aunt sally

This column appears weekly in the Style section of The Sunday Times, London. You can also view it on The Times online website 2010 February 7 - I love my husband but insecurity is forcing me to flirt with other men January 24 - Should I marry a married man? January 17 - Should I risk getting back with my ex for a third time? January 10 - Can my divorced parents bury the hatchet for my wedding day? 2009 December 27 - My father abused me and my mother covered up for him November 01 - I still can't forgive my father for abandoning my family and me October 25 - Should I leave my married lover or hold out for a dream life with him? October 11 - I can't stop having one night stands October 4 - I'm a man who hates my body September 27 - I keep hitting my child September 13 - Bereaved boyfriend September 06 - How can I overcome my addictions? August 30 - I can't forget my ex-boyfriend August 23 - Being single is making me feel suicidal August 16 - I have Asperger's but I want a satisfying relationship August 09 - I don't want to lie to my mum about being gay August 02 - Is my husband gay? July 26 - Intolerant of my family July 19 - My lover's toxic ex is ruining our relationship July 12 - I keep having affairs but I'm desperate to stop July 05 - Help me to stop harming when I feel upset or angry June 28 - I can't stand my boyfriend's family June 21 - Needy sister June 14 - Should I leave my depressed boyfriend? June 7 - Controlling Partner May 31 - Codependent family May 24 - Am I too needy? May 17 - I can't let go April 26 - I've lost my self confidence April 19 - He's clingy and demanding but I can't leave him April 12 - Struggling with a new relationship April 5 - Intimacy has vanished March 29 - I don't want my kids to be insecure like me March 22 - I feel abandoned by my girlfriend March 8 - A rift with my sister makes me sad February 22 - My husband's text affair has made me feel so sad February 15 - My boyfriend isn't ready for a baby February 8 - I don't see the point of relationships any more February 1 - My parents are exerting pressure to have children January 25 - My alcoholic mother still frightens me January 18 - My condition makes me push people away January 11 - Emotional vampires January 4 - I want another chance in life 2008 December 28 - My husband won't love me the way I want him to December 21 - My husband still blames me but wants me back December 14 - My husband's so perfect he's driving me crazy December 7 - I can't help my brother with his debts and drinking November 30 - Do I have a chance of finding love again? November 16 - After my violent childhood I am scared of being loved November 9 - I'm afraid to leave the wife I don't love November 2 - I can't move out and abandon my mother October 26 - I feel like a loser when I see my ex October 19 - Worrying for my alcoholic father has made me sick October 12 - I've sorted myself out. Now I want my boyfriend back October 5 - My boyfriend won't move in with me September 28 - I need to tell her that I loved her September 21 - I left my husband for an old flame September 7 - I can't stand my mother August 24 - I want to apologise to my boyfriend's ex for our affair August 17 - My boyfriend and I are constantly breaking up August 10 - My father's suicide still haunts me August 3 - I am trapped in my marriage July 27 - My wife's sexual past is destroying me July 20 - I am 30 and in a relationship that fills me with pain July 13 - Is this a mid life crisis or male depression? July 06 - I haven't had sex with my husband for months June 29 - He talks a lot about his ex June 22 - I can't forgive my mother but the anger is eating away at me June 15 - Should I stand up to my rude brother-in-law? June 8 - My ex-husband is manipulating me June 1 - I have a habit of kissing my friends' boyfriends May 25 - My on-off boyfriend has finally decided it's over May 18 - My father chose his lover over me May 11 - My jealousy is ruining our friendship May 04 - How do I forget my ex? April 27 - I can't bear to live with my alcoholic mother April 20 - Did I marry the wrong man? April 13 - I can't stop falling for insecure men April 06 - I fantasise about an old friend. What does this mean? March 30 - I'm marrying my first boyfriend but I still want to explore March 23 - How do I stop my volatile mother ruining my life? March 16 - Being a virgin in my twenties makes me feel unmanly March 9 - I cheated on my boyfriend - should I set him free? February 24 - I don't love my husband, but I can't divorce him February 17 - I'm addicted to porn - how do I stop? February 10 - I divorced my husband because I couldn't deal with his alcoholism February 03 - I can't love my five-year old daughter January 13 - Is this depression or just teenage withdrawal? January 06 - I'm addicted to emotionally unavailable men 2007 December 30 - Why can't my family treat me like an adult December 23 - He's putting his kids before me December 16 - I haven't had a relationship in 14 years December 09 - Our best friend is sleeping with her married boss December 02 - My husband's anger is destroying our marriage November 18 - How to be the life and soul of the party November 11 - I think my wife had an affair before we go married November 4 - I love him - but he's an alcoholic October 28 - My fiancee is a control freak October 21 - My boyfriend doesn't want us to have children October 14 - I would rather stay alone than risk being hurt again October 7 - I can't escape my needy ex-boyfriend September 30 - My relationship is making me feel like a paranoid control freak September 23 - Is being cool the best way to attract a guy? September 09 - An affair that hurts September 02 - Two men, one big mess August 26 - Can I save my marriage? August 19 - My wife is having sex with another man August 12 - Can't get rid of the lump in my throat August 5 - I can't get rid of this resentment July 29 - My boyfriend won't marry me July 22 - Teen love blues July 8 - Desperately unhappy in my marriage June 24 - Narcissist alert June 17 - I can't bear to be away from my boyfriend June 10 - I can't get over my boyfriend's ex May 27 - She won't return my feelings May 20 - How can I stop behaving so destructively? May 13 - I'm a successful guy, but a doormat in relationships May 6 - My boyfriend is in touch with his ex April 29 - I'm in love with two men April 22 - I'm worried about my mother who is bulimic April 15 - My stepdaughter is choosing her wastrel father over me April 08 - I despair of my controlling mother April 01 - I left my wife and kids for another woman. Now I want to go back March 25 - He broke it off but now he keeps texting me March 11 - I left my boyfriend but went back. Now he treats me like dirt March 4 - Why do I have difficulties finding the right person? February 25 - My elderly parents recently announced they have disinherited me February 18 - How do I find the courage to tell my ex-boyfriend how I feel about him? February 11 - My boyfriend asked me to move out of our flat February 4 - Why can't I stop being horrible to men who like me?   2006 December 24 - Does he want to marry me, and does he want kids? December 17 - I'm 33, single, and I pine for a man I can't have. December 10 - I'm 20 and he's 41. Is he too old for me? December 3 - My partner left his wife and kids for me. Now he wants to go back. November 12 - Should I marry my lovely but unexciting boyfriend or wait for true love to come along? November 05 - My sixteen year old daughter has left home and blames me October 29 - How do you leave somebody when you don't want to? October 22 - My wife doesn't want sex October 15 - I don't know how to be happy October 8 - My mother is critical and overbearing October 1 - I'm still in love with my ex-girlfriend September 24 - Letting go of the ex September 10 - I'm in love. Trouble is, I'm already married September 3 - I don't like my sister in law August 27 - I saw our son wearing women's underwear. Should I confront him? August 20 - In love with emotional damage August 13 - My boyfriend treats me like a flatmate August 6 - I don't want children and don't know how to tell my husband July 30 - I feel as if I've lost myself July 23 - My grown-up children won't accept my new wife July 16 - I love my boyfriend but I want to explore July 9 - I can't forgive my mother for staying with her abusive lover July 2 - How can I become more confident and likeable? June 25 - May I offer you a male perspective on separation? June 1 - I want to stop my son getting a divorce June 11 - What should we do about our sex pest neighbour? June 4 - My boyfriend refuses to sell out for his art but makes me pay for everything May 28 - I'm addicted to my ex May 21 - How do I leave my husband? May 7 - Do I have visitation rights to my step children?   I love my husband but insecurity is forcing me to flirt with other men February 7 2010 I’ve had to face some ugly truths about myself recently. My mum drives everyone away. She’s needy, demanding and childish, and now we don’t speak. My parents’ divorce didn’t affect me too much as I spent my holidays with my dad, whom I adored. When I was 10 he stopped all contact, although I repeatedly tried to contact him. I’ve been married for a few years, but have constant flirtations. It’s just emails and texts and the odd stolen kiss, but when it cools off I can’t stand it, and have to stop myself relentlessly pursuing them for the attention I obsessively crave. It’s like a drug. There are no lengths I won’t go to to get their attention. I love my husband deeply and know I’m being really selfish. The “other” men have all been at times when I’ve had problems with my family, and I’ve finally realised there’s a direct correlation, but don’t know how to deal with the underlying issues. I live in mortal fear of being like my mother and treating people as a means to an end, and I feel very lonely, but can’t talk to anybody about the horrible void I feel inside. I wonder if you can see the correlation between the desperation you must have felt when your adored father left and you repeatedly tried to contact him — only to be met by total silence — and your despair when the men you’ve been texting and emailing suddenly cut off all connection. Obviously I’m not saying it’s a good thing, but it’s understandable you feel compelled to pursue them. The lengths you will go to to get their attention are simply a mirror of the anguish and bewilderment of a child who’s carrying a wound that has never healed. You have severe abandonment issues (in other words, a constant, over­whelming terror of being left), which is hardly surprising as you were, in a literal sense, abandoned. That is com­pounded by your mother’s inability to give you the love and attention all children need, because she needed it for herself. That’s a horribly difficult situation to emerge from emotionally unscathed, so the backwash of loneliness is only relieved when you feel you are at the centre of somebody’s attention. In an emotional sense, that horrible void is your father. In your longer letter, you say you felt you were over the past and told yourself that some people are bad parents and you’re better off without them. You say that’s when you started the flirtations. The problem is that denial is no way to heal pain. Deep-rooted emotions that are not addressed fester until we find a way to relieve them. For you, relief comes through male attention as you try and fill the void your father left. It doesn’t mean you don’t love your husband. It means that, unconsciously, you don’t feel you can ever be loved enough, so you constantly seek more love and attention because, temporarily, you find relief. When one flirtation ends, you start another. As you say, it’s like a drug. When we’re in that much emotional pain, we’ll do anything to stop it, even those things we know are bad for us and might put our relationships in danger. It’s like the alcoholic who keeps going back to the bottle, even though they promise themselves they won’t do it again, but no matter how many promises they make, they can’t stop. In the same way, you try and stop yourself obsessively pursuing attention, but go back again and again because you “can’t stand it”. Addicts call the void you describe “the hole in the soul”. I know it’s difficult to talk about this stuff because of the shame and guilt attached to it, but until you do, it’s unlikely you’ll be able to deal with it. You can’t do it on your own — not because you’re weak or have no willpower, but because the emotions you’re facing are overwhelming. Keeping them to yourself is simply going to make you feel lonelier and continue your behaviour. There are people you can talk to who will understand what you are going through. Any counsellor would immediately pick up on the underlying issues driving you, help you to detach from the past, and address your compulsive behaviours. There’s also a support group that can help, Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous (SLAA). The phrase “love addiction” is simply a shorthand for attachment disorder (the loneliness that comes from not getting the parental attention and connection we need as children), and there’s a direct link between it and abandonment issues. I’ve attended a few meetings and met women who were texting men 50 times a day — which may make you feel “I’m not that bad”, but they were at the height of their addiction. Addiction is a progressive emotional disorder. In other words, don’t believe you couldn’t reach those levels of desperation. The fellowship, as it is known for good reason, helps people learn to value themselves rather than trying to find validation through others, which is what you’re presently doing. Nobody needs to know (hence the word Anonymous), so you don’t have to worry about confidentiality. All you need to worry about is finding the help and understanding you need. You can find a therapist at bacp.co.uk and a support group at slaauk.org . Should I marry a married man? January 24 2010 I’m 29, divorced, a mother of two girls and involved with a man whose marriage is breaking down. He married early and regrets it as he has nothing in common with his wife. We’re compatible on so many levels and the best of friends. It’s been five months and the excitement of the relationship is beginning to settle. He’s got two kids and I feel partly responsible for the chaos in his marriage and, having been through an emotionally abusive marriage myself, realise how difficult a time this is for the entire family. I support him in every way when he leans on me and we both understand the needs of our children. At the same time, I have doubts about a long-term relationship. He wants to marry me, as his conviction about our feelings and relationship is much stronger than mine; I feel we need more time. I’m also not sure if he’s emotionally mature enough even to understand his own feelings, especially during such emotional turmoil. It may seem easier to lean on me when things are tough at home. Do you think I’m just an escape route or could this actually become something? If I were you, I’d run like hell. I’m sorry to be so brutal, but you say yourself that you doubt he’s emotionally mature enough even to understand his own feelings. While the breakdown of a marriage is enough to send any of us into such a turmoil of emotions that we can’t think straight, it sounds to me as if this is a man in search of a mother, or, at best, a soft emotional landing pad to cushion his insecurities. Again, I’m sorry to be so harsh, but consider his behaviour. He regrets marrying early. Fair enough. Relationships go wrong and, sometimes, once we’re sufficiently past the dazzled light of love to see things more clearly, we may feel we’ve made a terrible mistake. This has consequences we have to face with as much grace and maturity as we can muster, and creates responsibilities we must take very personally. What we shouldn’t do is run straight into the arms of somebody else. Where is his sense of responsibility for his wife, his kids — even for you? I would take his impulsiveness very seriously. It sounds like desperate emotional immaturity. He married early, by which I assume you mean without much foresight or careful deliberation, and, after only five months, he’s hellbent on marrying you. Surely that must suggest an immature pattern of behaviour? That’s what I mean by saying he’s a man in search of a mother — or a woman to clear up his emotional messes. If his marriage is in trouble, he should be facing up to it and sorting it out instead of leaning on you. Of course, the relationship may be too damaged to be rescued, but marriages don’t fall apart because of just one person. The death of any marriage ­deserves a period of mourning and quiet contemplation while we consider the consequences of our own behaviour and the damage we have done. In other words, we need time alone to sort through our baggage, instead of ricocheting into another relationship and handing the load over to somebody else. You sound like a sane and sensible woman, but perhaps you’re not wise or secure enough to listen to your own intuition. Your letter is riddled with doubt. If you feel that many doubts already, there is no way this relationship is going to survive the toxic fallout of a marriage break-up and, quite possibly (and understandably), a hurt and bitter ex-wife looking for revenge. As for you being his escape route, my feeling is that you’re right. You’re the fall guy, somewhere to run for understanding and counselling. Why are you putting up with it? You don’t mention love or passion once, and while compatibility and being the best of friends are excellent bases for a relationship, in this particular situation they seem tepid emotions in the face of such turbulent and life-changing consequences. I have another question. If you’ve already been through an emotionally abusive marriage, why are you putting yourself in the firing line for another? I don’t mean to imply your married lover is emot­ion­ally abusive, but the consequences of taking on a man who is asking you to marry him after only five months, and while he’s still embroiled in the destructive consequences of a ­marriage breakdown, is going to leave you more bruised and battered than I think you have even begun to consider. I suspect, too, that you’re a rescuer. In other words, you take on damaged men (an emotionally abusive marriage seems to imply that this was the case with your ex-husband) and try to make them ­better. As you say, he leans on you and you support him in every way. That’s a bad image, as if you’re some sort of gatepost to prop up the weight of his expectations. If I have any advice, before you go any further with this relationship, it would be to listen to your heart and intuitions, but use your head as well to ask yourself some really tough questions.   Should I risk getting back with my ex for a third time? January 17 2010 I met my ex-boyfriend online and we fell instantly in love, but I sabotaged our relationship with my low self-esteem, drinking, demanding nature and general unhappiness, as I’d done with previous partners. My ex advised me to seek help and was supportive in the beginning, but then we broke up. It took a year of counselling and hard work to turn my life around. I stopped drinking, changed careers, gained confidence and stopped looking for a man to make me happy. However, I realised I was still in love with my ex. We got back together for a few months, but he became withdrawn and ended things, which I feel is about his fear of commitment and his anxiety that I was moving things too fast. A year later, we’re back in touch, which makes me happy as I hated being cut off from him. I want to be friends, but I know, deep down, I’d love us to get back together. My girlfriends are desperate for me to move on, but my heart says otherwise. I feel I’ve made so much progress, so I don’t know whether to risk it or try to let him go. You say you’ve stopped looking for a man to make you happy, but seem to have failed to grasp the irony that it’s exactly what you’re doing now. You’ve tried twice to have a relationship with this man, and both times he’s backed off. Surely that should tell you something? I know you feel he has commitment issues, but have you considered that the failures in the relationship might be more about you than about him? I suspect there’s a clue in the words “moving things too fast”, and that, despite all the work you’ve done, he finds you too high-maintenance, emotionally. The low self-esteem, drinking and demanding nature all come from the same place, which is a need to feel secure and to blot out feelings of not being good enough. In other words, high levels of emotional need. You’ve turned your life around, which is great, but being happy in the essentially disengaged activities of work and friendships can lead us to believe we’ve dealt with all our issues. It’s generally only when we get involved in the challenging arena of intimate relationships that unresolved emotional needs resurface to slap us in the face. I assume, when you say you stopped looking for a man to make you happy, that you haven’t been in a relationship for a while. That’s an admirable sentiment, but we could look at it in another way, which is that it’s an avoidance strategy. Your feelings about your ex might mean that, unconsciously, you see him as a safety net and are simply retreating to what you know, instead of moving into the frightening territory of a new relationship, where your emotional health and strength really will be tested. On top of that, if you’re right and your ex does have a fear of commitment, I’d leave him well alone. His unavailability will not only drive you mad, it may also jeopardise all the hard work you’ve done. It seems to me he’s made it very clear that the relationship doesn’t work for him, so you have to ask yourself why you’re continuing to pursue it. Your history of drinking indicates you have a tendency towards addiction, so it’s worth considering whether you’re replacing one addiction with another. Listen to your friends and take what they say seriously. Our friends generally see things in a far more objective light than we can, both because we are unable to see ourselves clearly (however hard we try), and because we become so wrapped up in our own feelings about a situation, we are all too capable of bypassing reality. I’m sure your friends are proud of you, and relieved at the way you’ve turned your life around, but their desperate pleas to move on are almost certainly because they love you and recognise that this relationship might destroy the fragile ­happiness you’ve found within yourself. If I were you, I’d use your new-found confidence and awareness to concentrate on the area in which, it seems from your letter, you are neither comfortable nor resolved (as so many of us aren’t), and that is intimate relationships. You’ve done brilliantly in facing your demons, but perhaps this is the last and most fearsome devil to confront. As you say, you have a history of sabotaging partnerships. Those patterns are incredibly hard to break, because they are unconscious responses, and in order to tackle them, we have to allow ourselves to be at our most vulnerable and exposed. It takes courage and resolve (which you’ve already shown you have in spades) to ­confront ourselves with brutal honesty and challenge our most destructive responses, but I honestly feel relationships are your tripwire, so it would be worth thinking about further counselling. You may feel frustrated at my suggestion when you’ve just got to a good place, but think of deep-seated emotional issues as an ­onion. With every layer we peel off, there’s another ­layer to discover, until finally, we get to the core. In some ways, you could see your ex as a godsend, sending you on a path of learning to future happy and healthy relationships. Can my divorced parents bury the hatchet for my wedding day? January 10th 2010 I’m engaged and over the moon about it, but it’s being overshadowed by my parents’ divorce 18 years ago. My father took everything, except the house with its huge mortgage, then retired abroad. My mother worked really hard to keep afloat, and although we were never close, I’ve grown to respect her and the fact she never says anything nasty about our father — although he’s a taboo subject, and she’s quite vengeful towards us if she knows we’ve seen him. My sister and I maintain a semblance of a relationship with him, but he seems oblivious to the devastation he caused. However, I agree with my maternal grandmother, who says he was a great father for the first 15 years of my life, and I was the apple of his eye, so I’d like him to be at my wedding. My mother says he shouldn’t be there, unless he pays some of what he owes, and if he comes, she’ll have him arrested. I don’t want to be held to ransom, and the wider family are so bored, they’re beyond caring, but both parents have agreed they’ll see an intermediary if I arrange it. Can you suggest something? If it was me, I’d tell them to sod off and behave like adults, and if they can’t, tell them I don’t want either of them at my wedding. You’re right, they are holding you to ransom, but don’t forget you’re the pot of gold. Call their bluff. They’re going to want to be there, whatever they say, so it’s up to them to deal with their own situation and emotions. It is your day, not theirs: a fact that seems to have been forgotten in all this. Then again, you’re not me, and understandably you want them both there, but it is neither right nor proper to expect you to sort out a problem that is none of your business; they should be arranging their own intermediary. I’d bet good money that if you say neither can attend unless they sort out or put aside their differences, they’ll either arrange mediation themselves or drop the whole idea and try to behave with some degree of civility. Your mother might be bitter about your father’s behaviour, but, surely, even that bitterness couldn’t extend to the vindictive spite of spoiling her own daughter’s wedding by having the father of her child arrested. You know far better than I do the depth of her fury and desire for revenge, but I’d be amazed if she carried out her threat. I suspect they’re merely empty words spontaneously uttered in anger at the suggestion your father will be attending your wedding. I’m not surprised the wider family are so bored that they’re beyond caring, but of course, as children, we want our parents to be kind and civil to each other, and will go to enormous lengths, even at the cost of our own discomfort and happiness, to make it happen. I simply think this is taking things too far. Then again, that’s entirely subjective, because it drives me into a blind fury when parents say they love their children, then behave with such self-centredness that it’s almost certain to guarantee their unhappiness. Where’s the love in that? It is to your mother’s credit that she’s never said anything nasty about your dad, so she obviously has enough self-control and compassion not to try to poison her children against their father. Try asking her, point blank, if she loves you. When she says yes, which she undoubtedly will, ask her to demonstrate that love by acting with grace for your sake. It’s only for one day. She has the rest of her life to live in resentment, if that’s what she chooses, and it is her choice to hang on to bitterness or to let go of the past. I know you feel sympathy for her and the hard work she’s had to put in, but sometimes life deals us a tough hand and it’s up to us to sort it out, which your mother has done, if only in a practical sense. Even so, it seems to me that you’re walking on eggshells, trying to please everybody and succeeding in pleasing nobody, most particularly yourself. I know I sound harsh, but do you honestly think arranging an intermediary process is going to solve anything? They’ll approach it grudgingly, because they feel they have to, rather than because they want to. Unless we enter into conciliation of our own free will, and with enthusiasm, it’s a pretty pointless exercise. I wonder if you’re secretly hoping it will put an end to the war. It won’t. That will only end when your mother decides to put down her weapons and agree to a truce. You’ve had the misfortune to live in a battle zone for 18 years and, from the sound of your letter, you’ve handled it extremely well. I understand you don’t want any unpleasantness to spoil your day, but submitting to emotional blackmail is not going to make things better. That’s why I feel you have to be firm about this, and refuse to engage with threats from either side. My father abused me and my mother covered up for him December 27th 2009 After I was born, my mother had terrible postnatal depression and has suffered badly ever since. It was hard for my father to cope, and he took his frustration out on me, emotionally and physically. I still feel a huge sense of guilt, because it was my birth that made my parents’ life so hard and I understand he was merely taking his anger out on the most appropriate person: me. I’m now 18 and in therapy, but I hate talking about my feelings — it makes me feel weak, vulnerable and pathetic — and I’m angry with my social worker, because nobody was there when I needed help. I found out recently my mother knew all along and covered up for my injuries. I’ve never blamed my parents, because it’s an easy way out and doesn’t help you move on. I know they love me a lot and I love them more than anything, but I find it hard to reconcile those feelings with enormous anger, so end up directing them at myself. Now I’ve finally been offered the help I wanted so much as a child, I just can’t let it help me and I can’t help myself. You ended your letter by apologising for being so inarticulate and childish, yet it’s hard to understand how anybody who is only 18 can be so wise. You’re right. Blame leads us nowhere except into a brick wall and (as you say in your longer letter) you haven’t come to the stage of forgiving your parents because you don’t feel (and I quote) “forgiveness is the appropriate emotion, but rather acceptance of what happened and a willingness to try and rebuild a relationship”. That’s sensible and wise, but I kept rereading your letter to try and pinpoint a feeling of unease — not about what happened to you, which is tragic, but about the way you’re dealing with it. I finally hit upon what was making me uneasy: I think you’re being too sensible and wise, that the words coming out of your mouth are not connected to your heart. You understand them intellectually, but don’t feel them emotionally. It’s normal for victims of childhood abuse to blame themselves, and I’m sure you’ve dealt with that in therapy, but what might be happening is that you’re not allowing yourself really to feel or express anger, because you’re terrified that if you do, it will be so gigantic that it will overwhelm you and everybody in its path. Of course acceptance is important. It happened and now it’s over, but what’s left is a vast swamp of emotions. So how do you deal with them? I understand why you find therapy so difficult and why it leaves you feeling weak and vulnerable. It’s because nobody allowed you those feelings as a child. Everybody else’s feelings were always more important than yours, and you’re so well trained in that belief, you’re still putting everybody else before you. You did not cause your mother’s depression. She almost certainly has a biological predisposition (as do I, so I know what I’m talking about), so nothing caused it except a neurochemical malfunction of the brain — just as any other organ of the body can malfunction. So could you please let go of that guilt? You cannot change biology. And it was not appropriate for your father to take his anger out on you. Nothing can ever justify using anger against a child. You need to allow yourself to feel vulnerable. I know it’s a tough call, because, over the years, you’ve built up layers of protection and now you’re trapped inside a hard shell that you find difficult to break out of for fear of the consequences. It helped you survive as a child, so how would you survive now without its protection? The trouble is, the more you stay inside that shell and turn your feelings inwards (or direct them at yourself), the less able you will be to move on. As you say, blame is a wasteful emotion that gets us nowhere, but what does get us somewhere is allowing ourselves feelings of love, grief, anger, pity (for your­self as a child) and expressing them. Obviously, you have to do that in a safe place, which is where therapy comes in. Please, and I’m begging you here, try as hard as you can to get those feelings out into the open. Don’t do it all at once. I completely understand your terror that they will overwhelm you, so let them out little by little. Be gentle with yourself and, hard as it is because nobody has ever been kind to you (I’m not blaming your parents, merely stating a fact), please learn to be kind to yourself. As I said at the beginning, try to stop overruling your heart and the truth of your feelings with your rational head. If we don’t express such enormous emotions, they fester and cause painful disorders such as depression and the instinct to self-harm, which you say in your letter you suffer from. You also say that you know you can move on from this and lead a happy and successful life. Well, you can, and, in spirit at least, I’ll be with you every step of the way. I still can't forgive my father for abandoning my family and me November 01 2009 Seven years ago my father left my mother after thirty years of marriage. It came as a huge shock and my mum was devastated. My dad didn’t talk to us about it but wrote a very cold and factual letter. We always had a very good relationship so I was stunned he hadn’t thought about the impact on his daughters. I think he hoped time would heal and he’s made an effort to apologise. We’ve tried to get our relationship back on track but I find it so hard that I’m extremely closed down which is making him very frustrated.  I hope he’s happy but even as an adult I can’t forget my feelings of abandonment or disappointment in him. He asked to meet his newly born second grandchild but I refused because I find his visits so awkward and sad but perhaps I’m punishing him. I don’t mean to and I know I need to get past my feelings but I just don’t know how. He’s now asked if it’s time to go our separate ways. I’m shocked by the ultimatum but wonder if it’s our only option?  I’m desperate to try and reconcile this somehow. I’m so sorry. This must be extraordinarily painful. I’m going to make some suggestions but please remember they are only suggestions. I can’t begin to inhabit your pain but at least, as an outsider, I might be able to be objective which I hope could be of some help. Let’s start with his brutally cold letter. I admit I found the thought of it so shocking and painful it made me cry, so goodness knows how you must have felt, but let’s try and look at it in a different way. You were very close so it may have been that he couldn’t face talking to you because it hurt so much he was frightened he would break down, and his feelings of guilt were so overwhelming he resorted to writing as a way of separating himself from painful emotions. I agree his actions were both shameful and cowardly but it’s worth considering if only because trying to force ourselves into somebody else’s shoes, however painful it might be, can inspire some sympathy in our hearts. As you say, you’re desperate to reconcile the situation and one of the ways you might do that is to try and look at things from his point of view. It may also help you to let go of some of the anger and approach him with feelings of charity. At the moment, you’re trapped between a rock and a hard place. Keeping him at a distance makes you unhappy and seeing him also makes you feel unhappy but it does seem that, at heart, you would like a relationship. I suspect his ultimatum is not so much a way of forcing your hand as an admission of defeat. As you say, you’re punishing him, even if you don’t mean to, so he’s slunk away like a dejected dog with his tail between his legs. If he’s tried to apologise but keeps coming up against a brick wall (as you say you’re so shut down he’s getting more and more frustrated) perhaps your refusal to allow him to see his newly born grandchild is the final straw. He may even feel his attempts at reconciliation are obviously so painful for you that it’s kinder to leave you alone. Honestly, I don’t know - but I do know that a wall of anger is not going to help either of you. It may help to get the situation into better perspective if you write him a letter. (He’s obviously a man who believes in letters). Writing helps us to get our feelings of anger and pain out in the open but I strongly advise you not to send the first letter. Leave it to one side then look at it again. The first draft is bound to be filled with anger and recrimination. Keep writing the letter (and not sending it) because the more you write, the more you may be able to get past your feelings of abandonment and disappointment. Looking at our emotions in stark black and white helps us to see them more clearly. The exercise may you to meet him halfway in a calmer and more forgiving state. Once you are happy with the letter, send it. Of course you must tell him how hurt and disappointed you are so don’t aim for cold dispassion. Try for stark emotional honesty and be as open as you can. Writing will also help you to look at how your own behaviour has contributed to the rift. Try to imagine how you would feel if one of your own children withdrew and denied you access to your grandchildren. I know you believe you could never behave like that but life (and love) sometimes takes us so much by surprise we are astonished and ashamed by our own behaviour. The most important person in all of this is you. Examine your heart and if you feel it’s too difficult to continue the relationship, let it go. The worry is that you’ll regret it terribly (although there’s always room for change; never say never) but working through your hurt and anger may allow you to move towards some form of understanding and conciliation.   Should I leave my married lover or hold out for a dream life with him? October 25 09 Three years ago I left my husband and an increasingly abusive relationship. The catalyst was meeting a wonderful man although I’m still unclear what really gave me the courage to leave but I’ll always be grateful I did. I’m now completely sorted with one exception – he’s married with grown up children. His work is enormously important to him and while I understand, it means I’m at the back of the queue (work, family, me). He has an old fashioned sense of duty which extends to his work and family, but not to me. I don’t think he’ll ever leave his wife and tried to finish our relationship but he said he couldn’t contemplate life without me. Unfortunately, his view of life seems based on our diaries coinciding. It's simply not enough for me. I’m scared I’ll regret whatever I do. Do I leave and risk losing the dream of a life together or stay and risk losing it with somebody else? What really hurts is that nobody in his life knows I exist. Am I repeating old mistakes? Have I moved from a relationship where I was reduced to a shadow to one where I don't even exist? Good question and I suspect you know what the answer is but you’re trying to avoid the truth that’s staring you in the face. It’s not so much that you’re repeating old mistakes as maintaining patterns of behaviour that not only do you no good, they are positively damaging. Your marriage was emotionally (as opposed to physically) abusive and you’ve set yourself up to be emotionally abused all over again. Abuse might sound too strong a word for an affair with a married man but, as you say yourself, you’re at the back of the queue. That mirrors an emotionally abusive marriage which implies that your feelings always came last. The problem is that you seem to have chosen to put yourself there. I don’t think for a moment that it’s deliberate – at least not consciously so - but by accepting the role of second best you’re complicit in the situation. What I mean by complicit is that we have choices and you seem to have chosen to always stand in some man’s shadow.  You’re waiting to be rescued, for somebody to make that “dream” you mention, come true. It seems not to have occurred to you that we are the only ones who can make our dreams come true. Expecting other people to do it for us is not just a fantasy; it’s a passage to nowhere. We have to live our own lives. Nobody else can do it for us. You admit that you don’t think your wonderful man will ever leave his wife. Well, why would he? He has everything he needs. You might have made a weak bid for freedom but the moment he came calling, you came running. You sound like a highly intelligent woman but an emotionally blind one too. I don’t mean that to sound as harsh as it sounds. Our patterns of behaviour are so deeply entrenched we are often not aware of them ourselves until we are challenged. As you said in your longer letter, it took you two years to understand how unhappy you were in your marriage and extricate yourself from a damaging situation but rather than taking time out to be on your own and think things through (such as why were you attracted to an emotionally abusive man in the first place?) you jumped head first into an equally destructive relationship. So, my question is this; what’s in it for you? And please don’t say that the situation is not of your choosing or that it’s the fault of the men you engage with. As I said, we have choices (unless we’re stuck in an impossible situation with young kids and poverty beckoning on the horizon) so try to be brutally honest with yourself. We get what we ask for just as we are attracted to what we think we deserve. It seems you don’t feel you deserve much, which is why the phrases you chose to use in your letter, “reduced to a shadow” and “don’t exist” are so telling. We look for others to reflect the way we feel about ourselves. Put brutally, it’s not so much that you’ve been (and still are) in abusive relationships but that you’re in an abusive relationship with yourself. So what is in it for you? Perhaps reinforcement of beliefs about yourself which, I suspect, are all centred on low self worth. Misery can be strangely comfortable, if only because it’s so familiar. It takes great courage to step out into the sunlight of our own lives. And that’s what you need. The courage to admit you’re inhabiting a delusional fantasy (he has no young kids to consider, a comfortable marriage, work he loves and a mistress he can keep well hidden and who makes no demands on him), the courage to step out from somebody’s shadow, but most of all, the courage to face yourself. You are worth so much more than this. You are not invisible. You matter. Your place is not the last in the queue but the only way to jump to the front is not by having a secret relationship with a married man. It’s by having an honest, open relationship with yourself. I can't stop having one night stands October 11 2009 My husband isn’t open emotionally, but he’s a lovely man who brought me stability at a difficult time, when my father left my mother for another woman. It badly affected my relationship with my father. My husband and I had a great five years together, but, one night, I was unfaithful with a complete stranger. It’s no defence, but I was drunk. I was consumed with guilt, but a year later, I did it again. It’s purely about sex, perhaps about needing to feel desired, but how can I love somebody and treat them like that? The problem obviously lies with me. Don’t I love him enough? Am I addicted to the thrill and excitement of somebody new? Before I met him, I had a colourful sexual past and was never faithful for long. I’m not sure I can ever be happy. I always think things should be better. I’m worried I’ll cheat again and break his heart, but I fear it will break both our hearts if I leave, and I’ll never find anybody as good again. Is he better off without me and am I better off not being married? I have absolutely no idea if he would be better off without you, or whether you’d be better off not being married. The only thing I know is that you seem to be stuck in a cycle of destructive behaviour that threatens not only your husband’s happiness, but also your own, and which, from the outside, looks like a wilful act of self-sabotage. I don’t, however, believe that’s true, because you are so obviously bewildered by your own behaviour. Perhaps the last sentence in your letter is a clue. It seems a pretty dramatic way of expressing your situation, not to mention a dramatic solution to a problem. You say in your longer letter that your husband doesn’t know about your infidelities, so it seems unlikely that you’re going to break his heart, unless you unburden yourself of guilt by telling him, which would be both selfish and unkind. The even more dramatic expression — that, perhaps, you’d be better off not being married — could be fuelled by guilt and shame but, essentially, it seems truer to say it’s a way of running away from difficulty, just as your restlessness and dissatisfaction are ways of trying to run from life. That’s obvious in the way you say (yet more drama) that you don’t believe you’re capable of ever being happy and that you always feel things should be better. In a sense, what you seem to be trying to do is to run away from yourself. The trouble with that is, wherever we go, there we are. Even if we flew to the moon, we couldn’t escape ourselves. Your way of escaping seems to be through other people, hence your infidelities, a colourful sexual past and the inability to be faithful. I don’t believe the one-night stands happen because you don’t love your husband or think things aren’t good enough. Instead, I think it means that you believe you’re not good enough (or not enough), so you need constant reinforcement from other people. You say it’s purely about sex, but that’s just another way of saying it’s about wanting the approbation of feeling you’re desirable. As for sex with a complete stranger, that heightens the sense of risk and drama, so it’s a fantasy or yet another means of escape. The question is, why? As you say, the problem obviously lies with you, but as you give me no background, it’s difficult to see what might be fuelling your desire to self-sabotage, or your need for reassurance. It would be too easy a cliché to say it has anything to do with your father running off with another woman, unless he was a serial adulterer and you’re mimicking his behaviour, however unconsciously. As to what you should do, the one piece of good advice I can give you is to stop avoiding your dissatisfaction by running from it, or ending your marriage. Instead, run towards a solution. Rather than trying to escape from yourself, you need to confront deep-seated emotional problems with brutal honesty and the willingness to take responsibility for your behaviour. You’ve chosen a lovely, supportive man as a husband, so obviously there’s a part of you that wants security and stability, and enjoys the soothing continuity of an intimate relationship. I understand that schism. When I was much younger, I used to be a serial runner — jobs, lovers, houses. You name it, I did it. I was very good at leaving, but leaving is the easy part. Staying and facing ourselves is the difficult bit. It took me a long time to understand that, but once I did, I was much happier. I used to think it was better to be on my own. It’s not. It’s just easier. So line those demons up in a row and face them out. It will be hard and painful, I can promise you that, but I can also tell you that, if you put in the work, you will find that you are not only perfectly capable of being happy, but also that life, in all its terrifying glory, is more than enough. I'm a man who hates my body October 04 2009 I was a very puny boy, always the last to be picked for sports at school and never felt my skinny frame matched up. As an adult, I've become obsessed with the gym. While I don't look like steroid-fuelled beefcake, I've got good muscles but still can’t help comparing myself to bigger guys. I know I have a very negative body image. If I get compliments all I hear is that I’m marginally less weedy than I used to be and can't believe my body looks okay. I'm always going to be naturally skinny but force myself to watch what I eat, feel very guilty if I indulge in too many snacks and obsess over five portions of fruit and veg a day. When I flex my muscles I know it must mean that part of my body is technically "good" but in the mirror I see myself as scrawny and only focus on the negatives. I don't want to stop working out as I think health is important but I want to stop criticising myself so much. I also suffer from low self esteem and lack of self belief in other areas, both social and professional. While a lot has been written about women and negative or destructive perceptions of body image, there is far less understanding of the way men also suffer. It would be really helpful if you could stop criticising yourself for criticising yourself. It’s rather like beating yourself up for suffering from depression or any other illness. It is not your fault and, most importantly, you can get help. It sounds as if you’re suffering from a condition known as body dysmorphia, a psychological condition which may also embrace anxiety, eating and obsessive compulsive disorders. Sufferers focus all their feelings of anxiety, depression or even self-hate on their physical appearance. All these emotions, of course, feed into (or are precipitated by – it’s a vicious cycle) feelings of low self esteem and self belief. There is now a newer term (less documented or researched but regarded as a sub-type of body dsymorphia) known as muscle dysmorphia. It’s a condition in which people focus obsessively on being too skinny or underweight, are intensely preoccupied with building muscle or body mass, check their appearance regularly in a mirror, ignore the reality of other people’s perceptions and find it difficult to believe in compliments. There is also thought to be a link with social phobia (fear of being criticised by other people) as well as eating disorders. While you might not think of yourself as having a classic eating disorder, for a man who is naturally skinny, your pattern of eating sounds very disordered. Even the experts don’t really know what precipitates the condition but there is undoubtedly a link with teasing and bullying by peer groups when young. Always being picked last for sports teams at school is a classic example. It tends to manifest at around the age of 19 – which also sounds about right from your longer letter in which you say it began when you were at university. I believe acceptance is the key to tackling any emotional disorder. If we accept we have an illness it is much easier to go and get help, just as we would go to our GP if we were suffering from pneumonia. Ignoring it won’t make it go away; it will simply make it worse. There is also the risk that if the condition remains untreated it may spiral down into severe depression – which can be extremely intractable. The good news is that there’s an effective way of addressing the condition using a combination of medication and Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT). Medication can help to treat underlying disorders such as anxiety and depression while CBT addresses core negative beliefs or automatic negative thinking. In other words, the negative beliefs we hold about ourselves (which are often unconscious) become so entrenched in our personalities they become automatic. Simple examples might be “I’m terrible at relationships” or “People don’t like me” while there is the classic core belief, “I’m not good enough”. Therapy helps us to challenge those beliefs by asking questions such as “Who says?” or “Where’s the evidence?” It also helps by tackling automatic thinking so if our first thought is “I’m not good enough,” we learn to challenge it with another thought such as, “I’m very good at my work” or “People find me a good listener.” All emotional disorders, I believe, are distortions of perception whether those stem from biological imbalances in the brain or from learned behaviour. In order to combat them we have to find the courage to face them but, most of all, to treat ourselves with compassion. If a friend was suffering in the way you are or whose quality of life was as severely affected as yours, you’d want to help them, right? So as difficult or alien as it may feel at first, try to see yourself as you would a close friend and show yourself some kindness. There are also a couple of books you might find helpful. The Adonis Complex: The Secret Crisis of Male Body Obsession by Harrison Pope, Katharine Phillips and Roberto Olivardia (£10; Simon & Schuster) Mind Over Mood: Change How You Feel by Changing The Way You Think by Christine Padesky and Dennis Greenberger (£16.95; Guilford Press) I keep hitting my child September 27 2009 I’m a mother of four. I love my children very much. I work part-time and my husband is away a lot — often for months at a time. I love being a mother but, recently, if the smallest thing goes wrong, I resort to shouting and even hitting — particularly the eldest. He’s a very loving boy, but he’s 11, so I expected he would be independent with his homework by now, yet he’s totally disorganised and forgets books or his sports kit. I’ve tried establishing routines and rewards or punishments, and he promises to try harder, but there’s no improvement. Most days, I’m multitasking to breaking point, explaining homework, changing nappies, cooking and trying to give each child some time. Despite my best intentions, I get angry and frustrated, and often hit my eldest. It’s terrible for the other children to see. I know I’m tired and need more time for myself. Work is also stressful, and I’m feeling out of my depth, which I know is to do with my state of mind. I’m not a bad person. I’m loving and giving, so it’s driving me to despair that I could hurt my child. With four kids and an absent husband, as well as a part-time job, I’m not surprised you feel exhausted and frustrated a lot of the time. A million women will sympathise, but I wonder if your frustration and anger are actually directed more at yourself than the kids. I’m sure you're not a bad person — you sound like a very good person to me — but perhaps you’re trying to be too good. Nothing fuels rage like perfectionism or sticking to rigid beliefs; “my way or no way” is how it’s often described. I only say that because it seems to be routine that frustrates you or, rather, somebody not sticking to your routine. You say, in your longer letter, that over the summer you had a lovely time with your kids — particularly with your eldest — but as soon as you were back to following a set pattern, the anger built up again. I understand completely that, with four children, you need a routine, but it seems it’s your eldest son’s behaviour that triggers your anger, rather than the younger ones. Perhaps you need to back off and allow him to make his own mistakes. If we do too much for our children, they never learn to do anything for themselves or understand the consequences of their own behaviour. So he’s disorganised and forgets his school books or sports kit. Let him. If he’s not allowed to play games because he’s forgotten his kit, he might remember it the next time. If his homework isn’t up to scratch, because he’s forgotten a book, and he gets into trouble in class, it may be enough to make him more organised. When my daughter was a baby, she rarely, if ever, slept, other than short naps, and one night, when she was in her cot, I shook her. Seventeen years later, I feel sick with guilt every time I think about it. In the end, in desperation, I bought a book called My Child Won’t Sleep, which instructed me to leave her to cry. It took four nights of lying on my hands, teeth gritted, as I listened to her scream, but then, miraculously, she began to sleep through the night. I discovered I was jumping at every command, instead of allowing her to learn how to self-soothe. That takes me back to your son. Don’t run to help him with his homework every time he calls, and instead of getting frustrated with him about not falling into line (your line), get on with everything else you need to do. If you feel frustration rising, stop (taking 10 slow breaths really does help), wait and, most of all, consider the consequences. One of them is (however unintentionally) that you are teaching your son bullying behaviour, which I’m sure is the very last thing you want. You may also be frightening him, so he panics, which will make him even more disorganised. On top of that, guilt and shame may be fuelling your frustration (which is mainly directed at yourself), so you need to find some relaxation techniques. I appreciate how little time you have for yourself, but could you manage a short meditation routine after the kids have gone to bed? Ten minutes will do, although 20 is better. You don’t need to sit cross-legged in the lotus position; just sit in a chair and follow the breath. Don’t force it; breathe naturally. It allows your body to release physical as well as mental tension, which is much of what anger is about. Don’t try to stop your thoughts (it’s impossible), but if you find them intrusive, follow a simple mantra to give your mind something to concentrate on. My mantra is “Hamsa” (pronounced hom-sah). Hom comes with the in breath and sah on the out breath (like a sigh). The effect is cumulative, so try to do it every night. It will also help you to sleep better, so you feel less tired and wound up. Also, try not to punish yourself. It won’t help. Rather than dwelling on the past, stay in the present, and count each day that you don’t raise your voice or hand as worthy of reward. Bereaved boyfriend September 13 2009 I’ve been with my boyfriend for five years and we’ve been living together for two. Three years ago, his daughter took her life. I needn’t say how dark and dreadful it was. I’ve suggested bereavement counselling, but he flatly refuses; nor does he talk to his ex-wife about their daughter’s death. I know it seems selfish, but we had talked about marriage before he lost his daughter. We bought a house together, but now he says he isn’t ready to marry as he doesn’t want to inflict his dark moods on me (they happen rarely) and hasn’t the energy to take our relationship to the next level. His only concession is that we will get engaged some time in the future. I love him very much and welcomed his other children with open arms, not only because I like them enormously, but because I thought he would feel better having them around. I feel hurt and used. I believe he loves me, but fear something in our relationship has been ruined. I know I don’t need to say that the death of a child is terrifyingly painful, a child who has taken her own life particularly so. On top of shock, bewilderment and intense grief comes crippling guilt. Could I have done something? Was it because I wasn’t there for her? Didn’t I tell her or show her how much I loved her? Some people take years to get over the death of a child, or at least to put together some semblance of happiness and a new life, while others never do. When he refuses to see a bereavement counsellor, saying it won’t help, it’s no doubt because the only help he wants is to see his daughter back by his side, alive and well, and feels that no amount of talking will take away the pain. If he can’t discuss his daughter’s death with his ex-wife, it’s obviously still very raw, and although his dark moods rarely happen, that doesn’t mean they don’t haunt him or that they are not his constant companions. Men tend to deal with grief and depression badly, no matter how much it hurts. They carry it like an internal wound, bleeding inside but too frightened to acknowledge it in case it overwhelms them. Either that or they compartmentalise the pain and throw away the key. Of course it would be helpful to see a counsellor and release some of the pain, but for some people it is a step too far. They are terrified that if they allow themselves to open up, the tears will never stop. None of that means he doesn’t want you by his side or that he is not grateful for your steadfast and steadying love. As you say in your longer letter, on the one hand he can see the point in carrying on with life, but on the other he is running on empty. In other words, he feels he has nothing to give you at the moment, and a marriage, which is a celebration, may make him feel, however unconsciously, that he is betraying his daughter by leaving her behind and embarking on a new life. I understand that you feel hurt, but I doubt very much that you are being used, however much it may seem that way to you. Try to imagine the situation as if you were dealing with a wounded animal. He needs time to heal his wounds before he can emerge from his cave, blinking in the light of a new day. Three years is not a long a time to heal, and I know from friends of mine, who lost a young child, that while those around them felt it had been long enough for them to have “got over it”, there is no time limit on grief. Other friends, who lost their daughter through suicide, say they have to take each day a step at a time because the future seems too infinite and painful to bear. It is difficult when you feel you are endlessly giving but receiving nothing in return, and while I’m not suggesting you should stop giving, perhaps you might consider lowering your expectations of his ability to meet your emotional demands, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t. I also understand that a commitment such as marriage will make you feel safe, but buying a house together might be considered as much of a statement of intent as an engagement ring. As for something in your relationship being ruined, is that honestly true? Given the circumstances, it seems to me that you’re both doing the best that you can. Perhaps it might be truer to say that something at the heart of him has been so damaged that it is too painful for him to contemplate a commitment at this time — but he has told you that he would like to get engaged in the future. I worry that the more you push him, the more he will resist. Time does eventually heal, and so does love. As the statesman and philosopher Edmund Burke once put it, our patience will achieve more than our force. How can I overcome my addictions? September 06 2009 I am in my twenties, with a decent job, a loving boyfriend and great family and friends, but I feel an overwhelming inadequacy and a constant void I can’t seem to fill. Believe me, I’ve tried, with food, alcohol and shopping (to the point of having debts I can barely manage), but nothing seems to work. I’m verging on a serious eating disorder and have little control over alcohol. My doctor prescribed Prozac, which helps a bit, but it doesn’t stop the uncontrollable urges to shop, eat to excess or drink to the point where I have no recollection of the night before. I have become needy and paranoid about my boyfriend’s past relationships, despite his constant reassurance and love. He is moving abroad soon for work (he has no choice) and I am beside myself, wondering how I will cope. All I want is to feel normal, enjoy my relationship and be happy enough to be able to go out with friends without needing to drink to feel secure and relaxed. I am exhausted by the constant struggle and don’t know where to turn. I have never actively considered suicide, but I feel so out of control that I am worried I may actually act on it. That feeling of being out of control is called addiction. What you describe as a constant void you can’t fill is what addicts call the “hole in the soul”. Eating to excess is a good example. We literally stuff ourselves with food to try and fill the emptiness, but it’s an impossible task because the hole we are trying to fill is emotional, not physical. Addiction is a complex disorder, but at its heart are feelings of inadequacy and low self-worth. It’s not simply about drinking or eating too much, it’s a desperate attempt to change the way we feel. In others words, addictions are the messages, not the messenger. The messenger is a tangle of emotions that seems so impossible to sort out that we feel the only way to deal with them is to club them into submission, whether it’s by using alcohol, food or shopping. It might make us feel better temporarily, but that sense of relief is so fleeting, we eat or drink or shop more and more. You are not only trying to deal with feelings of inadequacy and powerlessness, you are also facing a paralysing sense of guilt and shame — about the empty bottles, the wrappers of family-sized packets of biscuits, the wardrobe full of clothes you’ll probably never wear, the mounting debt you can’t control. You feel too ashamed to tell anybody, so on top of emptiness and shame comes a crippling sense of loneliness and isolation. Prozac and other prescription drugs don’t work (despite what many doctors seem to think) because they address an imbalance of chemicals in your head rather than a mess of emotions in your heart. You are also suffering from what is known as cross-addiction. This means that you try using one thing to make yourself feel better, and when that doesn’t work, you try another, and then another. Eventually, you become so desperate that you use everything and anything to try and fill that void. Addicts often feel suicidal because they feel so out of control and don’t know where to turn for help. However much they crave a happy, peaceful life, they can’t seem to reach it. When it gets really bad, suicide seems the only way out. I promise you’re not the only one who feels that way. I understand how lonely and overwhelmed you feel, but there are