unsettling for you.
Human beings are remarkably adaptable. When children grow up in unhealthy environments, they typically adapt to those environments by developing various ways of being. These include behaviors, emotional regulation, communication styles, and relational approaches. While these ways of being help children survive the unhealthy environments they’re in, they become problematic outside of said environment. As children move on to adolescence and eventually adulthood, these ways of being either lead them to find other unhealthy environments or they find that in healthier environments, their ways of being create discord.
It sounds like this is where you find yourself now. You learned not to trust, not to share, and to be cautious about what, where, and how you communicated. The good news is it sounds like you have found some healthier environments; you mention friends and coworkers who care enough about you to suggest getting help. Unfortunately, I imagine you are finding that the ways of being you developed as child are now getting in the way. Therapy is, of course, an excellent forum for dealing with this. But because not trusting and not sharing were central to your adaptation, it is terrifying to think about trusting a therapist enough to share your “darkest secrets.â€
Give yourself some time to develop a sense of trust in your therapist before you disclose anything that feels too private. Also, as you move through the process, don’t be afraid to continue talking about any feeling you might have around trust between you and your therapist.
The question then becomes, how can you engage in the therapeutic process when trust is so difficult? First, I would suggest you look around at local therapists’ profiles and websites. Read a little about them and see if there are some you feel drawn to. Ask some of the friends and coworkers who have suggested therapy to you if they know of any therapists they would feel confident recommending. Once you gather a list of potential therapists, call them and spend a few minutes speaking to each. Then you can schedule appointments with a few you feel comfortable with and from those initial sessions decide who you’d like to work with.
Once you select a therapist, rather than diving right into the meat of the work, take some time to allow the therapeutic relationship to be established. You raise the question of how you can “get help without throwing (yourself) into a panic attack.†Perhaps you could begin your work by talking about the anxiety you feel about starting therapy and the fears you have about trusting a therapist. Maybe you could even work on learning some techniques to help you manage your anxiety. Give yourself some time to develop a sense of trust in your therapist before you disclose anything that feels too private. Also, as you move through the process, don’t be afraid to continue talking about any feeling you might have around trust between you and your therapist.
Finally, I just want to say that I applaud you for pushing beyond your comfort zone to consider getting help. Understandably, you have some deep-seated trust issues. And while that makes the process of seeking out and engaging in therapy challenging, it will be well worth it if you walk away from the process with a sense of healing and the ability to enrich your life with strong, trusting relationships. You deserve that.
Best wishes,
Dear GoodTherapy,
My best friend and I have known each other since college. We started out as “enemies,†competing to see who could get the best grades, run the fastest mile … you get the idea. Rivalry led to grudging respect, which in turn led to a ride-or-die brotherhood.
We moved in together after graduation, but the competitive streak never went away. We’ve always been rivals first, friends second. Now that we live together, we have smaller, more personal things to compete over, such as who’s growing the better beard, who makes more money, and so on.
At first it was a blast. We had dumb contests over who could clean their half of the apartment quickest or who could finish their cereal first. It made all the boring parts of adulthood fun.
But after three years, the rivalry has become a drain on my life. I feel as if I’m always putting on a show, like I can’t relax in my own apartment. It’s gotten to the point where I’m driving the scenic route home, buying a few more minutes to myself.
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Part of me wonders if I lost my enthusiasm because my friend got a promotion at his job before I did. I’m happy for him, really. But now there’s this unspoken tension between us. My line of work requires a lot more training than his does, so I won’t catch up financially in two years at least. I’m finding myself being more competitive about fitness to compensate, even though I’m already exhausted.
I want to quit this never-ending competition, or at least dial it back some. But if I talk to my friend about it, I’ll be “surrendering,†and my pride can’t take that. Is there any way for me to bow out of this rivalry without losing my friend’s respect? —Can’t Compete
Dear CC,
It’s funny you ask me that, because your competitor/friend also just wrote to me, and I’m trying to decide which is the better question.
Okay, I’m kidding. I appreciate the question. To be honest, it sounds like an excellent premise for a comedy film or short story. I can see the caption now: “Let the game begin!” with two serious young men staring at us.
I can’t help but wonder what keeps it going, and (in all seriousness) what makes the stakes so important. It is somewhat intriguing you have this self-protective pride with (I’m assuming) such a good friend (let’s call him John for the sake of simplicity). What’s up with that?