thousands of people struggling in just the way you are. Every day, in every city around the world, people are sitting in 12 Step meetings, describing every emotion you’ve ever felt. For many people, hearing others talk openly and honestly about their feelings is like a thunderbolt. “How does she know?” they say, or, “He’s talking about me.” Those meetings are known as fellowships because that’s exactly what they provide: fellowship, mutual support, empathy and understanding. They help lift that terrible sense of loneliness and shame. It’s hard to know from your letter what your primary addiction is (it’s chicken and egg), so I would love to suggest you start by going into a rehab centre for four weeks to get you on the road to recovery. Twenty-eight days of expert help would give you the chance to sort things out — not only your addictions, but the emotions that trigger them. Sadly, rehab centres are incredibly expensive, and with your debts that’s obviously not an option. There is, however, another way, and it costs nothing. If you’re dealing with a serious eating disorder and have no control over alcohol, there are two fellowships you might try. One is Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) and the other is Overeaters Anonymous (OA). Many women suffer with both food and alcohol addictions, so they attend both, and that’s what I suggest you do. I know that walking into a room full of strangers seems terrifying, but there will be people there to welcome you. Even if you take nothing else away from my answer, please remember this: you are not alone. alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk; oagb.org.uk. Healing the Shame That Binds You by John Bradshaw (£10.99 Health Communications) I can't forget my ex-boyfriend August 30 2009 I’ve lived with my boyfriend for two years. He’s very good and fair — almost my moral compass — but says he’s not sure I’m the person he wants to spend his life with. While I appreciate his candour, I feel I’m just waiting for something to change. I’ve also started obsessing about my first boyfriend, who I loved very much, but treated very badly — I was unfaithful several times. After we split, we saw each other. He wanted to get back together, and I realise now that I led him on and hurt him again. I’m so consumed by shame and regret, I wonder if I’m still in love with him — but how can you love someone and be so cruel? It wasn’t always like that. Things were often easier and more natural than they are with my current boyfriend. Basically, I was just deceitful. Perhaps I was too young to realise what I had. I’ve thought about talking to someone. It seems so trivial and adolescent compared to other people’s problems, but it eats away at me. I feel I need to tell him how sorry I am and see if he could forgive me. I think you may be trying to deal with a number of issues that are tangled up in your mind. The first is a desire for present commitment and assurance and the second (because the first isn’t forthcoming) is overwhelming regret that, in the past, you rejected a love that was both committed and unconditional. You say, in your longer letter, that your present boyfriend is inhibited emotionally, so, when he does tell you he loves you, “it means an awful lot”. In other words, he doles out love so sparingly you are grateful for the slightest crumb of affection, let alone grateful for his honesty in telling you that you’re not good enough to want to spend the rest of his life with. However you dress it up — as honesty, or whatever — it’s still rejection, which is a very tough emotion to face up to. Perhaps that’s why, in your mind, you keep going back to the man who didn’t reject you, who loved you so much he was prepared to forgive you almost anything. As for your description of your present boyfriend as your “moral compass”: it makes me feel vaguely queasy. It sounds almost as if you feel you must be on best behaviour to be loved. You talk about wanting your ex-boyfriend to forgive you, but I wonder if it’s more that you want to be forgiven, not just for the past, but for an underlying belief that you’re a bad person. So bad, cruel and lacking in moral fibre (as in needing to be led by somebody else’s moral compass) that you’ve chosen somebody whose standards are unrelentingly high because, unconsciously, you believe that, if he’s chosen you, then perhaps you can’t be such a bad person after all. It is one thing to feel grateful (and I do admire humility, which I see as emotional self-honesty), but there’s a difference between that and behaving like a martyr. You’re waiting for your boyfriend to change? Here’s the truth: he won’t. How did you say he put it? If he wanted to marry you, he’d have asked you by now. My guess is that it’s rejection and a feeling of not being good enough that’s triggering your consuming shame and regret. They are both indigestible emotions, so, naturally, you want to be rid of them. And what better way than seeking out the person you think is making you feel that way (however unwittingly, on his part) and asking for his blessing and forgiveness? I’m not sure this is about love so much as confusion. You’re adrift in a sea of difficult emotions and, because you don’t know how to deal with them, you’ve come up with the most obvious solution: you must still be in love with your ex-boyfriend. Say you did seek him out. Would it be because you want to make him feel better by apologising or to make yourself feel better? We all behave badly, particularly when we are young, and we all make mistakes. Part of life is about learning to live with those mistakes. We can apologise, but it should be because we are genuinely sorry, and not because we want something in return. I have a feeling that, if you resolve your present situation, the past will take care of itself, but it would be helpful to talk it through with somebody. I don’t think there’s anything adolescent or trivial about wanting to restore our emotional equilibrium. Having the courage to face up to and work through our more destructive emotions takes great maturity. At the end of your letter, you asked if I could suggest somebody to talk to. I can’t, because therapy is so individual that what (or who) works for one person does not necessarily work for another. I can, however, recommend some websites that will direct you to a counsellor near you. Do give it a try. You are worth so much more than you believe. UK Council for Psychotherapy,psychotherapy.org.uk; British Association for Counselling & Psychotherapy, bacp.co.uk; Counselling Directory, counselling-directory.org.uk Being single is making me feel suicidal August 23 2009 I’m 47, single since I was 34, and beyond sick of it. My longest relationship lasted for just over a year, on and off, and the others were what you might call “friends with benefits”. I attract men, but they don’t stick around (although they never stay single for long themselves), and the constant rejection, not to mention Christmases and birthdays spent alone or with married friends and family, has worn me down. I’m actually feeling suicidal. I’ve done the “going out there and meeting people” thing relentlessly — clubbing, bars, internet dating (which I loathed), evening classes, group holidays, social groups. You name it, I’ve done it. My friends have been paired up for ages. I realise not every relationship is perfect, and I’m better off alone than in a bad one (usually said by someone in a couple), but the loneliness is killing me. As a middle-aged woman, I don’t expect men to be beating down my door. Past boyfriends have settled down with homely types, which I guess I’m not. I am funny and outspoken, but that doesn’t always go down well. Does this mean I’m supposed to be on my own for ever? I don’t think we’re “supposed” to be anything, so I wonder if that’s part of the problem. I know it’s easy for me to say (I’m in one of those annoying couples), but maybe if you could relax a bit (the word “relentless” is a bit of a giveaway) and let life happen, rather than trying to force it into a man-shaped hole, you may find yourself enjoying it more and resenting your single state less. I used to see a therapist who was enraged by our fixed concept of time. Life happens when it happens, not because it’s supposed to happen at a certain time or age. I understand how depressing it must be for you, but perhaps the right man simply hasn’t appeared yet. I met the love of my life when I was 45. Admittedly, I’d been married twice before, but that’s just another way of saying that I’d had two longish relationships. The last thing I was expecting was passionate love, but there it was. I’ve been single a fair amount in my life, and every time I’ve got to the stage of being happy and relaxed being on my own, along comes somebody to mess it all up. It’s only when we get to being happy with ourselves that we give out the kind of energy that attracts people to us. You’ve given me very little about yourself in your letter, but there are a few clues. I wonder, for example, if those “homely types” might be a bit more laid-back and nurturing? Both the adjectives you use about yourself suggest possible defensiveness. Funny is great, as long as we’re not talking biting wit (or barriers to intimacy, which is why therapists dislike humour as a means of communication), and I’m all for being outspoken, but there’s a difference between being direct and downright tactless. It might be worth asking friends for help by listing your good qualities and those that might be off-putting. This takes enormous honesty and courage, but it’s a useful exercise in self-awareness. Do, though, focus on the good, rather than dwelling on the bad — the bad are simply pointers to behaviours we should avoid, while the good are about strengthening our connection with others. I know you’re going to hate the word “desperate” (don’t we all?), but getting to the point where you feel actively suicidal because you’re single does sound like it. And, sad though it is (because it’s the very opposite of what we need), even a whiff of desperation drives people away. Imagine, if you like, the school playground and the kid who goes around begging everybody to be their friend: “Please, please like me.” The other kids run a mile. Every dating expert maintains that relationship success is about slowing down and concentrating on your own happiness, rather than hunting around for somebody to provide it for you. That doesn’t mean you should stop with the meeting and greeting; just that you might try doing evening classes, holidays and clubbing because you enjoy them, rather than thinking of them as a springboard to meeting men. There’s something attractive about people independent enough to have a good time, simply for the joy of it. The more we enjoy ourselves, the more others enjoy us. The happier we are with ourselves, the happier other people are to be around us. If you’re feeling suicidal, I think that it’s really important to get some counselling for the sake of your emotional health. Not only will it help you challenge negative beliefs (“Nobody will ever love me”, “I’m incapable of having relationships”), it will help you to understand your own needs and build your confidence. We can unwittingly sabotage our relationships in ways that are entirely unconscious. There’s also a book you might find helpful — Finding Mr Right: The Real Woman’s Guide to Landing That Man by Annie Harrison (JR Books £5.99). Despite the unfortunate title (with its slightly predatory overtones), it’s a helpful and often reassuring anthology of personal stories and professional perspectives. Most of all, try to be open to possibility. It’s what makes life worth living. I have asperger's but I want a satisfying relationship August 16 2009 I am in my late fifties and want to start dating again. My mental health has never been brilliant. I had a breakdown in my twenties, but got through 30 years of marriage and three children before I had to seek help again. Eventually, I was diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome. I’m now divorced and past a lot of the emotional upset, so feel able to meet new people again. I’m not without some social skills and can be quite witty, but realise I have virtually no emotional intelligence and am quite vulnerable. My question is, when is it appropriate to inform potential partners? Unless particularly stressed, I can mask my difficulties well, but I have found that telling people is a big turn-off. I don’t read emotional signals accurately, if at all, so it’s difficult to take the lead in romantic encounters. It’s not very satisfying to disguise my true self all the time, and that’s not the sort of relationship I want to be involved in. I would appreciate any help you can give me. I have met a few women, mostly through the internet, and one or two even liked me, so perhaps there’s hope. I am perfectly sure there’s hope. You are obviously able to maintain a relationship, having been married for 30 years (which is more than can be said for many of us), and some of the women you’ve met have liked you. However, I do understand how difficult dating can be for you. I have a fair amount of experience of Asperger’s, as it runs through the male side of my family. My father, brother and nephew all have the syndrome, but my dad and brother are two of the kindest and most intelligent men you would ever care to meet, while my nephew is academically highly gifted. Aged eight, he was analysing Shakespeare’s entire canon of sonnets. For those not familiar with Asperger’s syndrome, it is sometimes known as high-functioning autism and tends mainly to affect men. As with any spectrum, its manifestations vary from mild to extreme. The most pronounced characteristics are difficulties in understanding other people’s feelings (as you say, “virtually no emotional intelligence”), which can appear as a lack of empathy, and problems interpreting social cues. But, just as most social behaviour is learnt, so the person with Asperger’s will gradually learn to deal with the puzzling antics of human beings, although, obviously, it is that much harder. My dad, for example, does not understand jokes, so he watches other people’s responses — when they laugh, he laughs, too. He can, however, be very witty, and is brilliant at wordplay, but is likely to interpret even the most throwaway remark literally, which can confuse or unintentionally offend people. Even as a child, I knew my dad was different, and that’s the way I continue to see the condition — as a difference, rather than a disability — although I am well aware of the difficulties of daily life. As you say, it makes you vulnerable because your behaviour and intentions can be misinterpreted. Of course it’s not satisfying to mask your true self, and nor is that the sort of relationship you wish to be involved in. That shows commendable honesty and courage on your part. As to whether you should tell potential partners, my feeling is yes, but not right away. I suffer from a depressive disorder, but would never start a friendship by declaring that upfront. It is simply one of the many aspects of my character, so I’m not going to slap a label on my forehead that says “Sad Sal”. If I became more intimately involved, I would certainly tell that person, simply because I have good and bad days and I wouldn’t wish them to think that my having a bad day was, in any sense, because of them. And so it is with Asperger’s. As you say, telling people too soon that you have difficulties is a turn-off, not only because they might react with alarm unless they are familiar with the condition (which many people aren’t), but because it puts an unnecessary obstacle in the way of a potential relationship. If somebody likes you, they like you, and while at some stage it will be both necessary and kind to explain that you have a condition that means you are not always able to respond in a way that is considered “normal”, I feel you should not do so until you have formed a connection that allows them to see you as you are, rather than as a syndrome. We are all different in our own ways. Some people will like us; others won’t. With some we might make an immediate connection; with others, we may feel a huge distance. My only feeling is that you should avoid women who are obviously emotionally needy as, with Asperger’s, you will be unable to satisfy those needs — your behaviour will frustrate them and be misinterpreted as deliberate or even wilful indifference. I know there are certain emotions my father can’t (rather than won’t) understand, but that does not stop me loving him very much. While it may take a little longer for you to establish a relationship, I’m sure the same will be said of you. I don't want to lie to my mum about being gay August 09 2009 I’m gay, which I’ve known since I was young but now I’m a teenager I long to find romance and be accepted. I realised it would be a problem when my mother found texts from a boy on my mobile. I lied my way out of it and she made no attempt to hide her relief but started making snide remarks about gay people. Finally, I got upset and confessed I was gay. She said I wasn’t, that all boys my age feel this at some point and she had my best interests at heart because, “my life would be endless problems". Eventually, we agreed I was just confused but I gave in because I was uncomfortable discussing my sexuality and there was no convincing her. My brother accepts it and hints that dad does too. My sister said she loves me no matter what. My mother kept encouraging me to get a girlfriend so I pretended my best friend was my girlfriend. My mother is thrilled but I’m really unhappy about lying and want to be myself in my own home. I want to be happy, but I want my mother to be happy too. Please help. That must be very difficult for you but I think the most important thing is to stop lying by pretending to have a girlfriend. As you say, lying to your mother makes you very unhappy, but the more you do it, the more you allow her to hold on to the belief that you’re not really gay. It may seem the best solution at the moment but it can potentially store up trouble for the future because she may find it even more difficult to accept your sexuality as you once had “a girlfriend.” You may be fifteen, but you are still her precious little boy and she is frightened that being gay will put you outside what a small part of society see as “normal” and cause you unhappiness. No mother wants that for her child. Some women have difficulty in accepting that their sons are gay, not because they don’t love them, but because they love them very much. Do try to remember that and be as patient as you can. Give her time. Every parent wants to protect their child and it is sometimes difficult to accept the truth that the best way we can protect our children is by allowing them to be themselves. You may only be fifteen, so not yet independent, but that does not mean you can’t be yourself.  I know it’s difficult when all you want is to make your mother happy and feel comfortable in your own home, but the less you pretend and the more you are yourself, the more your mother will come to accept you as you really are. That may take time but it will eventually happen, particularly if you have the support of the rest of your family. It must have taken great courage to tell her the truth and although, at the moment, she finds it difficult to accept, that’s her problem, not yours. You know and accept yourself as you are. At your age (at any age) that’s a very big deal and I admire you tremendously for it. We have to live our lives by being authentic. It’s when we’re not true to ourselves or when we adopt a false self to please others that we suffer. Pushing down our real feelings brings a host of emotional problems from low self-esteem to depression, not to mention the fear that many people have, as they so often put it, of “being found out.” My suggestion, and I know this is incredibly difficult, is to tell your mother that you were only pretending to have a girlfriend in order to make her happy and lying to her makes you feel miserable. As I said, we don’t want our children to suffer and the realisation that she has made you unhappy by forcing you to lie may help her to rethink her attitude. You are also perfectly within your rights to say it is not acceptable to read texts on your mobile phone. You don’t have to be rude or aggressive but you can point out that reading your texts is as intrusive as opening personal mail addressed to you. No matter what our age, we are entitled to a private life. I also wonder if it’s possible to discuss the situation with your father; not in the sense of asking him to take sides but just so you feel you have the trust and support of a parent. In your longer letter you say you like and respect him very much and your brother has hinted that he knows and accepts you as you are. It would take some pressure off you if you felt you had an adult to talk things over with. Don’t forget, too, that you have the love and support of your siblings. I know that, right now, three years seems like an eternity but you will soon be eighteen and off to university where you can be free to be whoever you want to be. Once you are able to show your mother you can be happy, she may still worry (what parent doesn’t?) but she can relax and be happy for you too. Is my husband gay? August 02 2009 I married my best friend, a loving, kind man. We have a good, although not passionate, sex life, but a couple of years ago I found on the computer photos of him half naked, with his hands down his underpants, as well as gay websites and searches for transvestites in cities he visits on business. I was devastated. He protested innocence, then said he doesn’t act on anything, just “gets off” on the taboo. He adamantly denies he is gay and promised not to visit the sites or chat rooms again. Since then, things have been good between us and we’re considering fertility treatment. But he has a male friend who is so camp, I think he’s gay (although he’s married), and he’s very flirtatious. My husband says nothing is going on, but I can’t stop thinking about them together. We had an initial session of counselling, but my husband is very clever and Machiavellian, so I don’t believe therapy would get the truth out of him unless he’s ready to admit it to himself. I feel I’m a cover for him. I do believe he loves me, but I need to be clear in my mind before I embark on IVF. I wonder, given everything that’s going on, why you’re even considering fertility treatment. It seems to me your first concern should be the strength of your marriage. The first few years after having a baby can be so difficult, they test the strength of any relationship, however strong. As for the emotional agony of IVF (which rarely succeeds the first time), you need to feel loved and supported to get through the difficulties of hormone treatment, as well as the trauma of possible disappointment. That’s hard enough, but I think going through all that with a man you don’t really seem to trust is the worst possible basis on which to start a family. It would be very different if your husband had told you the truth right from the start. He may believe his sexual proclivities are a private and personal matter, but he doesn’t seem to understand how they might affect your relationship or your happiness. Transparency and honesty are crucial to any relationship, but the most fundamental quality is trust. There are couples in very happy marriages where one person is gay, but that happiness depends on an open and mutual understanding, as well as complete honesty. You describe your husband as a loving, kind man, but it’s not particularly kind or loving to have withheld information from you. I worry, too, about the word “Machiavellian”, the definition of which is cunning, deceitful and unscrupulous. Perhaps you didn’t mean it in the true sense of the word, but nonetheless it implies that you feel he is capable of a high degree of manipulation. On top of that, he refused to have more than one session of counselling, and even then he couldn’t be honest, either with the counsellor or with himself. You also say that no amount of therapy would get the truth out of him, which makes me wonder what you think the truth really is. Then there is the friend whom you describe as overtly camp and “flirtatious”. Your suspicions may well be unfounded, but put all that together and the implication is that you believe your husband really is gay, despite his protestations to the contrary and despite his promises that he will not visit gay websites or transvestite chat rooms again. You also feel you are a cover for him — or, in other words, the keeper of his secrets. Secrets are corrosive to happiness — not only yours, but potentially that of your future child. You don’t say why fertility treatment is necessary, but for some children (although by no means all) it can be emotionally difficult to discover they are an IVF baby. The lack of trust between you and your husband may also be a problem for a child, as you are obviously worrying that he might be unfaithful and are on red alert for any suspicious signs. That’s understandable, particularly as you found evidence of internet searches for transvestites in the cities he visits on business, but constant tension will create a toxic atmosphere of suspicion and mistrust, which can hardly be healthy for a child. Finally, there is the possibility that your husband really is gay, and eventually decides to come out. That’s fine if the two of you are strong enough to provide robust emotional support for your child, but you have to consider the damage it could cause him or her. That’s what I mean about being mutually resolved regarding the strength of your relationship. All too often, people believe the birth of a child will bring them closer together and resolve all their past issues, but if there are flaws in the relationship, those flaws can develop into cracks that will shatter it completely. I think you’re right about needing to be clear in your mind before you embark on IVF, but that clarity may take some time to emerge. If I can give you any advice, it would be to wait a couple of years and work on rebuilding the trust within your marriage before you even consider having a baby. ? Intolerant of my family July 26 2009 After 20 years of juggling a happy home and part-time work, I’m in turmoil. I am 50, but retrained recently and discovered an occupation I love, and which is suitably child-friendly. Having discovered this new passion, I can’t wait to do more and find myself becoming increasingly irritable with, and intolerant of, my family. I’m almost counting the months until our two older children leave home. We also have a 12-year-old. The bulk of housekeeping and childcare falls to me, and while the children help, the daily chores seem never-ending. I love my family, but feel isolated and overwhelmed. Does this sound a normal — possibly menopausal — reaction? I can’t discuss it with family or friends, probably due to guilt. Most people I know dread “empty nest” syndrome. Nobody close to me has had the chance to invest their newly found middle-age energy in learning something new and absorbing. I love reading self-help books and wonder if there are any you could recommend? Thank you. This is a subject dear to my heart. I am so tired of the assumption that menopausal women should dread the change (as it is irritatingly known, as if it is a personality bypass) and have nothing to look forward to except a life of invisibility and grandparenting. My daughter is nearly 18. I adore every molecule in her body, and while I will always be there for her, after 18 years’ hard labour (gladly given) I am also happy that my life will soon be my own again. There are books to write, places to see and projects to enjoy. There is so much to do and so little time. Many of my friends feel the same. We may be in our fifties, but we’re still kicking around in jeans and Converse sneakers, still grabbing life by the throat or using what you so perfectly describe as our “newly found middle-aged energy” to learn new ideas and new skills. One friend is adamant that grandparenting is not on the agenda. Sure, she’ll love her grandchildren and be happy to see them, but she has no intention of becoming a surrogate carer. And yes, I know that circumstances sometimes demand that grandparents need to step in, but I dislike the assumption that it is a woman’s duty, rather than an act of love. Just as I hate the assumption that women who have chosen not to have children are some sort of abomination and are going against nature. Quite the opposite. They have the courage and honesty to acknowledge nature — their own. As our hormones change, so do our brain patterns. We cease to be the nurturing people we are biologically programmed to be during our child-bearing years. I recently interviewed Dame Dr Shirley Bond, one of the country’s leading experts on women’s health. Well past retirement age, she had just returned from trekking in Kathmandu and is all in favour of middle-aged women having what she calls a gap year. “It’s a time when we should be able to enjoy what we want to do. As we lose those sharing hormones, we start to concentrate more on ourselves, which is quite a shock to the people around us. If we had children in our natural age, the twenties, they’d be grown up and gone away. It makes dealing with the menopause more difficult if you have teenagers to deal with as well.” So, yes, it may be more difficult because you have teenagers, but you don’t need to feel guilty. Once you accept that you are neither selfish nor aberrant, I suspect that much of your irritability (which may, as well, be due to hormonal changes) and intolerance with the family will vanish. You are not only discovering what you love, you are rediscovering yourself as a person, rather than as a mother. Addressing your own needs does not mean you are neglecting your children’s. I have always worked, and I love my work. Far from feeling neglected (let alone emotionally stunted) due to having a working mother, my daughter thinks it’s “very cool”, and part of her pleasure is in knowing she can happily go off and live her life without worrying about me. I sympathise with women who dread empty-nest syndrome. Our children are a huge part of our lives and we will miss them badly. That’s not about being lonely and unfulfilled, it’s simply about love. I know I’ll feel my daughter’s absence terribly. I’m not sure you’re longing for your children to leave home so much as longing to have the time to explore your own interests, but even the drudgery of everyday chores can't stop us dreaming big dreams, happy in the knowledge that the time will come when we can stop dreaming and start doing. In that spirit, here are a few favourite books. Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman’s Search for Everything by Elizabeth Gilbert (Bloomsbury £7.99). Finding Your Own North Star: How to Claim the Life You Were Meant to Live by Martha Beck (Piatkus £8.99). Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes by William Bridges (Perseus £9.99) My lover's toxic ex is ruining our relationship July 19 2009 For three years, I’ve been in love with a man whose older teenage children live with him following a vicious divorce. His wife (who left) used the children as weapons, physically attacked their father and characterised me as the woman who broke up the marriage. I didn’t, but the children resent me and are protective of their mother. I’ve never been allowed to meet them. Any discussion with them ends in tantrums and threats of stopping contact with their father if he allows me into their home. I don’t believe these threats would amount to anything and I’ve been as supportive as I can, but he’s adamant he’ll do nothing to risk alienating them. He’s welcome in my home and my children are fond of him. I’d be happy to help him find a compromise that puts his children’s interests first, though I don’t necessarily agree with giving in to tantrums. Despite being in love and having a wonderful relationship, we cannot live together, marry, or even spend Christmas with each other. However, nothing will persuade him to address their behaviour, or his own. I feel he doesn’t love me enough and it hurts. Should I give up? It seems to me that you have two options: accept the situation as it is, or leave. I know that doesn’t appear terribly helpful, and that you already know that, but sometimes it helps to hear the brutal truth. There are, of course, two sides to every story, but if his ex-wife is even half as toxic as he describes, he’s up against a force of nature that no amount of compromise or understanding is going to shift. She may be volatile, but obviously has a tight relationship with her children and, if she is prone to emotional outbursts, they may be trying to keep the peace because the alternative is too hard to deal with. As much as they adore their father, they’re trapped between a rock and a hard place. That may change as they get older and begin to understand the difficulties inherent in any relationship, but right now, they’re obviously trying to cope with the fallout from a very destructive time in their young lives. In your longer letter, you say their mother left when they were in their early teens “to find herself” and returned only when she heard of your relationship with her husband, when she claimed she wanted him back and all the family to be together. She moved back in, briefly, but the reconciliation ended in acrimonious divorce. Even so, her decision to leave the first time must have been heartbreaking for the children, and their relief at having her back enormous. As for their father, even a wonderful relationship cannot outweigh the terror of losing your children. It sounds as if he’s fighting a war on all fronts, ducking under the constant threat of sniper fire from his ex and trying to heal the damage his children have suffered, and continue to suffer, trapped between warring parents. It may be that the tears and tantrums are a throwback to the time when their mother left and he had to pick up the pieces, so he’s overprotective and they are overattached. As they get older, they may start to separate emotionally from him, but it seems that, at some primal level, he still sees them as small children. Capitulating to tantrums and sulking is not, as you rightly say, the best way forward, particularly for his children. Allowing them so much power may set up a damaging pattern of bullying and emotional blackmail in their later lives. In the gentlest and most tactful way possible, it might be worth pointing that out, but don’t expect an enthusiastic response or any immediate changes. He is coping in the only way he knows. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. Given the difficulties of managing both his ex and his kids, if he didn’t love you he’d have given up on the relationship long ago. Rather than putting his children before you (as in your phrase “He doesn’t love me enough”), I imagine that he sees you as an adult who can cope with emotional difficulty (unlike his kids) and perhaps he sees your house as a safe haven. I agree it’s not much fun having to be the adult all the time, or to feel hated through no action of your own, and there is also a child in all of us who says, “What about me? It’s not fair.” His children will be off to university soon, which will give you more time together, but you are the only person who can know whether the situation is too much for you emotionally. My concern is that giving up implies having to make some sort of ultimatum, and I can’t believe that would be good for either of you. I know you’re grieving over the idea of never being able to live together or marry (although who knows what the future holds?) but, even taking the children out of the equation, living together with a toxic ex in the background isn’t much fun, either. Right now, you’re spared much of the misery that goes with that. You have your independence, your own home, happy kids and a man who, for all his difficult baggage, really loves you. None of that should be underestimated. I keep having affairs but I'm desperate to stop July 12 2009 I’m married, with two small children, and, basically, I have it all — but I am, to put it bluntly, a serial liar, a cheat and not a nice person. I love my wife and kids like nothing else, yet fear I’m on a path to self-destruction. I’ve had a series of affairs, but I don’t want to be this way. I know there’s help available for sex addicts, although it seems to be the emotional connection I crave. A few years ago, I had counselling for depression and was told I needed a father figure. My late father had an affair and left home when I was a teenager. He provided holidays and money, but had trouble showing he was proud of me. Whenever I watch a trashy movie about a dad who works too hard, then realises what he has and changes for his kids, it actually makes me cry. I’m desperate to be a good dad and not turn into my father and run away. I don’t blame anyone but myself and know what I do is morally wrong, but it’s as if I’m addicted to seeking the highs I get from being with other women. You can either describe it as an addiction or compulsive behaviour, but, to my mind, there’s not much difference. The compulsion to keep on indulging in toxic, self-sabotaging behaviour is like an addiction and there is help available for sex addicts. There is also help for love addicts, which is what I feel you’re describing here. The two are often so interlinked that the Twelve Step fellowship that deals with this sort of process addiction (as distinct from a substance addiction such as alcohol or drugs) is known as Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous (SLAA). People can jump from one sexual partner to another without understanding it’s not sexual intimacy they are seeking, but emotional intimacy or attachment. As you say, it’s the emotional connection you crave. A process addiction simply means using a process such as shopping or gambling (or another person) as a diversion from emotional pain. Any process that changes the chemical structure of the brain — whether it’s an adrenaline rush from gambling or an endorphin high from falling in love (endorphins attach to the same cell receptors as morphine) — is capable of creating a dependency. I’m sorry you’re in such emotional pain that you’re in danger of threatening the marriage and children you love. The question is, why? One school of thought says that we mimic the behaviour we learnt from our parents. If that behaviour was learnt during a time of extreme stress (such as your father abandoning you when you were a teenager), it stays imprinted in our hard-wiring, which is why, even though we can swear blind we’ll never behave in the same way, we still do it. There’s a debate whether alcoholism is a genetic condition or learnt behaviour, or, most probably, a combination of the two. You don’t, however, have to get trapped in that self-fulfilling prophecy. Keep repeating the words, like a mantra, “I am not my father.” That’s the first step. The next, and most important, is to understand the nature of the emotional hole your father created when he left, and which you’re trying to fill with other people. I’m not sure you’re looking for a father figure. I think you’re trying to heal a wound. Crying over movies where the Hollywood dad comes good for his kids may mean you’re stuck in the adolescent phase we inhabit before we separate emotionally from our parents. Sadly, you never had the chance to go through the process of separation, so you’re still emotionally attached. Nor did you get the chance to resolve your feelings with your father before he died, so perhaps what you’re trying to do is re-create the feelings of love and safety before he left. It’s an instinct, based on a few words in a letter, but I feel you might approach the problem in two ways. The first is to find a therapist who knows about attachment disorder (many experts believe this is at the heart of love addiction). The second, which you could do at the same time, is to attend SLAA meetings, as it seems to me you’ll need a great deal of emotional support as you try to untangle all this. Nobody there will think you’re not a nice person. They’ll simply think you’re trying to find relief from deep emotional pain and will help you by suggesting more constructive and healthier ways of dealing with it. Your story will not shock. They have stories of their own. Do try, though, to stop beating yourself up with negative beliefs. They simply won’t help. They may even reinforce destructive behaviour. If, unconsciously, we believe we’re worth nothing, we believe we deserve nothing. Yes, on paper we can say that you’re a serial liar and a cheat, but as you say in your longer letter, you might appear cold on the outside but on the inside you’re an emotional mess. Do try and sort out that mess. It will be hard work but the rewards are well worth it. Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous; slaauk.com Is It Love or Is It Addiction? by Brenda Schaeffer (£13.99 Hazelden) Help me to stop self harming when I feel upset or angry July 05 2009 I have a self-harming issue. I’ve hurt myself in the past when I’ve been upset with myself or others — or angry about anything at all. Recently, I’ve done it for no reason — just because it makes me feel alive, I guess. My friend has a similar problem. I don’t know what to do or who to turn to. I feel alone and isolated and have withdrawn from friends and family. Because I’m only 15, people don’t realise I feel this way. I’ve become increasingly frustrated with my parents, particularly my mum, as I seem to get blamed for pretty much everything and told I’m wrong (I am bisexual). I turned to self-harming as a way of punishing myself. I’ve used blades and scissors, as well as hitting myself. After some comments at school, I’ve started doing it across my stomach so people can’t see, or using blunt scissors so it doesn’t leave a mark. I don’t know how to stop. It feels like an addiction. I know there’s little chance of you answering this, but I hope you will. I don’t want to make my friends and family suffer. First of all, I’d like you to take all those feelings of guilt and shame and put them in the dustbin where they belong. Self-harming does not make you bad or wrong. It is simply a coping mechanism to deal with emotional pain and anger. It is much more common than people understand, but is difficult to admit to because of the stigma around it and the fear that it will be met with shock and disgust. I am not shocked or disgusted. I simply believe you’re in pain, and I am so sorry about that. The biggest step is to admit you have a problem, and you’ve taken that step by writing to me. Now we have to find ways of helping you to cope with the problem. I don’t feel it’s helpful to think of it as an addiction. All it does is make you feel trapped and powerless. Think of it instead as a compulsive behaviour. All behaviours can be changed, so you are not powerless. It isn’t easy, but the key is that you have to really want to change. Obviously you do, so that’s the next step. Cutting or hitting yourself is the symptom, not the cause. What we have to do is find out why you feel so angry and upset that you need to punish yourself. When we internalise emotions we magnify them tenfold, so it would be really helpful if you could talk about the way that you feel. If you can manage it, the best place to start is your family. I know you feel frustrated with your mum. I don’t know her, but I honestly doubt she blames you for everything or thinks you are wrong. Part of self-harming is about self-blaming, so I suspect you may be interpreting everything she says as evidence of your feelings about yourself. If you can, try and talk to her. You don’t have to blurt it all out in one go, just say you’re feeling upset and take it from there. If your mum can’t help — and families sometimes find self-harming difficult to cope with — then go somewhere else. Don’t give up. Obviously, it has to be somewhere you feel safe and know that everything you say will be kept confidential. That might be your school nurse or GP, both of whom would be able to suggest counselling if you need it, but simply opening up to someone will help. There are also helplines that allow you to be anonymous, but where you can talk to people who really understand. Saneline is fantastic. There are also good websites that will help you understand the problem and suggest ways of coping. As for feeling you’re bisexual, that’s a normal stage of adolescent development. I’m not trying to minimise your feelings, but I have a 17-year-old daughter and, at exactly your age, many of her group decided they were bisexual and some experimented with self-harming. Right now, you’re trying to feel your way into an identity, and part of that identity is your sexuality. It’s a really difficult age (and not because you’re difficult), because all the big issues about who you are come together with a mix of unsettling hormones. Two years on, my daughter’s group of friends are dating boys and have stopped self-harming. Some coping strategies would help. Try to work out your emotional triggers and, whenever you feel the urge to self-harm, ask yourself what the emotion is behind it. Look at other ways to release that emotion such as keeping a journal, which simply means writing down everything you feel. Don’t worry about punctuation or legibility; just allow your mind to guide your thoughts. Music is good, but make sure it’s upbeat and happy, so you don’t feed dark emotions with darker music. If you distract yourself, you may find the feeling has passed. Above all, remember that you’re not bad or wrong, and that you are not alone. You’re having a really horrid time and it will pass. The law of the universe says that nothing stays the same, good or bad. “This too shall pass” — make that your mantra. I can't stand my Boyfriend's Family June 28 2009 I’ve been with my boyfriend since university. When I lost my mum as a child, I took on the adult role of carer for my sick father until he died. My boyfriend is close to his family. They are not financially secure, due to poorly paid jobs and his mum’s shopping addiction, but he supported himself through university and has a job with good prospects. His dad had a stroke and got a £90,000 insurance payout, but luckily he recovered, and put by money for his children’s weddings. His older sister took her share (£5,000), but since then they have spent all the money, including their children’s wedding fund. I’m shocked and saddened, and it’s made me miss my dad, who was generous and left a fair inheritance. My boyfriend wants me to think about marrying him rather than his family, but it’s causing rows between us. I’m afraid they’ll treat their youngest daughter differently when her special day comes. I don’t know if I want to be a part of his family any more and worry the stress will spoil what’s meant to be a magical time I’m not sure I entirely understand your problem, but I’m going to tackle it simply because I feel that, unless you change your behaviour, you’re in grave danger of upsetting your boyfriend so badly that your only special day will be the day he tells you that it’s all over. I wonder why you’re so outraged about people spending money that is theirs to do with as they wish. I know you feel you have a right to it, but, honestly, do you? As you pointed out in your longer letter, the recent economic difficulties mean they may lose their home. That doesn’t seem to bother you. What’s outraged you is that they used the extra money to buy a £10,000 Jacuzzi and “fund his mum’s consumer-driven lifestyle for a few more months”. I can see why you might think that a foolish extravagance, but we go back to the point that it is their money. When times were easier, they promised to fund their children’s weddings. I agree that a broken promise is irksome, but that still doesn’t give you the right to claim the money as your own. What seems to be driving all this is a pronounced sense of entitlement. You say you’re “shocked and saddened”, that you’re not sure if you can “forgive them” and that their actions are “unfair”. Honestly, there is nothing as unattractive as self-righteousness. It’s a quality almost guaranteed to drive people away, so if you continue with it, you risk alienating not only your boyfriend’s family, but him, too. As you say, it’s already causing rows between you. That, at the very least, should be a warning signal to shut up and put up. As your boyfriend says, there’s nothing you can do about it and he wants you to think about marrying him rather than his family. You seem so focused on your special day and “magical time” that it seems the wedding matters more than a good relationship with your future husband. You should be supporting him, not embarrassing him by pointing out his parents’ profligate ways. I’m sure he knows all about that and has accepted his family just as they are. As you say, he’s very close to them. Do please stop looking at everybody else’s behaviour and examine your own. I wonder if it’s the early loss of your parents that’s the trigger. It’s understandable that you might feel abandoned and want somebody to look after you, but demanding that his parents act as surrogates simply isn’t going to help. It’s tough to feel that you’re on your own without parental support, but you were adult enough to take on the role of caring for your sick father, so I’m sure you’re adult enough to get past this disappointment. Just as I hope you are adult enough to accept that we might have to (or even want to) pay for our own wedding. As your father left you a fair inheritance and your boyfriend is in a job with good prospects, that doesn’t seem too far-fetched. You might find paying for it fantastically liberating. The two of you can do exactly as you please, freed from the tiresome demands of inviting Auntie Edna and Uncle Reg, because the family insists they must be included. In the end, what truly matters is having a great marriage, not having a great wedding. Watch, too, for jealousy creeping in. You say you’re afraid they’ll treat their youngest daughter differently and are obviously envious of their eldest daughter, who had the expensive wedding you obviously want. Again, that’s understandable if you are missing your father and feel jealous (however unconsciously) that your boyfriend’s father is favouring his daughters in a way you wish your father could favour you. The best advice I can give you is to be very careful. Your current obsession with money and your rights, together with threats about not wanting to be part of his family any more, could do terrible damage to your relationship. There is nothing to say we have to approve of the way families conduct themselves, but we mess with the ties that bind them at our peril. Needy sister June 21 2009 I’m married with no children; my sister is married with two kids. We’ve never been close. My father died after years of alcohol and Valium abuse; my childhood memories are of anger and hiding bottles. My mother was his carer but is now in a home following a stroke. My sister rarely visits, but she gets angry if I don’t consult her over every decision. She says she’s too busy and I wouldn't understand because I don’t have children. She has tantrums when she’s frustrated and is like a child herself; she is always at her family’s beck and call. I’ve told her I don’t like her, that she's too needy and demanding, but she still wants me to call her and meet up. She says I’m the most important thing after Mum and her family, but her actions do not reflect this. We went to counselling, but she said it was a waste of time and money. I’ve tried everything, but she says I’m hard. I hate the chaos she arouses in me. Can you suggest anything before I cut all ties? It’s like trying to catch the wind, and so much easier to let it blow away. It might be easier to let it blow away, but I doubt, in the long run, it would be better. Just as I doubt, after the initial satisfaction has faded, that it would make you feel any better. Obviously, there’s a clash of character styles going on, but I think that’s too easy a way of dismissing the problem. We all cope in different ways, and it seems your sister’s approach is to avoid anything difficult or painful. Perhaps that’s why she rarely visits your mother; not because she’s too busy, but because it’s too painful for her to see the mother she loves paralysed by a stroke. She may have tantrums when she’s frustrated and blindly ignore the consequences of her own behaviour (even when you tell her to her face that you don’t like it), and in that way she does seem childlike, but it may be far more complex than that. I suspect she desperately needs to feel needed, which is why she’s at the beck and call of her family and resents any decisions you make that exclude her. On the other hand, your way of dealing with difficulty appears to be to become super-efficient, proactive and logical, or what your sister calls “hard”. Here’s the most obvious example. You feel your sister is a problem that needs to be solved so, in your logical way, you arrive at a clean-cut solution: to cut her out of your life. There is another way. I can hear you saying: “Yes, but you don’t understand how frustrating she is.” Whenever there’s a “but”, we are defending our own behaviour. I know you feel you’ve tried everything, but have you honestly looked at yourself through your sister’s eyes? And have you tried to understand the emotional forces that might drive her? Not to mention the ones driving you? In order to better understand your differences, it may be helpful to look at the family dynamic. Your father’s addictions should not be underestimated. In your longer letter, you say it was never mentioned outside the family and you can now see how effectively you all covered up for him. Your mother felt duty-bound to stay with him and guilty if she left him alone, even for a few hours. She also adopted the role of go-between with you and your sister, constantly trying to keep the peace. In other words, she was at her family’s beck and call, which is perhaps where your sister learnt her behaviour. I wonder, too, if your sister wants to create the happy family she didn’t experience as a child. A rage-filled, unpredictable father is not the ideal formative influence. In a way, you might say he got all the attention, which is perhaps why your sister is, as you put it, “needy and demanding”. She is competing for the attention she didn’t get as a child. Your way of dealing with it is radically different. As a reaction to your father’s demands for attention, you learnt to shut down on any extreme emotion and keep a careful distance. In fact, I’d say you’re positively allergic to emotional extremes. In your own words, you “hate the chaos” your sister provokes in you. I understand why you felt you should go to counselling with your sister, believing it might help you to communicate better with each other, but I have a feeling you think she’s the real problem. My suggestion is to have some counselling yourself. It may help you to understand why you find needy, demanding people so overwhelming. That’s not to say you should take all the responsibility, but it might help you to handle your reactions differently, so your sister wouldn’t upset you in the same way. Understanding our own responses is, I think, the best way of finding acceptance and perhaps forgiveness for other people’s behaviour. Your sister obviously loves you and holds the idea of family dear, even if she expresses it rather badly. I worry you might regret any drastic action. I hope this helps. Should I leave my Depressed Boyfriend? June 14 2009 I feel desperate. My boyfriend suffers from depression. He’s not suicidal, but he can’t work or engage with life normally. I believe he can get better, but it isn’t happening, despite two years of antidepressants. I’m running short of emotional reserves. We’re very close and mutually supportive, but sometimes I feel I’m his therapist, not his lover. He used to be wonderful company, playful and good to talk to, with a talent for enriching life and smelling the roses. Now he’s grumpy, and neither of us can tell if his lack of emotion is depression or if it means he doesn’t really love me. I have clung to the belief that he’ll pull out of it and we can be happy, but will he ever recover? Am I wasting my life? I love him and don’t want to abandon him or give up on us, but I know he has to heal himself. I can’t do it for him. I can’t even see how to help him. Would it be better if we weren’t together? And if we stay together, what can I do to help us through this? I know you have first-hand experience, so please send some sanity and insightfulness this way. I am sorry. Depression is a tough illness, and not merely for those who suffer from it. I know only too well how hard we are to be around. Your boyfriend’s grumpiness and apparent lack of emotion are not personal. They are symptoms of an illness. When we are severely depressed, we shut down and turn inwards. We try to send people away, even those we love very much. It’s not that we want them to go. In severe depression, it seems easier (although not better) to be on our own. We feel a burden to ourselves, let alone to others. The symptoms of depression are not only apathy and lack of energy. It can have a high irritability factor, too; hence your boyfriend’s grumpiness. Again, that’s a symptom of an illness, of synapses misfiring in the brain. He is still wonderful company, but his real self is shrouded by depression. That’s what I mean by it not being personal, although I understand how intensely personal it feels to those who have to suffer its consequences. What worries me is that it’s gone on for so long. You say antidepressants haven’t helped. I wonder if he’s tried different medications? Antidepressants only work well for 30% of those who are given them. When they do work, it’s like magic (hence the myth of happy pills), but for the rest of us, finding the right treatment is trial and error. Often we need to try a number of medications, sometimes in combination, until we find the right one. There is no simple blood test (I wish), and there are so many different forms of depression that finding the right drug is like shooting in the dark. You can only hope it will hit the target. I suggest he sees a good psychiatrist. Psychiatrists deal with medication (the drug cure), while therapists deal with negative thinking (the talking cure). The best treatment is a combination of the two. Your boyfriend needs expert help, and treating you as his therapist (or you trying to act as one) not only won’t work, it may also harm your relationship. The burden and responsibility is too much for you to carry. As you say, you are running low on emotional reserves. If I have learnt anything from my own experience, it is that those who suffer from depression have to fight hard and there are many battles along the way. We need to be prepared to try anything and everything. As well as drugs and psychotherapy, there are ways we can (and must) help ourselves. Walking is good, as is any form of exercise. It’s particularly important in the morning, when our mood is often very low. It gets us out of the house — vitally important in lifting mood — and encourages the chemicals in our heads to behave better. Good nutrition is hugely beneficial, as are vitamins (B6 and 12) and omega-3 oils (containing a higher ratio of EPA to DHA). Yoga helps and some studies have found acupuncture effective. As you say, he has to heal himself, but you can encourage him to take action. Read as much as you can on the subject. Treating it in a straightforward manner, as an illness that needs to be managed, will relieve some of the pressure on you both. The problem with depression is that there are no obvious physical symptoms, so it can look like an act of pure contrariness or self-sabotage rather than a serious illness. I believe depression is a physical illness that stems from a malfunctioning organ: the brain. Sadly, it can recur from time to time. It does with me, and the episodes can be vicious. Any chronic, incapacitating illness is incredibly hard to be around, so nobody should blame you if you walked away. Only you can know if you can, or want to, cope with the challenge. Love is a great healer. Depressives need acceptance and encouragement, even as the demons interfere with our capacity to reciprocate. I hope this helps. Useful reading: Shoot the Damn Dog: A Memoir of Depression by Sally Brampton (£7.99 Bloomsbury). Living with a Black Dog by Matthew Johnstone (£7.99 Robinson) Controlling Partner June 7 2009 I’ve enjoyed a loving relationship with a younger man. He’s very mature and I’m young at heart. Everything was great until I lost my licence drink-driving. It was stupid and I regret it bitterly. He was so upset, we split up temporarily, but he promised to drive me to work every day as my office has no transport links. We got back together and everything was good until I got horribly drunk one evening with friends. He hit the roof because I was totally out of control. He rarely drinks. I understand binge drinking isn’t the way forward and now only take a glass of wine occasionally, and I feel much better within myself. He still drives me to work and we sleep together and cuddle, but he refuses to have sex, saying he’s afraid I’ll revert to my old habits. I love him dearly and he says he loves me and talks about the future, but refers to our relationship as “before and after we split up”. I’ve shown him I’ve controlled my drinking and tried to explain how important sexual intimacy is in bringing couples back together. I feel it’s a form of punishment and it’s killing me. A few things puzzle me. It seems a disproportionate response on your boyfriend’s part to isolated events of excess drinking. I’m not sure a couple of nights can be considered a habit, so your comment that he’s afraid you’ll return to old habits makes me wonder if you’re being honest about the extent of your drinking. Anybody who gets so drunk that they lose all sense and get into a car may have a greater alcohol problem than they are admitting to. Also, the way you say you feel better within yourself now you’ve restricted your intake seems to imply it was excessive enough to make you feel bad, emotionally as well as physically. There is a great sense of shame attached to drinking too much. It’s not only the physical hangover that affects us, but an emotional hangover, linked to shame and guilt. Anyway, you’re now dealing with that, which is great. You’re also very sorry. Sorry is not just a word; if we are truly contrite, we make amends by changing our behaviour. You’ve done that, so why can’t your boyfriend accept your apology? I tend to feel uneasy when people can’t accept apologies, because it seems to me an indication of some deep-seated emotional issues. You say you feel this is a form of punishment. I think you’re right. What’s more worrying is not his desire to punish but to go on doing it. Punishing another person is about power, or an overwhelming need to be in control. Certainly, it seems from your letter that your boyfriend has control issues. It’s one thing to control our own behaviour, but what strikes me more is his reaction to somebody else being out of control. As you put it, “he hit the roof” when you got horribly drunk on an evening out with friends. Again, that seems a disproportionate response. We may feel a bit cross, or disgusted even, when our other half gets very drunk, but it’s odd to get quite so intensely angry. Anger is often about fear, just as rigid control is about fear, usually of being vulnerable. It may not be about your drinking at all. It may, instead, be issues going back to his childhood, an alcoholic parent perhaps, which is why he reacts so violently to you getting out of control. You even say, in your longer letter, that he is “scared” to love you, just as he is “afraid” you’ll return to your old habits. Both words might indicate an earlier trauma. When we’re scared, we try to control the situation, and he is doing that by withholding sex. That’s a sad and ungenerous retribution and, far from being mature, as you say he is, it seems very childlike — a combination of sulking and punishment. It’s just as childlike to taunt somebody with references to “before and after we split up”. So he’s trying to control you by withholding sex but sleeping in the same bed, even controlling you by driving you to and from work. On the surface, it looks like a generous gesture, but it is totally inappropriate (not to say weird) if he’s broken off the relationship. It’s a way of keeping you close, just as sleeping in the same bed but refusing to make love is a way of tantalising you and keeping you hooked. Instinctively, however trivial two isolated events of drinking may seem, I think emotional issues around alcohol could be part of a bigger picture. There are shades of codependence in your relationship, which is often implicit in problems around alcohol, whether past or present. He punishes and controls. You beg and plead. He withholds but keeps you close. He’s scared to be with you, but scared to let you go. You’re frightened he’ll go, so you tolerate being both humiliated and punished. However you look at it, it doesn’t appear emotionally healthy. Relationship counselling would help, but only if you are both prepared to be completely honest. Here are some useful websites to help you find a therapist in your area: The Counselling Directory; counselling-directory.org.uk. The British Association for Sexual and Relationship Therapy; basrt.org.uk. The British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy; bacp.co.uk Codependent Family May 31 2009 Our daughter is in her thirties and has had several episodes of depression and extreme weight loss, although she is not anorexic. Her main issue is that we are too controlling, and her counsellor suggested we are a co-dependent family. She is sullen and offhand and says she’ll contact us when she wants and we shouldn’t contact her. We accepted that and communicate by e-mails and texts, but even that is difficult as she won’t return e-mails. She left her job after a disagreement and hasn’t worked since, so we are using our life savings to pay for a flat in an expensive area where at least she has a few friends. She’s having psychotherapy twice a week and is feeling better, which is good, but seems to spend all her time on internet chat. We have only small pensions and have tried telling her that it cannot continue indefinitely, but she says we’re only concerned about money. It has made things worse, even though we’ve told her we’re not pulling the plug, but just need her to manage her situation better. Please help. I think your daughter needs to grow up and you need to allow her to do so. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh and I understand you’re simply trying to do your best for an only child you love very much, but what you’re actually doing by constantly coming to her rescue is keeping her in a state of abject dependency. That can’t be helping her self-respect or self-esteem, and that, in turn, will feed into her depression and eating disorder. I know you’ve tried to tell her that the money can’t continue, but I suspect, from the phrasing “tried to tell her”, that you were less than firm. In fact, your (very long) letter was so fraught with capitulation that it’s hardly surprising she’s behaving like a sullen adolescent. If that’s the way she’s always been allowed to behave, it’s going to be difficult for her to understand the responsibilities of adulthood. Avoiding them, I suspect, is what this is about. Depression is horrible, but there are as many causes of it as there are different forms, and I suspect that part of her distress is a way, however unconsciously, of maintaining a childlike dependence. Many psychologists believe an eating disorder may be (although is not always) a way of staying in prepubescence. It seems she’s used to getting what she wants. In your letter, you describe how you financed a three-bedroom house because she found living in the flat above her work “unbearable”, despite it being part of her salary package. She also maintained she couldn’t sleep in the same house as you, so when you visited, you had to stay in a hotel. There’s a world of dysfunction in that story alone. One of the most important ways we recover from depression is by taking responsibility for our own emotional health. It’s all too easy to expect a therapist to solve every problem. I suspect the counsellor is right about co-dependency and it’s important that your daughter learns to separate from you emotionally and become independent. It seems (however clumsily) that is what she’s trying to do, but she’s failing to understand the difference between emotional and physical separation. She’s keeping you at a distance, but remaining dependent. So what should you do? My feeling is that some discipline would prove useful. As you say, you’re not pulling the plug, but even the mention of the idea has sent her into a sulk. Small steps are needed to re-educate her after a lifetime of dependency. Instead of paying for her flat and therapy, why not give her a small allowance for a limited time, say a year? She can spend it as she likes, but it will mean she’ll have to find a cheaper flat and a job, which will help her self-esteem. She’ll also have to find ways of managing her depression and eating disorder, such as yoga, meditation and perhaps a support group such as Overeaters Anonymous (OA), which, despite its name, deals with all sorts of eating disorders. OA will get her out of the house and among people who understand, and it costs nothing. Above all, you need to be strong and not capitulate every time she wants something. It’s called tough love and is hard to grasp when you’ve spent a lifetime believing that love, rather than being a mutual exchange, is about giving — or giving in. It is very hard to watch your child suffer, but indulging her belief that she is helpless simply reinforces a “poor me” syndrome. If she has spoken to her counsellor about co-dependence, she must have explored the importance of boundaries. However, as she seems incapable of understanding the difference between boundaries and walls, it’s up to you to explain, kindly but firmly, what you’re doing and why. And, if you want her to get well, to keep on doing it. Am I too Needy? May 24 2009 I’m 42 and with a good man who is thoughtful and affectionate. We speak daily and meet every other weekend, weaving our relationship around our children. His wife died, leaving him with two teenagers. I divorced my alcoholic husband and put myself and my two boys through a lot of pain and uncertainty. Everything was great until I asked him about the future. I know some men don’t like talking about such things, but he says he never makes plans. I’m not demanding lifelong commitment or to live together (the logistics make that impossible), but feel hurt. He said he wasn’t sure he loved me “in that way”. Besides, he enjoys living on his own. He’s positive about love growing between us and often tells me he loves me. On good days, I try to enjoy things as they are, but on bad days I feel lonely, angry and cry a lot — not something I did during my divorce. I’ve had low periods before, and worry I’m dependent and needy while he’s independent and happy. I don’t want to end a great relationship, but I don’t know what to do. It does sound rather as if you’re playing Russian roulette with your own happiness. You have a man who is thoughtful and affectionate. You have children to whom you can devote your undivided attention at a difficult time in their young lives. You have independence cushioned by the certainty that you are loved and wanted. So, what’s missing? You say you’re not asking for a lifelong commitment or to live together. You’re sensible enough to understand that logistics make that impossible, but I suspect it’s what you want, or, rather, it’s what you want him to want. A part of you longs for the grand romantic gesture, for him to say: “Damn it all, I love you and nothing else matters.” It hurts that he enjoys living alone and relishes his independence. It hurts that he refuses to make plans for the future, preferring to enjoy the moment. It’s difficult to understand, until you’ve been through it, the vast emotional difficulties inherent in integrating two families and the delicate task of step-parenting. I know you say that’s not what you’re asking for, but it’s unclear exactly what you do want. I have a feeling you’d say it was reassurance, but what I think you’re asking for is certainty. We all know there’s no such thing. Life has a mischievous habit of stringing tripwires along our way. I doubt, when you married, that you signed up to living with an alcoholic. I doubt your boyfriend ever imagined his wife would die, too young, from cancer. He’s still hurting and I have a feeling you’re also still hurting, not so much from the divorce as from the long years of living with the uncertainty of alcoholism. That must have been very tough and now you want to feel safe. You want evidence of undivided love and attention, but, no matter how often he tells you he loves you or that he devotes all the time he has free from domesticity and kids to you, you still don’t feel convinced. Well, perhaps you are needy and dependent in as much as you need him and feel dependent on his love, but those are not necessarily shameful or bad traits. As social creatures, we all need others and depend on them for love and approval. It’s just that some of us experience that need more emphatically than others. I suspect, instead, that your more destructive trait is to brood and ruminate over what you see as wrong with the relationship, rather than what’s right. You say you’ve had low periods and, sadly, those of us who are inclined to a depressive state of mind (as I know only too well) are inclined to dwell on the negative. It’s what psychologists call a low frustration tolerance or, in plainer English, an inability to tolerate uncertainty. I’d bet good money there’s a part of you that would prefer to end the relationship and have absolute certainty (no matter how much pain it would cause you — and him) rather than endure the frustration of not knowing exactly where you stand. That’s what I mean by low frustration tolerance. It’s the “I can’t stand it” mind-set you describe when you say his apparent reticence makes you feel lonely, angry and tearful. Your anger with him is about frustration. He’s frustrating your need for certainty. Ironically, you have certainty — as much as any of us do. This man loves you. He tells you often. He shows you that he loves you by his actions — and love is an action, not mere words. Perversely (and I empathise) you choose to ignore the evidence and dwell on the uncertainty. It’s a really bad habit, but the good news is, we can break it. It takes hard work and commitment to change our thinking, but it is possible. A course of cognitive behavioural therapy might be helpful, but the simple act of monitoring our negative thoughts — and challenging them every time they arise — is also useful. You need to be pretty stern with yourself, as you would in breaking any habit, but the ability to enjoy our relationships entirely outweighs the effort. I can't let go May 17 2009 I’m 24 and have become insanely jealous of my exes. It’s happened with two former boyfriends. The first, despite my being with somebody else, I stalked with texts and phone calls until we slept together again. Then I realised I didn’t really want him and told my new boyfriend everything. After that, I felt any bad feeling and anger was so deserved, it was almost welcome, but I was miserable and ended my new relationship. As soon as I saw photos of him with other girls, however, I wanted him back instantly, too. He told me to leave him alone, but finally agreed to talk. He said that he thinks about me, and since that glimmer of hope, I can’t move on. We speak weekly, which is torture. He saw how affected I was by my last boyfriend and believes I don’t really have the feelings for him that I think I do. I’ve seen therapists, who go deep into my need to be validated, but my ex is the only problem I want to solve. What’s on offer is friendship or no contact, neither of which I want. I want to be strong and happy, but don’t know how to fill this hole. I am not so sure this is about needing validation from others so much as abandonment issues or, in plain English, a terror of being left. It sounds an odd thought, because you left both your boyfriends in the first place, but at the time I suspect you felt in control because you were the one doing the rejecting. The clue is in your behaviour once they moved on and found another girlfriend. At first, when you make a dramatic exit, you feel great, because they show by their obvious distress how much they need and want you. Then, once you see photographs of them having a good time, or hear that they are happily involved with other women, you realise they don’t need you to be happy. That’s when the sense of being abandoned becomes so overwhelming, you’ll do almost anything, including humiliating yourself with begging texts and calls, in order to get them back. It becomes an obsession. You managed it with your first boyfriend, who, as you put it, you stalked until he agreed (reluctantly) to meet up. You even persuaded him back into bed, so powerful was your need for evidence that he wanted you. Once you had the full focus of his attention, you discovered you didn’t really want him after all. The difference that time was that there was somebody else who did want and need you. So you confessed all, which is another way of getting somebody’s full attention. As you said in your longer letter, you know it’s selfish and believe people do it simply to relieve their own guilt, because it’s unkind to hurt somebody else through confessions of one’s own wrongdoing. You understand all that, so none of this is conscious. You sound like a good, kind person, so I don’t for a moment think this is about deliberate cruelty; it’s about overwhelming emotional need. You even needed to be punished, and welcomed any bad feeling or anger sent your way. Your interpretation is that you needed it to assuage your guilt, but my interpretation is that his anger and jealousy showed how strongly he felt about you, so, yet again, you had powerful evidence that you were wanted and needed. Of course, you also have a rational side, and realised the behaviour of both parties was destructive and making you miserable, so you ended the relationship. That felt good for a while, because you were still in control, but once you saw photographs of him with other girls, looking happy without you, you instantly wanted him back. So back you went to the begging, calling and incessant texting. What you’re actually trying to do is goad him into showing high emotion or evidence you’re still wanted and needed. This time, it didn’t work. He refused to comply with your demands, and it’s that, I think, more than the lack of him, that is driving you mad. He has a girlfriend, but has agreed (probably to get you off his back, as in the brief confession that he missed you) to a weekly phone call. Now we’re back to you wanting to be punished. As you say, it’s torture — but for you, at least, it’s the sort of torture you understand, because it maintains a high level of emotion. I suspect your ex is right when he says he feels you don’t have the feelings for him you think you do. It’s not actually about him, but about feelings so overwhelming, you don’t know where to put them. You have to put them somewhere, so you pin them all on him, just as you pinned them on your previous boyfriend. If you’re going to spend money on therapy, don’t waste it by refusing to listen. Your ex is not a problem you need to solve. He’s gone. What you need to unravel is your profound sense of abandonment. If you really want to be happy and strong, then take the focus off your ex (and stop all contact) and look hard at yourself. That hole you describe is about emotional need. It can be healed, but you have to recognise where it comes from in the first place. I've lost my self confidence April 26 2009 Four years ago, my mother died in tragic circumstances and my father committed suicide a year later. I found his body. We were a very close family. At the time, I had a successful and happy career, and was confident and dynamic. I tried to approach life positively and took a new job. It meant uprooting the family, but I was sure the children would benefit. It started well, but I soon felt bored, so I took another position, which didn’t work out. Each time I took a new role, my confidence and self-belief seemed to be eroded. I now have another good job, but am fearful I will be “found out” and my lack of confidence will start to show. I can’t seem to relate to people any more or cope with criticism, and I become overly disappointed with the smallest things. It’s almost as if all my values, confidence and joy have been destroyed since my dad died. My wife has been amazing, and although I talk to her, I’m fearful she’ll think I’ve become a complete loser and will bail out. What happened to that smart, witty man I used to be? Can he ever come back? I am sorry; truly and deeply sorry. That must have been, and still must be, very hard for you. I’m sure you are used to, and are quite possibly bored by, expressions of sympathy. They change nothing, do they? And what you want is for things to change. Or, rather, what you want is for you to change. My feeling is, until you really acknowledge the terrible losses you have experienced and extend some compassion towards yourself, nothing will change. I am all for approaching things positively, but sometimes we can turn positive thinking into a stick with which to beat ourselves. We bury grief, turn our backs on emotion and refuse to allow ourselves any compassion. We confuse self-pity (as in your phrase “complete loser”) with self-care. We refuse to show sympathy for our own pain. The trouble with this approach is that strong emotion demands to be acknowledged and processed. Ignoring it won’t make it go away. Quite the contrary, in fact. That smart, witty man you used to be is still there, but he is only a part of you. There is another part of you and this is the part — wounded, grieving, traumatised — that is trying to find expression. Repressed emotion doesn’t always show up in obvious ways. I wonder, for example, when you say you were “bored” by the new job, whether the underlying emotion was one of emptiness or lack of meaning. Rather than look at the real cause, you ascribed your dissatisfaction to the job itself and took a new position, and then another. Every time, your confidence and self-belief were eroded. What seems to be happening is that all the grief and trauma you’re refusing to acknowledge is emerging as an underlying depression — hence your feelings of emptiness and lack of confidence. When we swallow our feelings, they emerge in other ways. That’s why depression is so often described as anger turned inwards (and your anger at what happened to two people you love very much must be intense), or trapped emotion. On top of that, depression is often precipitated by loss, whether of a beloved parent or a job (not to mention the sense of identity we attach to those things), so it’s no surprise that’s what you’re dealing with now — or trying to deal with. We can go on coping (or apparently coping) until, eventually, our minds say, that’s enough, and we start behaving in ways we think are uncharacteristic — or seem to have nothing to do with the people we like to believe we are. You give a perfect example in your description of not being able to relate to others, finding criticism difficult and becoming disappointed with the smallest thing. That doesn’t make you weak. That makes you human. I’m sure your wife is amazing because she thinks you’re amazing. Perhaps you could extend some of the compassion and respect she shows to you towards yourself and ask for help. You cannot do this on your own. Nobody can. Some bereavement counselling would be helpful, or therapy to work through the trauma of the death of your parents. Suicide is a particularly traumatic event to deal with. Other than talking to somebody in a safe place, there’s a book I’d like to suggest that you may find helpful. It deals with the newest form of therapy. Combining Buddhist compassion and mindfulness with more traditional forms of therapy — cognitive behavioural therapy — it addresses negative and self-critical thought patterns, including those “I must be better”, “I must get over this” sticks we use to beat ourselves with. It contains various exercises and meditations that I’ve found enormously useful in combating the episodes of depression that occasionally cripple me. Showing compassion to ourselves and our suffering is most emphatically not self-indulgent. It takes great courage to face our pain and to work through it. You sound like a good man who’s trying to do his best for his family. Now, please, try to do the best for yourself. The Compassionate Mind by Paul Gilbert (Constable £20). British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy; bacp.co.uk He's clingy and demanding but I can't leave him April 19 09 I’m worried about my relationship. We’ve had many ups and downs, and I’ve been considering ending it for some time. All my previous relationships have been disastrous, but this one is much better. My boyfriend worships the ground I walk on and does everything to make me happy, but I’m still uncertain. He suffocates me. We’ve had many fallouts about his behaviour, such as being too clingy and demanding, his sulking and tantrums. He listens to my advice and tries hard to change. I’ve never really fancied him, but don’t think that’s crucial for a successful relationship. Recently, I felt I needed him to do something wrong so I could end it, and he did — but then I hadn’t the strength to break up. Now, I think maybe I should have. My sons like having him around. It’s important for boys to have a decent male role model, and it would be difficult to sort out childcare without him around. I know those are selfish reasons for staying in a relationship, but they are the main ones. If I stay, I need to put 100% into making it work and stop wondering if I’m doing the right thing. The aspect that struck me most about your letter was how detached you seem and, as sorry as I am to put it this way, how punishingly cold. I’m not sure who I feel sorrier for, you or him. It must be hell to feel so coldly detached from the man you live with and are supposedly intimate with, and it must be hell for him to feel he always has to beg for attention and affection. As for love, it doesn’t even get a look-in. It seems you’re somehow trapped in a dynamic that has you as the imperious, withholding parent and him as the clinging, demanding child. The more you withhold, the more he demands and clings; the more clinging and demanding he becomes, the more you withhold. That dynamic is probably best summed up in the way you say you felt you needed him to “do something wrong” (as if he were a child) so you could end the relationship. The reality is that if we are constantly on the lookout for wrong behaviour in other people, we will always find it. All of us mess up and make mistakes, because we are fallible and human. The way we get past those mistakes is to have some tolerance, compassion and acceptance, but none of those words seem big in your vocabulary. I wonder why not. Criticism and contempt are excellent ways of keeping people at an emotional distance. Most psychologists will tell you that the aspects we most dislike and criticise in others are always the aspects we most fear and avoid in ourselves, so I wonder if what you really fear is being emotionally needy, or clingy, as you put it. Perhaps your detachment is more to do with the fact that you’re plain scared of love because it would make you vulnerable, so you’re constantly pushing him away — it’s simply too painful for you to allow him into your heart. That detachment, of course, has the opposite effect; he’s clinging and demanding because he’s trying to get your attention, or even to ignite some strong response and emotion in you. Look, I might be quite wrong about all this, and perhaps he is simply a sulky man-child (in which case, why choose him in the first place?). I suspect the reason you couldn’t go through with a break-up is not because of practical childcare issues (and since when is a whiny, sulky man a good male role model?), but because, deep in your heart, you know this has very little to do with him and is actually about you and a deep fear of intimacy. Why, for example, has every previous one of your relationships been “disastrous”? Have they all followed the same pattern? Are you always the punishing adult and they the pleading children? He sounds like a good, decent man. He’s prepared to listen to your advice and change his behaviour — and such humility (not to be confused with humbling oneself) is a rare attribute. He’s happy to look after your (not his) children. If he’s creating arguments because he wants more from you, perhaps you should look at your own behaviour and where you might be lacking in affection and respect, rather than constantly picking over his. We all respond remarkably well to love — and remarkably badly to criticism and contempt. I suspect, though, that you may not be able to do this on your own, because it does seem that you have an innate suspicion and fear of relationships (in your longer letter, you say they are “hard work”). Perhaps it would be useful to take yourself off for some therapy. I’m sure your immediate thought will be that you should do relationship counselling together — because you believe this is his problem more than yours. That might well be a good idea later, but I think it would be a kindness to yourself to concentrate on your own issues around intimacy. If you want to have a happy relationship — and I suspect that you do — then the best and only place to start is with yourself. Struggling with a new relationship April 12 09 I’ve been seeing my girlfriend for nine months, after two years on my own and a depressive spell. I'm still on antidepressants and seeing a good counsellor. My girlfriend is beautiful inside and out and very loving. The first months were blissful and besotted. She’s been out as a lesbian for a long time, while I’ve only recently come to terms with my sexuality. I fear she loves me more than I love her, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give her the loving long-term commitment she wants and deserves. I’m sleeping badly and stressed with work, which I’m sure is affecting my relationship. My mood veers between anxiety and depression. I saw my whole life with her and thought I loved her, but now fear I’m fooling both of us. She has jealousy and trust issues, having been cheated on by an ex, and questions my past, as I had a long relationship with a man. We work hard on understanding each other and keeping communication open. I’ve struggled coming out, but now I’m proud of who I am. When we’re together I have no doubts. It’s only when we’re apart that I question my feelings. There seem to be two issues here. One is your episode of depression and the second your feelings towards your girlfriend. However, I wonder if the depression is, in part, caused by unresolved feelings around your sexuality and perhaps a degree of mourning for a life —marriage, kids, social approval — that you’ve chosen to give up. That may seem like a huge assumption about your emotional state, but I’ve never thought choices about sexuality are as clear cut and easy as they are sometimes made out to be. I speak from some experience, having had a couple of relationships with women in my late twenties. At the same time, and this really wasn’t something I consciously registered, I felt a strong pull towards a more notionally conventional lifestyle of marriage and kids. The result was periods of depression and anxiety caused by unresolved conflict — which I only understood later, given the illuminating wisdom of hindsight. So my suggestion is that the internal struggle you’re involved with may be less about the relationship with your girlfriend and more to do with existential questions of who you really are and what you really want from life. I am not suggesting, either, that gay women can’t have kids or very happy family lives, but whatever claims to liberality our society makes, lesbian relationships are a hard road and require a high degree of emotional resilience as well as an unfaltering belief in our sexual choices and orientation. It’s tough enough being a woman in this culture without being on the fringes of what we call “normal”. So I wonder if your erratic moods and poor sleeping patterns may have some root in ambivalence. Are you making the right choice? Who are you really? Is the draw towards female relationships born out of emotional need or true sexual orientation? I only ask these questions because I wonder if you are projecting your feelings of ambivalence about your choices onto your girlfriend. When you’re with her, safe inside the affection and closeted intimacy of the relationship, you have no doubts. It’s only when you’re apart and facing the realities (and alternative possibilities) of the outside world that doubts begin to surface. That ambivalence is also going to place undue pressure on your relationship. If the stakes are very high, any doubts will inevitably be magnified. On top of that, there’s bound to be some crossover of emotion between your feelings for your girlfriend and the excitement of entering into your first fully gay relationship. As you’re only just beginning to explore your sexuality and that sense of liberation that comes with it, perhaps you’re projecting all your expectations onto her. If you have doubts about her, that throws into question all your feelings around your sexuality, too. The trouble is that nobody, gay or straight, can live up to the weight of those expectations. My advice is simply to take it easy. Allow the relationship to unfold and stop putting so much focus on it — and on her. It doesn’t have to be perfect — and nor does she. Nor, for that matter, do you. None of us, much as we would like to, can claim absolute certainty about the future. Again, that’s an enormous burden to place on any relationship, let alone another person. It’s impossible to live up to. Instead, try to enjoy her and take the relationship a day at a time. Use that good counsellor of yours to explore your doubts and ambivalence. Take heart that you have found that thing we all long for — love that has at its core honesty and good communication. Do also bear in mind that there is a claustrophobia that comes with the territory of girl-on-girl relationships. They tend to be overwhelmingly intense and emotional. As one gay friend of mine joked after moving in with her girlfriend, just two weeks after meeting her: “We’re lesbians, that’s what we do.” This may be your first gay relationship, but that doesn’t mean it has to be perfect. Perhaps all it needs is some space and air to breathe. Try to relax into it. Give love, and yourself, a chance. Intimacy has vanished April 05 09 I’m 37, and just back at work after my second child. Our issue is probably very common. My husband and I don’t argue, but intimacy and support between us has vanished. I had a difficult time after the birth and felt depressed and resentful that he could retreat to the sanctuary of an office while I never got a moment to myself. I saw my GP and gradually got better, but my husband was unable to offer any emotional support. I’m the breadwinner so, while I’m probably under more pressure, I also feel back in control, which I know I need. However, not only is our sex life nonexistent, there’s little or no warmth or affection. I’ve forced him to talk (which he squirms at) and suggested going out together — and even having sex at set times so intimacy becomes a habit — but he feels that if it doesn’t come naturally, it’s not right. He’s not saying he wants to leave, he just doesn’t know what to do. It hurts a lot — we love each other — but neither of us feels cherished, loved or fancied. His inability to open up means I have to make all the effort and feel resentful that, yet again, I have to take responsibility. Having two children under the age of three is tough, because the extraordinary thing about small children is how fast they wrest control from our hands. So I wonder if the root cause of your depression and resentment is that you feel powerless (as you say, not only do you like to be in control — you actively need it), and that unaccustomed feeling is causing unconscious anger, not only towards your husband, who, you think, can just wander off to a lovely, peaceful kid-free environment, but also towards your children. Yes, we do feel that way. We don’t like to admit it because we feel we should be selfless, perfect mothers. In the face of the gift and magic of children, how dare we harbour unworthy emotions of irritability and depression? How can we possibly say that our greatest joy can also sometimes feel like a clinging burden? So we feel horribly guilty, but don’t like to admit it, and if we can’t admit it, we can’t ask for help or even acknowledge that we might need it. You feel your husband is strolling on easy street. On top of that, he’s not sympathising. Even worse, he’s withdrawn emotionally. Well, here’s an idea. Not only do you like to be in control, you are also the breadwinner and, at this stage in your children’s lives, the most important person in their universe. That will change as they grow, but I wonder if, right now, your husband is feeling distressingly impotent, and I don’t mean sexually — although emotional impotence is often reflected in feelings around sexuality and desirability. It’s pretty difficult to feel attractive and supportive if, at heart, you don’t feel you matter. Right now, everybody needs you. Who needs your husband? Perhaps it’s as simple as he needs to be needed but has no idea how to express it. As you say, he tends to be emotionally shut down, so his way of dealing with difficult emotions is to retreat. We all need to be needed, but most of us are too scared to admit it. It seems to us (particularly to men) a weakness. As somebody who likes to be in control, I suspect you’re also a fixer, so you’ve come up with some ideas such as having sex to a set routine and going out regularly together. That’s all good stuff, but I wonder if you’ve presented them as a must-do list (busy women get awfully busy with lists) rather than as gentle suggestions. If your husband feels he’s merely another item on the to-do list, or a problem that needs to be solved, he may feel even more impotent and retreat still further. I know you feel you have to take responsibility for everything (and I bet you feel that if you don’t, then nothing will ever get done), but perhaps you might take your fingers off the control panel just for a bit. Allow him to help, in his own way. Tell him how much you need him. Show him (don’t tell him) that he’s important to your happiness. By all means organise some time together, but as a delightful surprise, rather than a project. Get a baby-sitter and ask him to meet you somewhere. Drink some good wine. Eat some good food. Go back to those days when it was only the two of you who mattered. Try, too, to let go of resentment. It’s corrosive to relationships, the acid that weakens even the strongest bonds. You might look back at the period of depression and anger and see how much of it is about your feelings rather than his actions. Perhaps you might relax some of those rules and timetables (necessary as busy, working mothers, but joy-killers nonetheless) and allow some spontaneity into your lives. You’re going through a rough patch. That is, as you say, very common to those with young children, but what really matters is that you both want this to work. There is no greater gift than willingness. Love, if you give it the space to breathe, will pull you through. I don't want my kids to be insecure like me March 29 09 I am scared of being a parent. I am getting married next year and we want to start a family quite quickly, but I am frightened my child will inherit the way I feel. I don’t know the building blocks that children need to make them life-loving adults. Most of the time, I feel inadequate and riddled with awkwardness. Other people seem much more comfortable with themselves and with each other. I thought, as I got older (I’m 35), that I would gain confidence and self-belief. My older sister was clever, but I wasn’t expected to accomplish much. I felt stupid and ugly at a very young age ­— though I know I’m not. I had a couple of destructive relationships and was repeatedly told that I “wasn’t good or special enough”, but I was able to walk away and know now that those men were cruel and unkind. My work life has a strong social element, which I dread. One of my colleagues is a loud, bubbly character. My boss calls me “the quiet one”, though nobody else in our department is judged. I don’t want my children to feel like this. What can I do to help them become happy, confident souls? You can love them. Love is where it begins and ends. Inherent in love is respect, kindness and what’s known in therapy as “unconditional positive regard”. In other words, we tell our kids that doing their best (and not their “better”) is good enough, just as being their best (not “better”) is perfect. That’s not to say we should swamp them with love; an overwhelming parent can be as daunting as an emotionally absent one. Your fear is that you will infect your kids with insecurity and anxiety. That can happen. I’m not going to pull any punches and pretend it can’t, but what’s great is your awareness. That’s a giant step. Most intergenerational damage (from parent to child) happens because we are unconscious of our own behaviour. The more aware we are of our own flaws, the less we are likely to hand them on. You may not feel you know what to do — but you certainly know what not to do. You know from your own childhood that loading somebody with expectations (too high or too low) and comparisons (“she’s the clever one”) encourages insecurity and low self-worth. So, you’re not going to do that — but how about the rest? Well, the place we have to start is with ourselves. If we’re happy in our own skin, our kids follow by example. We are not powerless. We can, and do, make choices. Even a bad choice, such as telling ourselves we are “inadequate and riddled with awkwardness” is a choice. We all grow up with a particular script (a set of personal beliefs) in our heads, learnt from the stories we’ve been told about ourselves as kids, together with judgments we make about the world. Sometimes, that script gets stuck in a negative groove. We tell ourselves we are “useless” or “other people are scary”. Sometimes, as you did, we even seek out people who reinforce those negative beliefs. Why? We're on familiar territory. We’re comfortable in our own discomfort. Change is frightening. It takes courage to challenge our behaviour. The good news is, you have courage. You’ve walked away from two destructive relationships. Well done. Give yourself a pat on the back. Rewrite the script to “I am brave. I am worth loving”. But, remember, it took a long time to learn the old script, so in order to replace it you have to keep repeating the new words. Make those your new mantras and say them over and over until they overwrite the old “stupid, awkward and inadequate”. Be aware, too, that everybody is fragile. We all use defences to protect ourselves. Your colleague is loud and bubbly. That’s a very useful shield to stop other people getting close enough to see her vulnerability. What seems to be bugging you is not that she’s bubbly, but that your boss compares you (unfavourably, in your eyes) as the “quiet” one. Well, perhaps he likes quiet people. After all, they are hugely restful. Sadly, all you can hear is the old script from your parents comparing you (unfavourably) to your sister. That’s what’s triggering your insecurity. It’s not your bubbly colleague, it’s not your boss, it’s the old script. In other words, it’s you, or the words you’re telling yourself. Here’s another self-fulfilling prophecy. You seem to believe you are the only person who feels awkward. So what makes you so special? I don’t mean to be unkind, I simply want your undivided attention — and I bet I just got it. One way to overcome our self-consciousness (and insecurity is an over-consciousness of self) is to stop placing so much importance on our own feelings and a little more on other people’s. I know you feel you worry too much about what other people think. Actually, what you’re really worrying about is what they think of you. You’re back to self. Do you see the difference? Every time you drop into negative comparisons or say mean things to yourself, say, “Stop!” Rewrite that script. With some hard work and determination, your insecurity will start to shift. There’s a book you might find helpful, called Reinventing Your Life: How to Break Free from Negative Life Patterns by Jeffrey E Young and Janet S Klosko (£11.30 Penguin Putnam). I feel abandoned by my girlfriend My girlfriend is in Europe for a few months. I feel abandoned and jealous. We are both 22 and have been together for three years. The only time we can talk is for an hour at night on the internet; she says she can’t afford texts. I really resent the way she has dictated this. I’m not interested in controlling her actions, and know it is impossible to control her thoughts (I wouldn’t want to), but I’m also worried about what she thinks is acceptable behaviour with other men. My previous girlfriend cheated on me, so I’m a bit sensitive. I know I’m not supporting her as I should. Her father is ill and she’s worried about being a financial burden, so she is loath to spend money on phone calls or flights. Since going away, she has developed a hard streak and is occasionally unkind. This is a big change and I am very worried by it. She has made no effort to make me feel wanted or needed in her new life. I fear it’s because I’m not. I don’t want to make things difficult. I just want some awareness from her of how she has turned our relationship upside-down. It is very hard to let somebody go and live their own life, even for a few months, but the more pressure you put on your girlfriend, the more she will pull away. Picture it in a physical sense, as if you were pushing somebody into a corner. The more you hedge them in, the more their instinct will be to take flight. So do be careful. You’re in real danger of bringing about the very thing you don’t want to happen. The issue here seems to be about trust and, yes, control. While you say you don’t want to control your girlfriend’s actions, I’m not sure you’re being entirely honest. The mere fact you even mention controlling her thoughts is a bit of a giveaway. It sounds as if, unconsciously, that’s exactly what you want to do. Then there is your resentment at having rules imposed on you about when you can and can’t speak to each other on the phone. Using the internet means you have to be at home at a certain time to make the call. Well, so does she, and her motives seem to be financial concerns and worry about her sick father rather than an avoidance tactic. Yet you seem to believe she is not thinking of your feelings and should negotiate. Well, how? If that’s all that can be done on a limited budget, then that’s all that can be done. What’s interesting is that your distress seems less about being in touch and more about the fact that you’re not in control of when and where it happens. When we don’t trust somebody, we try to control them. Your girlfriend does not seem to have given you any reason to mistrust her, which is why I keep getting the feeling that the problem is you, not her. In your longer letter, you describe how she was chatted up when she left on the plane by a guy telling her about the city and asking her out to dinner. She wanted to e-mail him to find out about the sights he mentioned and was perfectly open about it with you. In other words, her behaviour seemed completely innocent. Yet you forbade her to e-mail him. Why? Well, it seems we’re back to control again. Control issues are about fear — fear of loss, fear of being abandoned, fear of not being wanted. We think that if we can control the way other people behave, we will feel safe. Sadly, the very opposite is true. Controlling behaviour destroys relationships. Let me ask you a difficult question. You say you are sensitive to being hurt because of a cheating ex. Is it possible your sensitivity and low sense of worth goes back much further, that you were also very controlling around your ex-girlfriend, so she withdrew? Cheating is an effective way of escaping from somebody. Perhaps you ought to look at the pattern of your relationships, simply to avoid future unhappiness. Imagine holding a much-loved pet — a cat or a dog. If you hold them too tightly, they start to struggle. The tighter your grip, the more they will struggle until, eventually, they break free and run away. It sounds as if that is happening here. You are hanging on so tight that your girlfriend is instinctively struggling to separate from you. That, I suspect, is what you mean by her developing a hard streak or being occasionally unkind. It is her way of telling you to back off a little and give her some air. So, perhaps you ought to listen. Show her some trust and respect. It is very controlling to assume that she doesn’t understand acceptable behaviour. It also makes you sound like the father of a teenage daughter, rather than her boyfriend. That lack of trust and respect will only make her withdraw further. If you can give her the freedom to explore her new life, knowing that you are at home filled with belief in her and pleasure in her adventure, she is much more likely to fly back into your arms. A rift with my sister makes me sad March 8 2009 I feel sad because of a rift with my sister. I’m 41, she’s 27. I’m creative and I love reading. She’s materialistic, driven and ambitious. I’m a single mother with a fairly debilitating illness. She’s in a relationship, has no children and has occasional depression, but refuses counselling. I’ve been depressed, but always seek therapy. Sadly, we suffered abuse from a cruel, unstable mother. Over the years, she’s offended me repeatedly with selfish, thoughtless behaviour. Because she’s much younger, I try to show her the importance of kindness, tolerance and thoughtfulness. If I confront her, she’s angry and defensive, so I avoid it as it’s too hurtful. When we stay with her, she does nothing to make us comfortable, but at my house she wants to stay up late and expects to be looked after. She’s also upset me by not visiting or phoning when I've been hospitalised. She did once come to sit with me (after she’d had a long lie-in) and prepared a hot-water bottle, but those are the only kindnesses I can think of. I’m tortured about whether or not to withdraw completely from the relationship. She’s a loving aunt to my son, who would miss her. I can see you’re unhappy about this, but, really, your letter is so full of demands — my sister ought to be like this, she should behave like that — not to mention keeping score, that I feel quite exhausted simply reading it. Goodness knows how you must feel. It must be tough being a single mother with a debilitating illness, and it must require huge amounts of discipline and organisation. So I can see that you need to live a certain way, but while your sister may well be careless and thoughtless, perhaps it’s time to stop worrying about her behaviour and start being kinder to yourself. You’re so tightly fixed on what is right and wrong behaviour, I can almost feel the tension crackling off the page. Resentment, score-keeping and avoidance — followed by confrontations that leave us shaken and upset — are textbook passive-aggression. It means we don’t know how to express our emotional needs (hardly surprising, given your mother). On top of that, we are so frightened of even having needs that we keep ourselves in rigid check. That becomes, in our minds, behaving in the “right” way, but, actually, it’s impossible to maintain, so when we see people being messy, careless or thoughtless (as people tend to be — they are human), we feel jealous and resentful. It’s ironic to hear you talk about kindness and tolerance while, at the same time, brooding over and judging your sister’s behaviour. It seems she’s simply getting on with her life, and while I’m sure she can appear tiresomely self-interested, I wonder if that’s about a refusal to conform to your rigid standards rather than anything to do with her relative youth. One example: why can’t she stay up late in your house? I can see it would be a bore if she played music too loud (in which case, ask her not to), but simply being awake doesn’t seem too much of an imposition. It might feel that way, however, if there’s some 10pm curfew that breaks one of your rules about good behaviour. Similarly, having a lie-in doesn’t seem too great a crime unless you believe lying in bed of a morning is some sort of selfish indulgence. These are both judgments about the way people ought to behave. They are also punishing — both to yourself and the people around you. Perhaps, secretly, you’d like a lie-in, but won’t allow yourself to be that “selfish”. And if you’re not allowed to be selfish, then nobody else is, either. If they were, your rules might be proved wrong. And if your rules are wrong, where are the boundaries that keep your world safe? I do think this is about emotional safety. Issues of control often are. I hope you understand that I’m not intending to be unkind, but simply trying to encourage you to relax some of the tight attitudes you’ve become trapped inside. The person you’re really hurting is yourself, so severing a relationship with your sister (who you obviously love and need, or you wouldn’t be so het up) because she doesn’t conform to your idea of right behaviour is not only destructive and self-sabotaging, it’s also terribly sad. You need to let go. People often misunderstand the meaning of that simple phrase, believing they have to immediately abandon whatever it is that’s got them so stuck. There’s another way of looking at it, from the Buddhist writer Jack Kornfield: “Letting go is not getting rid of. Letting go is letting be.” Let it be. Let your sister be who she is and learn to relax into the relationship. She’s not perfect, but nor are you. Demands (“You must behave in the way I think is right”) destroy relationships. As you are familiar with therapy, you might consider exploring the concepts of boundaries and getting your needs met. Boundaries keep us safe while allowing us to connect. As for getting our needs met, too often we expect people to be mind-readers. An example might be asking your sister to visit you in hospital. She may not understand that’s what you need. Sometimes, a direct and open appeal to those we love is all that’s required. My husband's text affair has made me feel so sad I am 28 and have been married for two years, together for six. Last year was very difficult for my husband because of family and work problems. I thought we were past the worst, but he became very withdrawn — usually he’s outgoing, funny and generous. Then I found a message, and he admitted to a flirty-text “affair”. They only met up twice, and he kissed her but didn’t sleep with her. He said it made him feel he still had what it takes, but meant nothing. I love and trust him deeply, so, although I felt shocked and betrayed, I also felt it was a bad, but ultimately meaningless, “man crisis”. Then I asked to see his phone bill. He had been texting her 10 times a day — a huge amount for a man too busy at work to take my calls or texts. Now I wonder if it meant more. He loves me and is genuinely remorseful. I want to get over this, but I’m terrified of becoming a distrustful, paranoid wife. I feel he has changed me into someone I don’t want to be, and that makes me terribly sad and angry with him. Of course you’re sad and angry. The foundations of your life, which felt solid and immovable as rock, have been shaken in an almighty emotional upheaval. In your longer letter, you say your husband is not English, and that you moved to Europe to be with him. You felt fine about that, but the isolation you’re now facing makes you feel so alone that you’re wondering if you should leave your marriage and return to your friends and family. You also say his problems centred on the death of his adored grandfather and his worries about affection and communication with the rest of his family. So, we have two big issues happening in tandem. You could cope with the isolation and homesickness when you felt you were on solid ground. He could cope with his family’s alienation when he had the unconditional love and support of his grandfather. Both of you are horribly shaken, but, from your description of the text affair, it seems as if he made a rather desperate and stupid grab for reassurance. That doesn’t make it easier for you, but perhaps it might bring it into perspective a little if you consider it as a misplaced way of dealing with an issue he didn’t want to bring into his marriage. If he finds it hard to admit to emotional vulnerability and hard to deal with (hence his withdrawal), or believes he has to be “manly” and strong at all times, it may be that the texts were a distraction — a way of avoiding facing up to painful and difficult emotions. I hate text messages. Not only are they often insincere, but, unless there is an existing and genuine underlying connection, they create a false intimacy that is rarely sustained in person. Texts can also be incredibly addictive, as in a form of temporary madness. They are not about a living, breathing human being on the other end of a telephone, but disconnected moments of artificially racked-up excitement, so brief you have to send another, then another and another. Your husband, no doubt, discovered that emptiness when he came face to face with the object of his fantasy — and I mean fantasy as in not real. Up close, he couldn’t manage more than a kiss. That is not to condone his behaviour, but it might help your anger if you could try to understand the emotions he seems to have been wrestling with so clumsily. Right now, you’re bereft of sensible girlfriends or a supportive family and so are bound to feel doubly isolated and insecure. Rather than try to deal with this on your own, a few sessions of relationship counselling might be a good idea. You need to express your anger and fear out loud in a safe, emotionally objective arena. He needs to open up, admit his feelings of insecurity and find healthy ways of tackling them. Of course you feel betrayed. My only word of caution is not to put that sense of betrayal in the wrong place. I know that sounds wrong-headed. After all, he has been flirting with and kissing another woman. I also don’t know your husband. All I know is what you have told me, but I get a sense the woman is a symptom and not a cause. The cause is grief about his grandfather and unresolved emotions around unconditional love and his family. The real betrayal was in shutting you out emotionally. He is filled with genuine remorse and it sounds as if there is real love and affection between you. What is needed now is honest, open communication. Your husband may fear you will despise his vulnerability. Men rarely understand it is their fragility, their real selves, that inspires women to love them and not some strong and silent pose. Only you can know if you feel committed enough to forgive and take a step forward, but it seems to me to be worth the effort. You never know, out of the debris may rise an even stronger foundation as you grow to understand each other better. My boyfriend isn't ready for a baby February 15 2009 I’m about to turn 30 and in a turbulent relationship — but one that we both want to work. I feel the turbulence is coming from me, because I want him to make the ultimate commitment and prove he’s in this for good. It seems everyone around me is getting married and having babies, and recently I’ve become obsessed with having a child. It’s making me feel very angry towards him, because he says our relationship isn’t strong enough, and that he needs more time and for things to get onto an even keel. Is it normal to get so upset every time I see a child on television, to feel envious of other women and their bumps, and to feel so angry? I’m scared of giving him another year of my life — we’ve been together for two, yet he still says we’re not ready. Do women get overwhelming biological urges, or is this all in my head? I find it hard to hand over control of when we get married, if at all, and when we start a family. I always wanted to be a young mother. I don’t actually like the way I’m behaving. Aargh! I think there may be two issues here. The first is about your need for certainty (your boyfriend must prove he’s in this for good) and the second is a fierce biological imperative. I sense you feel the second dictates the first, but I wonder if, emotionally, it’s the other way round. In other words, perhaps it’s not so much about wanting children as wanting absolute certainty. I sympathise. We all want certainty and the more emotionally insecure we feel, the more we crave it. Ironically, the only certain thing in life is uncertainty. I don’t for a minute question your desire to have children or that your hormones are going wild. It happens, but we are not victims of our biology, so I wonder whether getting married and having a child has become such a fixed idea (you rightly use the word obsession) that you’ve turned biology into a stick with which to beat yourself. It’s the sort of black-and-white thinking that says: “I want it and I want it now.” The trouble with any rigid approach is that it locks us into a position where we push away every other possibility. No sensible questions get considered. Here’s one. You’re in a turbulent, insecure relationship, so is marriage and having a child honestly the right and best thing for you — and, of course, for your unborn child? Have you really looked inside your heart and wondered, “Do I truly love him?” You don’t mention love once. The only emotion you describe is anger. Ask yourself: “Is this relationship strong enough to create a happy family?” The early days of parenting test even the strongest relationships, so my concern is that you’ll get what you want and pay a terrible price — unhappiness. I know you feel you’ve “given” him two years of your life, but you talk as if a relationship is a hard barter rather than a sharing of mutual love and appreciation. Every relationship is a compromise because there are two people, two minds and two different sets of ideas involved. Given all that, I wonder if you actually want to marry this man and have his child (rather than just a child), or whether it’s simply that he’s a suitable candidate who happens to be standing in front of you. In other words, is it actually him you want, or is it a fixed idea of how you think the future should look? It could be that your boyfriend is talking good sense when he says your relationship isn’t right for such long-term commitments. We are not merely talking about “having a baby” here, but creating a human being who deserves the best possible happiness and (if possible, because none of us can predict the future) the confidence of growing up with loving, harmonious parents. Emotional turbulence is not good for children. It is not good for any of us. If you’ve always wanted to be a young mother, I wonder why you’ve chosen a man who isn’t ready for children. Not only that, you are insisting he marries you despite hard evidence that you are coming from very different emotional places. Marriage is not a guarantee of anything except hopeful possibility, and while you may think it will make you happy in the short term, will the present flaws in your relationship simply disappear into thin air because you’ve got a ring on your finger? We are free to make our own choices. I know that feels like a novel idea to you right now, because it takes courage and confidence to own our freedom, but a good life is made up of good choices. So perhaps it’s time to stop putting the onus on him (it’s his fault, he won’t commit) and look at your own motivation. If you sincerely want marriage and kids, find somebody who also wants them. We can’t make people be the way we want them to be, just from force of wishing. All we can do is to be honest with ourselves about our needs and put ourselves in the best possible situation to get those needs met. I don't see the point of relationships any more February 8 2009 I’m in my mid-twenties and in a relationship, but feel there’s almost no point as it’ll end anyway. In the media, I see constant coverage about affairs, pleasing your man so he doesn’t cheat and the benefits of divorce. A friend who’s with a kind, loving man talks excitedly about ending her relationship after a long series of affairs and says his heartache isn’t her problem. I find it hard to deal with the attitude that people are disposable, and continually feel I have to put up barriers in a relationship so that, when the inevitable happens, I’ll be prepared. My boyfriend can be loving, but pushes me away to protect himself. It’s a constant battle, whereby he says harsh things before he finally opens up to explain what he really means. It makes me wonder why I bother. How can anyone ever be good enough if we just get rid of people? It feels as if there is always pressure to prove we’re independent, successful and in control. Anything else is simply neediness. Maybe my letter reeks of immaturity, but it’s such an obvious problem in society and in my own relationship that I need guidance — even, perhaps, hope. Your letter doesn’t reek of immaturity so much as terrible anxiety. What are you so afraid of? Are you scared that love doesn’t matter? Or are you frightened that you don’t matter? When we get into a pessimistic frame of mind we often, quite unconsciously, search for evidence that reinforces our negative beliefs. Let me explain. If you’re frightened that your relationship is going to end, but can’t find the evidence to back this up, it’s only human to start looking for the reasons why you're so fearful. However, the last place we tend to look is inside ourselves. It’s difficult to admit, even to ourselves, that we don’t think we’re truly lovable and so are afraid our lover might leave us. It’s frightening to admit we’re scared of being abandoned (and we all are, by the way, men included). So, because we can’t admit to our own fears and vulnerabilities and because there’s no obvious reason in our immediate lives for our fear and anxiety, we start looking for evidence in the outside world. Here are a few. Society is all messed up. Celebrities jump in and out of affairs like jack-in-the-boxes. Men are cheats. The divorce rate is out of control. A friend has a series of affairs and is contemptuous of the emotional pain she is causing a nice, kind man. In other words, we’re all messed up, so why bother? Closer to home, there’s your own relationship. Could it be that your boyfriend says harsh things because he is also scared of not being lovable? Perhaps your negativity around relationships is infectious (“It’s all pointless, so why bother?”), so he’d rather act angry (anger being the classic disguise for fear) because he’s scared of showing you how much he cares just in case (as you say) it all ends anyway? The very fact that, eventually, he opens up enough to tell you how he really feels seems to say he cares very much indeed. And what’s your response? “I don’t know why I bother.” Far from being grateful and happy, you’re punishing and dismissive. In cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), this is known as reinforcing core negative beliefs (beliefs about ourselves that we hold deeply, or at our core). If we believe we’re unlovable, we may unconsciously try to sabotage our own relationships. Why? Because, even though we might want something very much, by sabotaging it we can prove we were right all along. In other words, we succeed in reinforcing our negative beliefs. I know, it’s exhausting, but the mind is an extraordinary thing, as capable of petty, destructive thinking as it is of flights of great, poetic imagination. We are all frightened of our own vulnerability and capacity to be hurt. We wouldn’t be human if we weren’t, but the thing that frightens us the most, ironically, is also the thing that brings us the greatest pleasure — love. That pesky unconscious mind works out that if we don’t allow ourselves to be loved, we can’t be hurt. The trouble is that if we won’t allow ourselves to love, we can’t be happy and contented either. Instead, we live in a state of constant, fearful inanimation, terrified of being authentic just in case somebody might spot our “neediness”. Well, guess what? We’re all needy. We all need to be loved. What we don’t need is an excess of fear, so my feeling is that your fear of not being lovable or capable of good relationships has become distorted into pessimistic anxiety, shading into depression. CBT is incredibly helpful for this and is available on the NHS. Tell your GP how anxious and negative you feel and he can put you on the list for counselling. Nobody believes people are disposable. If they did, there wouldn’t be so much pain in this world, and my e-mail box would be empty. People care about each other, very much. If you look for kindness, you will find it. If you show kindness, it will be shown to you. Show some kindness to yourself by telling those negative thoughts to shut up, if only for one day. Trust me, it works. Parents exerting pressure to have children February 1 2009 I’m 40, happily married and love my parents very much, but feel tremendous guilt for not wanting children. They say it’s the “ultimate selfish act” and part of a long line of “habitually selfish behaviour” to deprive them of happiness. My husband is very kind, but finds my endless agonising tiring and says he can’t keep counselling me about something I won’t deal with. I know he’s right, but their influence over me is strong and their criticism affects me greatly. I’m preoccupied with the pain I’m causing them. Surely I could do them this one favour. They say they “deserve” a grandchild. I’ve even thought about artificial insemination (my husband doesn’t want children either). I know they won’t stop talking to me if I don’t have children (they “need” me too much), and I’ve tried to come to terms with the fact their love is conditional. I’ve tried to ignore their negative criticism and not feel ashamed of my life and what I’ve become, but their voices echo in my head and I constantly think, “Are they right?” Am I selfish, irresponsible and self-pitying? Rarely has a letter made me so cross. Isn’t it fascinating how often people accuse others of the faults they possess themselves? Let’s talk about selfishness for a moment. Selfishness is giving another human being life, but keeping them behind bars. Some people lock their kids in rooms; others imprison them behind bars of disapproval, bullying and conditional love. No, your parents do not deserve a grandchild. They might want one very much, but that is not the same as presuming it is their right, and while they might bitterly regret your decision not to have children, that does not stop it being your decision to make. I may feel cross, but my question