It makes sense that after three years you have tired of the constant rivalry, which from the sound of it pretty much overwhelms the friendship. I’m trying to imagine what meals at home are like. “Pass the salt.” “Quick: What’s the chemical compound of salt, and which elemental combination is toxic?” It’s a sure way to drive one batty, and I commend you for hanging in there so long. Part of me wonders, in fact, if your friend/rival feels the same.
In fact, it sounds as if the intense, never-ending competition has become a bit toxic, and certainly not fun—which begs the question of why you haven’t discussed it yet.
The moment I typed that question, a thought came to me. Perhaps it is hard for you to tell if “John” is truly a caring friend—would he forgive or accept your wanting to end the exhausting, perpetual contests, or would he lord it over you and say, “Ah, so you couldn’t handle the pressure, eh bro? Guess I win!” If so, the risk then is of possibly losing the friendship or taking a hit to your self-esteem (since obviously his estimation of you matters to you), thus the dilemma of having to endure or continue a competition longer than any iron man contest imaginable.
Now for a bit of oversimplified psychology. The pioneer psychoanalyst Heinz Kohut, who bravely broke away from Sigmund Freud to create a psychoanalytic or psychological perspective based on empathy, spoke of two types of “transferences.” Transference can be understood in myriad ways.
One of the ways I think of it is how we attach to others. Specifically, others who represent the possibility of meeting some of our ongoing or unmet emotional needs. It is not unusual for young men to enter the kind of friendly, even sometimes edgy competition you speak of. Here, however, there seems to be an extra something underscoring the contest; something that is very much at stake, that could be lost if one of you “gives in” or “succumbs.â€
Kohut spoke of an idealizing transference and a twinship transference. (There are other types, and this is oversimplified for the sake of brevity.) An idealizing transference tends to be that of a child looking up to a parent in search of positive reflection, encouragement, self-esteem, what have you. In Star Wars, for instance, Luke has competing father figures: the loving and benevolent Obi-Wan Kenobi and the darker, ego-based Darth Vader, each of whom struggles for the allegiance of Luke’s soul.
In this vein, I detect a possible co-idealization going on—either between you and “John,†or between you and some internalized father or authority figure whose possible “approval” (or denial thereof) is at stake in these contests, which have taken on significance. It makes me wonder if each of you sees a bit of your own father (or mother, or some other authority figure) in the other, or if you both invoke a coach you both had who instigated competition and doled out approval. Perhaps, along these lines, the two of you are now enacting or reliving an earlier, unresolved competition, the psychological stakes of which are mutually understood to be high.
This brings me to the second idealization Kohut talks about, which is twinship, or a profound sense of close companionship or cosmic similarity. A twinship is, as the name suggests, analogous to siblings. Using the Skywalker example, Luke turns out to have a profound twinship with his sister Leia, and (SPOILER ALERT!) sacrifices his life for her in the most recent installment. On a more comic level, there is a rich twinship between the two droids, C3PO and R2D2. (Many comic duos are based on such twinships, such as Laurel and Hardy, Hope and Crosby, Cheech and Chong, and man am I dating myself!)
I am curious about whatever deeper or unconscious motivations are pushing this initially rousing (I am guessing) and benevolently competitive twinship into an intensive contest where only one of you “wins” while the other shamefully “losesâ€â€”as if some judging but invisible authority figure is hovering close at hand.
It sounds like you are outgrowing the need for your friend’s (or some shared authority figure’s) approval, which to me is a positive sign; growing pains are never easy. You are realizing the rigors of this never-ending trial are becoming absurdly irrelevant and straining.
It sounds like you are outgrowing the need for your friend’s (or some shared authority figure’s) approval, which to me is a positive sign; growing pains are never easy. You are realizing the rigors of this never-ending trial are becoming absurdly irrelevant and straining.
Your task, then, as I see it, would be to find and tap into the “benevolent parent” or Obi-Wan Kenobi aspect of yourself. Confide in a trusted counselor or adviser. Maybe say to John, “Hey, buddy, it’s been fun, but it’s over. I just can’t anymore. Too tiring and time consuming, and we both have a life. We’re not college students anymore, so let’s move on” … or something of the kind.
You might also point out that life itself is competitive, in terms of finding a successful partner, career, and so forth. At what point does this college holdover become a distraction or safer way of competing in a wider, more uncertain, or even more intimidating world? Might the two of you become allies in spurring each other on, since the field of competition (as it were) has grown wider, more vast?
Finally, allow some compassion for the two of you, certainly yourself. Change is difficult, and transitioning into post-college adulthood is daunting. Clearly you have other tasks before you, and life is calling you forth. Sounds like you have good intuition to move on from this, and I would follow it.