is: why aren’t you? It doesn’t matter how I (or your husband) might censure your parents’ controlling, narcissistic self-absorption (which they would call love), if all you can hear is their voices. I understand why he finds it tiring to have to constantly go over the same ground. It must seem to him that no amount of good sense can cut through the umbilical cord wound so tightly around your neck, but it has been 40 years in the making, so perhaps it’s no great surprise that it can’t be undone with a few words. I wish, though, that you would get angry. I wouldn’t normally advocate anger as a useful emotion, but sometimes the clean, sharp knife of rage is just the thing we need to start the process of separating. You say that your parents won’t stop talking to you if you don’t have children because they “need” you too much. That sort of need is also known as enmeshment. It keeps people trapped in nets of toxic emotion. It will take a lot of work on your part to cut through the tangle, and I urge you to embark on it with a good therapist. Unless you address it, your parents’ disapproval will continue to haunt you, even from the grave. You owe yourself (and your husband) this much if you are not to remain a middle-aged child, always seeking permission and begging for approval. Freedom is a wonderful idea. It is also frightening. It means taking the stabilisers off the bike or abandoning the water wings and believing we won’t drown. It is an act of courage. I use the childish similes because I believe that’s where you’re still trapped — as a dependent child. I know that therapy is expensive, but I also believe there’s no greater investment than our sanity — and it is pretty insane even to consider IVF as a way of placating your parents. The role of a good therapist is to reinforce us in unconditional positive regard — in other words, to help us to like ourselves and be happy in our own skins. This is important for you, as you’ve had little enough (none) of it in your life. The first word you have to learn is “No”. You say you’ve worked hard to come to terms with your parents’ conditional love and constant negative criticism, but I wonder how much of that work you’ve put to good use. The only way to learn a new script (in other words, the story we tell ourselves about ourselves) is to keep rehearsing it until we are word perfect. Your parents are bullies. The way to deal with bullies is to stand up to them — not aggressively, but firmly, calmly and consistently. Eventually, as bullies generally do, they will back down and begin to show a grudging respect. It is so sad that you feel ashamed of your life — even of your very self and what you have “become” — and have been made to feel that way by the very people, your parents, who should be celebrating every particle of your being. Other than urging you to consider therapy, I’m going to recommend a book that I hope will help you start to break free. Healing the Shame That Binds Us by John Bradshaw (Health Communications £10.99). Sally’s book, Shoot The Damn Dog: A Memoir of Depression (Bloomsbury £7.99) is out in paperback this week   My alcoholic mother still frightens me January 25 2009 I first realised my mother was an alcoholic (which she would deny) when I was seven. As a child, my biggest worries were that she would hurt herself drink-driving, turn up drunk at school or forget to turn up at all (all of which happened). I now have small children and feel I should be able to handle things better, but she still reduces me to tears of shame, pity, fear and frustration — mainly fear. I feel it welling up when I hear her slurred voice on the phone, and have to reprimand myself: “You’re a grown woman, you no longer rely on her for safety. What are you afraid of?” I know I can’t control her drinking — I spent years pouring gin away and picking fights before I understood this — but do I just ignore the fact that she’s drunk? Isn’t that a tacit acceptance of something I’ll never accept? And how do I control my fear when I hear her slurred voice, or my son’s hug knocks her off her drunken feet? My children haven’t noticed yet, but what do I do when they do? I am sorry. It’s tough growing up with an alcoholic parent. There is a widespread misconception that alcoholism is only about the alcoholic and affects nobody else. This is not so. Research indicates that for every alcoholic, at least four other people will be affected. Most professionals believe that figure to be conservative. There is another misconception that, once you are an adult, your parent’s alcoholism won’t have the power to hurt or upset you. Why not? On what other planet does a parent’s neglectful or self-absorbed behaviour not have the power to upset their children, no matter what their age? If, say, your mother forgot your birthday, would you not be allowed to be upset? Should you reprimand yourself for not “handling” it well enough? I think not. While a forgotten birthday may seem trivial, add together all the trivia, multiply it by years and years, and you can see the magnitude of the pain it might cause. You feel constant fear. Of course you do. When you were growing up, it was the dominant emotion in your life. You learnt how to worry at your mother’s knee. Would she kill herself in a car? Would she turn up drunk at school? Would she turn up at all? Deep-seated emotional responses are hard-wired in childhood, so every slurred word catapults you back to when you were helpless and did rely on her. The alcoholic parent weans their child on a cocktail of difficult emotions, many of which are so painful that crushing or denying feelings is rife among the adult children of alcoholics. Experts describe the behavioural pattern in a shorthand of three phrases — “Don’t talk. Don’t trust. Don’t feel.” And then, of course, there’s pity. Alcoholism is an illness. Your mother is in the grip of a mental disorder over which she has little or no control. It is not her fault. Well, it’s not your fault, either, nor is it your responsibility. You can love your mother without liking her behaviour, but do try not to confuse acceptance with approval. Accepting her alcoholism is not the same as condoning her behaviour. If you ignore the fact that she’s drunk, you’re essentially giving her permission to carry on drinking. You may not be able to control her alcohol intake, but you can put some ground rules in place. You could, for example, say that if she’s drunk when you telephone, you will immediately end the call. If she wishes to speak to you, she can call back when she’s sober. You can refuse to allow her to see her grandchildren when she’s drunk. If you arrive for a visit to discover that she is drunk, turn around and leave. The importance of rules is in sticking to them. Be consistent and firm. The more she understands her actions have consequences, the more she may wish to address her problem. It is tough to do this without support. Children of alcoholics generally grow up without firm rules so it’s hard for them to apply them, but if you change your behaviour, you may find your mother changes hers. According to Families Plus, part of Action on Addiction, people addicted to alcohol are more likely to make changes themselves when their family members receive help. There are many helplines and support groups, as well as an excellent short residential course, run by Families Plus, where you can learn about ways to manage alcoholism and get help in unravelling those tangled emotions you describe. People often think it’s the alcoholic who has the problem and resent having to look at their own behaviour, but the reason why alcoholism is called the family illness is that it affects everybody within its range. Think of it, instead, as a positive investment in your own and your children’s future happiness — not to mention freedom from fear. Action on Addiction — Families Plus, 0845 126 4130, actiononaddiction.org.uk; The National Association for Children of Alcoholics, 0800 358 3456, nacoa.org.uk; Al-Anon Family Groups, 020 7403 0888, al-anonuk.org.uk   My condition makes me push people away January  18 2009 Eight years ago, I woke up to find one side of my face paralysed by Bell’s palsy. I was pregnant at the time, but didn’t know. Soon after I gave birth, I regained about two-thirds mobility, but still suffer with issues of confidence and self-worth. When I was young, I was pretty, and even now I’m attractive and draw male attention, but I’m so self-conscious that I shy away from allowing people (men, really) to get to know me. You don’t notice my condition just by looking at me, but if it’s cold or I’m tired, it’s obvious, and I notice people’s expressions change. On my own, I’m often in tears. I use alcohol socially to help me relax and won’t go out if it’s somewhere brightly lit. The strange and cruel thing is that people like me; they warm to me and make an effort to get to know me. But I give “back off and leave me alone” signals, so, of course, they do just that. I’m so lonely, and feel ready to love, but I’m aware it won’t happen until I can learn to love and accept myself. Your letter arrived around New Year’s Eve, one of many concerned with lack of self-worth and low confidence. It’s a perennial problem, made worse at this time of year, and it doesn’t only affect women. I am constantly touched by the vulnerability men show in their letters to me. Perhaps it might help to understand that we all suffer from feelings of inadequacy, no matter how shiny and bright we appear on the outside. In other words, you’re not alone. We are in this together. I didn’t really understand that myself until, some years ago, I was forced to take part in group therapy. At the time, I was suffering from severe depression. The last thing I wanted was to show other people how scared, sad and vulnerable I felt. Once I had got past my own fear and started to listen to other people, though, I understood how similar our fragilities and concerns are. As I started to connect with others, I began to get better. Since then, I’ve been a great believer in the healing power of the group. Life is about connection. Our common vulnerability unites us in our humanity. I know you feel you have an obvious reason for a lack of confidence, yet at the same time you instinctively understand there is no real reason. People warm to you. They make it obvious they want to get to know you. Do try to hold on to that thought. Remind yourself of it every morning, like a mantra. I don’t mean to minimise your reality. It is extraordinarily tough to present what we think of as the wrong face to the world. People automatically stare at difference, whether that’s some fractional abnormality of symmetry or an absolute and perfect symmetry, which we call beauty. Here’s a strange example. I once interviewed Cindy Crawford and spent three days hanging out with her. (This was long before she was famous.) She was simply freakishly beautiful. So beautiful that everywhere we went, people stared intrusively. They weren’t being intentionally rude, they were simply registering difference. Now you might think you wouldn’t mind being stared at for possessing extraordinary beauty instead of a slight droop to your mouth and eye when you are tired or cold. All I’m trying to say is that it’s not personal, however bitterly you feel it. When people’s expressions change, they are simply registering difference. Once that difference is assimilated, they move on to discover the person behind the face. It is the person that matters, rather than the face. Of course, that’s easy enough for me to say, because I don’t confront what you do on a daily basis. So how can I understand? Well, perhaps I can’t, but I can understand those who feel emotionally (rather than physically) different because they suffer from the same condition as I do — chronic, recurrent depression. I attend various groups, where we share our experiences and gain strength from each other. When I share with others, I’m able to see outside of myself and forget my own concerns. I find that by concentrating on other people and trying to put them at ease, I soon forget about my own feelings of inadequacy or depression. When we help others, we also help ourselves. It’s important, of course, to find a place where we feel safe enough to share our innermost feelings. On that note, have you come across an organisation called Changing Faces? I have no experience of it personally, but hear good reports. It helps the 1m people in this country who have some sort of disfiguring condition by offering counselling services, workshops and events that enable people to meet others with similar experiences. This may not be your thing, but perhaps a meditation group might appeal. There’s an excellent nationwide organisation called Brahma Kumaris, which offers free courses in meditation, self-esteem and positive thinking. My personal experience is that reaching out and connecting helps to put a stop to our fearsome feelings of isolation and loneliness. It may seem counterintuitive, but the best way to love and accept ourselves is by loving and accepting others. Changing Faces, changingfaces.org.uk; Brahma Kumaris, bkwsu.org.uk; Depression Alliance, depressionalliance.org   Emotional vampires January 11 2009 I met a guy who was a year out of an unhappy long-term relationship and seemed ready to move on. We live in different cities, but would spend hours on the phone. When he finally came to stay, he was very shy and nervous, which was endearing. We got on amazingly well, but, because of his nerves, sex didn’t really happen. I reassured him it was normal and would pass. Now he keeps standing me up, usually by text, then ignores my calls, but when we do speak, he always says he loves me and wants to be with me. I’ve read about avoidance and guys who are so scared of being hurt that they play power games and can’t get intimate. He admits he’s scared, and I’ve tried to reassure him, but it’s left me feeling really low about myself. I believe in honesty, trust and kindness in a relationship, and it’s just not there. I’ve walked away, but I feel I’ve left an amazing connection. Am I holding on to something that isn’t there? It’s so easy to say that people have baggage, but surely it’s better to help and be understanding? I’m exhausted by all the anxiety. You sound like such a nice man. Of course it’s good to help others and to be understanding about emotional baggage, but just because it’s good to be that way, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s better. Who is it better for? Not you, it seems. After only a few months, you feel low about yourself and exhausted by anxiety. Surely that should tell you something? Look, for whatever reason, some people are emotional black holes. No matter how much love and kindness we hand out, it’s all absorbed into the vortex. Our actions come to seem both meaningless and pointless, because no amount of love and reassurance has any effect except to make them crave more — and more. That leaves us bewildered, anxious and, frankly, feeling as if we don’t much matter. I think of people like that as emotional vampires. Unable to sustain themselves or fill the hole of need they carry inside, they leech the life out of others. I suspect you feel low about yourself because it is extraordinarily disappointing to encounter somebody who seems able to speak the language of love, but is unable, emotionally, to absorb its lessons. All the promises are simply dust. When he says he loves you, I’m sure he believes it to be the truth. It’s just that, emotionally, he can’t follow it through. We can understand something intellectually, but fail to feel it emotionally. It’s a head-to-heart disconnect. He may want to love you (or, rather, the idea of you), but as soon as you respond, he shuts down, and when you get too close, he runs away. That doesn’t mean he’s an avoidant. Avoidant patterns of behaviour are far more manipulative, involving a deliberate campaign of charm to pull somebody in and, once they are hooked, a push-me, pull-me game of bullying control. It seems much more likely that he’s badly wounded emotionally, but — and here’s a big but — just because he’s wounded, it doesn’t mean that you can heal him, or that you should try. You don’t say what happened in his previous relationship. It could be that he was bullied or neglected, and that has caused him to feel scared of being hurt again. Or it could be that he was acting out similar dysfunctional behaviour with his ex-partner, who, after a long battle to love and reassure him, came to feel as low and anxious as you do and gave up. Who’s to know? Perhaps not even he does. It’s difficult to see our own destructive patterns until something sufficiently painful happens to make us pay attention. It takes years to establish behaviour and, no matter how dysfunctional or destructive, it at least has the merit of being familiar and, therefore, safe. Change is frightening because it’s a leap into the unknown, but I suspect your frustration lies in wanting to believe that, with sufficient love and kindness, he could and would change. Your anxiety stems from the effects that the unpredictability of his behaviour have on you, but also from your concern that you are abandoning something that could bring great happiness. I suspect that’s just wishful thinking. People can change, but challenging established patterns of destructive behaviour takes enormous personal effort. Unless somebody is really willing to put in the work, it’s impossible to help them, no matter how much kindness, love and good emotional sense we send their way. We have to fulfil our own needs before we can be in a relationship with others. We have to be able to love ourselves before we can give love away. It’s like the oxygen masks in an aeroplane. You must put the mask to your own face before helping anybody else. Why? Because if you don’t have your own supply of oxygen, you’ll soon start grabbing at others and pulling them down in your desperation to get at their supply. He’s not deceitful or unkind; he’s just an oxygen-grabber. You, on the other hand, are a giver and a man who believes in honesty, trust and kindness. Good. Those are excellent, healthy instincts that make for real happiness in a relationship. If I were you, I’d keep walking until you find them. I want another chance in life January 4 - 2009 I’m 44 and have been married for 18 years, with teenage children. The problem is, I no longer fancy my wife. I like her as a friend, but she no longer awakens in me even the most basic desire. Ending the marriage would be devastating and she doesn't deserve that, but I feel constantly anxious because I’d like another chance in life, maybe to find somebody new. I know this could be seen as a midlife crisis that will eventually pass, but I’m not so sure. The symptoms started a few years ago, which prompted me to take action. I instigated some changes, such as going out more and spending time together, and I’ve tried being more romantic and spicing up our lives — all to no avail. It’s unfair to blame her for a lack of response, since she didn’t see the need for change in the first place, and blaming her is probably just a rationalisation of my own feelings and not necessarily objective. However, since I’m real and emotional, I really do want out, despite the consequences for others. Or do I have selflessly to carry on living in this emotional hell for the wellbeing of the family? I don’t think you necessarily have to carry on, although it would be helpful if you could lose the martyr complex. It won’t help anyone, least of all you. Marriages break down every day. People grow apart. Love dies. Sometimes these things have to be faced. What matters is how we deal with them. It’s tempting to turn pain into our own private melodrama (“Everything’s my fault, so I must go”), but that fails the people with whom we are in a relationship. We do not have marriages on our own. We should not leave them on our own, either. I know you’re feeling trapped. When we feel claustrophobic, our first instinct is to smash down the walls and make a break for freedom. But it is not necessarily our best instinct, so, before you do anything, take a good look around you. Ask yourself, what really makes you happy. How about your children? What about the interconnectedness of your life and the mutual friends and soothing rituals that go with that? If none of that really matters and you sincerely believe that all you need to be happy is to find somebody new, then at least be aware that, often, what we’re running towards turns out to be a mirage. We get there and discover the same old problems, because that same old person (us) has followed us all the way. Sexual attraction is inextricably bound up with emotion, so it would be helpful to work with a therapist to figure out some of the knots that have built up in your relationship — which may be more about you than you presently understand. I don’t like the term midlife crisis, but I do think our forties bring great challenges — as great as those we face in adolescence. All those old questions, “Who am I? What do I want? Where am I going?” come back and slap us in the face, given added poignancy by the knowledge that we have lived half our lives and found no answers. It’s a truly tough time, and the temptation is to look at the external rather than the internal to see what ails us. The other temptation is to trash everything and start again, mistakenly believing that new horizons (and new people) will bring us happiness. The emotional landscape of middle age is littered with regret. Talk to your wife. I know you’ve tried to be more communicative and romantic, but what you haven’t done — and which every relationship requires — is to be inclusive and honest. Instead, you’ve applied a set of false externals, rather like a scientist watching an experiment. “If she behaves this way, then I’ll do that.” The trouble is, she wasn’t in on the experiment, so it was a setup that she was almost certain to fail. She had no idea how important her responses were or, perhaps, was so baffled by the sudden change in your behaviour that she had no idea how to react. It may even be that she thinks you’ve been having an affair (people often act out their guilt by overcompensating at home) or has been puzzling over the change in you, but, unsure how to respond, has made no response at all. Perhaps that lack of communication about emotion is (or has become) a pattern in your marriage — in which case, it’s almost certainly going to impinge on your feelings around physical intimacy. It may be extraordinarily painful for your wife to hear you’re struggling in your marriage, but it would give her the chance to express her own feelings (which may surprise you) and allow you to work through this together. Look, it may be that sexual desire has died, never to return. It happens and it’s horribly painful, but if you are honest with yourself and open in your dealings with your wife, at least you could part more kindly than suddenly announcing you’ve had enough and are leaving. And who knows? Some loving communication may make you see her in a new light. After 18 good years of marriage, give or take a few, it’s certainly worth a try. My husband won't love me the way I want him to December 28 2008 All through my married life, I’ve had affairs. My husband and I had a sex life, but it was never exciting and has dwindled to nothing. Sadly, I’m pleased, as I find him very unattractive. I still look for the fun in everything, while he’s becoming the original grumpy old man. Our friends tease him gently and throw me sympathetic looks. I’ve tried to talk to him (I have a certificate in counselling, so have an idea of how to talk to people!), but he feels that ignoring something will make it go away. I love to feel loved and wanted. I know it’s not the answer, but another man wanting me is powerful medicine. The idea of throwing everything away to start again frightens me to death, but I’m in a stagnant relationship with a man who sees me as his pride and joy but not as a vibrant woman. I long to be “in love” again and feel a deep connection, but have reached the stage of constantly pushing him away. I am a bit needy, but have good emotional intelligence. I like myself, but can’t find the courage to change the one area that’s making me miserable. One thing puzzles me. If you’ve been having affairs all through your marriage, then what’s changed? It’s not as if you’re engaged in an intimate and honest relationship that’s suddenly taken a turn for the worse. That’s not me taking the moral high ground. It’s merely a statement of fact. Lying consistently to the man with whom you share your life indicates neither honesty nor intimacy, qualities you now seem to crave. I have a feeling that your present misery has very little to do with your husband and his grumpy, though adoring, ways. “His pride and joy”? Honestly, that makes it sound as if you’re five not 50, and I wonder if that’s part of the problem. From the tone of your (much longer) letter, it appears the roles you’ve fallen into are that of child and parent rather than equal adults. So I wonder — and this is just a thought — if that’s why you’ve looked for sexual relationships elsewhere, and whether your husband’s tactic of ignoring things and pretending they don’t exist allows him to tolerate the behaviour one might expect from an adored but wayward child? He may also be choosing emotional deafness because he doesn’t want to hear the truth. You haven’t told him about your infidelities, but, after 25 years, it would be amazing if he doesn’t have some idea. As age beckons, perhaps he is less prepared to indulge the mature woman facing him across the breakfast table. And perhaps your unhappiness at that hardening of attitude might precipitate terror as you confront the possibility that not only your husband but all men will cease to see you as a “vibrant woman”. The eagerness with which you protest about finding “fun” in everything, and the faintly patronising way you distance yourself in the presence of friends (“he’s not with me”), seem to indicate a genuine fear of being associated with age and its responsibilities. In your longer letter, you say the only time you were faithful was when your kids were small, because you didn’t feel the need for “anybody else’s attention”. I wonder if it’s occurred to you that the unconditional love we always get from young children meant that your obviously urgent need to feel loved and wanted was fulfilled. A few years ago, you took up your “secret life” again, which seems to coincide with the time your kids were sufficiently grown up to withdraw into their own lives. It seems you have a huge need for affirmation through others, so perhaps that’s the area you need to examine. In other words, it’s not about your husband. It’s about you. The kids are grown and no longer need you, lovers are thin on the ground, and you are facing the delights of menopause and its attendant withering of the flesh. It’s a tough reality that requires all our reserves of strength to weather, particularly if our self-worth is based on being physically admired. What I suspect you really crave is intimacy, but you have spent your life trying to find it through sex. The trouble is, sex has very little to do with intimacy. Being wanted might be powerful medicine, but it’s a palliative, not a cure. You can blame your husband for the way you feel (although even a short course in counselling must have taught you that nobody can make us feel something we do not already feel ourselves), or you could try running away to start your life anew, but the brutal truth is that wherever we go, there we are. Nothing changes unless we change ourselves. Happiness is an inside job. You could, of course, take another lover and dump your husband, or you could take a lover and keep your husband, but I’d bet good money you’ll still be miserable. Perhaps it might be better to take yourself to therapy and discover ways to nurture and love yourself rather than depending on others to do it for you. You never know, once you value yourself, you might come to value your husband, who, in his grumpy way, obviously loves you very much. After all, after 25 pretty bumpy years, he is still there.   My husband still blames me but wants me back December 21 2008 My husband told me he didn’t love me and wanted to leave, saying I didn’t treat him properly and had to change and win him back. I begged for a chance and started counselling to address my part in things. Three months later, I discovered he was having an affair. My world fell apart. He showed no remorse, refusing to see the devastation he had caused. Finally, he admitted he didn’t love me enough to mend our marriage and left. Though cuttingly painful, I felt almost relieved. I could begin the pain of healing. Twenty-four hours later, he said he’d made a mistake. I asked him to leave me alone. He’s wasted a year of my life. Now he’s hounding me with e-mails, texts and flowers. He says he’ll do anything and that he tried before but I kept pushing him away. Now I’m really confused. Can I trust what he says? Is it possible to forgive, or would my energy be better used elsewhere? I do love him and know I always will, but don’t want to be naive. I feel confused and hurt and yet so mean for ignoring him. I admire your strength as well as the humility you showed in trying to rescue your marriage. When it comes to the breakdown of a relationship, I think there’s only one question we need to ask ourselves: “Did I do my absolute best to save it?” If I take your letter on absolute trust (and I do), there is no doubt about the answer. I believe humility is the greatest of the virtues. I don’t mean humbling oneself; that’s quite a different thing. I mean the ability to face ourselves honestly, examine our own behaviour and, when we are wrong, admit it. That’s what you did when you took yourself off to counselling, a red herring as it turned out, set in motion by your husband to divert your attention. In my book, some things are deal- breakers. Blaming and shaming the people we love in order to save our own necks is one of them. A failure to show contrition when we have caused unbearable pain is another. As for stringing somebody up over emotional hot coals and leaving them dangling while we “decide” between two people (in your longer letter), that’s not only cowardly and ruthlessly self-centred, it’s a killer when it comes to respect and affection. But that’s just my book of relationship rules. Everybody has their own, because every relationship and every person is different. We all make mistakes. Affairs happen, for many reasons. Some couples get past them, others don’t. It’s how we conduct ourselves and deal with the damage that matters. Honesty, humility and contrition are the cornerstones of healing. You discovered the affair by hacking into your husband’s e-mails which, as you say, you had never before considered. He denied it. When he finally admitted to it, he showed no remorse and then continued the relationship, eventually abandoning it after you persuaded him to go into joint counselling. Even then, he could not see his own part and continued to blame his actions on a failure of love and a failure in you. There is no right or wrong in all this. If you do decide to continue the marriage, nobody can say you are wrong because nobody else is (or could ever be) a part of your relationship. The only judgment is what’s best for you and your future happiness. As for feeling confused, of course you are. When we once loved somebody deeply, a residue of that love will linger, no matter what their behaviour. But do try not to confuse pity or need with love. A relationship is not an obligation. It is an agreement, based on trust and mutual understanding. I’m not a believer in revenge, of any sort. I think it serves no purpose other than a fleeting satisfaction. It might feel great at the time, but it always leaves a sour aftertaste. So I don’t think for a moment that your ignoring him is about revenge, but about self-care and self-love — two qualities you need in abundance right now. His behaviour belongs to him. Don’t allow it to infect you with a sense of shame or contrition. It is not mean to move on and start (as you put it so well) the pain of healing. It is not mean to protect yourself from emotional damage. You gave of your best, until there was nothing left to give. He may have changed his mind. That does not mean that you have to change yours or listen to him, unless you want to. Your heart will tell you what to do. Try to listen to that rather than your head. It is the heart or intuition that knows when to trust somebody. Our head may try to overrule our deeper feelings (all those “yes, but . . . ” thoughts), but deep down we know the truth. Of course you can put a relationship back together, but it will never be the same. Some people can cope with that. Others can’t. Anger at being betrayed is not to be underestimated. It can reappear years down the line. This is about understanding yourself and knowing your emotional limits. Can you still respect and trust this man? Only your heart knows the answer. Listen to it well.   My husband's so perfect he's driving me crazy December 14 2008 Most women will think I’m terribly self-centred, but my husband is driving me crazy because he’s so perfect — perfect, predictable and utterly boring. We’re both divorced and have children (his don’t live with us), and we have been married for a year, both having been single for 10 years. I love him very much, but his perfection makes me feel fat (I’m a size 10), disorganised and useless. He follows a set routine every day, eats carefully, exercises regularly and allows himself one small beer and two squares of dark chocolate. He never goes out in the evening, except for work, but deals with e-mails and paperwork until midnight, to the minute. I never do the same thing twice. I often work late or have an extra glass of wine to avoid “sleeping” together. I get tempted by nice food and can’t restrict myself to six cashews — instead I’ll eat the whole bowl. Surely I’m in the wrong for having no self-control and being so unpredictable that I get excited about life, even when it’s hugely stressful as a mother of four children (who I’m financing)? I used to love myself for being passionate and carefree. Now I feel fat and old. It seems to me you have an awful lot going on here and it’s all got a bit tangled up. First, you say your husband is boring, then you say you love him very much. Then you drop hints about a lack of sex, and finally you claim that everything is your failing, but couch that in such sarcasm, we are in no doubt as to which you think is the better way of living. I bet you’re terribly scary when you really get going, but most of us are when we’re hurt and disappointed. Obviously, it’s difficult when I only have a letter to go on, but I get a sense that this isn’t simply about your husband being, as you put it, perfect. I wonder if what’s really upsetting you is a lack of intimacy and increasing distance from the man you love. The undertow in your letter is one of terrible disappointment, exacerbated by a sense of feeling abandoned and lonely. We pin huge hopes on marriage, particularly second marriages, so when we hit the brutal reality of trying to put together two established adult identities and a handful of assorted kids, it can be very tough indeed. The first year of any marriage can be rocky, but in particular a union involving children and stepchildren, because everyone is trying to work out where they belong and what their function is within the group. We are, all of us, creatures of habit. It’s just that your habits tend towards joyous chaos and spontaneity, whereas your husband has opted for glacial calm and predictable routine. Neither is right nor wrong. Both involve rituals we use to make ourselves feel safe. For you, perfectionism and rules are a threat to your security and sense of identity (they make you feel fat and old), whereas for your husband, the spontaneity and lack of clarity you find so liberating may well feel like overwhelming chaos. Could I make a few suggestions? I wonder if your husband feels insecure about his status in the household — he may feel like an outsider in your noisy, rumbustious family of four children. It could also be that he is missing his own kids, which will increase his sense of exclusion. When we don’t know how to behave, we tend to retreat into what we know best, which, in his case, seems to be the security of work, where he knows exactly what is expected of him. Insecurity causes us to step up our rituals — or safety mechanisms — so what looks like inflexibility may simply be his way of white-knuckling a sense of identity. Do try to regain a sense of the bigger picture, instead of focusing on the tiny details of your husband’s day (which you listed, from the time he gets up at 6.30am, to the time he goes to bed at the stroke of midnight). Also, try to regain a sense of him as a friend and another human being. What is it about him that you love? What inspired and excited you enough to marry him? How about looking at what he does that’s right, rather than concentrating on what is wrong. Every time you make a demand (such as “he shouldn’t do x or y . . .”), try to replace it with a preference. “I would prefer it if he did . . .” When we insist on our demands being met, we set ourselves up for disappointment. Now, tell him those preferences. It’s no good simmering with resentment, if you haven’t explained what you want or need. None of us is a mind-reader. When we think we can read people’s minds, we’ve usually got it completely wrong. His way of doing things does not mean he does not love you. It may simply be that he is trying to make your life easier by not imposing extra demands, as you have so many already. Most important, plan some time alone together. Get a sitter for the kids. Go out to dinner. Farm the children out and climb into bed. When life is very busy, we need to be extremely disciplined about spontaneity — a combination that should make both of you very happy.   I can't help my brother with his debts and drinking December 7 2008 I love my older brother very much (he’s 45), but he’s badly in debt. For years my parents bailed him out, but our mother died recently and we have a strained relationship with our father because he’s involved in a long-standing affair. My brother rarely sees him, although Dad recently helped him with a tax bill of thousands. I think Dad feels my brother calls only when he wants money; Dad is retired now, so can’t really help any more. My brother sometimes uses alcohol to cope with emotional difficulty. He says nobody cares and he blames everyone else. I’m guessing Dad’s avoiding him, which I think is really weak. Mum was always the strong one. I can’t afford to help financially. I’ve offered emotional support and a good debt counsellor, but my brother got angry and said I should stop calling, which I find hurtful. He told me he desperately needed to speak to Dad. I passed on the message, but Dad never called, so I’m getting the flak. I know you always say to detach emotionally, but it upsets me greatly that my brother is suffering. It upsets me more that you’re suffering like this. I wish I had the space to print your letter in full as well as your brother’s letter, which you attached, and which is so childishly vitriolic, it verges on the hilarious. I’m sorry. I know you love your brother very much, but, to put it bluntly, he’s a bully. He is 45 years old and still taking hand-outs from your father. When he doesn’t get them, he sulks or refuses to speak to him (using the affair as a convenient excuse). When that doesn’t work, he turns on you. It’s emotional blackmail — manipulative, self-pitying and self-serving. The trouble with this kind of behaviour is that the more people give in to it, the more it will continue. Your father has obviously had enough. You describe him as weak-willed, but perhaps it was your mother who always persuaded him to pay up, against his better judgment, and now she is no longer around, his better judgment has prevailed. I agree it would be sensible and, indeed, kinder to tell your brother to his face that he is no longer prepared to bail him out, but perhaps experience has taught him that good sense and kindness are insufficient in the face of your brother’s refusal to take responsibility for his own actions — let alone deal with them in a mature, adult way. Your offer of support was thrown back in your face, followed by a swift tantrum about never darkening his door again, and all because he wasn’t getting what he wanted — money. Usually, we stop that kind of behaviour when we are children, as we learn to take responsibility for ourselves. Sadly, it seems your brother was never taught, particularly if your parents’ habit of bailing him out, just to keep the peace, dates back further than money. It seems he has never learnt the value of anything, including self-regulation. Obviously, he is suffering, but for different reasons than you imagine. His value system is shot to pieces, particularly around himself. An organisation called Debtors Anonymous offers emotional support to people who use money in a compulsive, addictive manner. What they’re actually doing is trying to buy self-esteem. Spending is a way of shoring up a fragile sense of self, but, inevitably, it backfires. That’s when blame and entitlement (“because I’m worth it”) start, triggered by profound fear and insecurity. Your brother may not be willing, right now, to attend such a group, but it may be helpful in the future when he comes to understand that if he is to find any kind of happiness, he must take responsibility, not only for his behaviour, but for his emotions as well. Being dependent on material stuff (and on other people to bail us out) keeps us trapped in a prison of need and insecurity. Life is perpetual chaos because we have no independence or control. That’s when he’s liable to drink in order to forget the mess he’s in. “Poor me, poor me — pour me another drink.” You’re obviously the family peacekeeper and have ended up as your brother’s confidante and whipping boy. Perhaps it’s time to stand down. Once he knows you mean business, he’ll capitulate, as bullies usually do. It may be hard to see the people you love suffer, but it’s harder (for everyone) if you keep enabling their destructive behaviour. Allow your brother to sort out his own mess. He’ll make a tremendous fuss and blame you, your father and anyone else he can think of, but it’s the only action that will bring him confidence and self-esteem. Getting what we want through emotional manipulation solves the immediate problem, but leaves us with such a sense of shame and worthlessness that we go straight back to compulsive spending. Offer, again, to help with practical support, but refuse to engage with emotional blackmail or power-play with your father. Initially, it’s a practical issue, clouded by high emotion. Once that’s sorted, he needs to face up to the root cause of his constant debts. Clarity of thought and purpose of action are what’s needed, not the indulging of repetitive, sabotaging behaviour. debtorsanonymous.org.uk   Do I have a chance of finding love again? November 30 2008 I am 34 and feel I’ve run out of time. Three long- term relationships ended because my partners were happy to live with me, but not interested in marriage or children (with me). Since the last one, I’ve felt very disillusioned. I haven’t been chatted up, let alone asked on a date. A generation ago, men were expected to make the first move, but that doesn’t happen any more. I’m facing the prospect of never finding love again and it hurts terribly. I have no passion for anything other than starting a proper family. It’s what I’m made for. I don’t see myself as weak or dependent, but I spend every day waiting for this person so I can start building the future I really want. I put myself out there and believe I’m approachable. I have good friends and try different challenges, but it’s dull. I’m fairly confident that I don’t appear desperate. Perhaps I do have a need for someone to trust and fall back on, but isn’t that natural? I don’t hate myself for wanting to love and be loved. The thought of online or speed-dating is too depressing, and I don’t think they offer any answers. I am not going to take the line, “There’s more to life than finding a man.” To you, it seems there is no more to life. The question is, what are you going to do once you’ve got one? You say you have no passion for anything other than starting a family, so, obviously, you believe that marriage and children will make you happy and satisfied. Fair enough, but happy and satisfied for ever? We need some sort of interior life if we are to be happy. If we focus all our ambitions on other people, we are never able to discover ourselves. And, if we are reliant on others for our happiness, what happens when they make other plans? The only certainty in life is change. Nothing stays the same, good or bad. A marriage may fail. Children will grow up and leave and, if they are to be the happy, confident individuals we want our kids to be, must be encouraged to become absorbed into the excitement and wonder of their own lives. Where will that leave you? And what will you and your husband have in common, other than the kids? We like to be proud of our partners and that’s a tough call if their only achievement or interest is us. It’s a heavy burden to make another human being responsible not simply for our happiness but for our very existence. As for your future children, in what way will they be able to feel proud of you? Just for being a great mum? I hate to shatter anyone’s illusions, but they expect that anyway. It matters to kids to be able to feel proud of their parents as interesting individuals and people in their own right. Perhaps you have an absorbing passion such as medieval history, but my fear is that one day you’ll wake up, look around and say, “Is this all?” Worse, one day your husband and kids may wake up and look at you and say, “Is that all?” For your own sake, do try to look at the bigger picture. The happy ever after doesn’t start at the altar. That’s pure, romantic fiction. As for the present, you say you’re not dependent — yet you seem completely dependent on someone (whom you have not even met) for your happiness. You write as if you’ve put your life on hold, like Sleeping Beauty waiting for her prince to rescue her. And, rather like that Beauty, you appear to be sound asleep or, at least, so inert that you can’t lift a finger to make the future happen. If you want it as badly as you say you do, it might be a good idea to put a little effort into it. Why must a man make the first move? Stereotypes are shifting and surely that’s a good thing. Men are no better at facing rejection with an easy heart than women. If either sex is fragile, I’d say it was the male of the species. Just look at the figures on suicide and alcoholism. Perhaps, unconsciously, you won’t make the first move because you don’t see men as people but as husband material. With those expectations, nobody is ever going to be good enough. We are capable of many different relationships. Good friendships, for a start. How about inviting a man out and idling away an hour over a cup of coffee? So what if it comes to nothing? It might add an hour of pleasure or interest to your life. People are fascinating, and always surprising. Or, at least, they are if we don’t box them in with fixed preconceptions. You might say the same of online dating. It’s only depressing if you see it that way. It’s a practical solution to a difficult question — in this intensely busy and fragmented age, how do we meet people? It’s only when we load it with unrealistic promises that it becomes disappointing. Of course it’s natural to want to love and be loved. However, it’s also sensible to start by learning to live with and love ourselves. If you do that, and stop waiting to be rescued, one day your prince will surely come.   After my violent childhood I am scared of being loved November 16 2008 I have a blessed life — a great job and friends I adore — but feel out of control and a failure. My childhood wasn’t the easiest. It wasn’t the hardest either, as we were fairly financially secure, but my father was terrifying — at an average family supper he would throw his plate through a closed window, or punch holes through doors. Anything, or nothing, could set him off. My mother died when I was 16. I still miss her and hate him, although I understand he had severe depression and couldn’t help it and does love us. But it is still not okay. I’ve been cutting myself for years and hate the scars, but can’t stop. I don’t want anybody to know anything about me emotionally, yet I want help. I recently came out of a relationship with someone I loved dearly, but he was not available. I’m trying to do this by myself, but feel so alone. I scare people off. If they saw the real me, they would despise me for being weak and needy. I want to stop cutting and find someone to open up to and love. I despise anybody who shows interest. Please help. You cannot do this on your own. It’s too much. Trying to do it by yourself is what’s making you feel so alone, so well done for taking the first step and opening up to me. It’s a wonderful achievement. Try to see it in that way rather than as a shameful confession. In order to be emotionally free, we have to free ourselves emotionally. The way we do that is by expressing our most difficult feelings. Nobody can be expected to endure what you have been through and emerge unscathed. You are a child of violence. You lost your beloved mother at a critical age and were left with a father who could not manage his own emotions, let alone those of his children. Can I add a personal note here? I suffer from severe depression. I know the condition first-hand, and violent anger is not acceptable towards anybody, let alone children. It is not okay. Depression is no reason (or excuse) for violence. Allow yourself your feelings, including anger. What happened was bad. Don’t push it away. Try to feel sympathy and sadness for that helpless, frightened child who (in your longer letter) tried to protect your mother when your father went for her with a carving knife. So don’t feel you must forgive your father, but don’t dwell in anger either. When we don’t acknowledge difficult emotions, they get trapped inside us, so we need to vocalise those feelings to reach acceptance. You don’t have to look for excuses or minimise what happened. Accept that it was terrible, but, most important, it’s over. You never have to put up with it again. You are free. That sense of freedom won’t happen immediately. We have to overcome years of habit to release fear and trapped emotions. All I can tell you is that it is possible. When we self-harm, it is because we cannot find the words to express how terribly bad we feel. Cutting is not a shameful indulgence. It is an expression of emotional pain. The problem with violent parents is that nobody around them is allowed to express emotion, because theirs is so overwhelming and demanding. The only safe mode is keeping your head down and your mouth shut. So, of course you never learnt how to show your feelings (healthy or otherwise) and are terrified of anybody knowing you emotionally. As a child, it was not safe, and what we learn as children stays with us — if it is not challenged. You are beginning to challenge it. You want help. That doesn’t mean it is easy for you to ask. It takes formidable courage to admit to our vulnerabilities, so well done. You are beginning to think in a more emotionally healthy way. We all need help. It is not weak or needy to ask for, or accept, it. It is merely human. The more we ask for and accept help, the more we admit our humanity. The more human we become, the more we are able to give back to and help others. The more we reveal of ourselves, the more we are able to love. I know that’s what you want. In your longer letter, you say you have a lot to give but are fearful and ashamed of people seeing the real you, and terrified they will turn away in disgust. Well, I’m pretty sure I saw the real you in your letter. Because I’m a stranger, you felt free to say what you feel, and nothing in your letter aroused anything but sympathy and warmth. You sound like a woman with a huge amount to give, who only feels unworthy because someone taught her that that’s the way she is. It is simply not true. So do the world a favour and set that woman free. You can start by going to your GP and describing, with real honesty, how you feel and about the years of self-harming. It is far more common than most people understand and there is help available. You do not have to do this on your own.   I'm afraid to leave the wife I don't love November 9 2008 I’m 33, have been married to my wife for two years — we’ve been together for 10 — but I feel I don’t love her any more. I told her I wanted to leave but couldn’t, partly for fear of being alone and also because it seems unspeakably cruel. She still loves me very much and wants children. If I go, I’ll be denying her that opportunity. It’s possible, but unlikely, that she’ll meet somebody while still young enough to start again. All our fights are symptoms of the same problem — she doesn’t feel loved because I don’t love her. I’m worried I’m naive and unrealistic about what love actually is. I realise the first heady rush fades, but we never had it in the first place. I married because I didn’t want to break up. Now I realise my reluctance about children isn’t about not wanting them but about not wanting them with her. She was horrified when she dragged it out of me. She’ll do anything to save the relationship. I’m reluctant because if we try, and fail, we could both miss out on children. I’m torn between upsetting her horribly or staying and having children, then realising my gut instinct was right all along. Let’s get one thing straight. At 34, your wife has plenty of time to meet somebody and have children. Better still, she has time to meet somebody who loves her and who would love to have children with her. She has, in truth, time to find real happiness rather than what sounds like a desperate and unhappy compromise. I’m sure she can’t see that at the moment. We all shrink from the pain that change may bring. It’s human nature. Better the devil we know, and all that. Then again, as far as she is concerned, it seems it’s so far, so good. You haven’t left. You’re still wavering on the children question. In other words, she’s convinced she can change your mind — just as, I suspect, she was able to change your mind about getting married in the first place. How did you put it in your longer letter? “It was a make-or-break situation and I didn’t really want to break up. I didn’t have huge enthusiasm for getting married, either.” Inertia isn’t a great way to happiness for most people, so either your wife thinks your present outburst is just another of your little episodes, and it will pass, or she’s so desperate to keep you that she’s prepared to put up with any humiliation, including being told that she is unloved and you don’t want her children. At the same time as seeming to be astonishingly passive, you’re starting to wake up and ask those age-old, but important, questions: “Who am I and what do I want?” It’s as if you’re leading two parallel lives; one as yourself and the other as a disembodied being who goes along with everybody else’s plans. On top of that, perhaps guilt about participating in a fairly high degree of emotional fraud (staying in a relationship because you don’t want to be alone; marriage as a strategy for maintaining the status quo rather than a deep emotional commitment) is driving you to make a difficult situation far worse. You are in danger of turning an everyday sadness into a catastrophe. Marriages break up. Bad things happen. Pain is part of the human condition. What matters is that we handle it with honesty and grace. It’s not simply telling the truth by our intentions that matters. It’s telling the truth by our actions. You don’t love your wife. You don’t want her children. You’ve said you want to leave. So why are you still there? You say it would be unspeakably cruel to leave and, yes, it will hurt her a great deal — at least in the short term. But how unspeakably cruel is it to refuse another human being what they so obviously need (love, children) yet deny them the freedom and independence to go out and find those things? You can try to take responsibility for another person’s happiness but, as you’ve discovered, it simply doesn’t work. All it does is provoke unintentional cruelty. You put it best when you said all your fights are symptoms of the same problem. Your wife doesn’t feel loved because you don’t love her. Do you think she deserves to be loved? Obviously you do, or you wouldn’t be rending your emotional garments quite so savagely. Are you the person who can, and will (with total willingness), do that for her? Is your fear of being alone compromising another person’s happiness? Is your inertia just a lack of courage? I’m phrasing all these issues as questions because they’re the hard truths you need to confront. If there is a shred of willingness in you to make the relationship succeed, it would be worth seeking out some counselling. That would allow you to explore some of your questions in a more objective way, as well as giving your wife a chance to voice her own issues and needs. Sometimes, we get locked into a particular course of action because we can see no other way. Counselling would not only give you some breathing space but, if it really is the end of the road, show you ways to make a less dramatic and painful exit. relate.org.uk, 0300 100 1234   I can't move out and abandon my mother November 2 2008 I am 17. I love my mother dearly, not just as my mum but as my best friend. However, lack of self-esteem and confidence dominates her life. She gets tearful about work because of the “bitchiness”. Her caring, eager-to-please nature means she is downtrodden and never gets the respect she needs and deserves. She doesn’t stand up for herself, blames herself for other people’s actions and constantly apologises. What frightens me is how similar we are. She says I’m the only person who understands her. I’m touched by this, but frightened, too, because I am going to university soon and feel I’ll have failed her if I leave. She took it badly when my older sister left, but I was here to help her through it. We share many problems, but if I haven’t resolved them myself, how can I help her? She is strong, having faced a traumatic childhood, an unhappy marriage and anorexia, but, at the same time, she is so fragile. I hope you can give me a fresh perspective on how to break this destructive behaviour pattern. I love her so much and it kills me that I’m not making a difference. In your longer letter, you say that your mother wanted to write to me herself, but was frightened that “by some unknown law it will turn out everything is her fault alone”. You also say that she has no self-esteem or confidence. Isn’t it odd, then, that she thinks everything is about her? That’s what happens when you have no self-worth. You become the most important person in your own life. You are so conscious of your own self (self-conscious) that the only person’s feelings that truly matter are your own. If you are also a mother, that self-pity can do your children real damage. Is your mum determined to help you set up an independent life and have a wonderful time at university? No. What she is truly concerned about is herself. “How will I cope? Poor me.” That may not be what she actually says, but it is the message you’ve picked up. I know I sound cruel, and I am truly sorry, but I am trying to get your attention with some harsh reality. If her behaviour does not change, she will trap you into a life as narrow and fearful as her own. I know you love her very much, but you are not responsible for her life. I cannot stress that enough. She loves you dearly too, and in the name of that love, her duty is to set you free. The two of you are trapped in a highly enmeshed relationship. This is also known as co-dependency. When we are co-dependent, we base our self-esteem on the way others see us. We don’t simply want them to like us; we demand unconditional approval. We might call it love (“I do everything for others”) but, in truth, it is ruthlessly manipulative. That is why people respond so badly to your mother. Just as a vine clings to a tree to climb up to the sun, a co-dependent clings to another person’s strength to raise their self-esteem. She makes other people responsible for her feelings (“You made me feel sad/upset/ashamed”) rather than taking responsibility herself. Sadly, that sort of neediness makes people react with anger and contempt because they sense, at its heart, a profound dishonesty. What do I mean by dishonesty? I mean the inability to admit that it is not compassion for others that governs our actions, but desperate need. There is nothing loving about need. It takes. It does not give. It’s a vicious circle. We try to get our self-esteem from others and, naturally, we fail. When we fail, we feel even less self-esteem. Usually, we learn this behaviour in childhood. If we are abused — or simply not loved — we learn that the best way to avoid abuse or to get attention is to placate the people around us. The co-dependent is like a whipped dog that fawns and cringes to get a scrap of affection. It seems that may be the way your poor mum learnt to survive her traumatic childhood. Tragically, we teach our children what we ourselves have learnt. That’s why you feel so scarily similar to her. It’s also why you feel you will fail her if you leave home. She has made you responsible for her survival. If you leave, you fear she will collapse. You may even fear you will also collapse because you have never been taught it’s okay to be independent. By playing the victim, she enmeshes you (“Nobody understands me but you”) to keep you by her side. Admitting you have a problem is the biggest step to healthy change, so well done, both of you. Read everything you can about co-dependency (the internet is a good source) and, if possible, attend Co-dependents Anonymous (Coda) meetings. Codependent No More by Melody Beattie (£13.99 Hazelden); coda-uk.org   I feel like a loser when I see my ex October 26 2008 For the past four years, on and off, I dated a guy who is a budding politician, so we seldom went out in public. He always had a steady girlfriend, but I hoped some day he would realise he wanted to be with me. It was more than “friends with benefits”. As well as great sex, we went on holiday, cooked together and did “couple” things. More than anything, we were friends, and he’s also a friend of the family. Last May, we went on holiday. I thought we had a lovely time, but he has rarely contacted me since. Out of pride, I didn’t contact him either. Now he’s engaged to be married. She’s very sweet and friendly, and we often meet at parties. I dread bumping into them. I don’t want to be with him, but I don’t want him to feel sorry for me either. How should I behave? Is it wrong to be friendly when she has no clue? Should I attend their wedding, as he’ll be obliged to invite me? I’m back with my old boyfriend, but he lives overseas. If he lived here, I wouldn’t feel like a loser every time I bump into the happy couple. I am sorry to be cynical, but your on-off ex sounds as if he’s in the right job, getting an early start on devious, underhand behaviour. He had a steady girlfriend, but dated you on the sly. He was happy to get naked with you, but didn’t want to acknowledge you publicly. He enjoyed holidaying with you, but not so much that he bothered about your daily existence. On top of all that, when he decided to get married (and why not — you asked for so little, he thought he was free to do exactly as he pleased), he didn’t even have the decency to tell you himself. This guy sounds like a complete prat — chinless, spineless and a moral coward to boot. The sadness is not that he has taken a hike into the sunset. The sadness is that you value yourself so little that you put up with him in the first place. You can call it what you like — self-worth, self-love, self-confidence — but what it comes down to is that you think you deserve so very little that very little is what you get. That’s what happens when we undermine ourselves: other people follow our lead. You think you’re worth nothing? Okay, I’ll treat you according to the worth you place upon yourself. Horrible, but true. I can’t say, either, that you’re entirely blameless. You knew he had a girlfriend. You accommodated him at every turn. I’m sure if I heard his side of the story, he would express shock and surprise, claiming he thought you were perfectly happy with the situation — that it suited you as well as it suited him. We all know that’s a convenient truth, otherwise he would have been relaxed and upfront about his forthcoming marriage. A shred of honesty and he would have admitted he knew exactly how you felt. And if you had a shred of self-love, you would have told him, but that might have meant the end to your arrangement, so you stayed quiet and kept up appearances. You’re still keeping up appearances now. Your main impulses in handling the fallout seem to be to avoid any awkwardness and to not look like a loser. Fair enough. Nobody wants to look like a loser — we all have our pride. It’s just that yours seems sadly misplaced. It’s based on the way others see you, rather than on the way you see yourself. It’s as if pride is an afterthought, a sticking plaster to keep your image in place. It would be good if you could do some work around issues of self-worth, because when our inside doesn’t match our outside, eventually the cracks start to show. The insecurity and fear start leaking out, expressed as depression, anxiety, eating disorders or problems with alcohol or drugs. We can’t fake it for ever. The truth will always come out. As to how you should behave now — do nothing. If you bump into them, be charming and noncommittal. If you like her, why be anything else? It’s up to him to tell her what has been going on. It’s certainly not your problem. Of course he’s awkward when he sees you — guilt and shame make us clumsy and uncomfortable. No doubt he’s terrified you’re going to blow his cover, not to mention his budding career. Your silence will make him doubly uncomfortable, as he has no idea if or when you might choose to break it. And if he takes your silence as indifference, well, as the saying goes, indifference is the sweetest revenge. It’s not the best way to live a life, but at least it may help you to move on. As for attending the wedding — why bother? The only reason, once again, would be to keep up appearances. Perhaps it’s time to stop worrying about what other people think and to start concentrating on what actually makes you happy. It must have really hurt to have been treated so shabbily. I’m sorry for that, but you could use it as a learning experience. If we behave as if we deserve nothing, we get nothing. In the future, expect more.   Worrying for my alcoholic father has made me sick October 19 2008 I so desperately need help. I feel totally lost and unable to cope. My dad is an alcoholic and my mum, after years of unhappiness and trying to “fix things”, has left him. They have extreme financial difficulties. My dad seems unable to get himself together and, while I find it incredibly difficult to have contact with him, I worry constantly that he will kill himself through drink — or something else — and I’ll have to live with the thought that I didn’t do enough. My mum is terrified, but determined not to go back. I’ve struggled with eating disorders and depression. I want to travel as I’ve no idea what I want to do, but whenever I’m away I worry about my parents and crave the security of routine. My brothers have families and are able to distance themselves and enjoy life, but I feel unable to step back when the two people I love most are in such pain. My friends are moving on in their careers and relationships, while I continue to procrastinate and cry, and feel unable to talk to anyone who understands. Let’s begin at the beginning. You cannot rescue people, however much you love them. You cannot solve their problems or live their lives for them. Sadly, understanding that intellectually doesn’t stop you wanting to go on trying. Understanding it emotionally is a different matter. When we understand, emotionally (deep in our beings), that we cannot rescue other people, we begin to do what is called “detaching with love”. We continue to care, but stop attaching any expectations of our own happiness to their behaviour. We do not make judgments about what we think is right or wrong for them. We respect their individuality. We might offer help, but only when it is directly requested. “Detaching with love” is a phrase pioneered by Al-Anon, which was originally set up to help those who are worried sick (literally) by the behaviour (alcoholism) of the people they love. It is a support group that outlines some straightforward principles, the most important being that we cannot change other people, we can only change ourselves. Until your dad decides he wants or needs help, there is nothing you can do. Feeling responsible for his life (or death) will not help him and it most certainly will not help you. In fact, seeing you miserable may make him feel guilty and the more guilt he feels, the more he will drink in order to take away the bad feeling. That’s not to say you are in any way to blame, just that your inability to let go and allow the people you love to create their own lives (and live their own pain) is helping nobody. Your mother has already discovered that she cannot change your father or his behaviour. All she can do is live her own life. And, no matter how terrified she feels, she is doing just that. Good for her. You should feel very proud of her. Your brothers have detached (rather than distanced) and are able to enjoy their own lives. I suspect that even the words “enjoy life” make you feel guilty. It’s part of a syndrome called co-dependency, which is often found among the children of alcoholics. Co-dependency is about getting our identity from “fixing” or trying to make other people feel better. It is about an overwhelming sense of responsibility for others and a lack of sympathy for ourselves. If the people we love are in pain, how can we dare to feel pleasure? The most important person in this equation is you. By fixing on other people, you are ignoring your own pain. It refuses to be ignored, however, and is manifesting in an eating disorder and depression. I’m sure you know that an eating disorder can be regarded as an addiction. When we are disordered around food, we use it to change the way we feel, just as an alcoholic uses drink. As for not knowing what you want to do with your life, perhaps that’s because you’re so concerned about other people, you have no time to look at your own needs and wants. So, what can you do? There is therapy, but there are also various self-help groups that may be just as helpful, if not more so, as they directly address the issues you are struggling with. You say you feel unable to talk to people who understand. The groups I am describing are filled with people who will understand immediately — sometimes so vividly it may feel almost scary. The first is Al-Anon, but there is also Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA), and I would also suggest Overeaters Anonymous (OA), which addresses compulsive-eating patterns. It may sound odd to suggest different groups, but addiction is often mirrored in families. Many alcoholics, for example, attend Al-Anon to deal with a parent’s drinking and also attend AA in order to deal with their own addiction. You may also find people attending Al-Anon who attend OA, because addictions manifest themselves in many different ways. When you can learn to know and love yourself, you may (note the word, may) be able to help others. I really hope this helps you. al-anonuk.org.uk; adultchildren.org; oagb.org.uk; Adult Children of Alcoholics by Janet G Woititz (Health Communications)   I've sorted myself out. Now I want my boyfriend back October 12 2008 I can’t get over my ex. We broke up five months ago, having been together for seven months. Two years before that, I was raped, and the memories of this returned when we first got together. I was also having trouble finding a job after graduating, so I felt very insecure. He reassured me, but was secretly uncomfortable, so he withdrew, making me feel even more insecure. Breaking up brought back the negative emotions from the rape, tangled up with bad feelings about the split. Finally, I sought counselling and am doing well. The rape no longer hangs over me, which is exhilarating. I’m in a new job and have new friends, so I should be happy. I am — but I’m still sad about him. I got in contact, and he explained that he had felt suffocated and more like my therapist. He said he sees no chance for us. I e-mailed to say I agreed, but I also see faults on his side (such as his not saying how difficult it was for him). I’ve tried to move on, but what I really want is to get him back. First of all, I am so sorry about the rape and well done for seeking counselling. That takes great courage, and you should take heart from the way you have dealt so well with intensely difficult emotions. Now you’re faced with recovering from a love affair. I understand how much it hurts — broken hearts always do. But I wonder if you could try looking at things in a different way. It seems your ex-boyfriend (however inadvertently) was a stepping stone to emotional health, so maybe you should be grateful for what he could give you, rather than resentful for what he couldn’t. In order to heal, you needed to engage with intimacy, but weren’t entirely ready for an equal relationship. You felt very insecure and needed constant reassurance. Sadly, your ex was unable to give you that, but it’s a tough call to mend another person. It’s hard enough to mend ourselves. When we’re in pain, we become intensely self-centred. That is not the same as being selfish, it simply means we become centred on self. We withdraw in order to recover, as an animal does when it goes off alone to lick its wounds. When we’re in that state, it’s hard to give anything. Instead, we take — be it comfort, reassurance or security. As a result, the relationship falls out of balance, with one person doing all the giving and the other all the taking. I imagine your ex-boyfriend ran out of things to give in the face of your constant insecurity. Your needs were so great that he felt suffocated, as people do when somebody else’s emotional demands are overwhelming. You feel he should have told you how difficult it was for him. Honestly, would it have made any difference? In order to get well, you needed help from a counsellor or an expert, objective witness. We cannot expect the people we love to be our therapists. They have issues of their own without taking on the burden of ours. In order to have good, whole relationships, we need to be whole ourselves — or at least be working towards that end. We also need to be responsible for our own feelings, rather than expecting somebody else to fix us. He gave you as much as he could and now he has moved on. And so must you. How? The first step is to make a conscious decision. You say that you don’t actually want to get over him, you just want him back. If that’s the message you’re giving yourself, you won’t get over him. If you convince yourself you can’t be happy without him, you won’t be happy. Why not? Well, because we believe the stories we tell ourselves. Our minds are fabulously good at denying reality — either our own or somebody else’s. And the reality is that this is a man who cannot tolerate too many emotional demands. He has already shown you he can’t give you what you want, and no amount of scolding via e-mail is going to change that. In fact, it’s going to have (has had) the opposite effect, because you’re making yet another emotional demand. You’re asking him to do something he’s unable to do, which is to be honest with you about the way he feels. Why do you think that’s going to change? I know you’re going to say he doesn’t need to change because you’ve changed — you were in a bad place when you were with him, but it’s different now. It may be so for you, but he has a different idea of you in his head and it is an idea that is going to be well-nigh impossible to change. And is it honestly true? We may be stronger at some times than at others, but it seems to me that our emotional centres stay pretty much the same. You like to confront emotion. He likes to avoid it. How is that combination of emotional opposites going to make you happy? You have great courage. Use it to face the reality of your own emotional needs and move on to find somebody with whom you can have an equal and loving relationship.   My boyfriend won't move in with me October 5 2008 I’ve been in a relationship for four years, but we don’t live together. My boyfriend, who has never been married, says he needs his independence, and I must not take it personally. The trouble is, I do — and he won’t even discuss it. I have been through an acrimonious divorce and have found it hard to adapt to life alone. He supports me by listening to my problems, but I can get incredibly insecure (usually after too much wine), saying I hate him and don’t want to be with him. The truth is that I love him so much. It happened again recently. I regretted it immediately, but he shut me out. I realise I’ve been pushing him into a corner, but I’ve been in the same position, with friends asking me why I don’t live with him. I listened to them too much and started questioning the relationship. I know he loves me and that we could have a wonderful relationship, even if we break convention and live apart. I’ve learnt now that I don’t want a husband or cohabiting partner; I just want my life back. I’m totally heartbroken, but he won’t respond to my e-mails or texts. I am sorry. I can see from your long and distressed letter just how heartbroken you are, but perhaps you need to try to look at things from a different angle. The first question a therapist might ask is: why have you chosen a man who doesn’t want you? I know that sounds harsh, but the point of therapy is to challenge our behaviour and what, deep down, we already know. If we are to be happy, we need to face both ourselves and the reality of the relationships we choose. We are all capable of denial, pushing aside even the most glaring wrongdoing and denying our own pain — until it bursts out of us in anger, frustration, depression, drinking too much or eating too little. In your case, you dismiss that pain as “incredible insecurity”, but what those outbursts of insecurity are trying to tell you is that this man does not give you what, emotionally, you need. I know you say he loves you and that you have great chemistry and laugh a lot. Great. But the most important element is missing: he won’t share himself with you or allow true intimacy. There may be all sorts of reasons for that, and it’s pointless to blame or judge him (“he should commit”) because, as he has been telling you for four years, that’s the way he is. Four years is a long time. Do you honestly think anything is going to change now? Not only does he refuse to live with you, but he refuses to discuss it — he won’t even share that much. When you try, out of frustration and too much alcohol, to goad him into changing his mind, he withdraws and shuts you out. This is called “stonewalling” and is cruel and highly defended behaviour. People use those walled defences to protect themselves from emotional pain (usually past), and it’s impossible to circumvent unless the person in question decides it’s something they want to address. I’m sure you sense that, behind the defences and the coldness (he may often be warm and loving, but his actual behaviour is excessively cold), there is a highly emotional man — and that is what keeps you hooked. You believe that, one day, he will emerge into the light of your love. You believe it because it is what you so badly need and want. You believe it so much that you’re now prepared to accept any crumb he drops from his table, even though you know, deep in your heart, how terribly unhappy it makes you. If it didn’t, you’d have spent the past four years happily accepting the rules that he has laid down. Instead, periodically, the pain of his behaviour drives you to anger and drink, which is when you tell him how you truly feel. And what happens then? He shuts you out. I suspect you’re a highly emotional woman who needs a man who is going to love and support you. Instead, you’ve chosen somebody who will not (or, more likely, cannot) connect emotionally. Which takes us back to the original question: why? You don’t say what happened in your marriage, but I wonder if you can see a pattern to your relationships. If you are constantly attracted to emotionally unavailable men, it is worth asking why that might be? We need to ask those questions of ourselves (What do I really want? What do I actually need?) if we are going to be happy in our future relationships. Otherwise we keep seeking out the same damaging and destructive patterns. So do try to ask yourself those questions and then, with great honesty, ask if this man could ever fulfil those wants and needs. You may be able to persuade him to come back, but will those few crumbs he can offer make you happy? Or will you find yourself so starved of the affection and commitment you need that within a few months you’ll be acting out the same destructive patterns that are damaging and hurtful to you both? Not your fault, and not his either. You need different things. Sometimes it’s better to let go with love.   I need to tell her that I loved her September 28 2008 Ten years ago, when I was at university, I fell in love with a girl. She was everything to me. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I was living in a house with five other blokes; she started seeing one of them. I was understandably gutted, but kept my feelings to myself. When their relationship fizzled out, I got the closest I ever came to saying how I felt, but again, I didn’t. She started seeing another former housemate. I hoped that would fizzle out, too, but they married and now have children. Out of all my old mates, he has always been there for me and I greatly value the relationship. I don’t have feelings for her any more, but I still feel there is unfinished business, so have decided to write them a letter explaining I am no threat to their marriage. I’m hoping this will give me closure. It is very important she knows how I used to feel. I would really value your advice — not on whether to send the letter, but about writing it. That said, if you think it’s an absolutely barmy idea, I don’t mind you saying that, either. I think it’s an absolutely barmy idea. So barmy it’s hard to know if it’s based on foolish arrogance or emotional naivety. I’m going to assume the latter, in the hope that somebody telling you straight that what you’re suffering from is not unrequited love but baseless fantasy will free you to have a relationship with a real woman. I honestly wouldn’t send the letter. I would bet a lot of money she knows perfectly well you have been mooning after her like a sick puppy for the past 10 years. She is just too kind to draw attention to it. Women have a weird sixth sense about men who like them. They are also fiercely pragmatic. They know the difference between projection and reality. If she had wanted to respond to your adoration, she would have done so, even without your say-so. Instead, she has been getting on with her life, as in had a couple of relationships, had her heart broken, had her heart moved, got married, had kids. And what have you been doing? Indulging in a decade-long mind game with an imaginary “great love”, a love so great you didn't even have the courage to confront it. Why? Perhaps because the reality of a flesh-and-blood woman, with all her faults and fragilities, would have decked the dream with a swift left hook. She’s not real, you see, except in your imagination. You didn’t love her. You never even came close. Love does not happen in splendid isolation. That’s the Disney version. Love is two people daring to share themselves. It is dark and glorious, painful and inspiring, heart-lifting and unpredictable. It’s really about courage and taking a chance on rejection, but on magnificence, too. What it is not is a sterile fantasy of distant yearning. Writing a letter will simply embarrass her, not to mention your old mate, that bloke who has always been there for you and who you value so highly. So very highly that you are prepared to offend him by telling him something that he does not need to know — although I have a strong suspicion he already does. Why? So you can get “closure”. On what? On a relationship that never even happened. I know how harsh I sound and I’m sorry for that, but I’m concerned that embarrassment might be the least of your problems. More likely, they’ll have a good laugh about it, in that annoying way that happily married people do, but they’ll never again be able to look you in the eye with any degree of sincerity. It’s one thing knowing something and quite another having it forced under your nose. It seems to me you’re too emotionally fragile to risk humiliating yourself and sabotaging the good relationships you do already have. A bit of self-awareness and truth-telling would help. Honestly, if you really don’t have any feelings for this woman, why are you thinking about her at all, let alone planning to letter-bomb her marriage? What is this really about? Is it an oblique (some might say sneaky) way of declaring yourself? Or is it a desire to be the centre of some sort of sabotaging attention? Or is it, actually, that you’re scared of having a real relationship, so you’ve projected all your energies into a fantasy? Try a bit of self-analysis and examine your true motives. One might be to love and be loved. Trust that motive. Enjoy it, but use it well. Get out and about among people and, that way, you might hook up with a woman with whom you can have a real relationship and give some of that love you obviously feel so strongly and that you would like to share. Don’t, though, admire from afar. Take a risk. Have courage and make the connection. Engage your heart, and not just your head, with another human being and this woman will fade gracefully into the background. Try to see her and her husband as the friends they so obviously want to be. Allow them to get on with their marriage while you get on with your life.   I left my husband for an old flame September 21 2008 I divorced my husband after meeting a man I had a relationship with 20 years previously. I tried so hard to make my marriage work, but grew fed up with my husband’s emotional bullying. This new man was in the early throes of a divorce, but meeting me again hastened it. When my husband found out about the affair, he told our teenage children in a brutally damaging way. It was agony, knowing I had caused them such pain and animosity. Two years later, my relationship with them is again loving and open, while I continue to have an intense physical and emotional relationship with the new man. He is now divorced, but suffering huge guilt about the pain he has caused his children, and he disappears for long periods. I know he is hurting, but I find his distancing hard to bear. All I want is to love him and make it right. I understand, because I also want to put my children first. He says he cannot be in a relationship at the moment, but continues to contact me. Is there any hope, or should I be brave enough to move on and try to forget him? I think the first thing to consider is that while men suffer from the same emotions of pain and guilt, they often deal with them in a different way. One of those ways is to retreat. Women believe everything can be worked out by talking things through and by an outpouring of love and support. For many men, it is the opposite. They need time alone to absorb pain and process their feelings. I understand how much it hurts when this man disappears into silence, and how sharply you feel that abandonment, but try not to see it as personal. Think of him as a wounded bear who has retreated into a cave to lick his wounds. Show your compassion by respecting his suffering and allow him to heal in his own way. In other words, let him be. I know how hard that is when, as you say, all you want to do is love him and make it right. That seems a natural and laudable impulse, but I wonder if you might be projecting your own needs onto him. You want him to love you and make it right, or in other words, you want his full attention, because that is what would heal you. I suspect that you are also, in a subtle way, resentful of being held to blame, perhaps feeling that he is pushing you away because you are the one who caused his children pain. Part of you is stung by the unfairness of that. Again, I think that may be projection. Just because he withdraws from you doesn’t mean he is blaming you. It may simply mean he is turning his full attention to his children in order to see them through the unhappiness he feels he has caused. Women are multitaskers. They can hold more than one thought or emotion in their heads and deal with them simultaneously. Men tend to deal with one project at a time. I suspect that once he feels his children are okay (job done), he will free up enough space in his head to turn his attention to you. As you say in your longer letter, after two years, your children are able to see both sides of the story and love and forgive. His children also need that time. Men panic at the sight of pain in their children (particularly if they feel guilty), whereas women are pragmatic and patient enough to allow them to process their feelings at their own pace. Try to do the same for him. Allow him time and space, but in the meantime what is really important is that you attend to yourself. It strikes me that you have jumped from one relationship to another without drawing breath. Perhaps it might be good to enjoy some independence for a while and undergo a bit of self-examination. What is it that you need from a relationship? Why did your marriage fail? I know you cite your husband’s emotional bullying, but it takes two to make or break a relationship. Why were you attracted to a bully in the first place? What are your expectations around intimacy? Is it your belief that you can only get happiness and self-respect from another person, or could it be that you need to look at providing some of that for yourself? If you feel you are the one who is always doing the giving (and the waiting), perhaps it’s time you thought about what you should be asking for. That might be to say to this new man that his inconsistency is making you unhappy. One solution could be to take a year out while you sort out your own head and he sorts out his. This does not involve emotional threats, just a simple plan. Right now, you’re stuck in all-or-nothing thinking, because every part of you is focused on his intentions and actions, rather than on your own. Should you wait in hope, or chuck it all in and move on? There is a middle way and that middle way is you.   I can't stand my mother September 07 2008   I can’t stand my mother, yet she has a hold over me, even though I put as much distance between us as possible. She sees herself as a guru of free thought, but if she doesn’t get her own way, she makes problems or pretends she’s ill. She’s a terrific snob, and I was bullied at school because she would never let me fit in. I hardly know my father. For years, she told me men were useless, and I grew up believing it. I married because my mother said I should propose. We divorced and I fell in love with a wonderful girl, but my mother said we were wrong for each other because of our different backgrounds. Although I loved this girl very much, I was always wondering if my mother was right, and I broke her heart. I still don’t fully understand my actions. I like women, but find it hard to accept or give love. I have my idea of the “ideal” and can’t settle for less. I’m a complete mess. I take drugs to forget myself and I’m very depressed. I don’t know who I am. Please help. The worry is not so much your mother, but how scarily resigned you are. If you can’t stand her, I wonder why you choose to allow her to inhabit you so completely. And it is a choice. Nobody holds more power over your life than you do. To some people that may seem obvious, but to you it isn’t. Even if you know it is true intellectually, emotionally your mother has all the power. The thing to remember is that you gave it to her. Nobody can take away our power unless we let them. You have to take back your power (and by power, I mean your essential self). It can be done, but it is hard, slow work. You need constantly to challenge what, in cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), are called core beliefs. That means being less interested in what your mother did to you as a kid and more interested in the legacy — or your thinking in the here and now. As you begin to examine your thinking, you can start to own your own behaviour. As you do that, you will begin to see that you are responsible for your own actions, not your mother. She may be a snob and a bully, but she didn’t marry someone she didn’t love. You did. She didn’t break a wonderful girl’s heart. You did. I know I sound like the bully now, but I’m simply trying to impress upon you that you can’t do anything about your depression and addiction until you face up to yourself. That’s where the power lies — not with your mother. Here’s a simple idea to try: wear an elastic band around your wrist and every time you have a negative thought, snap the band against your wrist. Immediately replace that voice with a positive response. No doubt your immediate reaction is to think it’s impossible, because (as you say) you don’t know who you are. And if so, how do you know what you think? You only know what your mother thinks. I don’t believe that’s true. What I think may be true is that you’ve given up trying. It is what Professor Martin Seligman of the University of Pennsylvania defined as learnt helplessness. Sufferers are markedly more likely also to suffer from depression and addiction. Learnt helplessness is essentially a response to frustration. We learn that, no matter how hard we try, our actions have no effect. We come to believe we are powerless or helpless, so we give up trying. There is a solution, also proposed by Seligman. It is to challenge or unlearn our responses, and put healthier ones in their place. He calls this learnt optimism. In order to change behaviour, we need to change our thinking, but we can only do that if we face up to our essential self. You are powerful, important and capable of love. The only question is whether you’re willing to accept that power and the responsibilities that go with it. The spiritual thinker and author Marianne Williamson said: “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.” Playing devil’s advocate, perhaps you load responsibility for your life onto your mother because if you took sole responsibility, you might have to face up to the mess it is in. And if you face up to it, you might have to do something about it. So, here’s how. It will be tough, but take one step at a time, using CBT (ask your GP) and a 12-step programme such as Narcotics Anonymous. As for your mother, leave her where she belongs — trapped in the prison of her own prejudices. It is an unpleasant place to be. You sound like a nice man. You don’t have to stay there. I recommend you read The Mother Factor by Stephan B Poulter (Prometheus Books £12.99) and Learned Optimism: How to Change Your Mind and Your Life by Martin E Seligman (Vintage Books USA £14.99), and contact Narcotics Anonymous (ukna.org).   I want to apologise to my boyfriend's ex for our affair August 24 2008 Two years ago, I had an affair, which resulted in us both leaving and being divorced by our respective spouses. We are still deeply in love, although not living together. My ex has a new relationship and we are now on good terms. My boyfriend’s ex also has a new relationship and says she is happy, but often flares up in anger, which fills my boyfriend with guilt. I try to stay out of it, but recently asked him how she feels about me and he says she is still very angry. We discussed if I should say sorry, but he doesn’t know how she will react. I have never expressed regret to her, although we haven’t been in contact for more than a year. The last time we spoke, I was defensive and probably aggressive because I was in the wrong and feeling guilty. Two years later, I don’t know what to do. I don’t regret what happened, but am sorry for causing her so much grief and heartache. Would it be insulting and pointless to apologise now? She might slam down the phone and be more upset, and my boyfriend would suffer. I am a great believer in making amends, if at all possible. I also believe we should respect another person’s feelings. If somebody is angry as a direct consequence of our actions, then we should respect their right to be angry. We should also tolerate their need to dislike or even hate us. Of course, we hope that time will eventually temper those emotions and we can express regret. However, as it is always uncomfortable to know somebody hates us, I wonder how much of your desire to apologise is about your own discomfort? Of course she’s angry. You scarcely needed to ask your boyfriend how she feels. The fact you did, particularly asking about her feelings towards you, seems to suggest that some of your concern might be self-interest. Is this really about making her feel better or is it about making yourself feel better because you find it difficult to tolerate the idea of somebody being angry with you? I know that sounds harsh when you want only to apologise, but it’s terribly important to be honest about your motivation. An apology that lacks genuine regret can do more harm than good. People always sense insincerity, even when we are not conscious of it ourselves, so an apology made purely to keep the peace (or to make somebody like us) can generate more anger and resentment. People fall in love without our permission. It happens and it hurts. It hurts like hell, and one of the ways we deal with extreme pain is through anger. It may be that your boyfriend’s ex needs to be angry to get through a difficult time. Anger helps us to move forward. Her anger may also be connected to grief and mourning the end of a marriage. It could also, possibly, be bound up with regret. She may feel she didn’t pay sufficient attention to her relationship, perhaps she let the physical side of things slide or allowed irritability to become a fixture in their emotional life. She may feel bad about that, and the point about bad feelings is that we want to be rid of them, so we displace them onto others in the form of blame or self-righteous anger — just as you did the last time you spoke to her. Then again, she might simply be filled with rage at you for stealing her man. Who knows where her anger is really coming from? The point is, you’re unlikely to change her feelings with a phone call. In fact, it might simply be unkind. Phone calls are so intrusive. There we are, happily going about our business, when the phone rings and it’s the ex-husband’s girlfriend (unexpected and uninvited) wanting to be friends. We are unprepared, bereft of our usual emotional armour. Our response may not reveal the best of us, and the shame of being discovered to be emotional and vulnerable can make us angrier still. It is always better to apologise face to face, but that’s not always possible. In this situation, a better way might be a letter. That would challenge you to really consider your intentions by setting them down in black and white. For her part, it would give her the space to read the letter, rip it up, burn it or even reply — whatever she feels like doing. The point is, she could do it in the privacy of her own home. If it is a response you’re after, you quite possibly won’t get one. Or, if you do, it may not be the one you want. The point of expressing regret in this situation is not to attach any sort of expectation to the outcome — of forgiveness, improved relations or feeling better about your own behaviour. So, if what you want to do is simply apologise to another human being for causing them pain, a letter could be the way to go. It should be done with the utmost respect. She has a right to process her anger — in her own time and in her own way.   My boyfriend and I are constantly breaking up August 17 2008 My boyfriend and I have become masters at breaking up and reconciling. The latter is largely down to me, and I wonder if I’m guilty of the unrealistic expectations our culture can engender. We both work overseas, which has caused an immense amount of pain and separation. Despite that, we’ve generally succeeded in overcoming those hurdles, and our friends often comment on our solidarity. However, I realise that my biggest concern is our lack of conversation. In all other aspects our relationship is fine and often very good, but I have a constant, nagging desire to have a nourishing conversation and share ideas and opinions, either seriously or with humour. The lack of it has been my biggest disappointment. I’m now in my thirties and would eventually like to get married, and wonder if I should compromise on this one issue or accept that its regular recurrence as a theme in our arguments is answer enough. Perhaps this is something over which compromise is not possible? Any guidance would be so very welcome to provide some peace and give us both a clear path, either together or apart. I can’t help wondering if what you’re actually asking for is change. I know you feel you're prepared to compromise, but the constant break-ups tell a different story. So do the reconciliations. It could be that frustration and rejection in the face of what seems like stubborn, contrary silence cause you to become critical and demanding. That provokes arguments and, after one too many, you split up. A little later, longing and regret kick in and you start to think it wasn’t so bad after all. You decide your boyfriend has other, wonderful virtues, and if you could only be gentler in your approach, it might encourage him to change. So you go back and it’s great for a while. You manage to keep a lid on your frustrations and he’s also trying hard to please, but, eventually, good behaviour turns into real behaviour. Reality bites and so do all those good intentions. That’s when the arguments start again and I’ll bet they always contain the same punch line: “Why can’t/don’t/ won’t you . . . ?” We all know those arguments, and they always, but always, come from trying to make someone else into the person we would like them to be. “If only they were \ more communicative/ tidier/more romantic/didn’t work so hard, then our relationship would be fantastic.” It rarely seems to occur to us that the other person is not going to change, not because they don’t want to please us, but because, fundamentally, that’s the way they are. Trying to change another person is a highway to hell — for both of you. Your introvert boyfriend is not, overnight, going to blossom into an extrovert. Some people just are reticent. It’s their character style — their hard-wiring, if you like — so even the most desperate desire to please the person they love is destined to fail. Worse, the constant (even if unspoken) pressure to change makes them feel unlovable. Why? Because the message is that they are unacceptable as they are. That, in turn, sets up resentment, which builds until they withdraw or lash out; the subtext being “If you don’t love me as I am, forget it”. The only people we can change are ourselves. We could, for example, change our expectations. We could learn to be tolerant and compassionate. We can work hard around issues of acceptance. We can learn to love the foibles that irritate us. Now, all that works very well — but only if we feel that our basic emotional needs are being met. In other words, if we also feel loved and accepted for who we are. Somebody can be quiet and unforthcoming, but still inspire us with an unshakeable confidence that we are cherished and appreciated. However, if we feel a partner’s lack of communication is a rejection of our most tender feelings (in other words, our own hard-wiring), then it’s not going to work. So, what we have to do is face up to our own needs. Fundamental emotional needs are difficult to compromise on — as you have already discovered. We all need certain (often quite different) things to be genuinely content. In order to discover what those might be, we have to ask ourselves some hard questions. What are the areas in a relationship where we simply cannot compromise? Twisting ourselves into a pretzel to suit another person or to hang onto a relationship is never going to work in the long term. Neither does asking another person to supply an emotional need that is actually our responsibility. Then there is our belief system. We may believe our romantic partner should satisfy all our needs. Is that true, or could we accept what they are able to give us and find the rest elsewhere — from friends and family? What’s required here is both rigorous honesty and unflinching self-examination. One of your basic needs may be communication — in any relationship, not just your present one. There is nothing wrong with that. If it really matters to you, it matters. As to how much, the only person who can answer that question is you.   My father's suicide still haunts me August 10 2008 I'm 26 and struggling. Since my father's suicide last year, I can't find my stride and shake it off. I don't want this to be the defining moment any more. I was by no means perfect, but I was confident, worked hard, had many friends and opportunity was everywhere. My faith in almost everything is broken. I do my best to stay active and positive and to grow and learn to be a better person from losing my father in this way. It works at times, but then I'm back to square one. I feel like I am failing my family. I clash with my mother and brother and just want to walk away, but I love them too much. I fear I will lose everything. I can't describe how low I am. I miss my father beyond words and wish I could have said something to give his life enough meaning to stay. I've read about depression and grief, seen counsellors and done so many things to pull myself out. I think my brilliant girlfriend deserves better. To be blunt, I wouldn't want to be with me. Any advice would be met gratefully with an open mind and willing heart. First, do please try to forgive yourself. There is no right or wrong way to feel; there is only the way you feel. You are doing your best in the face of unimaginable pain. I know you fear you will alienate everyone around you, but do you honestly think they can’t forgive you (as you, surely, forgive them), or is this more about finding some compassion for yourself? Let me put it another way. If a small child was in terrible emotional pain, hitting out and raging and crying, would you think any less of that child? Of course not — your only impulse would be to want to take that child’s pain away. And that, no doubt, is how your family and girlfriend are feeling. They may react angrily because they are in pain, too, but nobody expects you to be as you were. Your faith in everything is, as you say, “broken”. The trouble, I think, is that you are expecting to be as you were. You are falling short of your own expectations, rather than falling short of anyone else’s. You are also, of course, angry — one of the stages of grief. I’m sure you’ve discovered them in your reading, but, in case you haven’t, here they are, as described by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, a Swiss psychiatrist at the forefront of work with the dying and bereaved. She outlined the grief cycle as: shock, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. The stages are not linear, so we may ricochet from one to another until we arrive at acceptance. Acceptance is a difficult place to reach, so I’m going to suggest some actions that have helped (and continue to help) me. When we are struggling, it’s useful to have practical solutions. Taking action, however small, is helpful when we are paralysed by extreme emotion. You write so beautifully that I wonder if it might be good to start a journal. Try to write every day — without censoring yourself at all. Allow any and every emotion. Your journal is your safe and private place. Write when you feel some sort of peace or happiness as well, so when you feel really bad, you might look back and see there are times when the pain lifts. It’s easy, when we’re trapped in despair, to believe we always feel that way. We need to be reminded that grief, like happiness, is infinitely fluid. Instinctively, we know that nothing stays the same, good or bad, but when we are trapped in pain, we need reminders. Consider some form of meditation. In meditation, we learn to sit with an emotion without attaching words to it. Usually, when we feel an extreme emotion, we immediately try to nail it down with words (“I feel this way because . . .”), which then sets up obsessive thought patterns and associations. If we can separate the emotion from the words, we may feel the emotion as an energy that shifts and changes. If we can learn to see emotion as energy, we may begin to set it free. Try prayer. In the Buddhist tradition, prayers are used to free us from suffering. I don’t know why it works (perhaps a shift of emphasis in the mind?), I just know that it does. A prayer could be a request to be free from pain, to have faith, to let go of anger. Be as creative and chatty as you like in your dealings with the universe, but do try to start the day with some prayers. If we set our intention, often our unconscious mind will follow. Find somebody to talk to on a regular basis, whether that’s a counsellor or a wise older friend. It is important to establish a routine so that you know that, at a prearranged date and time, you have somewhere safe to unload your feelings. When we know, for example, that every Thursday at 6pm we will deal with a particularly difficult thought, it allows us to get on with the rest of our lives. Finally, please accept some love and compassion from a stranger. You sound quite wonderful in your letter. And, no matter what you think, it sounds as if you are doing wonderfully too. On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler (Scribner £10.99). A Path with Heart by Jack Kornfield (Rider & Co £12.99). The Royal College of Psychiatrists has a Bereavement Information Pack for those bereaved by suicide or other sudden death. Download it from rcpsych.ac.uk/ mentalhealthinformation.aspx.   I am trapped in my marriage August 03 2008 My life is sheer hell. I have been married for 22 years. We were happy, but our sex life was never really exciting. Then I met someone; a guy younger than me at work who has thrilled me with stories of his conquests and success with girls. My wife says he has changed me into a “horrible, depraved individual”. I am obsessed by him. He means more to me than anything. I'm not gay but bisexual, and I love beautiful, young things. I think he worries that we're getting too close and wants to leave his job to escape from me, but I can't live without him. My wife is standing by me. She thinks I am mentally ill. Understandably, I am being punished. We sleep in separate rooms, so I'm locked in a sexless but loving marriage, more like mother and son. I need love and to be held; I need a fulfilling sexual relationship; and I'm trapped. I don't want to throw away my family life, but I know our sex life is not going to improve. I either continue as a family man in the spare bedroom or find someone for fun and lead a double life. Please help. I am not surprised your relationship with your wife is that of mother and son. You sound like a 16-year-old. Everything you've written is an echo of that “I want it and I want it now” stage of adolescence. Actually, strike that. My teenager is way more mature than you. I am sorry to be unkind, but can you see how myopically self-centred you sound? It's all me, me, me: I don't get sex; I feel trapped; I need love; I want fun. Not a word of regret. No sense of sorrow for the pain you have caused. You have wounded your wife beyond belief. You are driving a young man out of his job. He doesn't sound depraved, he sounds like an idiot. Anybody who boasts of his conquests (the word says it all) and success with girls (women, surely, if they are over the age of consent?) hasn't made it past the nappy stage of emotional maturity. The question is why, at fortysomething, you find that even interesting, let alone exciting. Your wife thinks you are mentally ill. That's a harsh way of saying you are completely unresolved, not simply about your sexuality, but also about your emotional needs. It sounds as though meeting this young man has precipitated some sort of psychic crisis, catapulting you back to a teenage self. People make jokes about the midlife crisis, but it is as painful as the turmoil of our adolescent years. These are the two most difficult periods of life. If we did not resolve our emotional issues in our teens, as we struggled to make our way to maturity, it is likely that they will resurface in our forties, when we mourn the ending of youth. The midlife crisis is not a crisis of sex but of identity. I'm not a psychologist, but it seems to me that you need serious help. If you have never resolved your issues around sexuality or emotional identity, it may be that you have been living a false life for the past 20 years. Living a lie is hard work. What we truly feel must eventually find expression. All those unfulfilled needs and desires are bursting out of you in a way that is both overwhelming and unmanageable. Let's take your sexuality. You say you love beautiful, young things. Are you sure it's not simpler than that? You want to be a beautiful, young thing and cannot come to terms with the death of that possibility. Youth and beauty now belong to others, and no amount of sex or longing is going to change that. Usually, we grieve that loss and move on, but you can't move on. You have focused your intense need on a blameless stranger and now you're trapped in obsession. That's much more about you than it is about him. As for being bisexual, that seems to point to yet more confusion about identity. People may have both homosexual and heterosexual relationships as they search to discover their central beings, but most settle for one or the other. Many bisexual people struggle to make emotional commitments because they have no idea who they really are. And that brings us back to the central issue, which is a crisis of identity. What should you do? You cannot possibly make decisions until you know who you are. Your wife is prepared to stand by you. Great. She is obviously a fantastic woman. If you really don't want to throw away your family life (and that involves what you both want, so your wife's needs are as important as yours), you need to decide what you truly want. To be a young boy who wants to be loved? A teenager who wants to shag his brains out? Or a middle-aged man who wants to respect and honour his marriage? These are intensely difficult questions to solve on your own. Therapy will help. Do get some. My wife's sexual past is destroying me July 27 2008 I had been happily married for 14 years and thought my wife was the best thing that ever happened to me. However, about three years ago, (on my request, thinking there wasn’t much to be said) she told me about her previous sexual partners. It destroyed me and I don't know why. At the beginning, I thought it would go away but my sadness is stronger than ever. I get recurrent images of her with other men and feel as if she really did cheat on me. I knew I wasn’t the first man in her life but I never imagined there had been ten previously, one of whom was married. I’ve read a lot about relationships and psychology, but still don't have a clue about my reaction. I wish she hadn't been so candid and had done what I understand is common practice: lie. Unfortunately I know I sound chauvinistic and deeply machismo but I can honestly assure you I’m not. I really want to be married to this extraordinary woman and just want my feelings and intrusive thoughts to go away so we can carry on with our lives. I’m sure you know I’m going to say that your feelings have nothing to do with your wife or her sexual past. Her past is just what that word implies – over and finished with. What is horribly present is your jealousy. Jealousy is one of the most powerful emotions. It is also one of the most destructive both to our own happiness and that of those we love. And it is love (or perhaps an exaggerated notion of love) which seems to me to be the real issue here. It sounds from your letter as if you have built unreal expectations around your wife. She is the “best thing that ever happened to you.” She is an “extraordinary woman”. Those appear to be charmingly romantic sentiments but they carry a dangerous sting. If she’s the best thing that ever happened to you, obviously the worst thing that could ever happen is that she would be taken away. So it’s hardly surprising you’re carrying those imaginary rivals in your head. You are obsessing over your worst fear. It is said that jealousy is a potent combination of fear and anger – fear that the thing we love will be taken away and anger that we might be powerless to stop it. Those unreal expectations you have built around your wife might also mean you have put her up high on a pedestal. You have objectified her, made her into a valuable and beautiful object. She has become a thing that might be taken from you, rather than another human being (messy, insecure, flawed) who is in equal relationship with you. As well as that, if you have made her more important than you, you have made yourself less important than her. Stay with me. There’s a point to this. According to evolutionary psychologists, there are good reasons for jealousy and the main one, evolutionary speaking, is to hang on to our mates for reasons of procreation. The selfish gene wants to survive. So, if you feel less than her, unconscious logic dictates you believe she has better mating options. Your unconscious is looking for rivals. They might be well in her past but your fear makes them all too present. In other words, what this is really about is your feelings of inadequacy and low self worth. You need to get both yourself and your relationship right-sized. Let’s start with your relationship. Your wife chose you. It took her a while to find you but as the saying goes, we have to kiss a lot of frogs to find Prince Charming. Her past may have involved a few too many frogs for your liking, but that was her journey. She’s not hanging onto that journey. She’s hanging on to you, just as she has done for the past fourteen years. Now for those feelings you have of inadequacy and self-worth. You may not even be aware of them and, because they are difficult and painful emotions to face up to, unconsciously you may have looked around for a place to park them. The mind is a wonderfully inventive thing and yours has found a string of ex-lovers who are no more important to your wife than the old coats or handbags she was once briefly attached to. To her, they are about as lifeless and uninteresting as that. To you, they are a threat. They are better than you, more powerful than you, more virile than you. They are not. They are not even ex-lovers. They are emotions such as inadequacy, shame, fear, worthlessness, terror of abandonment (take your pick) given human form. If you want to change things, perhaps you might try making her a little less extraordinary and yourself a little more extraordinary. You need to bring things back into balance. The best way to do that would be through counselling. I know that to you this feels like a problem of overwhelming proportions, but, honestly it’s not. It’s the jealousy that feels overwhelming, not the situation. Do some work with a CBT counsellor around your core beliefs (the deep-seated, unconscious opinions we all hold) and get things in proportion. And remember, she chose you. You absolutely are good enough.   I am 30 and in a relationship that fills me with pain July 20 2008 I am 30 and in a relationship that fills me with pain, anxiety and restlessness. When we met, it was glorious — I couldn’t believe how intelligent, funny and loving he was. Then we got to know each other. He became angry, distant and domineering, but I was so insanely in love, I accepted any humiliation. I forgot how to be myself - I was always alert to his moods, helpful and eager to change. Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer and moved out - for one day. The improvement was that he stopped the silent treatment, but I still crave affection and communication. I cannot stand the way he plays computer games nonstop, his lack of need to be with or talk to me, the lack of intimacy, my feelings of loneliness and sexual deprivation. I know I’m too dependent and I have only one desire - to feel relaxed, my thoughts focused on something different. I want to feel peace. The only solution I can think of is separation, but I cannot leave without his help. I choose to think it’s not his fault - I can’t handle my emotions. I'm controlling and hysterical, and I definitely wouldn’t stand for behaviour like mine. Poor you. You do sound terribly trapped. I think of this kind of relationship as locked-in syndrome — an overpowering, toxic interplay of emotional neediness. It is also known as co-dependency or love addiction. Let me explain about love addiction, a neat label for a dysfunctional approach to relationships. The love addict has overwhelming emotional needs. They have an empty space inside so they cannot soothe, calm, nurture or love themselves. Love addicts have no idea who they are, or so dislike the person they feel they are that they contort, pretzel-like, to whatever their lover wants them to be. Their self-esteem relies entirely on other people’s love and approval. They have a desperate need for attention and passion, usually mistaking passion for love. The more overstated or extreme (or even violent) the emotions, the more real and important they feel the relationship is. Like all addictions, it is exhausting, claustrophobic and deeply destructive for all concerned. Love addiction can drive people to humiliate themselves, be chameleons to fit to whatever their lover admires and accept any kind of abuse. The flip side is that they abuse, control, demand and manipulate in a desperate plea for attention. The rejected love addict might constantly text and phone the object of their obsession, stalk them or sabotage new relationships. Love addiction drives people to medicate the pain by abusing alcohol or food, or by shopping. Some experts believe that love addiction is often the underlying emotional dysfunction behind alcoholism or an eating disorder. You can be a love addict on your own, always yearning after the One (the perfect fit, the soul mate) who is going to make you whole, or pining for the one who got away, convinced that without them (however terrible the relationship really was) you can never be happy. You can also be a love addict in a relationship. A relationship doesn’t stop the behaviour. It often makes it worse because, unconsciously, a love addict looks for somebody who echoes their own dysfunction. A love addict most often ends up with a love avoidant. The love avoidant is the mirror image of the love addict. Love avoidants also have overwhelming emotional needs (and a similar terror of abandonment), but have no idea how to express them (as well as being terrified by them), so they use rejection, dominance, humiliation, silence, anger and distance to control their lover and to avoid being left. A dance goes on between addict and avoidant. The more the avoidant shuts down, the needier the addict becomes. The needier the addict becomes, the more the avoidant shuts down. Sound familiar? So when you say you are hysterical and controlling, that is probably true, but the problem is that you have chosen somebody who perpetuates those behaviours. They call it an addiction because, just as the alcoholic does not know how to find peace without a drink but longs for freedom from that obsession, the love addict longs to be free of their compulsive behaviour but is terrified of being without their lover — or their fix. Alcoholics long for somebody or something to stop them drinking. Hard as they try to stop on their own, they can’t. You long for your boyfriend to help you to leave because you cannot do it on your own. It is not your fault. You are suffering. You need help. The best place to find it is Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous. You need the support of others who understand, and a programme of recovery to help you find the peace you long for. Essentially, this has nothing to do with your boyfriend. For an alcoholic, a drink is the outward sign of an inner emotional disorder. It is not the fault of the drink. Your relationship is the symptom and not the cause of your unhappiness. To help you understand more clearly, try reading Is It Love or Is It Addiction? by Brenda Schaeffer (Hazelden £13.99). Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous; slaauk.com   Is this a mid life crisis or male depression? July 13 2008 I think it’s a midlife crisis, but it might be more than that. I’m a man in my mid-forties and, on the outside, appear to have a good, if not a great life. I have a nice house, a stable family and a job that pays me well and allows time for friends and exercise. Inside, though, I’m a mess. I’m in a relationship with someone that I know is wrong and need to break out of. What really worries me is I keep having two competing thoughts. The first is to walk away from the mess I’m in and go and do some good. The second, more worrying thought is to accept that we all die and it would be better for everyone if that happened to me sooner rather than later. I get angry inside and, at times, have an almost total disregard for my own life. I have really low self-esteem, yet if you saw me at work or with friends, you would never guess. Needless to say, my wife has no clue. What do I do? I need to act quickly. While I hesitate to diagnose anybody, it does sound as if you are suffering from depression, so the first thing you should do is go and have a talk with your GP. Do, please, describe your state of mind exactly as you have outlined it in this letter. On no account minimise or make light of the way you feel. Simply telling another human being the truth will bring relief. Tragically, male depression often goes undetected, because men are unwilling to admit to what is commonly, but wrongly, perceived as a weakness. Instead, they hide their pain behind a false front — just as you are doing. You say that if I saw you at work or with friends, I would never guess. Your wife doesn’t have a clue. That is so sad. Our flaws and our frailties are what make us human. An act of love is the courage to share ourselves with others, to allow them to see us as we truly are. It is also an act of self-love or self-esteem. Telling the truth is about being authentic. It’s about inhabiting our own selves. When we fail to do that, or if we say one thing when we feel another, we live in a lie. That lie alienates us from others. It cuts us off from our fellow man and brings devastating loneliness. It causes us to feel hopeless and helpless, because we cannot admit who we truly are. And that is where the anger you describe comes from — the frustration of not being authentic. These, of course, are also symptoms of depression. Which comes first, the act of being inauthentic, which ignites and then perpetuates depression, or the depression that causes us to be inauthentic, because we are ashamed of our own feelings? Nobody knows. What the experts can tell us is that ignoring depression will not make it better. It will only make it worse. How? By trapping us in such a vicious cycle of helplessness, hopelessness and loneliness that we come to believe the only way out is either to walk away or to take our own lives. These are not solutions. Trust me, I know, having recovered from a long episode of debilitating depression. We can walk as far away as we like but, wherever we go, there we are. We can take our own life — or wish for it to be taken — but that’s not an answer to the question of how to live our lives happily; it’s merely avoiding the question. So, how do we answer that question? Or rather, how do you pull out of the mess you feel you’re in? As I say, the first step is to admit how you feel. Your GP should be your first port of call. He or she may suggest a course of antidepressants. They are worth a try, in as much as they can lift the most debilitating symptoms and allow you to face the underlying causes with greater optimism and clarity. They do not work for everyone. They are not magic pills, so if they have no effect, do not despair. The second and, from the tone of your letter, most important step is to get some good counselling — a safe place where you can express your true feelings and challenge your emotions of anger and low self-esteem. As to the affair, it is another way of running away — hoping that somebody else will change the way you feel. The guilt and shame, both of betraying your wife and of using another human being as an emotional Band-Aid, will make you feel much worse. Taking action, such as stopping this relationship, getting help and being authentic with those around you, is your road to emotional health and happiness. As the saying goes, we are only as sick as our secrets. Finally, if there is one thing I know about challenging depression, it is this. It is okay to feel angry. It is okay to feel less than worthy. It is okay to be vulnerable. It is okay to mess up. The only true act of courage is to love and forgive ourselves. Shoot the Damn Dog: A Memoir of Depression by Sally Brampton (Bloomsbury £15.99; shootthedamndog.com )   I haven’t had sex with my husband for months July  06 2008 I haven’t had sex with my husband for months. I’ve finally admitted it — okay, to a complete stranger — but it feels good. We’re happily married, work hard and have hectic social lives, but we don’t find time for each other where it really matters: in bed. The first couple of years were great, but, as with many parents of young children, life runs away, then, suddenly, it’s been months. My problem is, I’m scared because it has been so long. I do fancy him, and we cuddle and kiss, but I usually go to bed first. If we go to bed together, I wait for him to make the first move, and he waits for me, and soon we’re arguing about the fact that both of us want to make love, but neither will make the first move. I sometimes imagine him telling me he has had an affair — and who could blame him? Friends don’t talk about their sex lives, but I’m sure they do it morethan us. I worry we’ll end up in a sexless marriage, but I don’t know how to get back into the swing without feeling it’s me who does all the work. I honestly don’t think everyone is having more sex than you, particularly if they have young children: we all know they’re the greatest passion-killers in the known universe. So I’d stop worrying about that. All that matters is what’s right for the two of you. Obviously, a sexless marriage isn’t right, and that’s the perfect place to start: on a note of optimism. You both want sex. Great. You’re not having it. Not so great. Think of it this way. Sex is a habit. It’s a good habit, but it’s a habit nonetheless — and, once you get out of the habit, it’s hard to get going again. Talking to each other about the things that matter (fears, worries, feelings) is another good habit. Once you get out of that habit, it’s equally hard to get going again. That’s because both habits are about intimacy. Generally, it’s not so much a lack of sex as the inability to discuss it that ends up being the problem. For once, however, I don’t recommend talking it through — at least, not immediately. The trouble with talking about why you’re not having sex is that you rarely end up talking about why you’re not having sex. Instead, the discussion about who doesn’t make the first move turns into an argument about who always picks up little Johnny from the playschool and ends up in a row. The great thing about sex is that, afterwards, you feel so close, you couldn’t care less who picked up little Johnny from the playschool. In fact, sod little Johnny. Post-sex, closeness and intimacy allow you to talk sensibly and kindly about the resentments that led you to not have sex in the first place. The problem with resentments is that they build in our mind until they’re as real as any physical obstacle. And the tragedy is that, for the most part, they are built on some careless infraction (which the other party may not even be aware of) or some belief about a right or wrong way of doing things (which the other person doesn’t even know about). Here’s one, from your letter: “It’s me who does all the work.” Buried in those words are volumes of resentment. They seem to imply that you feel you do all the work in the relationship. Or perhaps you unconsciously feel that men should always be the sexual initiators and your husband is not doing his “work”. He, on the other hand, may feel resentful that it’s always up to him to initiate sex, or he may have felt sexually rejected in the past, when the children were babies. I’m wondering, too, why you say you wouldn’t blame him if he had an affair. Surely, if the sexual impasse were coming from both sides, he would be totally blameworthy? That makes me wonder if you feel guilty in some way, or feel it’s you who has been withholding? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m just trying to read between the lines — which, I suspect, is what the two of you are also doing, and coming up with the wrong conclusions. It seems the best thing you can do is break through the barrier, have sex and, in that lovely postcoital glow, gently put right any misunderstandings. Okay, so that does mean you have to make the first move, and I know it feels really difficult. Look at it this way: you say you don’t want a sexless marriage, but you don’t want to be the one who makes the first move. Well, somebody has to. It seems to me that, in order not to have the first, you have to do the second. As for being scared, there’s only one way of getting past that. Be brave and be bold. Just say: “I love you. You’re gorgeous. I really want to shag your brains out.” A good result is almost certainly guaranteed. He Talks A lot About His Ex June 29 2008 I’m in my late thirties and have been dating someone a few years older for a few months. He is divorced (he says he was never happily married), and has two teenage sons. He is great fun, intelligent, witty and can be very loving, but I’m confused about boundaries. He talks a lot about his ex, still feels guilty and seems reluctant to let go of other past relationships. He sometimes comments on other women’s attractiveness, usually celebrities. I find this hard and don’t always feel particularly special. I’ve suggested counselling about his past guilt, but he won’t hear of it. On the other hand, he’s very full-on, wanting my undivided attention and time. He’d like me to go on holiday with him and his children, but I’m not sure how “safe” I feel with him. He tells me he loves me, but my guard is up. Just because he had an affair once doesn’t mean he would do it again. I do want to give this a fair shot as I’d like a committed relationship and a family, but am worried that his past is clouding both of us. What should I do? The message that seems to be coming through is that you don’t trust this man. I wonder why not. Trust involves more than ticking the right boxes, such as fun, intelligent, witty and loving. It is an instinct or intuition, and yours seem to be telling you that things are not as they seem. Now, you could listen to your intuition and decide this is not a goer, but before you do, it might be helpful to ask yourself a few questions. Is it possible you are throwing obstacles in the way of this relationship because of your own deep-seated feelings of insecurity, rather than any sinister behaviour on his part? Asking somebody you have been intimate with for only a few months to go and see a counsellor does seem a rather overanxious response. I am also puzzled why you don’t feel safe enough to go on a family holiday. It’s your use of the word “safe” that’s puzzling. Again, this seems like such an overreaction to the suggestion of a couple of weeks in the sun that it makes me wonder whether this is more about your feelings of insecurity than his actual behaviour. He’s very attentive, tells you he loves you and has asked you to go on holiday with his children. Now, if ever there were a sign of commitment, it is allowing you to become involved with his children. The only black mark against him seems to be an attachment to women from his past. Are you sure he is excessively guilty about his ex-wife and reluctant to let go of past relationships, or is it more that you wish they didn’t exist because any reminder of them makes you feel insecure? Be really honest. I wonder if it’s the latter, simply because of your use of the word “special”. He doesn’t make you feel particularly special. Now, I wonder what it would take to make you feel special. Would it be a man who behaved as if his past lovers didn’t exist and refused to have any contact with them, a man withoutthe ability to feel sadness or regret? Or would it be a man with no attachments or emotional history? In other words, what you seem to be looking for is a man untouched by human hand. Nobody turns up without baggage — particularly by the time we get to our thirties — but some people are able to put it safely into storage while others carry it into the next relationship, leaving little space for anything else. It may be that he is one of those carriers. It could be that his baggage is too big to get around. Or it could be that the baggage is actually your own. You give no clues as to what has happened to you in the past. I wonder if you have been badly betrayed, or whether suspicion and jealousy have always dogged your relationships. Those seem to be your dominant emotions, which is why it’s important to get really honest and work out if these are feelings you are projecting onto him, or whether they are real concerns. You know I can’t possibly tell you what you should do other than suggest that there are two sides to every story, and that, sometimes, the story is based on a script we have written ourselves. I do, however, think it would be both sensible and instructive to go on the promised holiday. It is always revealing to see how people interact with their children, and teenage boys are famously bad at dissembling. If your fears about his feelings towards his ex-wife have any basis (and you seem to be implying an unresolved attachment), then her sons will soon reveal what it is. Living in such close proximity — even for a couple of weeks — will give you a fair idea of his true nature. Being open to love and making a commitment involve taking a risk. Here’s your final question: are you fearful about him? Or is it more that you are fearful of loving somebody? You’re the only one who knows the answer.   I can't forgive my mother but the anger is eating away at me June 22 2008 I was wondering about your thoughts on anger and forgiveness. I am terribly angry with my mother. I don’t want to forgive her, as I don’t feel she deserves it, but I know hanging on to these kinds of emotion isn’t good. My mother was cold and hypercritical, making me a shy and unsure child. When I developed bulimia, she was unsympathetic. She insisted I leave school at 16 to bring money into the house, although we were quite affluent. All my contemporaries went to university and did well, whereas I have always been skint, going from one rubbish job to the next. My lack of self-esteem and my self-hatred meant I never allowed anybody to get close to me, so I am rather lonely. I have finally stopped hating myself, although I wouldn’t say I like myself. I can live with myself, but I don’t know what to do with this anger. I see how much people who believe in themselves can achieve and what a nice life they have, which makes me angry for not trying harder and terribly sad for a life that could have been. I’m in my forties, single and childless, and see a lonely future ahead. "Forgiveness” is such a big word. I prefer “acceptance”. If we accept that somebody is the way they are, and they are behaving in that way not to offend us, but simply because that is the way they feel and think, then we may find space for forgiveness. In other words, we forgive them for being who they are. We may as well, because if there is one single truth, it is that we cannot make other people behave in ways we would like. The only person we have the power to change is ourselves. So, if we accept that people are themselves, what is there to forgive? Their bad behaviour, perhaps? That takes us back to a point of nonacceptance. If we don’t accept them as they are, we believe they should behave in a certain way, according to our criteria of what we believe is correct. In other words, I’m right and you’re wrong. Sure, we could go down that road, but really, there is no point. Trying to make somebody agree that they are wrong and you are right is like banging your head against a brick wall. If you keep it up, the only person you hurt is yourself. So, give it up. Let it go. Accept that your mother is not the person you wanted her to be. She is the person, for whatever reason, she wanted to be or thought it was right to be or did not know there was any other way to be. Letting her live rent-free in your head is not going to change that. There is a saying about parents: “Shame on them for what they did to me as a child. Shame on me for what I am doing to myself now.” Yes, it was bad. No, it shouldn’t have happened. But it did, and now it’s over and you’re an adult in control of your own life. Or you would be, if only you would stop handing the responsibility for it over to everyone else. Just like your mother, the rest of the world is not responsible for the way you feel, and making them responsible (they went to university, they believe in themselves, they had mothers who loved them) is not going to change anything. Nor is anger, which could be seen as an aggressive form of self-pity. Life is not fair, but why we believe that something as abstract and impersonal as life should be fair, I have never understood. It’s like ascribing human emotions to a tree and saying a tree should be fair. A tree is a tree. It is what it is. You could go on hating your mother (and yourself) or you could try to make friends with yourself. Yes, I know being kind to yourself is a novel idea, but if you could find some compassion for your own difficult emotions, you might understand that everyone suffers from them, too — including your mother. Here are three practical suggestions you might like to try. The first is to count your blessings. Write them down, every night. And please don’t say you have nothing to be grateful for. You have a roof over your head. You are able to work. It doesn’t matter how rubbish you think that work is: the truth is, you have choices. You are healthy, which is not to be underestimated. Challenge yourself to see the good in your life and, eventually, you will come to believe it. The second suggestion is to help others. It will stop you concentrating so exclusively on yourself. You are not the only person in this world who feels bad. Reach out to others and you will feel less alone. Third, pray for five minutes every morning. Set your intention for the day. I don’t mean that in the sense of organised religion — although it may be that you embrace it. Simply pray to your higher self. Pray for the willingness to let go of anger, to enjoy your life, for self-hatred to leave you. Pray for compassion for yourself and others. Finally, remember this: living well is the best revenge. Should I Stand Up to My Rude Brother-in-Law? June 15 2008 I struggle with my relationship with my brother-in-law. He is sarcastic, critical and aggressive towards me, my mum and, at times, my sister. Most of my family see it as an inferiority complex and ignore his behaviour, but I struggle to accept it. I don’t want to upset my sister, and I know she’s in a difficult position and feeling vulnerable after the birth of their first child, but I’m disappointed she doesn’t stand up to him, or for me or our mum. He doesn’t behave like that in front of his family or our father. My sister says he’s stressed, but I feel that’s no excuse. My sister and I are both “people-pleasers” who don’t like conflict (our parents are divorced and they used to argue a lot). I feel that I should stand up for myself and take a stance, but I could damage my relationship with my sister. I don’t know if I should just accept that my sister has chosen her husband and put up with and accept him. I suspect that, at heart, this is not a problem about your brother-in-law. It seems more likely it is a question about your struggle with confidence and assertion. You say your family dismiss your brother-in-law’s behaviour as an inferiority complex and simply ignore it. The question is, why can’t you? What is it about his attitude that makes you so angry when the people around you hardly notice? Or, if they do notice, are not bothered by it? In therapy, when somebody triggers us (provokes us to overreact), it is often because something in that person’s behaviour mirrors a quality in ourselves that we don’t like or are afraid of. It may also provoke envy because, secretly, we would like to behave in the same way, but are frightened of the consequences. I am not for a moment suggesting that you are sarcastic, critical and aggressive, although I wonder if you would like to be free to express a bit more anger but feel you must keep that urge hidden because you are (as you say yourself) a people-pleaser? There is a part of you that would like to get away with the kind of behaviour your brother-in-law manifests. You would like, occasionally, to be stroppy and shout and put yourself first, but you don’t dare because you believe that if you did, people wouldn’t like you. This is sometimes called “good girl” syndrome. On the surface, we behave as if we are sweet, kind and considerate. We don’t like to rock the boat or ask for what we want or need because we can’t bear conflict, particularly if we have grown up seeing rather too much of it. So we learn to keep the peace, or become the peacemaker, by putting our own wants and needs aside (including the need to express anger). We sit on our most difficult and hostile emotions and bottle them up behind a compliant exterior until something triggers us. As we have never learnt how to show anger or be assertive, we don’t know how to express our needs in a healthy, moderate way. Rather than simply asking somebody to stop doing something upsetting, or explaining that their behaviour is unacceptable, we either explode — or fear that we will — or we clamp down on our rage. That part of ourselves is so contrary to the image we would like to present to the world, it makes us feel ashamed and guilty, which creates yet more unexpressed resentment. This is the passive-aggressive model. I wonder if you are the peacemaker in your family, and grew up trying to protect your sister and mother, so the sight of your brother-in-law being rude triggers your feelings of protectiveness. You take so much responsibility for their feelings that you don’t believe they are capable of standing up for themselves. If you are hyper-alert to the idea they might be hurt, you may find it impossible to understand why they don’t even notice what you see as offensive behaviour. It’s all very good to understand your impulses, but how do you deal with them? First, you might consider an anger-management course. They are not just for people who are obviously hostile, but teach us how to express anger in a healthy way. You might also consider the Buddhist ideals that teach us, first and foremost, compassion for ourselves. Once we have mastered that difficult art, we begin to understand that everyone is suffering equally behind a facade (your brother-in-law’s facade is anger, yours is compliance and people-pleasing) and that we can have compassion for them, too. It certainly takes the sting out of other people’s behaviour to realise that we all struggle with emotions that overwhelm us. In that spirit, I am going to recommend two books. I do hope they help. The Wisdom of No Escape: How to Love Yourself and Your World by Pema Chodron (Element, £8.99). Beating Anger: The Eight Point Plan for Coping with Rage by Mike Fisher (Rider, £7.99)   My ex-husband is manipulating me June 8 2008 I was married for 15 years and I believed we had a great relationship, though, when I look back, it was less than perfect. My husband had an affair and left me and our teenage daughter. The separation was protracted and painful. I clung to the hope that he would return, but I knew our marriage was over. I learnt a lot about myself in the process – how needy I can be and how I lose all sense of boundaries. I am now in a cautious, affectionate relationship with a kind man. The problem is my ex, who remains in close contact through our daughter. He is friendly and he never refers to his girlfriend, but I feel he is trying to create an unreal “friendship” that is toxic and damaging to me, as well as unhealthy for our daughter. He buys me presents for birthdays and Christmas, and brings back gifts whenever he travels abroad. I find it difficult to push him away, but have told him his behaviour makes me uncomfortable. He says he will be more distant, as he doesn’t want to upset me, but I am angry that he is so manipulative. First, I must congratulate you on establishing a relationship with your exhusband that allows happy and frequent contact with your daughter. After the pain and betrayal of an affair, it must have taken a great deal of courage and selflessness. The usual responses of blame and punishment are both unimaginative and damaging, in the broadest sense. They are not singular exercises in sniper fire but cluster bombs that burn and scar all those in the vicinity - particularly children, who suffer, for the most part, in terrible silence. Well done for that and for learning about yourself in the process - understanding that you can be needy and lose all sense of boundaries. In that spirit, I wonder if your question is simply about putting a few final pieces of the boundary in place. Boundaries can be very confusing. We build walls where we need only a fence for protection, and leave ourselves unguarded where we need more solid support. They are difficult for everyone, but particularly for women, because of a cultural imperative that aligns femininity with generosity and accommodation. I wonder whether your confusion (and subsequent anger) is about a blurring of the boundary between intimacy and friendship. Your husband wants to be friends. That seems an admirable sentiment. It’s just that he doesn’t appear to understand the limits of friendship; or, at least, the limits you need to impose to feel safe. Once the painful wounds of separation have healed, you may feel different, but at the moment, he’s standing too close. That may be out of guilt or it may be that he honestly doesn’t know where to put his feet without treading on your toes. Blundering in with presents is, for you, an act of unwelcome intimacy. You have said as much and he has agreed to change his behaviour - essentially, you have got what you wanted. So, what’s the anger about? Could it be because, rather than taking a small step back, he has announced that he is going to be “distant”? In other words, he’s putting up a wall in response to your request for a boundary. That’s like asking somebody not to stand quite so close, so they go and stand at the far side of the room. It is infuriating, I agree, but is it manipulative? Perhaps he is just being a little clumsy because he is on unfamiliar terrain. The landscape, postseparation, is always difficult because you’re moving from a familiar, comfortable intimacy into new territory, where none of the old rules apply. The problem is that they are so instinctive, sometimes we slip into automatic. So, you have to keep reminding him what the new rules are. That can be difficult, which is perhaps why you regard his attempts at “friendship” as toxic. If, instead, you can see his behaviour as misguided, not manipulative, it may calm your anger. Explain clearly what you want and need. Your daughter is old enough to have a relationship with her father without involving you excessively. Ask him to make his arrangements independently and tell him that bringing gifts is charming but inappropriate, and you would like him to stop. In other words, thanks but no thanks. Saying “no” is a fine but difficult art. It takes practice to understand that “no” is a complete sentence. It does not need an explanation, qualification or apology. Once you learn how to deliver it with grace and charm, it becomes wonderfully liberating. It brings a sense of power and confidence that does away with anger because people respect it in a way that no amount of apologetic sentences starting “No, but . . .” will ever achieve. The word itself expresses clarity, and perhaps that’s what you need - both of expression and purpose. As to whether your exhusband’s attempt at friendship is unhealthy for your daughter, that seems unlikely. What may be unhealthy is a lack of clarity in your relationship with him, so learning the simple word “No” could be as good for her as it is for you.   I have a habit of kissing my friends' boyfriends June 1 2008 I kissed a really good friend’s boyfriend. I know she adores him, so the betrayal is severe. Yes, alcohol was involved, and yes, I feel truly awful, but the worrying thing is that there’s a pattern there. This is not the first time. I only kiss these men, I never sleep with them. I just want to give the illusion that I’m better than their girlfriends because I know, in reality, I fall short. Maybe I don’t know the pain of being cheated on. I’m 20 and have never had a relationship longer than three days; nor have I committed myself or remotely expected commitment. I’ve had “ugly-duckling syndrome”, which appears to have turned me into a monster. I could blame my difficult relationship with my father, mild bullying or low self-esteem, but maybe I’m just a bad person. I never expect guys to love me, and feel patronised when they say they do. When I see girls who don’t try or make an effort, but are immensely loved, I feel angry and frustrated. I know someone I love will cheat. I hope it happens sooner rather than later, as I need to change. What goes around comes around. I know I deserve it. There’s not much point in beating you up for bad behaviour. You seem to be doing that very effectively yourself. A bit too effectively, really. There is an underlying tone in your letter that’s a little too dramatic to be really honest or sincere. Intuitively, I don’t feel you’re expressing regret so much as playing the drama queen: “Poor me. Bad me. Look how wicked I am.” When children deliberately smash stuff or bang another kid over the head, they don’t do it because they’re having a laugh or a good time. They are testing the boundaries of other people’s tolerance by asking grown-ups just how far they can go and still be loved. I wonder whether you do these things, not because you’re a bad person, but because you long for unconditional love and forgiveness. I know it sounds perverse, but there’s nothing like hurting people to get their attention. A sweet-natured exchange doesn’t do it in the same way. Hurt somebody and you know you will have their undivided attention for weeks, or even months. It’s not a pleasant sort of attention. It carries with it great sackloads of guilt and shame. So, why do it? My feeling is that you’re terrified of intimacy and this is an elaborate way of getting close to people. Hate is described as the flip side of love because it is an equally powerful and commanding emotion. You admit to anger and frustration at the sight of girls being “immensely loved” without any apparent effort. In other words, they are simply being themselves. My feeling is that you don’t feel you’re good enough to be yourself, so you have to find an identity. The one you’ve found is “bad girl”. I’m not sure that’s low self-esteem so much as no self-esteem. Why do you think you deserve no more than a shameful fumble in a dark corner? It is just so sad. You need to bring yourself out into the light and act in ways that are honourable. When we do things that are estimable, we feel estimable. More intriguingly, why feel patronised by somebody telling you they love you? It’s such an odd word to choose, unless, in some way, you’ve been trained to believe that love is insincere or a way of gaining power over somebody. At the same time, you long for it. Of course you do. We all do. We are, by nature, designed to be in relationships, so I wonder if that dichotomy comes from a difficult relationship with your father and a long history of trying (and failing) to get his love and attention. If the effort you had to make to get him to love you was huge, seeing love handed out without a price tag may well fill you with rage. As children, if being ourselves gets no results, we try another way, such as acting up and rebelling. As for being cheated on, I wonder if it will simply reinforce your cynicism and lead you down the road of “See, I told you love was rubbish and all men are bastards”. That road goes only one way — to sterile loneliness. Wanting to be cheated on as a form of aversion therapy also suggests you can allow yourself to become vulnerable enough to love and to be hurt, which doesn’t seem the case at the moment. Can I appeal to you to try and grasp the simple fact that you are lovable? We all are, if only we open ourselves up enough to allow it to happen. You don’t have to stand on your head (or kiss furtively in corners) to get attention. You are old enough to understand that your father is flawed and human, and that his opinion (or anyone else’s) is just one among millions. You don’t have to live by it. You can be your own person. If that seems too hard, go to your GP and ask to see a counsellor. You need help to counter your self-sabotaging behaviour. Life is a simple exchange. So is love. And so is happiness. We get out what we put in. My On-Off Boyfriend Has Finally Decided it's Over May 25 2008   My on-off boyfriend has finally decided it’s over. He says he loves me but can’t keep making me miserable. He cheated on me many times, but I always forgave him and took him back. Now I have discovered he has been sleeping with his “best friend”, a girl (among others) he always put before me. I can’t come to terms with knowing that what I felt was a serious relationship was just a complete joke to him. My friends want me to move on and forget him. He wants that, too, and I really wish I could just not care, but I have such a strong sense of unfairness. I know it’s childish, but I want justice. I don’t mean revenge. I want him to realise what a terrible person he is and feel something of the hurt I’ve experienced. It’s easy for people to tell me to “let go”, but I feel I’m quite good and it makes me angry he couldn’t see it, and I’m in despair because I don’t understand what I couldn’t give him that he got from all those other girls. I feel angry all the time. How can I let go? I wonder who it is you really feel angry with. Is it your ex-boyfriend or is it yourself? When we give away that much of ourselves, when we treat ourselves with so little love and respect, we feel bad — terribly, corrosively bad. And because those difficult, destructive emotions of anger and shame are so tough, we try to get rid of them. Instead of looking at our own behaviour, we dump the blame on somebody else. You say you want your ex to realise what a terrible person he is. Is he? Or is he simply a man who did not love you or even really want a relationship, but did not have the courage to tell you something you so obviously did not want to hear? Yes, he behaved badly, but he did so encouraged by you. Every time you forgave him and took him back, you gave him permission. You let him know, implicitly, that his behaviour was acceptable. You may not have said as much in words, but your actions showed him that it was fine to be unfaithful, to put other women before you, to cheat, manipulate and deceive. Yes, I’m sure you shouted and screamed, but words, if they are not backed up by actions, are essentially meaningless. Let me explain. If somebody makes you a promise but does not follow it through with actions, does the promise mean anything? Of course not. It is just a collection of words. In the same way, your ex-boyfriend said that he loved you. In what way did his actions show that was true? From your letter, I cannot think of a single way he expressed affection or respect, let alone love. You may have felt it was a serious relationship, but it seems to have been happening mainly in your head. Just because we want something very badly does not make it true. We delude ourselves. We ignore the hard evidence and grasp at straws. We build something out of nothing and then we are surprised at how easily it falls apart. Say your ex-boyfriend really is a terrible person. You chose him, so what does that say about you? That you have no judgment, perhaps? Or, more sadly, that a terrible boyfriend is what you feel you deserve. It could be that he is weak rather than cruel. Many men, confronted by someone as needy and determined as you, may well have done the same thing. Have you considered that he might finally be doing the right thing? He is trying to save you from yourself by refusing to collude in your self-destructive behaviour. He knows he is bad for you and wants you to move on and find somebody worthy of your love. At last, he is showing affection and respect. We cannot love another person until we love ourselves, and that’s what you should be focusing all your energies on right now, rather than diverting your attention to your ex. I don’t mean you should turn your anger and hatred on yourself, but that you should look at the pattern of your behaviour in this relationship and learn from it. How can you be kinder to yourself? How can you put up healthy boundaries? A healthy boundary is letting somebody know, without blame or anger, when something is unacceptable. Healthy boundaries allow us to remove ourselves from destructive situations and relationships. They keep us safe by encouraging self-respect, self-love and self-care. Those qualities are not the same as being selfish. Far from it. They are about being whole as a person, or what therapists call “feeling good enough”. Many of us don’t feel good enough, which is why we allow ourselves to get involved in relationships that are not worthy of us. Forget about justice and revenge. They bring nothing but toxic regrets of guilt and shame. Focus on love, and start with yourself. In matters of the heart, we really are worth it. Boundaries and Relationships: Knowing, Protecting and Enjoying the Self by Charles L Whitfield (Health Communications £11.99). It’s Called a Break-up Because It’s Broken: The Smart Girl’s Break-up Buddy by Greg Behrendt and Amiira Ruotola-Behrendt (Harper Element £8.99) My father chose his lover over me May 18 2008 Twenty years ago, my parents went through a bitter divorce when my father had an affair. I was 16 and took my mother’s side. My anger and hurt were so bad, I made what I now see as an unreasonable ultimatum, demanding he choose between me and his mistress. He said he loved her. I took that as rejection, and have not seen him since. It broke my heart, as we were very close. I am now happily married, with children, and have tried to bury my feelings (through loyalty to my mother), but I have recurrent dreams in which I am shouting and crying shortly before he walks away. My husband cannot understand how any man could do what he did, and is not keen for me to make contact. I have tried to rationalise that he must be weak to leave his children, but I agree with my husband in many ways. I know he has married the woman, and I know his address, but I’m so scared of being rejected again. Part of me feels that he walked away, and that if he wanted to restore our relationship, he would have done so long ago - but he may, like me, be scared of rejection. That is such a sad story. Fear, pride, ego and self-righteous anger have kept you from enjoying the father you love for 20 years. And before the rest of you jump all over me with cross letters saying “It was his fault. He abandoned his family; she has every right to feel the way she does”, let me ask a few simple questions. Was it worth it? Has it helped anyone? Who in this sorry tale has benefited? I know it’s hard, when you feel badly hurt, to get past all the “shoulds” and “oughts”, and I understand why you feel you have a right to be angry, but rights and resentments do nothing to heal the pain we suffer. Nor do assumptions. It would be so good if you could let go of them. They were understandable when you were 16, and stuck, as you say in your longer letter, “in black-and-white thinking”, but they are not helpful now. Should your father have contacted you? Yes, of course. Why didn’t he? There could be a hundred reasons. The point is, you know none of them. As you have discovered, now that you are seeing things from an adult perspective, your father is human. He may, as you say, be a weak man. Then again, he may be strong enough not to have imposed his love and need on the child to whom he feels (because you told him) he brought terrible misery. Out of kindness to your mother, he may have allowed her his children’s unquestioning loyalty and felt it was too cruel to pursue a relationship with you. He might respect you enough to allow you to make your own choices about seeing him. Or he might just be as pig-headed and stubborn as you. Like father, like daughter. You simply don’t know, just as you have no idea what your father is thinking or feeling now. You have no idea if he hopes against hope that you will contact him. You have no idea what your mother said or did to your father, and whether it might have made him feel it was kinder to let you get on with your life. You have no idea what went on in your parents’ marriage, nor why your father was vulnerable to falling in love with somebody else. Yes, you have your mother’s version, but uncompromising bitterness and anger can come from a lack of honesty. When we react violently with blame and punishment, it is often because we cannot bear to look at our own part in things. Your father gave an honest answer to an unreasonable question. He said he loved the woman he loved. That did not (and does not) mean he does not love you. Love is not finite. There is plenty to go round. It might not seem that way when we are 16, but, at that age, the universe revolves entirely around us. As for rejection (unless I have misread your letter), it seems you did the rejecting. From a child’s perspective, of course he should have stayed. From an adult perspective, you were nearly at an age when you were going to launch into your own life. Should he have given up years of happiness to keep you happy in the moment? His marriage was over, and that’s sad, but would giving up his relationship have mended it? And would it really have made you happy, five years later, to see your father lonely and alone? Now, you could hang onto your fear (“he doesn’t love me”), your pride (“he should make the first move”), your ego (“he hurt me by doing what he wanted and not what I wanted”) and your self-righteous anger (“how dare he?”), or you could let go of all those destructive emotions, pick up the phone and say: “Hi, dad, it’s me. I miss you.” I’m going to leave you with the first lines of one of my favourite poems, by the 13th-century Sufi mystic Rumi: “Somewhere out beyond ideas of right-doing and wrongdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” My jealousy is ruining our friendship May 11 2008 When we first met, she was in a long-term relationship that was seriously flawed. We rapidly became very close. The sex was incredible, which neither of us had experienced before, but it felt as if she was having two relationships at once. She tried to break up with her boyfriend, but was reluctant to hurt him or leave the comfort and security. Everyone told me to give up, but our time together was so amazing that I tried to be patient. After weeks of wonderful, intimate sex – and terrible pain – my patience ran out. We promised to remain best of friends. She has since ended things with her boyfriend and is starting a new relationship, which makes me hugely jealous. We speak almost every day and, while I think it would be better to speak less, I miss her and enjoy her company so much, I can’t go through with it. She says she misses me too, and thinks about me loads, but is trying to get over me, as she is moving university soon. How do I get over her? Great sex is hard to give up or to get over, particularly when you experience it for the first time, so I suspect you’ve mixed up sex with love. The sex felt wonderfully intimate – more wonderful and intimate than any sex you have ever experienced – so you are assuming the rest of the relationship must have been equally intimate. A strong physical connection can be so overwhelming that we cannot believe the emotional connection is not equally as overwhelming. Well, it may have been for you, but she does not (and never did) feel the same way. If she had, her behaviour would have been very different. Love really can be blind. It makes us so delusional that we cannot see what’s staring us in the face because we want it, so very, very badly, to be different. Let’s look at the cold truth. She was messing around with you while she was still with her boyfriend. That’s not great, but it happens. People fall spontaneously and genuinely in love. If the connection is true, they move heaven and earth to be together. She talked about leaving her boyfriend – but talk, as they say, is cheap. She did nothing because she didn’t want to hurt him. That’s both the oldest excuse in the book and code for “I don’t really want to be with you”. If she had wanted to be with you, if the relationship had been as passionate and close as you felt it was, she would have had no second thoughts about dumping the boyfriend. She didn’t stay with him because she’s a sweet, gentle creature who doesn’t like to hurt people – she stayed with him because she hadn’t found a good enough replacement. That’s the bottom line. Once she found a serious contender, she dumped the boyfriend and moved on. She’s an emotional coward, although I doubt she believes that – except I feel that people always know, deep in their hearts, when they are being cowardly or duplicitous. If she was kinder, she would have told you the truth. The truth is, she doesn’t love you and she doesn’t want you. Sure, she feels some affection for you, and wouldn’t mind having you as a friend. It’s flattering to be the object of blind adoration. On top of that, it is hard to find the courage to tell somebody something they obviously don’t want to hear – but she did tell you through actions rather than words. Even as the two of you were lost in the grip of passion, you say that it felt as if she was having two relationships at once. That’s because she was having two relationships at once, and that alone should have told you where her commitment lay – and it was not with either you or her boyfriend. It was with herself. For your own sake, being the “best of friends”, or even being friends, is a truly bad idea. Friendship, like any other relationship, is about equality of affection, trust and respect. Right now, that doesn’t exist between you and her. It may one day, but I wouldn’t bank on it. You are fooling yourself that you are friends in order to maintain a connection and feed a fantasy that she might, suddenly, admit to overwhelming feelings for you. You are hoping she will understand what is so blindingly obvious to you – that what exists between you is so powerful, it is unavoidable. That is lust speaking, not reason, and it will do you no good. In fact, it will do you harm, because it is an illusion and will stop you making a connection with somebody with whom you will find true affinity. The more you feed that illusion by maintaining contact, the stronger it will burn. So, let her go. Cease all contact. Go cold turkey. That shouldn’t be difficult, as she is moving away. I do so hate having to write letters such as these, but sometimes a cold, wet blanket dumped on our hopes and dreams is the best antidote (although it may not feel like it at the time), because it frees us to get on with our lives. How Do I Forget My Ex? May 4 2008 Please tell me how to recover. I met a guy seven years ago. He was younger than me, and I didn’t find him attractive at first, but he was gentle, charming and persistent. Eventually, I fell for him like no other. He worked in London and spent a couple of nights a week crashing in a mate’s spare room. The rest of the time, we lived together, at my house or his. We had a caring, loving relationship. His work put him in contact with glamorous people, racing cars and travelling, paid for by playboy chums. When I decided I wanted us to be together full time, he refused to give up London, so I finished it. Four months later, he reappeared and proposed, saying that it had taken him a long time to grow up, but now he wanted us to be together for ever. A week later, a telephone call revealed a flat in London, and women and lies pouring from every angle, over a period of five years. He denied it, but had to come clean, saying he loved me deeply, but also loved female attention. One year on, I’m still raw with shock. Any ideas? Any ideas? A number, but let’s start with the notion that you hooked up with a fantasist and compulsive liar. Such people are extremely plausible. Charming and persistent, they will do anything to get your attention and devotion. Anything but commit to a healthy, adult relationship. When your ex said it had taken him a long time to grow up, it is perhaps the only true thing he ever said. Well, half true, in as much as such people (women are not excluded, although the syndrome is less common) never really grow up. They can’t. They are suffering from a form of arrested development. You might call it narcissism, although I worry that the word is overused. In our culture, narcissism implies a sort of vainglory, while true narcissists are nursing an inner hurt so grievous, they feel compelled to seek out attention to inflate their devastating lack of self-esteem. They need the respect and adoration of others to build themselves up. When your ex said he could not do without the attention of other women, it may be because somebody with a narcissistic injury literally feels they need attention to survive. They also, like every other human being, need love. The problem with love, or monogamous attention, is that it is limited. In other words, it is not enough. They need more of everything – more love, attention, admiration. In psychological jargon, it is called the narcissistic supply. They get that in any way they can – through lies, manipulation, cheating, flattery and charm. The confusing aspect for you is that the love you shared felt very real. And I’m sure it was. But that’s where we have to go back to the concept of “enough” not being enough. I’m sure a part of him loved you very much. You represented steadiness and warmth – the good part of love – which he craved, but another part of him needed stronger fixes of attention and excitement, hence the playboy lifestyle and women. On top of that, somebody with no self-worth cannot stand rejection, so he built a towering monument of lies to keep you onside. When you finally rejected him, he had to win you back, and did so with what he believed was the ultimate prize: a proposal of marriage. He tried an apology of sorts, ascribing his fabulously deceitful behaviour to mere immaturity. Ironically, he was right. His sort of emotional damage is almost entirely based on immaturity, or a pathological inability to accept adult constraints, failures and disappointments. Of course you’re still raw with shock.That level of deceit and betrayal is shocking, and so is the realisation that we have given enormous amounts of love and trust to what has essentially been a fantasy. We begin to doubt our own judgment, our ability to trust other people, even our grasp of reality. Whatever you do, please do not blame yourself – either for being taken in by his lies or for loving him. As I said, such people are hugely plausible, so don’t torture yourself with questions such as “Why?” (easier said than done, I know). Instead, try to acknowledge it as a terrible experience but one that leaves you free to move on and love somebody who is worthy of your love. I’m guessing you’ll be asking yourself how you can ever know if somebody is worthy. You were taken in once. You might be taken in again. How can you trust? It won’t be easy: you must be kind to yourself and allow yourself time to recover and move through the various stages of grief, from disbelief to anger to mourning to acceptance. It might be helpful to immerse yourself in some sort of kindly group activity, whether that be group therapy, where you will come to realise we are all as fragile as each other, or shared Buddhist meditation, in which we learn to love and accept ourselves, and to understand that we are all playing out our own dysfunctions. We cannot blame ourselves or take responsibility for another person. The only thing we can do is live our own life well.   I can’t bear to live with my alcoholic mother April 27 2008 I’m at university and dreading moving back home. I’ve known Mum is an alcoholic for a long time, and when she is drunk, Dad goes into a violent temper. When I was a kid, she would get verbally abusive, so I put a lock on my bedroom door. I hated coming home from school, and worried about getting to my room quickly enough. When Mum is up and about, we carry on as normal. She denies being an alcoholic and always says she is sorry and will change. I know that is denial, but all the dos and don’ts of responding to the alcoholic are mind-boggling and hard to stick to. Mum is very manipulative after a binge, saying things like, “So we’ll never be friends again? I thought we were close.” I always tell her I love her and say that I only get angry to make her see she is ill. I sometimes wonder if I should detach completely, but I have no idea how. I’m told I’m her best friend and she adores me, but that is a huge pressure. Mum and Dad are very close, with an unbreakable bond, which I think is part of the problem. You have my sympathy. People in active alcoholism do terrible damage. They break promises, lie, and manipulate and abuse the people they love. And they are always sorry. Sadly, sorry is just another word. People who really are sorry make amends by changing their behaviour. It is sad that your mother can’t do that, but it is great you can recognise she is ill and in the grip of a severe psychological disorder. That’s the first step towards looking after yourself – and I’m afraid it’s you I’m concerned with here, not your mother. The children of alcoholics suffer terribly and need to take great care to protect themselves. I’m sure your mother loves you very much and you love her very much, too. That does not mean you have to love her behaviour. The two things are quite separate. So, next time she tries to manipulate you into forgiveness (because that’s what she wants), by all means tell her you love her, but be quite clear you do not love her behaviour. You do not love the abuse she heaped on you through childhood. You do not love the way she breaks promises. You do not love having to maintain the pretence of a happy family life in order to protect her. You need to be really clear about this and not cave in when she says it is “not that bad”. That is what alcoholics always say, because if they faced up to the truth about their behaviour, they would have to stop drinking. Tell her it really is that bad for you. Your genuine distress is one of the few things that may penetrate the denial and make her think about getting help. What is happening here is a typical pattern found in alcoholic families. By pretending that everything is fine, the family is enabling the alcoholic. If the family maintains the lie that such behaviour is no problem, then, in the alcoholic’s mind, it is no big deal to go on drinking. This is not about punishing your mother by withdrawing love and support. The recovery movement calls it “detaching with love”. Never confront her with anger, and certainly not when she is drunk. The best time to talk to her is straight after a binge, when she will be filled with shame and remorse, however much she denies it. Don’t tell her she is an alcoholic. She must admit that herself, and the only way she is going to do that is to be reminded of her behaviour when she is on a binge. We do not verbally abuse our children if we are normal drinkers, or frighten them so badly that they need a lock on their bedroom door. On another note, mothers who want to be “best friends” with their daughters usually have highly enmeshed and co-dependent relationships. It makes my blood run cold when a mother says about her daughter that they are “best friends” – best friends is not a parent-child relationship. You can be good friends. A mother can love, respect and support her child, but she must also support her child’s independence and separateness. Otherwise, you end up in a confused and sticky co-dependent relationship where the child does not know where they end and the parent begins. Usually, they are being groomed to be the parent’s carer. That pattern is obviously rife in your family, as it often is where there is an alcoholic parent. When you say your parents have an unbreakable bond, which you think may be part of the problem, you are almost certainly right. It’s a good description of the co-dependent relationship, which involves a savage dance of high emotions, tears, anger, recriminations, apologies and, finally, making up. A few weeks of peace, then the dance starts all over again. Your parents’ relationship, however (and I say this with love, to protect you), is none of your business. Leave them to it and focus on your relationship with your mother and with yourself. And do, please, start attending Al-Anon meetings. If there is one place you will learn to look after yourself and maintain a good relationship with an active alcoholic, it is there. Did I marry the wrong man? April 20 2008 I’m questioning my marriage. We dated for four years before we got married a year ago, and it was always a slow-burning relationship. I’m more of a party girl, while he’s a sweet, sensible guy who, I suspect, was more in love with me than I was with him. We had a baby last year, and I’ve really taken to motherhood. Although he was wonderfully supportive during the pregnancy, we live increasingly different lives. He goes out to work, while I have my friends, child-minder and time with my son. In the evenings, he takes the baby for an hour or so to give me a break, then watches TV for most of the evening. I know I should be grateful I married an honest, hard-working guy, but I’m beginning to wonder, is this is it? I don’t want to bring up my son alone, but I’m beginning to regret not listening to my instincts that something was missing. Maybe I have postnatal depression. I believe I should try to make things work, but I’m on emotional autopilot and have a pain in my chest, feeling that happiness and life are muted. I ’m not going to say the obvious stuff about big life changes and babies. I’m sure you know all that. It’s more interesting to consider how, when we get what we think we wanted, it turns out it wasn’t what we wanted after all. We are always looking outside ourselves for the thing that’s going to make us happy, and if we can’t immediately find it, we start looking for reasons for our unhappiness. The mind likes to have reasons, and one of the reasons it likes is other people – if only they were more like this, if only they were more like that, then we would be happy. If there is nobody to blame, why, that must be the reason. We’re alone; no wonder we’re unhappy. If only we could find somebody to love, then we would be happy. It’s exhausting, which is why the only way to approach problems such as this is to challenge and examine your responses and start being honest about your emotional needs. Now, it may be that your husband is not the most exciting man in the world (although it is almost certain he would be very exciting indeed to somebody else) and that he cannot give you the happiness you feel you need. It may also be that no man is able to give you that happiness and excitement because nobody can. This applies not only to you. Nobody else can make another person happy, in any profound sense. Our dissatisfaction always comes from within, unless of course, there are obvious reasons such as abuse or an impossible emotional incompatibility. That does not seem to be what you are saying. Yes, it could be that you are suffering from postnatal depression (and it would be worth having a chat with your GP), but it seems unlikely in as much as postnatal depression is pretty violent and obvious in its expression. I think you’re suffering more from an “is this all there is?” low mood. The excitement of the wedding, the pregnancy and the birth are over. Life stretches before you in one long, predictable path. Your husband is kind, supports you and gives you everything you need, but seems happy to settle for what you think is humdrum and boring – second best, if you like. If you think about it, what you’re actually saying is, why can’t he be as discontented as me? Why doesn’t he notice how boring our life is? What’s wrong with him? The question you really need to ask is, “What is wrong with me?” I don’t mean that in a punishing sense, I mean it in a quite straightforward way. What is it about your life that is so bad? And, most important, what can you do about it? Try challenging your own mind. Every morning, make a list – write it down (this is important) – of all the things you are grateful for. I don’t mean the big things such as your son. I mean the small details. What you are trying to do is challenge the negativity in your head. This is not some barmy new-age idea; extensive research proves that, if we acknowledge our blessings, we begin to live them. Next, allow your husband to be who he is. I doubt he has changed. What has changed is your view of him. You are unhappy. He should fix that. Well, how? Must he become a different person? In which case, where is the man you love? Don’t ask him to change. Ask yourself to change. I’m going to recommend a book you might find useful. It will help you to look at yourself honestly and see where your happiness or unhappiness might lie. What you need to do is get to know yourself and understand what you need. It may not be your husband. It may be that your marriage really is the problem, but think hard before you make any life-changing decisions. Because, trust me, if you’re bored and unhappy now, being on your own with a small baby is not going to change that. And nor is somebody else. Authentic Happiness by Martin EP Seligman (Nicholas Brearley £15) I can't stop falling for insecure men April 13 2008 I’m 34 and always getting stuck in damaging relationships I can’t seem to leave. The most recent lasted for three years. When I met him, I was very confident, but he kept dumping me until I was reduced to nothing. Once, I was kneeling on the floor with my arms wrapped around his legs, begging him to stop hurting me. I know it’s pathetic, but it’s like an addictive drug. I’ve seen lots of counsellors, spiritual healers, life coaches and even contacted the Priory, and have come to the conclusion that I’m the only one who can help myself. I’m successful in my career, but have devoted a lot of my life to work. I left home when I was 15 and am estranged from my family. I almost feel I don’t deserve to be happy. I’m so used to surviving and being a career person, I don’t know where to begin without making the same stupid mistake of falling for an insecure man who destroys my confidence. I can’t get over how cruel someone (my ex) can be to a person who is so open, caring and honest. And you always say “Be yourself”. Yes, I do always say “Be yourself”, but I wonder if you really know who you are. I’m sure you understand yourself at work, where there are rules and defined expectations, but it seems that as soon as you move into the unregulated and messy area of relationships, you lose sight of yourself. Many of us are confused by our ability to be adult and competent in our work, but to make a complete mess of relationships. If we are successful in one area of our life, the thinking goes, then surely we must be successful in all areas, including relationships. In other words, it’s not us who are at fault, it is the people we get involved with. So, all the men you fall into a relationship with are insecure confidence-wreckers. Are they? As the only common denominator here is you, perhaps it’s the other way around. Perhaps you drive them to certain forms of behaviour by the way you relate to them. It’s a thought. Here’s another. If you are used to being successful and in control at work, it may mean you believe you should be able to control relationships. It doesn’t work that way. We cannot control other people. We cannot make them love us or make them behave in ways that we believe are loving. We can only accept them as they are and allow them their own feelings. If we are secure in our emotions, we are able to do that. It is when we expect others to supply us with our identity (our sense of being loved and worthwhile) that things tend to go pear-shaped. I may be entirely wrong but, judging from the lack of love and understanding in your family background, it may be that you have simply never been shown what a healthy relationship might be or how to have one. Of course, you’re right. You are the only person who can help yourself, and that means being really honest about your behaviour. You say you are “open, caring and honest”. Is that really true? There is another interpretation of “open”, which could be that you have no boundaries. You do not understand where another person starts and where you end. A lack of boundaries means that when somebody becomes intimate with you, you leak identity. The confident, contained woman they were attracted to becomes a blurry, emotional mess. This confuses them and they start to withdraw (to be “cruel”, as you put it), which sets up a pattern of yet more boundary violations as you frantically try to draw them back. You weep, you beg, you plead. They may stay out of pity, but pity is not the same as love. It sets up an imbalance in a relationship, which you then keep frantically trying to correct. You might do that by being “caring”, but caring, if it is not authentically driven, can be just another word for the sort of smothering love that drives people (not just men) into a fury of distaste and withdrawal. Then there is “honest”. It is one thing to be honest in your feelings, if those feelings are both true and reciprocated. It is quite another to get lost in a fantasy of intimacy and then bully somebody with emotions that are actually about intense need rather than love. I am not saying all this is true about you – just that these are dysfunctional patterns of behaviour you might want to consider. Your remark about a relationship being “like an addictive drug” also makes me wonder whether it might be helpful to consider a support group such as Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous (SLAA). This attracts increasing numbers of people (both men and women) to its meetings, which perhaps shows how confused many of us are about healthy relationships. It has a good website. I am also going to recommend a book that contains useful descriptions of healthy and unhealthy boundaries. Above all, don’t despair. Learning to have good relationships may take practice and humility, but the rewards are extraordinary. The Intimacy Factor by Pia Mellody (HarperCollins £7.57). SLAA: www.slaauk.com I fantasise about an old friend. What does this mean? April 6 2008 My childhood was overshadowed by a father who made me feel plain, clumsy and stupid – and my first boyfriend took over where he left off. The tragedy is, I can now see I was gorgeous and attracted plenty of boys, but he convinced me I was unattractive and, to minimise “unwanted” interest, should not wear nice clothes or make-up. It took great courage to leave, but within months I met the man I’ve been with for 15 years. He’s gorgeous in every respect, and I know how lucky we are, so I’m puzzled by the fantasies I keep having. They involve a lovely boy I knew when I was with my first boyfriend, who always told me how much he liked me. I guess I’m trying to rewrite my misspent youth, but the guilt is eating me up. I could understand if there were any problems in my relationship, but there aren’t, so why do I keep dreaming (in vivid detail) of what might have been? Is this normal or some sort of crisis? I’ve tried talking to my friends, but fantasising about a “could have been” when I have such a wonderful boyfriend seems like the greatest taboo. I wonder whether you are mourning your lost youth, and this is a way of processing your regret at not having been allowed to make the most of it. A bullying, abusive father, followed by a controlling, undermining boyfriend, means you missed out on the glories (and agonies) of adolescent freedom and flirting. Maybe your mind is replaying the movie with a happier script. We all regret our lost youth in one way or another. We look back at the time we spent worrying about being too fat, too thin, too shy, too loud, and see that worry as the pointless waste it was. We were young and naturally gorgeous, and we regret squandering that gift. We should take it as a lesson to live in the moment and be grateful for what we have. So you’re right, in a sense. It is a midlife crisis of sorts, but I don’t think it’s anything to be seriously worried about, unless there is something you’re not admitting to yourself. Fantasy is a means of escape, of avoiding reality. Might it be that you’re a tiny bit bored with your life? Could it be that your boyfriend doesn’t actually give you the attention and admiration you yearn for? These are just questions you might want to ask yourself, and here’s another: why are you filled with guilt about what is, essentially, a harmless fantasy? Feeling foolish or silly about it is one thing, but you are, in your words, “eaten up”. That’s quite strong language, so I wonder if there’s some sort of shame at work here. There is a saying, “Guilt is feeling bad about what I’ve done. Shame is feeling bad about who I am.” This is where your father and first boyfriend come into the picture. You are well trained – programmed, in fact – to believe that you are plain, stupid and clumsy. In other words, not good enough. However much you think you’ve left that feeling behind, a young mind is highly susceptible to beliefs, and we have to work hard to overcome them. I wonder if this fantasy about a lovely, kind, young boy, who thinks you’re wonderful, may be a form of self-soothing when you fear you’re not good enough and don’t deserve the fabulous boyfriend and life you have. Instead of looking reality in the face and saying to that inner critic (aka, your father), “Do you know what, Dad? You were wrong. I am great, and I do deserve this wonderful man”, you retreat into fantasy. Many people suffer from obsessive thought patterns, often negative ones, and there are a number of practical therapies to help us. Cognitive behavioural therapy shows us how to challenge thinking that keeps us in low self-esteem or negativity, while neuro-linguistic programming helps to unscramble distorted fears or entrenched patterns of thinking. Another approach is hypnotherapy, which I have been trying recently. Every time you have a negative or “I can’t...” thought, you immediately say, “Cancel, cancel,” and replace it with a positive or “I can . . .” thought. The thinking is that the subconscious follows instructions. So, if you say, “I can’t lose weight,” it goes, “Okay, let’s carry on eating.” Replace that with “I can . . .” and the subconscious obeys. I think it may work – as does challenging any negative thought patterns. Every time the lovely boy pops into your head, say, “Cancel, cancel” and replace him with another thought. Anything will do – what you’re having for supper, where you’re going on holiday. What you’re trying to do is to break a habit. You could also try laughing at your silly head. There’s nothing like self-mockery to chase away obsessive thoughts.   