Yes, it is risky, as John could become a taunting sibling or even invoke a dark or judging parent or authority figure before your very eyes and shamefully exclaim, “You weakling!” But honestly, so what? Do you really want to have a friend who is that inflexible, so insecure that he must always be competitive? I also imagine, by the way, that any potential romantic partners, were it to continue unabated, might find it distracting. (The comedy film I Love You, Man and similar “bromances” touched on these themes.)
The fact you even sent the question means your psyche or spirit is wanting to grow—which is difficult, to be sure, but a sign of maturity. In the end, you learn that a mark of true self-esteem is not needing to compare yourself, since each person is on their own existential journey. Perhaps this is, in part, what is dawning on you.
Hope this was helpful. Thanks for writing.
Dear GoodTherapy.org,
I have really bad social anxiety. I don’t want to go anywhere or do anything anymore because I’m worried I will say something stupid and people won’t like me. I am not a good speaker, so I tend to say things that sound dumb. Then I spend the rest of the night thinking about what other people were thinking when I said it. I second-guess myself a lot.
It has gotten to the point that even when I am forced to be around people, I stay quiet most of the time. I overheard someone tell their friend that I am “unfriendly†and “aloof†because I don’t involve myself in conversations. It’s like my choices are (1) sound dumb or (2) seem unfriendly.
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I can’t make friends because of my social anxiety and I don’t feel like there is anything I can do about it. Does social anxiety get better or go away in time? Or am I stuck being a socially awkward misfit for the rest of my days? —Outcast
Dear Outcast,
The pain and frustration you are feeling comes through loud and clear. You feel like social interactions are no-win situations—you either remain quiet and risk being perceived as unfriendly or try to participate in conversations and risk being perceived as less intelligent than you are. I also imagine this can become somewhat self-perpetuating. As you become more and more self-conscious about your social interactions, it likely becomes harder for you to engage in a way that feels good.
You pose two questions: one, will your social anxiety diminish in time, and two, are you stuck dealing with social anxiety forever. I suggest tabling those questions in favor of a different question: What can you do to make yourself feel more confident and capable in social situations?
You pose two questions: one, will your social anxiety diminish in time, and two, are you stuck dealing with social anxiety forever. I suggest tabling those questions in favor of a different question: What can you do to make yourself feel more confident and capable in social situations?
Joining a therapy group could be helpful. I know it might sound frightening to willingly put yourself in a group of strangers on a regular basis when doing so is deeply anxiety-provoking, but a therapy group is quite different from a typical social situation. First, it is designed to help group members deal with the issues they face. Second, therapy groups are established with rules that are designed to ensure the safety of group members. A group affords you the safety and security of therapy along with the opportunity to explore social interactions and try on new behaviors. As you do so, inside and outside of the group, you’ll have the support of the group to celebrate your successes and to process the things that don’t go as well as you would have liked.
If starting out with a therapy group sounds like too much, that is okay. You might feel more comfortable partnering with an individual therapist first to explore your social anxiety and develop a deeper understanding of it. You could also work with a therapist to develop some tools for coping with the anxiety so joining a group doesn’t feel so daunting. You could even begin working on developing some social skills that you could begin practicing when you join the group.
There are also public speaking groups, such as Toastmasters, that are designed to teach people how to master public speaking. Even people who feel relatively confident in social situations can have tremendous anxiety when it comes to public speaking. Perhaps if you developed a sense of mastery in public speaking, smaller social situations wouldn’t feel so overwhelming.
However you choose to handle this, I encourage you to take a proactive approach. There is treatment available to help you learn to navigate social situations in a way that feels more comfortable and allows you to form deeper, more satisfying relationships. You deserve that!
Kind regards,
Dear GoodTherapy.org,
My dad abandoned our family when I was in elementary school. A week after my birthday, actually. At 8 years old, I was man of the house.
My mom was already bringing home all the cash, since my dad never worked. Money-wise, our family’s situation didn’t change. But when my dad left, there was no more babysitter. I had to step up and be the parent for my own brothers, microwaving their dinners, teaching them to tie their shoes, and so on. This was back when kids could still play outside without the neighbors calling child services.
At the time, I figured my dad had rejected us. I got a whole inferiority complex about it in my teens. I looked for role models in all the wrong places. Therapy helped me get my act together, but it didn’t make the hurt go away.