I’m marrying my first boyfriend, but I still want to explore March 30 2008 I’m 29 and love my boyfriend of eight years deeply, although I suppose I fell “out of love” with him years ago. I’ve agreed to marry him, but I have nightmares about walking up the aisle. He has picked up on my doubts, but I can’t tell him how I really feel because I hate to hurt him. We know it has to be marriage or it’s over. I don’t want to end it, but I know I shouldn’t feel this much doubt. He’s my first boyfriend and the only man I’ve ever slept with, so I’m curious about other men. I feel marriage is an ending, not a beginning, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give up a part of myself that I’ve never had the chance to explore. On the other hand, he loves me more than I probably deserve, puts me on a pedestal and offers a secure future. Perhaps it will take a break to make me realise how lucky I am, but then I’ll have broken his heart for no reason. Yet, if I marry him, perhaps I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been and resent him for it. I think what’s needed here is honesty. Perhaps seeing your letter in print has made you understand that you have already answered your own question. All I can do is to offer some clarity. The first thing that struck me is the lack of mutuality. It’s almost as if this marriage is not something that concerns you or your feelings. If you leave, you’ll break his heart. What about your heart? Will it not be even slightly fractured? If you marry him, you might spend the rest of your life resenting him. Why not resent yourself? It would be your decision to marry, unless you somehow feel as if you are being coerced. Perhaps the problem is that you’re not thinking of this as your decision, but as one that’s being made for you. But is it really? Isn’t it up to you to take responsibility for your own decisions? That’s what I mean by honesty. We have to own our feelings and not lay them on other people. Many people make life-changing decisions based on how other people feel, or how they think other people feel, rather than on their own feelings. That’s partly to do with courage, but it’s also a sort of emotional dishonesty. We like to believe that we are being kind by putting the other person first, when, in fact, we are lying to them about how we feel. If a relationship is to work, it must be based on honesty and truth. If it’s not, it will almost certainly fall apart, and when it does, we blame the other person when the fault is ours to own. That’s what therapists mean when they tell us to “own our feelings”. In your letter, you say that you “suppose” that you “fell out of love” years ago. Well, did you? If you did, how can you love your boyfriend “deeply”. I think that what you mean is that you feel affection for him, and he makes you feel safe and secure. Your affection for him, however, is not great enough to mean that you love him sufficiently to tell him the truth. Why? You say it’s because you would “hate to hurt him”. Is that really true, or is it yourself you would hate to hurt? It seems that what you’re really saying is that you don’t want to marry him, but you don’t want to be on your own either. The thought of being on your own is so frightening that you would rather lie to him to keep yourself safe. You are prepared to enter a long-term commitment that, if it failed, would hurt him a great deal more than a sharp break now, as well as wasting years that he could have spent with somebody who truly loved him. Is that really about loving someone deeply? On top of that, is it fair to physically commit to a man in marriage – and the words of that contract are “with my body I thee worship” – when, at heart, you’re quite keen to explore your sexuality elsewhere? By the time we get to the end of your letter, we find a better attempt at honesty. He worships you; he puts you on a pedestal. He will take good care of you by offering you “a secure future”. That’s honest in as much as it’s all about what he will give you. But what about what you will give him? A marriage is a partnership. It is not based only on what we can take, but also on what we can give. You finish your letter by implying that, if the marriage goes wrong, it will be his fault – as if the failure would have nothing to do with you or your inability to tell the truth. That’s what I mean by not owning your own feelings or taking responsibility for your own actions. I don’t know whether you should marry your boyfriend. That is not advice for me to give. I do know that you should ask yourself some serious questions before you say “I do”. How do I stop my volative mother ruining my life? March 23 08 I had an unpleasant childhood, largely thanks to my mother, who has an eating disorder and is highly volatile, with a temper from hell. We moved around a lot, and I never knew my father. My mother always resented bringing up kids, so when I was 11, I went to live with relatives and my half-sister went to boarding school. I am now in my thirties, and happily married with young children, but my mother continues to be a problem. I honestly think she is mentally ill, but I refuse to engage in angry outbursts, and I ignore her calls, although I recently wrote her a reasoned letter. I try to be positive, but I’ve just had a barrage of angry texts, saying things such as she wishes she had left me with my father and that I have “bad genes”. These have made me feel low, but I have not retaliated. I have looked after myself since I was 16. I lived in social housing, as she refused to let me live with her, saying that teenagers “did her head in”. My husband says I should continue to ignore it, but it is bothering me on quite a fundamental level. I am sorry. I’m really not surprised it’s bothering you, and if we had the space, I would print your letter in full. It is, essentially, a litany from hell, and a reminder to all of us who find our mothers difficult just what difficulty really means. A series of alcoholic, drug- addicted men in the background suggests that your mother is attracted to dysfunction and that she is an addict herself, as her drug-taking and long-term bulimia indicate. Her extremely self-centred behaviour, terror of taking responsibility for her children and temper outbursts imply that she is very sick indeed. What is amazing and extraordinary is you, and the loving relationship you have made with your husband and kids. When I hear stories such as yours, I always think of it as breaking the treaty. You have been through terrible damage, but have the spirit and strength not to allow it to break you. More than that, you can cherish your children in a way your mother never loved or mothered you. The damage stops with you, and that’s what I mean by breaking the treaty. So, please, be hugely proud of yourself. As for your mother, there are two ways of looking at this. The first is to try to find some compassion for a sick person. The barrage of angry texts (which all arrived in the days approaching Mothering Sunday) say that anger and self-pity are the only ways she knows to get the attention of the people she loves – and however sick her love might be, those violent, erratic cries for attention are what she understands by love. Her endless search for a man, damaged as she is, means she is trying to get love, but is so angry and confused (and, I imagine, filled with self-loathing) that the only way she knows is to yell abuse until someone responds. Perhaps it might be helpful if you stopped seeing her as your mother. We expect a mother to be kind and loving, but if you can step back and see her as a sick woman who literally cannot help herself, it may help you to detach and see her more compassionately. If that is too hard (and it often is, because we are emotionally programmed to be attached to our mothers), the other thing you could do is change your phone numbers. Sometimes, we have to walk away from damage. There is no point wishing she is going to change. She might get help and get well. Miracles do happen, but the only person who can make (or allow) that miracle is your mother. It is not in your power to change her. You owe her nothing, but you do owe yourself a great deal. One of the gifts you might give yourself is freedom from guilt, or believing you have to mother your mother. I know it’s hard when the adult is behaving like the child – forcing the child to take on the role of adult – but you don’t have to engage with it. You are free to live as you please. Essentially, you’re dealing with someone in the full, violent flow of an addiction, and the only way to do that is to “detach with love”. It is bitterly sad that the only way your mother can build herself up is to tear you down, but that’s the nature of her sickness – you can’t change that. What you can change is your sense of responsibility. You are not responsible for anybody’s behaviour other than your own. You are, of course, responsible for the way you deal with your own children, and you are doing that beautifully. It seems you have learnt, from the damage you endured, what love is truly about. What a great way of transforming difficulty. You are allowed to focus on your own life and leave your mother to the chaos of her self-destruction. If she wants to approach you with love and respect, wonderful; if she can’t, or won’t, leave her to it. You are creating beauty in your children and in a new future. You are not only doing the best you can, you are doing better.   Being a virgin in my twenties makes me feel unmanly March 16 08 I’m a 25-year-old virgin. I suffer bouts of anxiety and depression, fixate on a girl and fantasise about asking her out. Then a voice in my head laughs at how ridiculous that is. If I did ask her out, I would inevitably be shot down. If she did say yes, my inexperience would make me screw up by committing a relationship faux pas or being bad in bed. So, I do nothing. On the few occasions I have managed to ask a girl out, she says she just wants to be friends. I have this view that I am flawed or missing something and destined to be for ever “in the friend zone”. The thing is, I’m doing okay – I have a good job – but everything I achieve seems invalidated by the fact that I am still not a “man”. I’ve actually started to avoid attractive women, as I find it easier not to be reminded of my inadequacy. I don’t just want sex (although obviously that would be fantastic). I want to love and be loved. I have wonderful friends and family, but essentially I’m lonely. This is a bit of a rant, but I’m at my wits’ end. Do you know something? It’s going to happen, but you have to relax. I don’t mean that in the clichéd sense of relax and suddenly everything is going to be okay. I mean that you have to get this into proportion and perspective. Women are not all-powerful. I promise you, they are as flawed, frightened and fragile as you. Women, like men, are simply human. That’s the beginning and end of it. I talked to a psychologist recently, who said that in his 25 years of treating men and women, he saw absolutely no difference in their emotional make-up – either inside or outside the bedroom. Yet, for some reason, you’ve created women as a frightening, alien species. When it comes to approaching them, you sound like somebody who is totally unfamiliar with, say, a cat. Instead of behaving as if it is simply a cat, I have this image of you with a long stick, poking at this odd creature to see if it responds. And when it jumps, shows its claws or runs away (because no creature likes to be poked), instead of understanding that you may be alarming or confusing it, you assume it doesn’t like you or that there is something wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with you except fear. Easy enough for me to say, I know, but here’s what I think about fear: it seems to me that it’s all bound up with ego, or self. The best description is self-centred fear. We get so centred on ourselves and the fear we feel that we worry more about our own ego than about the person in front of us. The best way to get around that is to try to put somebody at ease, instead of expecting them to put us at ease. When we stop focusing on ourselves and start focusing on other people, the effect is miraculous. Try it. Ask some genuine, concerned questions. Listen to the other person’s answers instead of worrying about what they might think of your answers. It doesn’t seem to occur to you that women might also feel anxious or flawed or unattractive. In your mind, if a woman is attractive, she is automatically scary. That same psychologist told me that, in his experience, beauty has nothing to do with self-esteem. It is an assumption we make based on, well, assumption. I understand what you mean about the women you like wanting to be friends, but perhaps that’s a good place to start. Friendship can develop into attraction, and from there into a relationship. In fact, you can’t have a relationship without a friendship. That may be at the heart of the problem. It could be that you don’t really see women as friends (or people), but as relationships or sex objects. Hanging out in the “friend zone” is a safe place to get to know and understand women. The more you do that, the less anxious and frightened you will feel around them. And the more you give, the more you will receive. The same goes for sex. As for being bad in bed, honestly, there is no such thing. Sex is a mutual-appreciation society. That’s really all there is to it. Share generously, enjoy the moment, revel in the beauty that stands before you, and you can do no wrong. Don’t worry about yourself and your performance (that’s self-centred fear again) and focus on the other person. Enjoy the kiss, rather than worrying about the mechanism of the kiss. As for committing a relationship faux pas, pretty much the same goes for that as it does for sex. Be tender. Be kind. Be attentive. Don’t ask what you can get, but what you can give. John Wilkes, the radical 18th-century campaigner, was described as the ugliest man in England, yet he had a string of lovers. Much to other men’s fury, women flocked to him. Why? No particular secret. He absolutely loved women and focused on them more than on himself. I’m not for a moment implying that you are ugly. I just think we can all (women as well as men) learn something from Mr Wilkes.   I cheated on my boyfriend – should I set him free? March 9, 2008 I have been with a wonderful man for two years. I love him very much. However, early in our relationship, I cheated on him. It was the most stupid, regretful moment of my life. I don’t know whether it was out of loneliness or alcohol, but I am burdened with guilt and self-loathing. I told him because I felt he deserved to know. He forgave me and we stayed together, and have even discussed marriage. However, recently he told me he is still wracked by my infidelity. He does not want to break up, but thinks I should ride the storm because the memories are still fresh, although he believes they will go in time. I don’t think any punishment will ever match my own, but I am wondering if it would be kinder to split with him so he can be free to find someone who will not break his heart and whom he can trust. I want to be with him, but don’t know if we can survive my mistake. Perhaps, like many of us, you confuse drama with passion. Yes, you could make the noble sacrifice and leave him to a “better love”, or you could get this into perspective and proportion. You’re human. You’re an idiot. You’re sorry. You will never do it again – most certainly not if this is how it makes you feel. You can either make things worse by continuing with guilt and self-loathing, or you can take off that hair shirt and bring the relationship back into focus. How do you do that? You could start by accepting the reality of the situation. So it was alcohol. So it was loneliness. So it was totally idiotic. It is not as if you had an affair or established any relationship with the man in question. It was a meaningless, drunken fling, and that should have been the end of the story. Your mistake, essentially, was to tell your boyfriend. Normally, I am a stickler for honesty, but there are times when I think we should keep our silence. This is one of them. Why did your boyfriend “deserve” to know? What possible good did telling him do, except to force him to share the guilt and shame? There is a kind of self-centredness that comes with this sort of full disclosure, even though we try to kid ourselves that we’re doing it for the “right” reasons. Living with our own mistakes and keeping our own silence is part of loving somebody. We shoulder the burden alone, instead of unloading it onto them. If you had been having an affair or a significant relationship, it would be quite different, but there are certain things we simply do not need to know – unless we are likely to be told them by a third party, in which case the truth is always best. However, you did tell him, so what you need to do now is defuse the situation by turning down the volume. If you keep making a big deal of it, he is naturally going to think it is a big deal. It may be that the idea of your infidelity has grown so consuming in his mind that he will be unable to get over it. If that is the case, you will know soon enough, but I suspect that is not what he is saying. He is asking you to “ride the storm” while he gets his head back in shape and allows the hurt to heal. And it will hurt. The male sexual ego is a fragile thing – for valid genetic reasons. Most men divorce their wives for infidelity, which I think says it all. So he has to be allowed time to wipe the hard disk of his memory clean, and the way to help him do that is not to ratchet up the drama by flouncing off into the sunset, but by being calm, attentive, loving and present. That, more than any dramatic display of remorse, will tell him how serious you are about this relationship and your future together. My last thought is whether, unconsciously, you don’t really want to be with him. Your eagerness to leave, as well as your declaration that he should be free to find somebody he can “trust”, might suggest that you don’t actually trust yourself with the relationship. This is where your ability to be honest with yourself really matters. If you are quite sure of your commitment to him, your love will shine through. And, really, he needs that more than he needs endless apologies. What is done is done. It is time to move on. Right now, your actions really will speak louder than words. I don’t love my husband, but I can’t divorce him February 24 08 I am Asian, from an educated background and not at all traditional in my outlook. However, nine years ago, I had an arranged marriage. Initially, I disliked my husband, but he became my best friend, and I relied on him for everything. I have never been confident or independent, perhaps due to my overprotective parents. Despite my marriage, I felt empty inside. Even the thought of intimacy made me cringe. I had an abortion and made my career the reason, but really it was because I did not want a child with my husband. Then, like a miracle, I met a man. My husband agreed to a separation, although he did not want one. I’ve been with my boyfriend for three years and the emptiness has vanished. He wants to get married and have children, but the guilt about hurting my husband cripples me. I see him regularly and stay over because I feel guilty that he is on his own. He is not aware of my boyfriend, or he pretends not to be. We discuss divorce, but I am scared about him not being there for me. What I should do? It is the third time you’ve written about the same problem, so I feel compelled to answer. I don’t much want to, because I feel I have to be tough, and I am not sure you are going to understand why. I hope you do, for the sake of your own happiness and for the happiness of those two men. Your letter was intense, long and complicated, but one phrase struck me. You say your parents are “overprotective”. That may be the heart of the problem. Overprotective parents, who do everything for their children, including shielding them from difficult emotions, do them no favours. They say it’s because they love their kids, but, in fact, they are profoundly disabling them by preventing them from growing up. As a result, the children find it difficult to make choices (let alone decisions); they react to life’s normal difficulties with bewilderment and seek out people who make them feel safe, rather than happy and free. They have no idea how to have adult, intimate relationships, but, like children, expect to be looked after. A Freudian would say that because you have been kept a child emotionally, you will always seek a parent; so, unconsciously, you have turned your husband into your father. That’s why you cringe at the thought of sex with him and felt compelled to abort his child. I don’t always buy into Freudian ideas, but aborting your husband’s child on the grounds that you can’t bear the idea of him fathering that child is a brutal act. If you subconsciously believe bearing that child would be incest, well, overwhelming fear makes us brutal. Certainly, it’s something to think about. So is this: it is not guilt you feel about your husband so much as fear of being without a protector. Nor are you in a true relationship with your boyfriend. Instead, you are playing at love, like a child. You know you can always run back to your husband when the idea of being independent gets too much for you. You are so childlike, it is hardly surprising you fear decisions such as entering into marriage of your own, independent volition, or, God forbid, having to be responsible for children. I’m sure your husband knows about your boyfriend, but won’t acknowledge it because, if he did, it would become real. Reality would mean facing up to the possibility of losing you to another man. Your boyfriend obviously knows about your husband, but also knows that if he put his foot down, you would go running to your husband, so he would lose you, too. By playing the helpless victim, you have them both under control. Acting the victim is never about powerlessness. It is control dressed up in pretty clothes. I am not saying this is your fault. Your overprotected background has kept you trapped. We are attracted to what we instinctively understand, and it seems you have found two men who see women as helpless little girls. An independent, free-spirited woman would probably have them running for the nearest exit. Looking at your situation from the outside, your behaviour is very self-centred. Much like a child’s, in fact. You probably think you’re sweet and kind and being buffeted by the storms of love. But think about it for a moment. Is it loving to behave with such dishonesty to people you profess to love? Is it kind to keep two men attached, but commit to neither? In your confusion, you are cruel, sabotaging not only your own happiness but also that of two other people. You need your husband because you are a child who needs to feel safe. You need your boyfriend because the adult part of you wants intimacy. Somewhere in between is the woman who is truly you. If you want to find her and resolve this mess, it will take hard work and honesty. A therapist could help you to untangle the silken cords of overprotective love that keep you trapped in self-sabotaging behaviour.   I’m addicted to porn – how do I stop?   February 17 08 I am a 24-year-old man. Recently, I watched a documentary on porn addiction that has given me the confidence to ask for help. I began looking at porn when I was 13. I was enthralled, masturbating regularly. I was shy in front of girls and didn’t have a girlfriend until I left university, when I stopped looking at porn and masturbating for a year, and tried to follow a spiritual life of yoga and meditation. I thought I had overcome my addiction and could casually glance at porn, but one look quickly escalated to three or four times a day. It makes me feel dirty and ashamed as well as depressed and angry. I enjoy a healthy, loving sex life, but feel sad that often I’m not comfortable in my own skin until I have looked at porn and masturbated. My loving girlfriend knows about it and gets upset that it affects me so strongly and that I complain about it but seem unable to stop. I would be really grateful if you had any advice on overcoming this addiction. I salute your courage. This is a subject that needs to be talked about more openly. It is shrouded in shame, pain and secrecy, but is on the increase – perhaps because people find it so difficult to admit to, let alone ask for help. People laugh at sex addiction, but I get increasing numbers of letters about it. Usually, they are from women whose boyfriends and husbands are hooked on pornography. The pain caused to those women, and the shame and guilt those men feel, are not the subjects of comedy. According to Life Works, one of the best treatment centres in the country: “When a sexual behaviour is being acted out, with recurrent failures to control it, and continued despite significant harmful consequences to the addict, it meets the criteria for an addiction.” Another term is sexual compulsivity but, whatever we call it, it is a disorder that causes people to act in ways unrecognisable to their real self. I have sat in meetings with sex addicts; watched a man cry helplessly as he described masturbating 20 times in one day; seen a woman racked with terrifying shame as she described multiple sexual partners in one evening, in a bar. Both people were in relationships. A man may rub his penis raw, a woman may contract a sexual disease, but even that is not enough to stop them, just as vomiting up blood and bile is not enough to stop the alcoholic. You may think, well, that’s not me; I’m not nearly that bad. All I can say is, not yet. Addictions may start slowly, but they are progressive disorders. That’s why you can’t look at porn casually, just as an alcoholic cannot have the occasional drink. Addiction is sometimes called a disease of “never enough” and is marked by escalating tolerance or a need for more and more of the substance or activity to get a high. An addict may be able to put down the habit for a month or even a year, but the minute they pick up again, they return to the same level of use. That’s why the condition needs active treatment and constant vigilance. Pornography is just one face of sex addiction, and may be the first sign of a full-blown compulsion. Others are obsessive masturbation, sex with multiple partners, anonymous sex, multiple affairs while in a committed relationship, habitual exhibitionism or high-risk sex. The thing about pornography is that it is safe. Real sex can be unscripted and unpredictable; pornography, though, is about control and compliance. It portrays women as always hot and horny, eager to please. It also brings intense disappointment, because it is not what people are really searching for – satisfaction involves connection or intimacy. On top of that, pornography can inspire shame, guilt and self-loathing. And what’s the fastest way for an addict to blank out difficult emotions? By using more of their drug of choice. They want to stop. They promise to stop. Then they break those promises, and feel so guilty and ashamed that – guess what? – it starts all over again. Sex, as an addiction, is a way of managing and containing emotional pain. I know you are in a happy relationship but I suspect that, at the moment, you are managing to compartmentalise your addiction. I also suspect that it’s only a matter of time before your girlfriend becomes angry and hurt that you cannot or – as she may see it – will not stop. Recovery begins with admitting there is a problem, so well done. Your next step is to understand the condition (I have recommended a book) and go to a support group. A Twelve Step programme (such as Sex Addicts Anonymous) is a safe place to seek help. Out of the Shadows: Understanding Sexual Addiction by Patrick Carnes (Hazelden £13.99). Carnes is one of the pioneers in the field of sexual addiction. His website is www.sexhelp.com. Sex Addicts Anonymous: www.saa-recovery.org. Lifeworks: www.lifeworkscommunity.com   I divorced my husband because I couldn’t deal with his alcoholism. He killed himself soon after, telling me I would pay for what I had done February 10 08 My husband committed suicide some years ago. I divorced him because I couldn’t deal with his alcoholism. He killed himself soon after, having told me I would pay for what I had done for the rest of my life. I’m beginning to believe him, as I appear to be succumbing to alcoholism, too. I have constant nightmares about him. Friends say I should seek help, but how can you deal with a relationship from the grave? I am off work with depression (work-related) and seeing a counsellor who firmly believes hypnotherapy will help me to “move on”. She also believes his suicide was the ultimate payback, and this appears to be what is happening. I never thought I was a “loser”, but perhaps I am. The counsellor also thinks issues other than work are coming into play, and I have to deal with them. I thought I had, and I never thought I suffered from guilt, but she thinks I still have an anger problem related to my husband’s death. I am now in a position where alcohol and suicide seem like an answer, exactly where he was years ago. Is this the ultimate payback? Your husband was a very sick man. What he said came from a place of damage. You do not have to hold onto that, just as you do not have to hold onto what anyone else says when they are trapped inside a mental illness. Alcoholics kill themselves (roughly 10%) because they see no way out of their disease. They may also blame others because, if they blamed themselves, they would have to face up to the consequences of their alcoholism. Blame is simply a form of denial. Unfortunately, your husband was unable to face up to his alcoholism or to take responsibility for the mess he made of his marriage and family. That is not your fault, it was his. That is not to say you should blame him. Be sad for his suffering, but own your own life. You divorced your husband to protect yourself and your two children. His words came from his own pain, guilt and shame. They do not belong to you. They belong to him. I am sure the counsellor you are seeing has good intentions, but many counsellors do not understand alcoholism. Your husband’s suicide was not the ultimate payback. It was the tragic death of a desperately ill man. Your alcoholism and depression have distorted your thinking. You are trapped in two mental illnesses (known as a comorbid disorder) and are internalising the trauma of your husband’s suicide. You need help. Start with Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), where you can deal with your drinking and understand the illness, which will help you to understand both yourself and your husband. At the same time, start attending Al-Anon meetings and face down the guilt and anger you feel towards your husband. Of course you feel it. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. The mantra of Al-Anon is “detach with love”. It teaches you that you are not, and cannot be, responsible for somebody else’s behaviour and gives you the tools to deal with difficult emotions. It does not matter if your husband is dead. The issues around his alcoholism are still very much alive for you. AA and Al-Anon are support groups that provide strength through a mutual understanding of suffering. The people there have faced situations similar to your own, some far worse. Talking to them and seeing how they cope will give you the humility and self-compassion to face your own pain. It is crucial, though, that you open your mouth and ask for help. Sharing our blackest and most difficult thoughts helps us to heal. I don’t believe your depression concerns work. It may be the catalyst, but the actual issues, as your counsellor pointed out, go far deeper. Before you do anything else, you absolutely must stop drinking. Alcohol is a depressant. It disrupts the delicate chemistry of the brain and distorts every thought process, so having counselling while you are still drinking is completely pointless. Alcohol will also account for some of your nightmares. You might also ask your GP for some antidepressants. They are not mind-altering. They are mind-restoring. They help to lift the black distortions of depression and enable you to engage more clearly with reality. A threat from beyond the grave is not reality. It is your mind working against you. And you are not a “loser”. Again, that is depression talking. I think therapy would also be useful. Suicide may feel like a solution, but we both know it is not an option. Your children have suffered (in your longer letter) the emotional damage of losing one parent. To lose another may destroy them. You can come through depression and alcoholism. I have. So, believe me, I know – but I also know that you have to take absolute responsibility for your own feelings and actions. Your husband made you responsible for the mess he made of his life. That is not right or fair. It is sad. But the saddest thing of all is that you are now doing exactly what he did to you. The only person who has the power to change that is you. I sincerely hope you do. www.alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk; www.al-anonuk.org.uk I can't love my five-year-old daughter February 03 08 I read your column passionately and feel I have solved many of the dilemmas you talk about. My problem is simple – I find it difficult to “love” my five-year-old daughter. Despite her being a delightful child, I cannot deal with being a parent. Not surprisingly, she can be clingy, aggressive and indifferent, as well as charming and amazing. This leads to frequent head-on clashes that leave me angry, resentful or depressed. I am still in therapy, but, despite all these years, I feel trapped and gutted by loneliness in not feeling that I can talk about it, or be understood. I am devastated that the whole child option is no better than I imagined at 16. I feel tied, trapped by the humdrum and can’t tap into the “dreamy” world I constantly read about. All I feel is huge guilt and responsibility, and I physically cringe at the idea of doing anything with my daughter (especially putting her to bed). I dream of adoption, or her dad taking her, but the guilt would cripple me. I seriously hope you can unlock this tragic feeling that is destroying my life and probably hers, too. Your letter made me so sad that I longed to put it aside and deal with another, but it persisted in haunting me. You must do something – and fast. There is no “probably” about destroying your daughter’s life. You are. She is already suffering from attachment disorder (read John Bowlby), hence the swing between clinginess and aggression, indifference and charm. Her behaviour, bad as well as good, is an attempt to get your attention. A lack of love in the early years, a hostile or neglectful parent, may sentence her to lifelong misery. Every sort of adult emotional disorder – from depression to addiction to low self-esteem – has been ascribed to a failure of attachment in early childhood. Her ability to trust and the confidence to form good relationships – in other words, to be emotionally healthy – depend on what you do next. You say that you have had years of therapy but still feel “trapped and gutted by loneliness”. I wonder if that’s because you expect other people to fix you (just as you are doing now), instead of taking responsibility for your own feelings and actions. How much do you think this really has to do with your daughter, and freedom and independence, and how much might it be fear of taking responsibility – or fear of not being good enough? It is as if you are so terrified that you cannot live up to her expectations that you would rather push her away. Except that she is an extension of you. Until you face up to yourself, you will not be capable of facing up to your child. I do hope that at least one of those therapists has summed up all those hours of counselling in two words: “Grow up.” I’m sorry to sound harsh, but a child’s present and future happiness depends on it. You say you cannot allow her dad to “take” her because the guilt would cripple you. What about her? Would you rather cripple her to save yourself? That’s what I mean about growing up. An adult, unlike a child, is capable of putting other people first. Forget about yourself and consider whether it would be better for your daughter if she lived with her father. Or maybe you could split the care so she lived half the time with you and half with him. That would give you the time and space to sort yourself out. Try this thought. You say you have already solved many of the dilemmas dealt with in this column. Really? Yet the central tenet of the human condition – love – seems utterly foreign to your understanding. What you’re actually asking for is forgiveness. You want me to say your behaviour is okay. You want the grown-ups to say, “There, there, it’s all too difficult.” Well, it is difficult: kids are demanding, self-centred and dependent. What they need is unconditional love, and that, unconsciously, is what you are demanding, too. That’s why you cannot give it to your daughter. Your resentment is not about love – it’s about jealousy. You are jealous that you feel forced to give your daughter what you do not have for yourself. As adults, we don’t always get what we want, but we come to understand that we can be greater than ourselves. If we give love, instead of expecting to be given it, we learn that we get only by giving. Give your daughter love and attention, and she will reward you beyond your wildest dreams. That may seem totally alien to you now, so I am going to suggest a therapeutic phrase, which is also an action: “Fake it till you make it.” Think hard about the future. You may physically cringe at the idea of doing anything with your daughter now, but I wonder how you will cringe when she is old enough to want nothing to do with you. She will hate you – that’s the bottom line. Go back to therapy and find the honesty to truly engage with yourself. Those tragic feelings are not about your daughter. They are about you. I wish and hope and pray that you succeed.   Is this depression or just teenage withdrawal? January 13, 2008 Aunt Sally Sally Brampton I am concerned about one of my son's friends. He is 15, his mother has been widowed for several years and she has two older children at university. She often goes away for the weekend with her boyfriend, leaving the boy alone until Monday evening. When the other children were home, it didn't seem so bad. I used to have him over for meals and to stay the night, but he has become reclusive and is uncomfortable eating with other people. He is missing a lot of school, particularly Mondays, no longer joins in social activities with the other boys, stays up until all hours and appears to eat little. With a younger child, it would be straightforward, but at 15, he partly likes the time on his own. I like his mother and have tried not to say too much as I know being a single mum is hard. My husband agrees the boy is being neglected, but tells me to stay out of the situation. I know that harm is done to children because people do not get involved and I need some advice on how to help. This is a tricky one. It is difficult to say whether this boy has withdrawn because he is feeling depressed and abandoned, or whether he is simply going through the normal teenage shutdown. In any event, I would feel uneasy, too. Even if teenagers are in a no-speak situation, it is important for them that the usual domesticity goes on. They may reject it, but that doesn't mean a benign and supportive adult presence is not hugely important. I'm sure he wants his mother to be happy and is trying to act like a man, reassuring her that he is fine on his own. Yet I can't help thinking he must be feeling abandoned twice over, first by the death of his father, then by his mother's absence - and with another man. This is bound to raise feelings of resentment and hostility, although he may not be aware of the feelings himself. Avoiding other people, sleeping badly and eating little are all signs of incipient depression. That is why it's so important that parents are present, both physically and emotionally, so they are sufficiently attuned to their kids to tell the difference between depressive shutdown and the usual stage of teenage withdrawal. What can also happen when kids feel abandoned is that they turn those feelings on themselves. They rationalise it unconsciously along the lines of: "If you're going to abandon me, then I'm going to abandon myself." They believe they are not worth being cared for, so they stop caring for or about themselves. The confidence to understand that we are worth loving is critical to healthy emotional development. Without it, we are far more prone to depression, anxiety and disorders of addiction - poisoning yourself with excess drink or drugs is a classic symptom of believing that you are not worth caring about. Recent figures show an increase in the number of teenage boys suffering from depression and emotional disorders, while suicide statistics put young men in the most at-risk group in the UK. Men (young and old) find it particularly difficult to ask for help, but in the young it seems magnified. Depression or feeling sad or lonely is seen as a laughable weakness, so is rarely admitted to. I'm sure this boy is telling his mother that he is fine. What's worrying is that she is choosing to believe him - and is putting her own needs first. If, as you say, you are friends, then I think you should talk to her. I most certainly would. Sometimes it is difficult to see what is in front of our own eyes. The important thing is not to be judgmental. As you say, it is tough being a single mother, and you have no idea what her emotional frame of mind is or what agreement she and her son have reached. That does not mean you should not do something, but go gently. I am amazed that the school hasn't made more fuss, but perhaps that is the way in, by telling her that his friends are concerned about him as he appears very withdrawn, is avoiding them and school, and say he seems lonely without his mum. I would also bombard her with offers of help - suggesting that you drop round to see him, do some food shopping or take in his laundry. Be brisk and good-humoured about it, but do drive the point home. Much as we resist the idea, there is a competitive element to parenting. Even if, outwardly, she rejects the idea, if she thinks that you are caring more for her son than she is, she may start paying better attention to her lack of mothering. I think you're right. Harm is done to children because we do not want to get involved. And not just to children, either. We are all capable of finding ourselves stranded in emotional isolation. A cheerful, compassionate neighbour does much to alleviate that. I'm addicted to emotionally unavailable men January 06, 2008 On the outside, I am an attractive, self-sufficient woman, but on the inside, I'm full of regret for loving men who never loved me. I'm involved with a guy who lives on the other side of the world, and the times we have together are basically about sex. He always leaves straight afterwards. I feel so stupid for holding myself in such low self-esteem, substituting sex for intimacy, and I feel really angry with myself for repeating the same behaviour, but I can't seem to stop. I survived growing up with sexual abuse and addiction, and have addressed these issues in counselling, yet in my relationships with men, I can't seem to break the pattern. I'm working with a counsellor to help me do this, but still want to hold onto the man I'm seeing. I think it's an addiction, not to any substance, but to men who are unavailable emotionally. I can't continue this behaviour. Help. I am pleased you're getting counselling, but I am going to suggest ways of thinking about your situation that traditional therapy does not cover. The first is to say that you're right - it does seem like an addiction, and you're not the only person to feel that way. I often get letters from people trapped in self-sabotaging behaviour around sex and relationships, so you are not alone. I hope you take some comfort from that. Many of them describe repeating the same behaviour and feeling powerless to stop. That's addiction. Here's how and why. Ask an alcoholic if they like drinking. If they are honest, they will say no. They love the idea of it, the promise of feeling good, of warmth and conviviality - but the actual drink? No. What lures them is the promise, the fantasy that, this time, it will be different. Just as alcoholics ignore the poison they pour down their throats, so somebody caught up in love, sex or relationship addiction ignores the most toxic aspects of a situation. Such is their desperation to get their fix, they deny every warning signal. This time, they think, it will be different. This time, they will love me. At the core of addiction is damage. Addicts call it "the hole in the soul". It is a gaping, lonely emptiness they try to fill in whatever way they can - with drink, drugs, food, buying stuff, gambling, sex or through another person. In the context of love addiction, the addict believes somebody else will make them whole. And, every time they fix on another person as a solution, every time they use sex as intimacy, and every time they are abandoned, the shame and guilt grow, and the hole in the soul gets bigger. As the loneliness and sadness grow, so does the compulsion to change the way they feel. They return to the fantasy and act it out again. They think, 'This time, it will be different.' The reasons why you find yourself trapped in that behaviour can be dealt with in counselling. Traditional therapy would say that childhood sexual abuse sets up certain patterns in adult life. The first might be to close down sexually and allow nobody near. The second might be to become promiscuous. The idea is that you learnt early in life that your body was not private. Others used it without permission, so it became worthless (hence low self-esteem sabotaging behaviour). In another way, intimacy became so distorted that sex came to be seen as a means of getting affection or attention. What counselling does less well is to show you ways out of that behaviour. This is where theories of addiction, or the recovery movement, come in. A relatively new field, it sees addiction in two parts: as substance and process addictions. A substance addiction is drink or drugs. A process addiction might be anything from shopping to gambling, sex or relationships. It doesn't much matter which. The emotions at the core of it are the same, and so are the methods of dealing with it. The first is that you cannot do this alone. The compulsion is too powerful. The guilt, shame and need are too lonely. What you need to do, just as an alcoholic must put down the drink, is to put down sex and relationships until you are strong enough to understand what is healthy and good for you. You need other people who understand the way you feel and can help when the compulsion to act out with sex gets too strong. That's where SA (Sexaholics Anonymous) comes in. It deals not only with sex, but with dependent relationships. Admitting that we are powerless removes shame, allows us to forgive the past and to find new ways of dealing with our compulsions. I can also recommend an excellent book. Don't give up on counselling, though. Take all the help you can get. Sexaholics Anonymous; sauk.org. Do the Betrayal Bond Test at sexhelp.com. Is It Love or Is It Addiction? by Brenda Schaeffer (Hazelden £13.99) top Why can't my family treat me like an adult? December 30, 2007 Aunt Sally I'm 36 and my problem - ridiculously, at my age - is my parents. No matter what I do, my family always criticise me. They hate me breast-feeding my baby, accusing me of starving her, and don't agree with us allowing her to sleep in our bed. My mum demands that we speak on the phone every day, but it's never very nice. I'm sick of their controlling, irrational demands, and don't understand why they can't just accept me as I am. We're thinking of moving house - we'll only be 40 minutes away by car - and now they're worried they'll never see us. My mum baby-sits one day a week, and I've suggested that one week I'll drop off our daughter at their house, and one week mum can travel to us, but she doesn't want to spend money on petrol. If I ask her to help out on more than one day a week, she says she's too busy. My husband doesn't understand why I let them upset me, but how do I develop a relationship when they seem incapable of recognising me as an adult? The question you need to ask yourself is why you are so intent on having your parents' approval. It's not so much ridiculous, at your age, as emotionally unhealthy. You do not have to ring your mother every day. What you mean is that you agree to ring your mother every day. I know - you're going to say that if you don't, she kicks off. Well, let her. It won't last long. We all kick off when we're presented with change. So, you breast-feed. So, they don't like it, believing your child is undernourished because, in their day, they did things differently. I can see it's irritating when your mum turns up with formula and bottles, and becomes hysterical when you won't do as she says, but in your (very much longer) letter, you overreact just as much as she does. Perhaps the reason they are incapable of recognising you as an adult is that you're not behaving like one. I'm sorry to be brutal, but sometimes we need to be shocked into looking at our own behaviour. Your "Why can't they just accept me as I am?" line may hold the clue. It is a demand for unconditional love, and seems to say that you don't feel you've ever had it, that you have never felt good enough. Because it is the one thing we crave from our parents, you keep going back, like a child, hoping they'll come through, and you keep having your hopes dashed. Hence your rather childish demands for proof of love. When your mum says she's too busy to baby-sit on more than one day a week, well, perhaps she is. As an adult, you should simply accept that she has her own life, just as you have yours. But the child in you wants evidence that she will do anything for you, no matter what the cost. Take the question of moving house. That's your decision, not hers, and with decisions come consequences. One of the consequences is that your mum doesn't want to drive an 80-minute round trip to act as your free baby-sitter. Your response is outrage that she's complaining about the cost of the petrol, but have you offered to pay for it? That's the child again, demanding unconditional love - "You should do it for me because you're my mummy." Let's look at how an adult would view that exchange: they simply would not expect somebody to act as a free nanny and pay for their own petrol into the bargain. I doubt you would demand or expect it of a friend. Look, your parents are not going to change. Critical, demanding and difficult they may be, but they are what they are. You can't change them, but you can change the way you respond to them. If there is any rule about behaviour, it is that people will always react to the way that we behave. If you behave as an adult, they will treat you as an adult. That means setting up some healthy boundaries. The first word you might want to learn is "No", as in: "No, Mum, I can't ring you tomorrow. I'm busy. I'll call you in a couple of days." Don't complain and don't explain. Just say what you are going to do, then do it. Don't expect them to run around after you, either. Live your own life, make your own decisions and bear the consequences. I suspect that your mum has built her entire identity around her family and cannot bear to lose control. Basically, her job is done, and she finds that hard to face up to. She is, essentially, redundant, so now she's getting busy bossing around a new generation. You say in your longer letter that the best thing to do is to get as far away from them as possible. In a sense, you're right. You need to put some emotional distance between you. That doesn't mean separating from them entirely. But it does mean you need to stop expecting them to agree with everything you do. It's time to see them not as your parents, but as flawed human beings - just like you, and just like me. top   He's putting his kids before me December 23, 2007 Sally Brampton I'm in a serious relationship with a man who has two children from previous marriages. Neither of them lives with us, though the older one, a teenager, spends two days a week with us, and the younger one three days a week. I love them, but feel my boyfriend is choosing them over me. He and I both have stressful jobs, yet all his energy is for them. I know I shouldn't be jealous, but all I seem to get is the bad stuff. He said: "I am responsible for my kids. I love you, but I'm not responsible for your happiness." I know that's true, and I do everything to make our time with the children as smooth as possible, but still I feel left out. It's especially difficult with a stroppy teenager, and I resent my boyfriend disrupting everything for him. I know I'm the adult, but nobody tells you how to cope with being a step-parent. I admire your honesty. Anybody taking on somebody else's children finds it a struggle. Sometimes it's hard enough to summon the selflessness to deal with our own children, let alone somebody else's. Believe me, I know, having recently taken on a couple of teenagers. Divine as they are, there are inevitable difficulties as we (the kids, too) find ourselves caught up in crosscurrents of new, sometimes conflicting relationships. It takes time to get used to each other and the advice to the new stepparent is always, "Be yourself." My advice is different. I think we have to be better than ourselves, and by that I don't mean playing Pollyanna. It's fine to admit to negative feelings. In fact, it's essential. We can deal with them only by bringing them out into the open. Otherwise, "What we resist will persist" as Jung famously put it. Insecurity and jealousy may not be welcome, but they are a reality. So, how do we deal with them? Well, not by dumping them on the people we love. Instead, we should see them for what they are, as essentially infantile responses. And, yes, we all have them. It is difficult to see our lovers transform into parents. They become suddenly unfamiliar, and unfamiliarity breeds insecurity. We may also find ourselves caught up in jealousy because of a sudden switch of attention and affection, when we are used to having it all to ourselves. The parent-child relationship excludes everybody except those at its centre. That is its nature. It is particularly exclusive if the kids have been through a difficult divorce and are insecure in their attachment. It will give them a tendency to be emotionally and physically clingy. The thing to understand is that it has nothing to do with you. So that's the first (and only) rule of stepparenting - don't take it personally. The time and energy your boyfriend lavishes on his kids is not a reflection of his lack of love for you. It is a reflection of his love for his kids. As he doesn't see them as often as he (or they) would like, he may feel guilty for abandoning them. It doesn't matter that he didn't actually abandon them: that's the emotion that he and they may feel about his absence. Guilt drives us to overcompensate, so he may be especially protective and attentive. Again, that has nothing to do with you. It's difficult to see that clearly when you're feeling abandoned and neglected yourself, so you start competing with the kids for affection and attention. Now he has three children to deal with instead of two. That's why you got the speech about responsibility. He is asking you to be an adult. Kids go to their parents to get their feelings soothed; adults soothe their own. So he's right, in one way: he's not responsible for your happiness. That does not mean he does not contribute to it, or, more important, affect your unhappiness. You need to explain that, and how you feel. Admit that your impulses are childish, but also that you would like to resolve them in an adult way. That means stating them calmly, without blame or manipulation, and asking his help in finding a solution, together. You could start by setting aside time for the two of you, when the kids aren't around. It could be that you have to organise it if he is busy with work and children. I know you're busy, too, but don't resent his lack of involvement. Organising kids takes a lot of time. See it as a mutual division of responsibilities and part of the love you feel for him. He obviously needs support, but I suspect it's more emotional than practical. Perhaps you might consider leaving the looking-after of his kids to him - and make him your particular priority. Instead of worrying about making time smooth for them, make it smooth for him. When he's stressed, make him a cup of tea or give him a hug. The kids don't need another mother. They just need a benign, loving adult. And so does your boyfriend. top   I haven't had a relationship in 14 years December 16, 2007 Aunt Sally - Sally Brampton I am 34, fairly attractive, but have not been in a meaningful relationship since I was 20. My first and only boyfriend betrayed me, leaving me shattered and depressed. My twenties were spent in a grey fog and I often felt suicidal. I was lucky enough to get counselling at university and also when I started work. At my lowest point, I was on antidepressants. Since moving to London, I have a new-found sense of happiness, but I can't seem to deal with the longing to be with someone. In retrospect, I was not in the right frame of mind to be in a relationship (let alone attract a suitable partner) until three years ago. Despite my positive outlook, nobody seems interested in pursuing me. I have cultivated healthy, platonic relationships with men, some of whom have become my dearest friends, but finding a companion to share my life eludes me. I have come to the point where I have chosen to accept whatever the outcome is. That said, the ache to be with someone all but consumes me. I look forward to being a wife and a mother, but worry it may never happen. I wonder if this has to do with the men you meet or whether, perhaps, it is more about the signals you are giving out, or have been giving out. You have only recently recovered from severe, long-term depression. All emotional disorders are self-centred. Not our fault, but they shut us down to the point where we are unable to connect with other people. The first sign of good health is a willingness to reach out to others and establish relationships. That's what you're doing right now, so good for you. Friendships and a strong social network are the best possible defence against future depression. They are also the way that we learn to be properly intimate, and it sounds as if that's the process you're going through, so what's needed now is patience. Here's an idea to think about. You were badly betrayed when you were 20 and that loss - of attachment, trust, confidence and faith in others - pushed you into depression. The root cause of depression is almost always to do with loss. The fact that it took only one failed relationship to send you so low seems to say that your confidence around other people and intimacy is not very secure. You have had to learn, the hard way, how to build relationships and are slowly coming to understand men and intimacy by forming strong friendships. Your twenties, as you say, were spent in a "grey fog", and you refused to allow anybody to get close. During those years, you missed out on the chance to grow emotionally. They were, if you like, lost years, so you have some learning to catch up on. What others were doing in their twenties, you are doing now. If you are comparing yourself ("I should have a boyfriend by now; I should be getting married and having kids; there's something wrong with me"), then please don't. There is no right time or age to find a significant connection with another human being. We are all different. We grow emotionally at different rates, so comparing ourselves to others is futile. Making comparisons, research shows, is also the fastest track to unhappiness. So try to be kinder to yourself and look at what you do have in your life, rather than what you don't. As someone inclined to depression, you need to watch a tendency to become obstinate in your negativity - as in your phrase, "I have chosen to accept whatever the outcome is." There's a world of difference between that sort of gauntlet-flinging acceptance and simply taking (and enjoying) life as it comes. Yes, love will happen. When? Who knows, but at least you have only one, youthful failed relationship under your belt. At your age, others have experienced broken marriages and have kids to think of (and console), so perhaps you should be thanking the heavens, or whomever, that you have been spared a string of broken relationships and the misery those bring. The counselling has obviously helped you hugely, but you might want to think about the reasons your previous relationship sent you so low and how you might do things differently the next time around. Examine, too, whether you have a need to attach yourself to somebody because you don't feel complete in yourself. When we are not emotionally whole, we mistakenly expect other people to supply that lack. In your letter, you use the words, "ache, longing, consume", and those suggest a desperation that may show up as neediness. You could explore the roots of that neediness and try considering, through some reading, what a healthy relationship really means, and what you are prepared to give, rather than to be given. I really do believe that when we're ready, the right people turn up in our lives. It may not be when we think we're ready (most of us can't see ourselves too clearly), but when others instinctively sense it. So be patient and take heart; happiness is something we make rather than something we are given, and, slowly and quietly, you are making yours. The Art of Loving by Erich Fromm (Thorsons £8.99) top   Our best friend is sleeping with her married boss December 9, 2007 Aunt Sally You often mention addictive personalities and depression, which sounds just like our best friend, who is having an affair with her married boss - the only person she has ever had sex with. She's kind, clever and gorgeous-looking, but can't believe any half-decent man could like her. She is obsessed with him, dresses up in high heels (he has a shoe fetish) and has only anal sex, so he won't feel he's "cheating" on his wife. She is totally professional (other than getting smashed every Thursday and Friday night), and would be deeply ashamed if her colleagues found out. Her family would also be disappointed, but they may be part of the problem: her mother has a weird relationship with food and is obsessed with the idea that her daughter might get fat. Our friend tries to hurt us, saying he understands her (as if we don't) and that she "tells him things she would never tell us". She used to self-harm, and we are worried she is cutting again. She scoffs at counselling, saying: "It's my life, let me get on with it." We tried tough love, but she was cold and emotionless. We are at our wits' end. I can see you love your friend very much, and want the best for her, but I think you're going about this in the wrong way. In your longer letter, you sound like overanxious mothers. It seems she already has one of those at home, so criticising the company she keeps is going to do more harm than good. Her cold and emotionless response is classic withdrawal. If her mother is locked into an eating disorder and constantly fretting that her daughter is going to get fat (or "not be good enough"), she may have grown up with a constant feeling of being disapproved of, so her response to criticism will be to shut down. I know your intentions are good, but don't you think that perhaps she might be right when she says it's her life and she'd like to be allowed to get on with it? The married boss may be a creep, but he's a creep with one particular virtue: he lets her be herself. That, no doubt, is why she feels he understands her, and she is able to tell him things she would never tell you. The more you show disapproval, the more she will run towards his dysfunctional love and away from your care and concern. I doubt she is trying to hurt you by saying he understands her better. I suspect it's more that she's telling the truth - He probably does. Trying to make her conform to your image of what is right, as well as discussing her behind her back (which she will be only too aware of after the tough-love intervention), will shame her. For some reason, I feel she's carrying a load of toxic shame from her childhood. Self-harming, punishing sex and binge-drinking are shame-based behaviours - by which I mean they indicate a lack of self-respect or self-love. If we are shamed as children, we may believe we are not worthy of kindness, even our own. Because she doesn't feel good about herself, she hitches herself to a man who doesn't feel good about himself, either. The two of them are united by a mutual understanding. Often, we are drawn to people because, at an unconscious level, we recognise the damage in each other and confuse that recognition with passion or a kind of soul mates' love. No doubt you think she is prepared to indulge in sodomy and foot fetishism because he has some sort of hold over her, but you do have to be willing to engage. I'm guessing the only response he'd get from you two would be the slamming of a door. It seems she has a distorted perception of what's good for her, as well as low, shame-based self-esteem - hence her inability to think that any