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Later, my mom told me my dad was an alcoholic. He didn’t abandon us for another family. He was just getting drunk in a bar somewhere. Instead of hating myself, I started hating him. I mean, it was bad enough to choose another kid over me, but to leave me for booze? It didn’t make sense.
I’ve worked hard to move on. I have my own children now, and I raise them as best I can. But a month ago, guess what happened? The prodigal father returned. He said he’s gotten sober and he wants to be a father again. He wants to meet his grandchildren.
My little brothers forgave him instantly. They were toddlers when he left, so his absence didn’t hurt them as much. They pity my dad for having an addiction. Now they’re pressuring me to invite him to my daughter’s baptism.
I told my brothers that I refuse to let that man back into my life. If they want to spend time with him, that is their business. But I spent my whole life learning to get along without my dad. I see no reason to restart a relationship that only brought me pain.
Do I have to forgive my dad? I feel like I’m chained to this person who almost ruined my life. Am I a bad person if I want to leave my deadbeat dad in the past? —The Abandoned Son
Dear Abandoned,
You are the only one who can decide what relationship, if any, you want to have with your dad. If you choose not to engage with him, that does not make you a bad person. Simply being related by blood does not require us to sustain a relationship, particularly if that relationship feels hurtful or harmful.
I would encourage you, however, to work on forgiveness. Not for your dad’s sake, or so you can build a relationship with him, but for your sake. Holding on to pain, anger, and resentment winds up being toxic. It casts a shadow over our lives and our relationships in sometimes significant ways.
Holding on to pain, anger, and resentment winds up being toxic. It casts a shadow over our lives and our relationships in sometimes significant ways.
Your father was not able to be there for you when you were growing up. That was painful and confusing. His limitations prevented him from being the dad you wanted or needed. Nothing he does now will change that. You can, however, change your understanding of your experience if you choose to. Your dad’s addiction prevented him from showing up for his family. It must have been a powerful force for him to miss out on so much.
It might help you to find other grown children of people with alcoholism to share your feelings and experiences with. They may be able to share their stories and their struggles in ways that help you clarify your own. There are usually groups and meetings you can attend to meet others who might have similar stories to tell. I also encourage you to reconnect with a therapist to work through how you want to handle the family pressure you are feeling to invite someone who hurt you back into your life.
It is possible to have compassion for your father and to recognize his struggles and limitations without choosing to allow him into your life. Whatever you decide, leading with anger or resentment may cause you more pain and regret. If you are able to release yourself from that hurt, you may be more likely to find peace with your choices.
Best of luck,
Erika Myers, MS, MEd, LPC, NCC
Dear GoodTherapy.org,
My ex-husband is suing me. My kids don’t want anything to do with me. My job is a dead end, and my life sucks. I feel like I have no future and can’t see beyond the end of this letter. So why can’t I cry?
Most people in my situation would be bawling their eyes out, but I feel nothing. Just a void—an empty, numb, emotionless void. I can’t even remember the last time I cried. It has to have been over a decade.
I seem to have no tears in me at all. I even tried to force myself to cry the other day because I thought it might help to finally do it. I hit myself, hurt myself, called myself names. Nothing.
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What gives? The only thing I can find online is information about melancholia. I might be depressed, but I don’t feel like that’s the whole story. I haven’t been able to cry for a long, long time. Is there a psychological explanation for this? And what can I do about it? —Dry Me a River
Submit Your Own Question to a Therapist
Dear Dry,
It sounds like there is a tremendous amount of turmoil in your life. Considering the far-reaching impact it has had on a previous marriage, your relationships with your children, and your work, I’m guessing it didn’t come to be this way overnight. I imagine things fell apart a little bit here and a little bit there over time. If I’m correct about that, I think it is possible the numbness you describe initially developed as a coping mechanism—a way to help you manage all the pain associated with the tumult in your family and work.
Sometimes people try to cut off the more difficult emotions they experience, like grief, sadness, fear, and anxiety. The problem with cutting off painful emotions is that it also cuts off the positive ones, resulting in a sense of numbness.
Sometimes people try to cut off the more difficult emotions they experience, like grief, sadness, fear, and anxiety. The problem with cutting off painful emotions is that it also cuts off the positive ones, resulting in a sense of numbness. It sounds like somewhere along the way you just shut down to try to protect yourself from pain. After building this defense system over time, it can be difficult to reconnect with your emotions, as you discovered in your attempts to cry.
I think it would be helpful for you to talk with a therapist as you try to work through this and reconnect with your feelings. The safety of a strong therapeutic relationship can allow you to explore your world, past and present, and access your full range of emotions. Your work in therapy can also help you to develop healthier coping mechanisms to handle the more painful emotions you experience. It’s also possible that getting to healthier emotional state might help you to repair some of the relationships that seem so badly damaged. You might also feel better positioned to take on some new career challenges.
You have arrived a difficult place in your life and there are no quick fixes, but you do not have to go through this alone. There is help.
Best wishes,
Dear GoodTherapy.org,
My parents have three children, and I’m the least favorite. They’ve never said it in those exact words, but it’s obvious in the way they act. My two younger sisters are spoiled rotten. They don’t do half the chores I did at their ages. My parents pay for any clothes or gadgets they ask for. One of them is getting a car for her next birthday. Meanwhile, I’m working part time in between college classes just to afford textbooks.
Whenever I bring up the difference in treatment, my parents get really defensive. They argue they were just teenagers when they had me, so they couldn’t afford nice things like they can today. But if they have money now, shouldn’t they split it evenly between their kids? I mean, I know at 19 I’m technically an adult, but all my friends’ parents at least try to pitch in with college expenses. Mine are the only ones who don’t pay anything.
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It’s not just money, either. I visit home every other weekend, but my parents basically ignore me. Whenever we have company over, my parents will brag on and on about my sisters, but I’m always mentioned as an afterthought. I feel like a ghost in my own house.
I feel like I shouldn’t care this much. I’m an adult, so I shouldn’t be chasing after my parents’ approval. But I can’t stop obsessing about it. I’ll literally lie awake at night, just being angry. Sometimes I’ll find myself snapping at my sisters, even though they’re just kids and it’s not their fault for being the favorites.
Is there a way I can get my parents to see how unfair this all is? I sort of want to stop visiting home, just to see how they’d react. Is that petty? Should I just accept that I’m the least favorite kid and move on? —The Unfavorite
Submit Your Own Question to a Therapist
Dear Unfavorite,
Thank you for writing. Perhaps no relationships are as complicated as family relationships. It’s not unusual for oldest children to feel like they get the short end of the stick while their younger siblings get spoiled.
Often, as the family dynamics change, there are some very real differences in what parents are able to offer their children. If your parents were teenagers when you were born, it is likely you had a starkly different childhood than your siblings. Is it fair? No. Rarely are family dynamics fair. Generally, most parents try to meet the needs of their children that they are able to meet. There may have been needs of yours they were not able to meet that they can meet now for your sisters.
It seems, though, that bringing these disparities to your parents’ attention is triggering their defenses rather than empathy for you. It could be your observations are heard as a criticism of your childhood rather than as a wish that things could be more equitable now. While there may be many reasons your family dynamics are what they are, none of this diminishes the pain you feel.
There are likely some core messages you are getting from your family experiences that are creating significant distress. Working with a therapist may help you reframe your experiences in a way that brings you peace.
It may be helpful to think about what you want in terms of a relationship with your parents independent of what your sisters are experiencing. If you would like financial support with schooling, perhaps you could ask for it—not because your sisters have so much more than you did, but because it would be helpful to you. If you keep your sisters and any comparisons to them out of the picture, you might be able to focus on your relationship with your parents and reduce the defensiveness you’ve experienced from them.
You may also want to work with a licensed professional to explore why their approval is as important to you as it seems to be. There are likely some core messages you are getting from your family experiences that are creating significant distress. Working with a therapist may help you reframe your experiences in a way that brings you peace.
Whatever path you follow, if you focus on how unfair things are, you may only build resentment that creates a barrier between you and all members of your family. If you want to have healthy relationships with your parents and your sisters, finding ways to remove resentment will be essential.
Best of luck,
Erika Myers, MS, MEd, LPC, NCC
Dear GoodTherapy.org,
I cheated on my girlfriend. Yes, I’m a cheater and I’ll never live it down. I don’t deserve forgiveness. I don’t deserve her, period! I made the biggest mistake of my life and now I’m on the verge of losing the only person in this world that I can’t live without.
The backstory is that I got too close to a coworker and let my worst instincts get the best of me. We were together 10 or 12 times and I kept rationalizing it somehow in my head. Like, I knew it wasn’t going to be a long-term thing, but I selfishly wanted “strange†sex before the prospect of no longer having it disappeared forever. There was also a time when my girlfriend made out with a guy in a bar. I know that’s not on the same level as what I did—not even close. I just think it was part of my stupid rationalization. I feel so ashamed and disgusted with myself.
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I ended things with the other girl the same day I was caught, but obviously my girlfriend doesn’t trust me now. I don’t really blame her. She says she doesn’t think she can ever trust me again. I have offered to give her all my passwords and go to counseling, whatever it takes, but she says she’s not sure it would matter. Knowing I broke her heart is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to know.
She is taking some time to think about things, and she doesn’t want me to call or text her until she figures out what she wants to do. I am giving her the space she asked for. I am just hoping that when we talk again I can reassure her that I can be trusted. I want to make things right. I know I would never make a mistake like that again, but fixing her trust issues feels impossible. Help! I’ll do anything. —Astray
Submit Your Own Question to a Therapist
Dear Astray,
Thank you for writing. I’m not here to judge. Besides, judgment befogs understanding.
I feel your remorse. This does not mean I want to downplay the harm your behavior has caused to all three parties, including yourself and, presumably, your coworker. Sometimes such actions are indicative of a deeper issue that is not resolved by altering the offending behavior.
I urge you to focus on yourself during this “trial†time needed by your girlfriend. (I would take it as a good sign, by the way, she did not end it outright. The two of you must have built a strong connection prior to your affair.)
You can’t make her trust you again. It may sound counterintuitive, but the best thing you can do for her is to come to a rigorously honest (and empathic) understanding of yourself and what might have motivated this. You might consider couples counseling—or, if she is not willing, individual counseling in the name of compassionate but unyielding self-reflection. Here is an opportunity for a reckoning that could greatly benefit you and your relationship, assuming it survives. Even if it doesn’t, it would benefit your next one.
There is a stark up/down contrast in your descriptions of your girlfriend versus sex with your coworker, which might reflect a good/bad way of perceiving yourself. To hear you tell it, your girlfriend sounds almost unassailably perfect or wholesome (“upâ€), while your desire for sex with the coworker is “strange†or almost seedy-sounding (“downâ€). This is a bit of a catch-22 in that you appear to judge something that also remains desirable, that you have misgivings about letting go of “forever.â€
You can’t make her trust you again. It may sound counterintuitive, but the best thing you can do for her is to come to a rigorously honest (and empathic) understanding of yourself and what might have motivated this.
You might be surprised at the relatively simple human desires that become camouflaged in sexuality, which itself becomes a way of attaching to a desired other. Perhaps sex with your coworker was a way of soothing whichever vulnerable part of you felt “less than.†Perhaps sharing your vulnerability with your girlfriend felt too risky. (This is all speculation, mind you. I’m just reflecting on examples I have come across over the years.)
You also describe yourself as the lowest of the low, which indicates a struggle for self-esteem or perhaps some self-loathing that was likely present (perhaps unconsciously) before all this started. The behavior confirms what lies dormant. It is as if some part of you were saying, “Go ahead and mess around with your coworker. You don’t deserve your girlfriend anyway. You’re only going to lose her once she discovers the ‘real you,’ so why not?†I imagine this all fed into your rationalizing.
Or, quite possibly, there was a rebellion against feeling less than (“no woman will tell me what I can or can’t do!â€)—an assertion of sorts of your freedom before giving up something “forever.†Maybe there was a combination of these two (or more) threads running through this sexual detour.
As for “fixing†your girlfriend’s trust issues, decisive action on your part would go a long way toward showing her you mean business: a genuine effort to understand not just that your behavior was painful, but that something else was “offâ€â€”and owning it, examining it, and working on it. Nothing is more courageous than facing one’s own psychological struggles. It never ceases to amaze me how many are simply too afraid or unwilling to do this. Many would rather just “change the channel†or “swipe left†and forget it.
Showing her that you want to use this crisis as an opportunity to better understand yourself, which can only broaden your relational and sexual options in the long run, might show her you intend to grow from this. You might even start to see her as an equal, as opposed to her holding a standard you can never reach (which might create unconscious stress, resentment, self-criticism, and so on).
The worst thing you can do is try to shove all this back in the closet and quickly move on. Doing so practically ensures it will happen again in some other form. I can assure you there is nothing innately “bad” about what is behind this. You may discover, with help and diligence, that what lies behind it all is something stunningly human.
In the meantime, be patient and accepting of what your girlfriend needs. Talk is indeed cheap. Show her you will do what it takes to make this right. If you’re going to earn back her trust, it will start with respecting her needs during this difficult time. If you use the space to work on yourself, you will be better prepared to provide what she needs in the future.
Best wishes,