half-decent man could be interested in her. If you want to help her, you need to love her, not shame her. You don't have to make a huge show of approving of her lover, but you do need to make a huge show of approving of her. To have any effect, you must win back her confidence. Right now, I expect she's desperate to avoid you. I suspect she needs more help than you can give, but she is the only person who can make that decision. If she reaches a state of sufficient pain, she may seek help; in the meantime, all you can do is offer love and compassion, and avoid moral or emotional judgments. She may get badly hurt by this man, but it is not in your power to stop that. We have to learn from our own mistakes. It's the only way. All you can do is put in place some damage limitation by building up her confidence and self-esteem, constantly assuring her that she is indeed lovable, and worth more than a tawdry affair with a man acting out his own dysfunctions. I'm going to recommend a book that may help you to understand why she behaves as she does, as well as show you loving and productive ways in which to take the best possible care of her. Healing the Shame That Binds You by John Bradshaw (Health Communications £10.99) top   My husband's anger is destroying our marriage December 2, 2007   I am finding my husband harder and harder to live with. He is angry all the time and seems jealous of my relationship with the children. He says I do everything for our teenage daughter when he should be my first priority. He calls me names or says I'm old and ugly. It makes me defensive and jittery, which makes things even worse. A few months ago we discussed divorce; we decided not to, but haven't solved the underlying problem - he is a perfectionist who is never satisfied, and I'm a wimp who wants everyone to be happy. But all I want is a happy family life and not to worry all the time. Please don't tell me communication is the key. When I'm honest about my feelings, he criticises me for being weak. All my energy is consumed with work, not crying and keeping angry enough not to give in to him again. Outside my family, I am confident and successful. I loved my husband very much for many years, but I don't know if I love him any more. What would you do if you were a coward like me, in a mess like this? I don't think you're a coward. Anger is terrifying, particularly in those we love. We prefer to avoid it, but, sometimes, avoidance perpetuates a cycle: the angrier your husband gets, the more you avoid him emotionally; the more you avoid him, the angrier he gets. Anger is attention-seeking, and right now your husband is successfully commanding your full attention. He means it when he says he wants to be your first priority. He's even battling it out with his own children, which seems to indicate a high level of desperation or distress. I'm not sure that your analysis of the problem as "perfectionist meets people-pleaser" is quite right. Those may be your character styles, but you seem to have accommodated your differences quite happily for 20 years. So what has changed in his situation or in your relationship? You say it's been going on for a couple of years. Try to think what might have happened to make him so unhappy. Anger is often a mask for intense fear. Some men suffer badly from a fear of ageing - of no longer being a contender, or feeling redundant. His need to control you and the children seems to say he's trying to hang on to respect or status through bullying. It could also be that he is depressed. Classic symptoms are anger and irritability, particularly in men. There is also a school of thought that believes that in mid-life men suffer hormonal changes, known as the andropause or male menopause, which are linked to a drop in testosterone and profoundly affect mood. This is a man you have loved very much for a long time. As for not being sure you love him now, I suspect you mean you don't like him much. We are allowed not to like those we love when they are behaving badly; we wouldn't be human if we didn't. But the fact that you both pulled back from the brink of divorce seems to say that love is not lost. What is lost is mutual understanding. I don't think communication is the key as much as a bit of straight-talking. Anger has consequences; that's the bottom line. For your husband, it could mean the end of a long and happy marriage, or it may mean the loss of the love of a child. Those are terrifying consequences. Here's another: your husband's hostility towards your daughter could have a profound effect on her emotional stability, not to mention her future intimate relationships. Trying to make up for his failings by siding with her won't help. It may even make things worse by causing an imbalance in the family dynamic (something your husband is obviously aware of) and driving them even further apart. She needs her own, separate relationship with her father. He needs to be made aware of that, but gently. Try not telling him your feelings. Listen to his instead. I don't for a minute believe he is happy about his behaviour. Anger fills us with guilt and shame. He sounds like a man who fears being seen as weak, and so is unable to ask for your help; but help is what he needs. Finally, do be sure you're being entirely honest. He may be Mr Angry, but I wonder if you, "the wimp who wants everyone to be happy", might be what Mike Fisher, in his book Beating Anger, calls the distancer: "The classic quality of the distancer is to do everything possible to avoid conflict." In other words, you hide anger under a smiling compliance. Compliance is as hard to get past as anger, and that rejection enrages him. These are just suggestions to think about, and a couple of books that might help. Hard as it is, try to approach him in a spirit of love. Withdrawal, avoidance or retreating into your children will make him feel excluded. When we feel excluded, we feel afraid, and fear drives anger. Helpful reading: The Irritable Male Syndrome - Managing the 4 Key Causes of Depression and Aggression by Jed Diamond (Rodale £12.99); Beating Anger - The Eight Point Plan for Coping with Rage by Mike Fisher (Rider £7.99) top   How to be the life and soul of the party November 18, 2007   I am 41 and single. I had an episode of severe depression about a year ago, but am now on the mend, thanks to therapy, antidepressants and meditation. I've always thought of myself as a sociable, "good company" sort of girl with many good friends, but since my depression, I get anxious about parties. I'm fine at intimate dinners with people I know and even work dos, but I get freaked out about going to parties. Without wishing to sound arrogant, I am a bright, glamorous woman who is often described as vivacious and funny. I know I must go out and socialise - and I do want to. The thought of sitting at home feeling lonely isn't a happy one. I would love to meet someone, and that isn't going to happen if I always stay in. I have never been an addict, but I did use alcohol and cocaine as social props. Do you have any tips for getting over this fear that nobody will talk to me and that men will think I'm a sad, fortysomething, single girl? I want to be able to relax and enjoy the party season. First, do remember that depressives are often super-bright, funny people - think of the number of comedians who are prone to this illness - but in order to be bright, we are sometimes cast into the dark. I call it my shadow side. Second, you are recovering from a serious illness and are bound to feel fragile and vulnerable at times, so don't beat yourself up. It takes time to recover confidence after a severe bout of depression. It is sometimes better to accept that we may be limited in what we can achieve - so long as we take care of ourselves and don't sit around alone feeling guilty because we "ought" to be doing something. There are no "oughts". That sort of rigid thinking is what gets depressives in trouble in the first place. A cup of tea, a face pack and a funny movie might do more for our spirits than a room full of drunken strangers. If that's the case, do it, but don't agonise over it. Having said that, don't use post-depression fragility as an excuse for staying home alone. It's the worst thing we can do; human contact is the best, so long as we approach it wisely. A party is a celebration; the people giving it simply want their friends to have a good time. So try seeing it as that, as a blessing rather than a trial, but don't put yourself in situations where you feel vulnerable. When recovering from depression, going to a party where you know nobody is not brave, it's madness. Arrange to go to the party with friends and you'll be far less likely to bottle it and sit at home alone, feeling guilty. Ask your friends to keep an eye on you. Having people you can make constant, if fleeting, contact with will make you feel safe. Allow yourself the freedom to know that you can leave at any time, which will make you feel carefree rather than trapped and miserable. Don't worry about slipping away (although do tell your friends), but don't make a fuss. Nobody will mind (or even notice) unless you make a big deal of it. We tend to think we are the first thing on other people's minds, whereas the brutal truth is, they are the first thing on their minds. The same goes for not drinking - and alcohol is not a good idea. It's a depressant and will disrupt an already disrupted head. Far from getting you happy, it is likely to send you low. Again, don't make a fuss. If somebody hands you a glass of wine, take it. Then put it down and pick up a glass of water. I'm a depressive and I don't drink, and I've never known it bother anyone other than people who have a problem with alcohol themselves. If somebody pesters you, just say, "I don't like alcohol." If they carry on, they're either a bully, a bore or an alcoholic, and you don't want to hang around with them anyway. You may think you can't manage without alcohol. I used to think that way too, but if you concentrate on putting other people at ease, you won't notice your own self-consciousness. One of the best treatments for depression or low self-esteem is helping others. The buzz we get is called elevation and has been proved in endless tests to give the fuzzy, warm glow that alcohol can't even touch. If there's one thing everybody loves, it's being asked about themselves. If depression has any lesson, it is compassion, so show some of that to the people around you and they will blossom like flowers. Underneath those confident facades, everyone is as afraid and fragile as you are. Remember that and you'll be the life and soul. Enjoy. top   I think my wife had an affair before we go married November 11, 2007   I've been struggling with an emotional issue for nearly three years, and fear it may break up my marriage of 18 months. We're both in our late twenties, and I believe my partner had an affair four months before we got engaged. She doesn't know I think about it every day and doesn't even think it's an issue now, but I know letting it fester could make me sabotage everything. Looking back, I think I probably asked her to marry me because I was emotionally weak and worried I'd lose her. In all other respects, we are happy, but she gets annoyed if I allude to it. I know she'll deny it, and I don't have irrefutable evidence. My question is: do I accept things as they are, or confront her? I don't even think her answer matters - it won't prompt a separation, but I need to know, as it's consuming me. I hope you can help, as my search for answers leads only to obliteration through alcohol in an attempt to bury my head in the sand. Sometimes, we need to be bigger than our questions and infinitely greater than the answers. I suspect you're trying to convince yourself that the truth will bring serenity. Will it? If your wife says that, yes, she did have an affair, will that allow you to trust her because she has told the truth? Or will it simply be a new obsession to oil that hamster wheel running in your head? If she says that, no, it didn't happen (as she has already done), will you believe her? Or could it be that only an admission of the truth as you see it will satisfy you? In other words, there is no truth except your need to be proved right. There is a saying: "I'd rather be right than happy." I wonder if your need for irrefutable evidence about the past is more important than your (mutual) present happiness. You may feel your wife has lied to you, but what about your own part? Isn't it the truth that you're not really in this marriage? If commitment is intimacy and intimacy is transparent honesty, then you are refusing her that commitment. You are unable to be honest, not because of her behaviour but because you are so consumed by mistrust and insecurity. She has a right to expect your trust and to believe that the past has been left behind. You implicitly agreed to that when you married her. Perhaps you hoped that marriage would make you feel safe, which is why I suspect that the affair is a red herring and that, really, this is about your emotional insecurity and unwillingness to trust. I am not dismissing your pain, but I do question why you choose to hold on to it. And it is a choice, although I know it does not feel like one. Instead, I'm sure it feels as if you are an unwilling captive of your emotions - hence the search for answers in the bottom of a bottle. That is no solution. What really matters is that you challenge your emotions and trace them back to their roots, which I suspect are far deeper than a supposed affair. The dismissive tone in which you say you were "emotionally weak" when you asked her to marry you gives so much away. It tells me that you despise any emotional weakness, but most particularly your own - which is why you need to find a peg to hang it on (an affair) and a concrete reason for the way you feel. It can't be that you are simply fragile in some way. Do try not to be so hard on yourself. We are allowed to feel emotionally vulnerable. It's what makes us human. Yes, even men. As to what's causing your vulnerability, I wonder if you might look at something called attachment disorder. It could be that the thought of the affair is a trigger that keeps on reactivating older, buried insecurities in a process known as emotional recall. Attachment disorder simply means a failure of attachment in our very early years. For whatever reason, we may not have bonded sufficiently with our mother, or she may have been absent (emotionally or physically) in some way. A failure of attachment may lead to free-floating feelings of insecurity and a profound lack of trust. In a subtle way, we believe that people will always let us down. We may cope well, except when it comes to intimate relationships, which bring to the surface age-old insecurities. We are not aware of what causes those difficult emotions and, because they are so painful and because human beings always like to find evidence or explanations, we look around and attach our pain to the behaviour of those we love, when, in truth, it has absolutely nothing to do with them. You could go on punishing yourself, and your wife, for something that happened three years ago, or you could try looking for the real source, which, I suspect, lies deep inside you. I wish you well, in all ways. top   I love him - but he's an alcoholic November 4, 2007   My boyfriend and I love each other very much. We are thinking about marriage and looking to buy a house together. However, he is a functioning alcoholic. He has cut down, but he clearly sees this as something he is doing for me, not himself. I have to hide alcohol, because if he found it, he would drink it. We argue a lot, which he thinks is nagging and controlling, but he never accepts responsibility for his behaviour. I considered going to a support group for families and friends of alcoholics, but wonder why I should if he makes no effort. I read a book that advises that ultimatums are futile and it will take something disastrous for him to realise he has a problem, but I don't want it to come to that. His friends say he may never completely sort it out, but they don't know how much he has cut down. Am I deluding myself? Sometimes I feel I can't take any more and am heading for a breakdown. In recent weeks, I've had a number of letters from people who love alcoholics and are in despair about how to help them (and how to help themselves), so it seems a good time to look at the problem. Here's the brutal truth. An alcoholic loves alcohol more than they love you. That does not mean your boyfriend does not love you, but drink gives him something that (he believes) nothing (and nobody) else can. Alcoholism is a twisted, obsessive love affair. The physical dependency keeps him hooked. The psychological dependency tells him alcohol is the answer to a problem, rather than the problem. At heart, alcoholics feel really bad about themselves (anything from social awkwardness to difficult emotions or simply thinking they don't fit in), and alcohol changes the way they feel. Essentially, you're not dealing with alcohol. You're dealing with an emotional disorder. At the dark, unreachable heart of alcoholism is denial. It defies reasoning, warps logic and confounds truth. To the nonalcoholic, denial is baffling. It is like hearing the person you love say that black is white when black is most obviously black. When you describe your boyfriend as a functioning alcoholic, what you're really saying is that he's in the early stages. He still feels in control and sees no reason to change his habits, except to please you. He can't see he has a problem. In fact, he probably thinks you're the one with a problem. That's the denial. Although alcoholics can control their intake for a while, or can pretend to, as their need increases, so will the lying (hide the amount they drink), cheating (pretend to drink normally and keep a hidden stash) and stealing (as you so rightly describe it), until, finally, they become so filled with shame and guilt that they become loathsome to themselves. Add to that a physical collapse from the amount of alcohol, and you hit rock bottom. It is usually only then that they get any clarity about their situation and seek help. This could take months or years. It depends on the person. Sadly, there is little you can do, but there are things you should not do. Don't become his keeper. Don't apologise, make excuses or cover up for him. He needs to see the true extent of his problem. Nagging, threatening or hiding supplies (his drink) will turn you into the enemy. Don't make plans to buy a house or get married. That is normalising the situation and saying that everything is okay. Don't get emotional or punishing, but do be firm and clear. It is the hardest thing in the world to stand back and watch somebody you love engaged in such savage self-destruction, but the more you involve yourself, the more it becomes a joint problem rather than his problem alone. It is only when we are confronted by the terrible loneliness and pain caused by our dysfunctional behaviour that we seek help. He won't do it, though, while you're acting like his mother. I know that sounds harsh, but checking up on how much he has drunk, hiding his stash, staying on his case and rewarding good behaviour (when he cuts down) are the actions of a parent, not a lover. The support group you describe, Al-Anon, is not there to deal with his drinking, but to help you to learn the tough love you need to survive life with an alcoholic and to give you support when you're at the end of your tether (now, by the sound of it). The more you detach yourself and give up trying to control his drinking, the faster he will reach rock bottom. It is only then that he stands a chance of facing up to his problem and finding the willingness to change - what recovering alcoholics call "the gift of desperation". www.al-anonuk.org.uk   top My fiancee is a control freak October 28, 2007   I'm in love with and engaged to a beautiful woman. We met 18 months ago and have made a huge joint financial commitment in a house. She is a very driven high achiever who has been battling an anorexia/bulimia problem for the past 10 years, and she is very controlling. Since we moved in together, we have had the most dramatic and unsettling arguments, which develop over trivial things, and she becomes violent. I have offered to go for joint counselling, but she refuses help, makes excuses (which makes me wonder if she is in denial), and accuses me of trying to control her. She has no close friends and feels that her family detach themselves. I'm not perfect, but I try endlessly to please her. Anything she asks for, she gets. She keeps the house in pristine condition. I put forward most of the money, but I'm not allowed (and don't dare) to wear shoes indoors or to make a mess. With her food and cleaning issues, I never eat at home. We are getting married next year and want to start a family, but I cannot bring children into such a stressful environment. I would be grateful for any suggestions. It is quite difficult to understand why you stay with this woman. Perhaps you sweetly tried to keep your letter short, but you didn't mention a single quality that might explain why you love her. So, I am just going to have to imagine that she has great virtues. The problem is that they are obliterated by her overwhelming need for control. The anorexic believes that if she (it is usually women, although male anorexia is on the rise) can only control the messy functions and excess flesh of the body, then the rest of the universe will also stay in shape. Compulsive cleaning and obsessive tidiness are also issues of control and part of the same pattern of distorted thinking. At the heart of all this is fear: an overwhelming terror that if she cannot control the chaos all around, then she will be sucked into its vortex. It is what the psychologist Dorothy Rowe, in her book The Successful Self, calls "fear of the annihilation of the self". We all have that fear, but in your fiancée, it has spiralled out of control - hence her white-knuckle grip. It is hell to live with, both for the sufferer and for those around them. Her violence comes from frustration. When she can't control something (you, the weather, dust) she flies into a rage, or loses control. She needs help but, as with all addictions (and anorexia is an addiction), she needs to be in sufficient pain before she asks for it. Addictions narrow the world to a tiny, airless room. That is why your fiancée has no close friends. People are messy and uncontrollable. No matter how much we might want to impose our will on them, they insist on doing their own sweet thing. We are powerless in the face of their individuality. The only thing we can control is ourselves - and our immediate environment - but control doesn't make for a comfortable or happy life. So, I wonder why you have chosen it. Or let me put that another way: I wonder why she has chosen you? It is all very well to want to please our loved ones, but giving up our shoes, home cooking and the delightful mess of domestic comforts doesn't just seem obliging, it seems borderline perverse. "Anything she asks for, she gets." I'm sure you do it for a quiet life, but a relationship should be about cooperation. You need to look at the part of you that is so eager to subsume your needs to those of another human being (it's called people pleasing). Your suggestion that you should do joint counselling is a good one, although not for the reason you imagine. It seems that you're trapped in fear too - fear of asking for what you want (in therapeutic language, "getting your needs met"). Brutally put, the dynamic of your relationship is control freak-meets-people pleaser. It might be helpful to work out what your needs are and ask her to meet you halfway - the whole way would be too frightening. You may find that if you challenge her (but do it with love), instead of trying to placate her, and if she wants the relationship to work, she may feel enough pain to admit that she needs to try behaving differently. If your fiancée refuses therapeutic help, you might suggest that she tries yoga and meditation. Yoga has met with some success in the treatment of eating disorders, while meditation is brilliant for anxiety, which is really at the heart of her problem. Don't be surprised if she approaches them with her usual fierce perfectionism. While they are noncompetitive, she will want to find a way to compete. But the astonishing thing about yoga and meditation is that they work in spite of our best efforts to bend them to our will. If practised daily, then slowly and imperceptibly, they introduce a spirit of gentleness and cooperation into our lives. The Successful Self by Dorothy Rowe (HarperCollins £8.99) top   My boyfriend doesn't want us to have children October 21, 2007   I'm 38 and my boyfriend is 40. This is the first time I've really felt in love, and that the relationship was right. My boyfriend has an 11-year-old daughter whom he adores, but her early years were tough because of a difficult divorce. I've always wanted children, but he's adamant he doesn't want any more. We've been together for only four months, and he feels that by the time we are settled enough to try for a baby, he will be about 43. He is also concerned that a child could be disabled. He doesn't want to spend the next 20 years bringing up a baby, although he also acknowledges that his previous experience may have coloured his view. I accept that having children is not everything, but I can't imagine not trying; nor can I imagine not being with him. He says he hasn't felt like this before and would be devastated if we were to split, but equally he feels that not giving me a child will make me unhappy. Do I stay and accept that I won't have children, or leave in the hope that I might meet someone else? He is everything I want, but this is tearing us apart. I am sorry. I can see how this must hurt. We are rarely confronted so directly by such painful and brutal truths. Yet I wonder if you are seeing your boyfriend clearly, or if the rose-tinted glasses of early love are so firmly in place that you are deluding yourself. You say he is everything you want. Yet the one thing you truly want, he does not share. In my book, that's a total deal-breaker, but that's because I know how important having a child was, and is, to me. The one thing you cannot afford is to allow present feelings to blind you to future truths. If you stay with your boyfriend by convincing yourself that he is everything you want (carefully omitting the inconvenient truth that he doesn't want kids), unless you are very unusual and the love you feel is capable of overriding the most profound biological and emotional need, you will end up resenting him terribly. Try to imagine yourself in five years' time. Would his refusal to give you children, or what you so obviously desire, make you believe he couldn't really love you? Memory is apt to be selective. No matter that he made his position blindingly clear, you might choose to reinterpret events and end up resenting him so bitterly that it would destroy the relationship and leave you with nothing. I'm not saying it will happen - just that you need to be honest about your situation. Many of the letters I get are about resentment and regret. Others are about the consequence of not listening carefully enough to our own heart or to what other people are saying. We sometimes choose to hear what we want because it suits us. Your boyfriend is being honest. Good for him. Lesser men might have ducked the issue in the hope of keeping you around. But are you really listening? It seems to me he's not discussing this, but telling you, outright, that kids are not on the cards. However, something in your tone makes me think you don't completely believe him. He says it would be three years before he felt settled enough to try for a baby, but you seem to be trying to persuade yourself that it means he hasn't ruled out the possibility. He knows that by then your chances would be less than average and even cites disability. He's coming up with everything he can think of to convince you it's a bad idea. All I'm saying is, just be sure that you're not clutching at straws or wilfully misinterpreting what he is actually saying. I know you feel you're stuck in a horrible position, and I truly sympathise. Even if you leave and find somebody else, it will take time to establish a relationship steady enough to bear the huge stresses (and profound joys) of having children. You may say to yourself that, whether you stay or go, the clock is against you. So, why not stay? After all, you might give him up, never meet anyone and end up alone and childless. It happens. Or you might meet somebody, be blissfully happy and have the children you long for. You have no way of knowing. All you can truly know is how great your need to have children is. That's your starting place, and it's tough, but not nearly as tough as a lifetime of regret. If you do decide to stay, it must be in the absolute understanding that you will not have children. It must also be in the understanding that you, and you alone, made the decision, so that in 10 years' time you don't turn any blame against the man you love. What you must not do is stay in the hope that he might change his mind. That is not fair to him and it is certainly not fair to you. I wish you courage. top   I would rather stay alone than risk being hurt again October 14, 2007   Love and sex have always led me to sadness, so I stay alone; it's easier. Three years ago, I fell for a quiet, divorced man. When I confessed my feelings, he was flattered, but doubted my motivation. There was no sex, as he said it would kill our friendship. This hurt, but I accepted it. Last year, I met an old flame and started an affair. It was safe, as I knew he wouldn't hurt me or leave his wife. I wish his wife no harm and am happy to give him what he needs. He gives me what I need in a physical sense. But, if I'm honest, I am filled with discontent. Sadly, I still feel the need of the man I met three years ago. Maybe I'm in love with the idea of him, but while he seems happy to talk deeply, he never phones or pursues me. I want a life, but don't have the courage to go out and get it. I'm not unhappy, but this restlessness won't go away. I sound greedy. Maybe I am. I try not to be. I don't ask you to condone all this, but would value your thoughts. I hope, as you were writing this letter, that you began to see the patterns of your own behaviour. You say you sound greedy. This is not greed; it is a miser's eked-out existence. Look at the relationships you describe: a crumb snatched from the table of a married man, a begged phone call from an indifferent friend (although he sounds like a poor kind of friend to me). Your poverty of ambition is breathtaking. It is just so sad. No wonder you are filled with such restless discontent. You say, in your longer letter, that you made a small island for yourself as a single parent, celibate for years and living alone, save for the company of your son. It is, as you say, "easier". That does not mean it is better. We are social creatures, programmed to seek out companionship. We are, literally, born to love. We need to connect with others, because by connecting with others, we connect with life itself. Without true connection, life is meaningless, and that, I suggest, is where your unease is coming from. I think you instinctively understand that, so you have tried to make a connection with two men, but really, you're just going through the motions. Both men are completely unavailable. One is an avoidant who does not want to be intimate with you; the other is married and only wants physical (or surface) intimacy. You even use the word "safe". Yes, they're safe, as a marble statue is safe. It is never going to challenge or threaten you. You can admire it and you can touch it, but you are never going to make contact with it or feel the warmth of its positive, loving gaze. It will never touch you in any profound or meaningful way. So, you have put yourself in safe relationships. Why? So nobody can hurt you. That's fine and it's your choice, except that you instinctively understand it's a poor, timid sort of a choice. If nobody can hurt you, then nobody can move you, either. Your soul will not tremble, your heart will not contract in pleasure, the centre of your being will never sing in happy recognition. When we enter into a relationship, we enter into risk. We allow ourselves to be vulnerable and, in return, we connect with the vulnerability of another human being. You say that you are not unhappy. I would call restlessness and discontent unhappiness. I suspect what you mean is that you will not allow yourself to feel strong emotions. They frighten you. That's why I think the men you mention are mere red herrings, or diversions from your governing emotion, which is fear. Fear of what? Well, it may be fear of any number of things and here are just a few: fear of intimacy, fear of abandonment, fear of not being good enough, fear of emotional pain, fear of the unknown. If we live in fear, we live in paralysis. We limit our choices, as you have done. So what you have to ask yourself is why. What is it that you are so afraid of? And, most importantly, how can you overcome that fear? I think therapy would help you. This shuttered kind of fear comes from a very deep place; to defuse it, you have to go back to the source. Opening up to another human being might also help you to find the courage to go out and get that life you say you want. So would putting those men to one side and opening yourself up to possibility. In the meantime, I am going to recommend a book. It is about facing fear and uses practical techniques based on the Buddhist principles of compassion and loving kindness towards others, but most particularly, towards ourselves. If there is one thing that conquers fear, it is love, and what I think you truly need is not the limited attention of a married man or a commitment-phobe, but the ability to love yourself. I wish you happiness (which is not the same as a lack of unhappiness). The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times by Pema Chodron (Element £8.99) top   I can't escape my needy ex-boyfriend October 7, 2007   My boyfriend and I broke up after an intense six-month relationship when I began to see a weak, needy and jealous side to him. He was distraught, called me constantly and begged to be friends. Feeling sorry for him, I mistakenly consented. Now we have a mess of a friendship. He has developed depression, but won't accept help or take my advice. Instead, he wants to talk endlessly about what went wrong. He's unhappy in his job and shared flat, has moved nearer to me and complains of being terribly lonely. Every time I see him, he asks how good a friend I am: "Just a good friend or an absolute best friend?" He also says quite hurtful things about my character and behaviour. I dread seeing him, as I find him intensely irritating, but then I feel angry for having such selfish and cold-hearted feelings towards someone who is depressed and in need of help, and also guilty that I could have prevented this situation. I'm completely exasperated, and I regret not ceasing contact with him when we broke up, as I think he would have found it much easier to move on, but now he is so depressed, I feel I can't do that. I think you can cease contact with him. In fact, I think you must. I know that sounds harsh, but I'm concerned that the person who is going to get hurt here is you. At heart, this man doesn't care about you. I'm guessing you sensed that and that's why you left. The only thing he cares about is his overwhelming need, which is consuming. His personality is lost in a morass of self-serving emotion. He needs other people to fill him up and make him feel better about himself, which is why he will use anything to get attention, including manipulating your sympathy and guilt. He will blame you for everything that is bad in his life because, in his eyes, you committed the ultimate sin of abandoning him. He doesn't want friendship, he wants ownership. He is not your responsibility. I can't say that strongly enough. What he really wants is to be fixed, and he has fixed on you to do the fixing. You cannot do that. It is not in your power. The only way he is going to get better is to take responsibility for himself, but he won't do that while there is somebody around to do it for him. When you try to help or give advice, he will ignore it or become hostile because that's not actually what he wants. If you try to encourage him to behave like an adult and take responsibility for his own life and feelings, he will send out the depressive's cry of "Poor me, poor me, you don't understand" (I can say that, as I am a depressive), until you give in and dole out the attention he craves. He does need help, but it can only come from his own willingness to seek it out. I would suggest that his depression comes from untreated co-dependency and love addiction. Co-dependents are sticky with need. Do you feel, when you leave his company, as if you have walked through a spider's web? That's co-dependency. Co-dependents suffocate the people they say they love. Addicts feed on other people to fill up the hole they feel inside. They have no boundaries, but will take and take, or invade every part of those around them, until they feel irritable with guilt, exasperation and anger. Actually, he's perfectly happy for you to feel that way because it means you keep coming back. It doesn't matter if it's negative attention that he's getting from you, it's still attention. He needs proper, professional help. His first call should be to his GP, who will put him down for counselling. The best thing you can do for both of you is to encourage him to get help and move on with your own life. Be kind, but be firm. On no account get angry or enter into any sort of emotional exchange. The moment you actively connect with him, he'll try to manipulate you back into his orbit. He may get tearful, accusatory, hostile and perhaps even threatening (suicide, perhaps), but don't weaken or relent. As before, he will bombard you with calls, so it might be best to change your phone numbers. I don't wish to sound alarming, but your letter suggests that he is not going to want to let go of you, and it is damaged people such as this who become stalkers. Moving house to be near you and his constant demand that you must be not just a good friend but an "absolute best friend" set off warning bells. Most of all, do not feel guilty. His problems are not your problems. His life is not your life. You have done your best and, essentially, he has rejected your help. Walking away may also be the best thing for him, because it will force him to take responsibility for himself. Co-dependents Anonymous UK; www.coda-uk.org top   My relationship is making me feel like a paranoid control freak September 30 07 I’ve been with my girlfriend for 18 months. We have discussed long-term “relationship goals” (a nasty phrase) and agree that one day we’d like to marry and have a family. We are both 31. She has her own place, but I feel it makes economic sense to buy a house together, and it would be nice to do it with someone I love and who says she loves me. Unfortunately, she became extremely upset by the idea, saying it was too soon (what does that mean?) and I was putting pressure on her (no) to decide her future. Now, I feel quite angry and let down, although she says she doesn’t want to separate. She also has a wide social group and seems reluctant to make time for me. Fundamentally, I dislike it when she goes out, because, in the past, she has drunk too much and got herself into situations. I don’t like to think of my girlfriend behaving in such a manner. I don’t want to sound like a paranoid control freak – she’s her own person and can do what she wants – but I think a relationship is about respecting someone else’s feelings. Should I toughen up, or do I have a point? I don’t think you’re a paranoid control freak, although you are in danger of sounding more like her dad than her lover; I just think you and your girlfriend want different things. You’d like to buy a house, get married and have kids. So would she, but in some distant never-never-land. She doesn’t want to be tied down, while you want to be strapped tight into a mortgage. Both those aims are perfectly valid, unless you’re expecting to share them. Not only do you seem to be having different relationships, but you seem to have different ideas of what a relationship might mean. You’d like your girlfriend to prove her commitment by behaving in certain ways, while she seems reluctant to curb her wild antics. Are you seeing her clearly, or are you so intent on this relationship that you are blind to the differences between you? I can see the confusion – she’s saying one thing and doing another. Then again, I’ve always thought it is the doing, rather than the saying, that matters. So, in actions rather than words, it seems she’s telling you quite clearly that she’s not interested in settling down, and you are paying attention (in a pragmatic, masculine way) only to her words. So, why can’t she say what she means and mean what she says? It may be that she’s genuinely confused, but the bottom line is that these are avoidance tactics or commitment-phobia – and, yes, women are just as culpable as men in this area. More so, according to the head of a dating agency I spoke to recently. She says her books are filled with men exasperated by women’s refusal to commit to anything long term. So, what your girlfriend seems to be saying is, “Yes, but . . .”, and you’re choosing to ignore the “but”. It says she likes the idea of security more than the reality. It may also be that she likes having a safe, steady boyfriend in the background while she does as she pleases. The obvious words “cake” and “eat it” spring to mind, and, to be honest, you do seem happy to hang around, so perhaps she’s not the only one giving out mixed messages. When you ask if you should “toughen up”, I assume you’re really asking if you should act as if you don’t care. In other words, what you really seem to be asking is whether you should avoid the truth and not tell her how you feel. Obviously, that’s up to you, but I suspect the reason you’re so upset and angry is that you’re not facing up to your own needs and emotions, which are perfectly valid. For some reason you’re allowing her to cast your deep need for security in the bad-cop role, and interpreting your feelings as distasteful qualities of paranoia and control. Given your need for stability and her fear of commitment, I wonder if it might be better for you both to get really honest about your compatibility. Her qualities that hurt and upset you now may drive you insane in five years’ time, and, for her part, the solidity and good sense she obviously finds attractive in you now may start to feel like prison bars. I suspect she’ll try to hang on to the relationship, because in some part of her she wants the stability you represent, but in another part she truly fears it. That’s her issue, not yours. The only possible action you can take is to be true to yourself. Ask yourself what you really want from a relationship (any relationship – not just this one) and whether you are likely to find it with her. Stop expecting her to be something she is not. Take responsibility for your own happiness and decide to have a relationship that is about being, and accepting, yourself.   Is being cool the best way to attract a guy? September 23 2007 I’m 25, and just don’t understand how men fit in. Being my confident, open self doesn’t work, because I fall in love too quickly, look too keen and end up being taken advantage of. I read The Rules (a “don’t be too keen” guide) and, apparently, being cool is the best way to attract and keep a guy. I’m scared of getting my heart broken yet again, but I want so much to let go and just be me. I recently met a guy who I like a lot. I applied The Rules and, while he’s attentive when I’m with him, he doesn’t call much, except to arrange the next date. I guess that, according to The Rules, that is okay. I’m scared to act too keen in case it means I look easily available. It’s been only a few months, but I’m worried it’s a pattern – the man thinks I don’t care, so I think he doesn’t care, and it’s downhill from there. My friends are in the same boat: we don’t know if our ambitious, go-getting attitude is something we should hush up, and, while we’re not precious about sex, we want it to be with someone we love. I like the way you headed your e-mail “Generation not a clue”. I’m not sure any generation has a clue; relationships are not taught at our mother’s knee, sadly, so most of us just muddle through. Our twenties can be a tough time, because we are not yet emotionally mature but are treated as if we are adults and should have the answers to everything. Good relationships are central to our wellbeing, but they are not the only thing, so try to keep them in proportion. Try, also, to remember that there is no right age to find the perfect relationship or to marry (whatever your mother feels, as described in the full version of your letter). It happens when it happens – perhaps when we are willing to face the difficult task of intimacy. There is one interpretation of intimacy, which is “into-me-see” – and that, in a nutshell, is the fine art of relationships. We have to be ourselves. I know it isn’t easy. Accepting oneself, flaws and all, is tough, and understanding that we are, in therapeutic jargon, always “good enough” is harder still. We think we have to be perfect – our culture tells us so – whereas, in a true relationship, the only thing that matters is authenticity. We don’t always get it right, and we have to kiss a lot of frogs on our way to the prince – that’s the nature of experience and growing up. But hang on in there. Your confident, open self sounds delightful to me. So, why are you finding men so confounding? You say you fall in love “too easily”. I wonder if that means you fall in love with the idea of love. Are you grabbing at any guy who comes along for the sake of being in love, rather than for the sake of loving that person? And perhaps they sense it’s not actually them you love, but rather the idea of them – which is insulting, if you think about it – so they start messing you around. As for the book, The Rules, please bin it. I’m sure it works if you like playing games and enjoy dysfunctional, avoidant relationships, but as a blueprint for how to attract a man, let alone how to have a good relationship, it is a disaster. There are some people – women as well as men – who find indifference fascinating and mysterious. They are also intimacy-avoiding commitment-phobes (and emotional retards), so if you would like to land one of those, by all means keep applying those Rules. If, however, you would like an open, honest and healthy relationship, there is only one rule: be yourself. The one grain of truth contained in the book is that we tend to be allergic to clingy types because we want to be loved for ourselves, rather than as some sort of emotional prop. We are also attracted to people who are independent, with a strong sense of self, which is not the same thing as pretending to be independent. The Rules start with a lie: act as if you really don’t care. How is a lie a good way to begin a relationship? This man you like obviously likes you too if he is calling despite (and not because of) your chilly behaviour, and is putting himself at constant risk of rejection. And if there’s one thing we all hate, it’s rejection. What if this guy did fall in love with the fake, Rules you? You would be scared stiff that the moment he saw the real you – when, finally, out of sheer exhaustion, you let down your guard – he would run screaming in the opposite direction. Well, he might. Lies scare us. If someone lies about something as fundamental as who they truly are, how can we trust them? When we enter into a relationship, we take the risk of allowing ourselves to be vulnerable – or allowing ourselves to be seen as we truly are. But if we don’t take that risk, we end up in relationships that are at best meaningless and at worst built on lies – and lies are toxic to love. So, if you really like this guy, show him who you are and that you like him too.   An Affair That Hurts   September 9 2007 I need some wise words. For four months, I’ve been having a relationship with a man who lives with his girlfriend and young children. He came clean on our first date. I was so disappointed, as I already felt there was something special between us. He says he’s not happy and that having someone would motivate him to make the difficult move of breaking away. My heart wanted to keep seeing him so badly, but my head told me to leave. My head lost, and now we are in love. I know I’m being selfish engaging in a relationship that may hurt others, as well as, quite possibly, myself. We both realise it’s early days, so there have been no promises – only indications that this is what he is working towards. We know life would not be easy, as I imagine his ex and children will feel bitter. Also, my mother won’t approve as he has a different-coloured skin, and she says a mixed-race relationship would break her heart. He says things I believe are genuine, but I sometimes doubt it will work out and wonder if I’m being stupid, even though I know our love is real. First, you need to admit that you made a choice, and that with choices come consequences and responsibilities. Are you really facing up to them? You call it a “relationship” rather than using the more brutal word “affair”, which makes me wonder if you’re acknowledging reality. You say you “may” hurt others and that you “imagine” they will feel bitter. Be honest. Unless his relationship with his girlfriend has completely disintegrated (in which case, any discussions about separation would be mutual), you will cause intense pain. There is no “may” about it. Sometimes pain can’t be helped, but the inflicting of it can be done gently or with great cruelty. Emotional dishonesty is at the heart of most cruelty, so I wonder how truthful your lover is being in lining up the next relationship when the present one is not resolved. Why does he need somebody to motivate him? Is he incapable of knowing his own mind, or is his present unhappiness not as great as he is making out (in other words, he’ll put up with it until somebody else comes along)? These are hard questions you have to ask yourself. There are children involved – young hearts and minds that can be shattered without proper love, care and attention. You will be responsible (albeit partly) for their unhappiness and just as responsible for healing it. Are you prepared for that, or even for the simple daily grind of caring for kids? Try to lose the romantic blinkers. You say your heart won – as if the heart is no place for reason or free will. That is not true. It is a romantic myth we allow ourselves. We like to sentimentalise our biology – which is to be selfish creatures genetically programmed to look after number one – and ignore our ability to make moral choices and rise above our genetic inheritance. We do not have to let feelings become reasons. Love may be a life force, but it can also be used as an excuse: “It’s not my fault. I am helpless in the face of my emotions.” Love can also be a great get-out clause. Has your lover been honest about his unhappiness or truthful about how he came to find himself with two young children in a situation so intolerable he wants to leave it? I am not saying he is lying. Sometimes we sleepwalk into misery and become so overwhelmed that we stay in a toxic relationship that does nobody any good. One day, we may wake up and choose to do something about our situation. We do that for all sorts of reasons, and one of them may be meeting somebody and seeing a glimpse of intimacy and true understanding. But if that’s the truth of his situation, he must be honest and brave and deal with it. We must clean up our mess before we can start afresh. If there is real love between you two and destructive unhappiness between him and his girlfriend, it might be better for all concerned – including his kids – if he left the relationship. But lying and cheating is no way to go. However terrible it may feel in the short term, ultimately it is kinder to tell the truth and end a relationship cleanly than to let somebody suffer a half-life of secrets and lies – which is what he is doing to his girlfriend. It is not fair; nor is it fair to involve you. His present relationship is none of your business. Ask him to sort himself out, and get on with your life while he does. It could take weeks or months for him to resolve things. It may even be that he decides to stay with his girlfriend and kids. Either way, the best thing you can do is stand back. I know that’s hard, but if you really love each other and want to be together in an honest and healthy relationship, the willingness on both your parts to do the right thing will be a measure of the trust and understanding between you. You say your love is real. In that case, you have nothing to worry about.   Two men, one big mess September 2 2007 I was with a guy I love, but he was insecure and jealous. I knew he loved me and couldn’t help it (difficult upbringing, previous bad relationships), but it drove me mad. I really loved him and wanted to make him happy, but I did something I thought I never could – I had an affair. I told terrible lies and hurt him badly while I decided what I wanted. I finally moved in with the other man. It wasn’t easy – then he told me it wasn’t working because I was always so negative. I was distraught, but we decided to give it another go. I love him, but can’t settle. I keep thinking about my ex; it’s like my heart is saying him and my head is saying my boyfriend. Both men are a bit older than me (13 and 15 years), and both have children. I want children, but my ex didn’t. He’d had a vasectomy and said he’d get a reversal, but wasn’t enthusiastic. I’d love my boyfriend to be the father of my children, and we’ve talked about it briefly. He says it’s a possibility in the future, though I know he’s worried that, at 43, he’s too old. I feel a mess. Please help. You really are in a mess, and I suspect it’s because you are resolutely ignoring the truth. No wonder you feel so unsettled and negative. Deep down, you know you’re not being true to yourself, or to other people. Emotional dishonesty unsettles us because we know we’re refusing to be accountable for our actions. It looks as if you’re making choices, but the truth is that you’re allowing other people to make them for you. It’s as if you have no idea who you are or what you really want. The real problem, I think, is that you’re excusing your behaviour because it comes in a big, fancy package labelled “love”. You know something? Love is just a word. We can say we love people until we’re blue in the face. It’s how we behave and what we actually do with love that matters. We can chuck it around like confetti (as you do in your letter) and use it to justify almost anything, but unless we back it up with loving action, it is essentially meaningless. You say you love your insecure ex, yet you do the one thing that’s guaranteed to hurt him: you have a sneaky affair with another man, then take months to decide what you want, instead of coming clean and moving on. You prolong the agony in the name of love. When you eventually move in with the other man, you spend months moping around until he – sensing, rightly, that what you feel is not love but a desire to be rescued – tells you it’s not working. That need to be rescued, and to be told what to do and how to feel, is essentially childlike. I wonder if it’s a coincidence that you’ve chosen two men who are both a lot older than you. I really can’t agree that 13 and 15 years is “a bit older”. By childlike, I don’t mean childish. I mean, like a child in not taking responsibility for your own feelings and behaviour. Even your thoughts about children are childlike. You say you want them, yet you choose a man who’s had a vasectomy. On top of that, he’s wildly jealous – which is another childlike state. You say he can’t help it. In truth, he has chosen not to help it. Insecurity and jealousy are a failure to take responsibility for our own feelings. We project them onto others and blame them for making us feel the way we do. It drove you mad because it was, essentially, dishonest. So is talking vaguely about having a vasectomy reversed. I wonder if you “love” him because you are emotionally dishonest, too. You are familiar to each other. As for your present boyfriend, you seek out a man who has adult children and is not sure he wants more. On top of that, you have discussed the subject only briefly. He is worried that, at 43, he is too old, but makes vague promises about the future. Can you see how the two don’t go together? He’s making vague promises to avoid telling the truth. The sad thing is that you’re joining him in the lie. If you really want to get out of this mess, you have to start taking responsibility and face the truth. Look at yourself with ruthless honesty and ask what you really want and need. Stop bouncing from man to man and creating chaos in the hope that somebody else will sort out your feelings for you. When you say that your heart says your ex and your head says your boyfriend, I suspect what you really mean is that your ex makes you feel needed (jealousy is good at masquerading as passion) and your boyfriend makes you feel taken care of. Those are both childlike, passive states – and the more that you inhabit them, the more negative you will feel. Ask yourself not what you can get, but what you can give. And then see if, deep in your heart, you believe that either of these men is worth giving to. And do think hard about having children in your present state of mind. If there is one word that truly defines love, it is kids.   Can I Save My Marriage? August 26 2007 My marriage is crumbling. I desperately want it to work: my dad left when I was three, and I have always craved a happy family. I was 38 when we married, and have tried to learn from mistakes in previous relationships – I admit that in all of them, my partner started off besotted, then got cavalier with my feelings, while I became critical and distressed. Sometimes I wonder if we married only out of mutual relief that we’d found someone. Sex used to be okay, but there was little intimacy (he avoided my eyes) or passion. Now I feel I disgust him a little. He won’t talk about our problems, either ignoring me or becoming aggressive. I’ve tried talking, writing notes and arranging counselling, which he cancelled. Now he sleeps downstairs and we hardly communicate. If he does show affection, I’m quick to respond, but then he freezes me out and I regret allowing myself to get hurt again. I worry that my son will learn by our example, but for a little boy not to have a dad at home is awful. I’m afraid of being alone, and he doesn’t cheat, drink, gamble or hit. Would I be weak to stay or weak to go? The feeling I get from your letter is of two people who want to connect, but are missing each other by a mile. There’s a palpable atmosphere of regret and lost opportunity, and I wonder if your husband has retired, hurt, because he does not know how to handle you or the conflicting emotions flying around your head. The other image I get is of a small child (you) desperate for affection and terrified of being abandoned, but untutored in expressing her needs. So you’re racketing around, blown here and there by whichever emotion has you by the throat, while your husband withdraws into the role of a distant, authoritarian figure. I wonder if he’s scared to show affection or share intimacy because he fears being swallowed up by your needs – which, I suspect, nobody could meet. If his parents, as you say in the full version of your letter, have a marriage of chilly stoicism, it may be that this is the behaviour he inhabits when he feels under threat, because he knows it best. For your part, if your dad left when you were young and you’ve seen your mother’s loneliness (also described in your full letter), it may be that you are intuitively terrified of being abandoned again, so you’ll do anything to get your husband’s attention. Perhaps he senses your desperation; and if there is one thing that drives people away, it is desperation. Why? When it’s the driving force, we feel others are not interested in us as people, only in having an overwhelming emotional need met. These are just ideas you might consider. If your husband is too withdrawn and alienated to consider couple therapy – and therapy rarely works if one person is hostile and resistant – you may want to think about personal counselling. That is not to say that all the problems in your marriage are down to you, but an understanding of your own emotional impulses might help you to see your husband in a different light and break the stalemate in which the two of you are trapped. Most of us respond beautifully to sympathy and understanding, just as most of us withdraw when confronted by excessive demands. We give up. I wonder, too, if you become aggressive when you feel neglected. That tendency to become “critical and distressed” you describe in the context of previous relationships is a form of hostility or passive aggression. On the one hand, you are pushing somebody away; on the other, you are begging for their attention. The messages become profoundly mixed. Another example: you say you respond quickly to affection, but at the first sign of coldness, you withdraw and “regret allowing myself to get hurt again”. That hypersensitivity may make your husband cautious, because it implies an overreaction on your part, to both affection and rejection. People who overreact are tough to be around, as they are so unpredictable. It may seem to your husband that the bestcourse of action is to keep his head down. As for your little boy learning by example, you’re right. Children suffer as much from a cold war between two adults who remain together as they do from a loud, abusive separation. I have never held with the idea of “staying together for the sake of the children”, just as I don’t believe in storming out of a marriage without some attempt at sympathy or conciliation. Children need not suffer because of a divorce if both adults have looked at their own part in things sufficiently to lose the impulse to blame or criticise. Sadly, many people are incapable of rigorous personal honesty and use the handy excuse that the other person is impossible to opt out of relationships. I think you have a lot of work to do before you even consider a separation, and the work has to start with you. I really hope that settling your personal emotional conflicts will make it possible to approach your husband with the love and sympathy that relationships require. Then, who knows? The cold, withdrawn man you currently live with may start to blossom.   My Wife Is Having Sex With Another Man August 19 2007 My wife and I are liberal-minded. We are both health professionals; my wife works in mental health. The problem is, she’s having a “just sex and counselling” (her description) relationship with a close friend of ours, and it’s tearing me apart. I idolise her, believe she is her own person and don’t want to “lay down the law”. We are keen outdoors people and regularly went on trips with this other couple. Unfortunately, the wife died and the husband fell to pieces. My wife was not professionally involved with his care, but we helped by continuing our trips. One night, I saw my wife giving him a massage. She said she let him cry on her shoulder and, when he became aroused, helped by giving relief with her hands. I sat in stunned silence, and she praised me for being so understanding. Now, she leaves our bed to join him. (They practise safe sex.) She says with me it’s making love and with him it’s just sex and relief. But I can hear noises and it tears me apart. The next day, we carry on as normal. Apart from this, we are blissfully happy. So, do I accept it, or say how I feel and risk losing her? Your letter made me feel terribly sad. Perhaps it’s the hypocrisy implicit in the situation: cheating masquerading as compassion; manipulative dishonesty paraded as emotional openness; blatant self-serving dished up as liberalism. Or perhaps it’s simply that your love and respect for your wife and compassion for a grieving friend are being so roundly abused. I simply cannot believe that a woman trained in mental health has such cloth ears that she would mistake stunned silence for understanding – unless, of course, it suited her to do so. Or that she would confuse emotional healing with sex: it’s a line that professionals simply will not cross, even down to a brief hug. Perhaps she imagines herself as some modern-day Florence Nightingale, smiling sweetly as she dispenses comfort and lays soothing hands on fevered brows – or other such parts. The image is perfectly nauseating, and I don’t, for a moment, believe that she thinks it’s proper behaviour. More likely, she’s taking you for a ride. She may well be convinced that she’s selflessly giving of herself to ease another’s pain, but if she has even an ounce of understanding of the human psyche (and one has to believe that she must, given her work), then she will know that she’s acting out her own issues of need and control. She is keeping you both in thrall, perhaps because she herself desperately wants to be needed. On the whole, I have a high regard for therapists, but anyone who believes they have resolved all their own emotional issues needs their head examined. You say you idolise your wife (obviously a position she enjoys), and therein, I think, lies the problem. You should not be standing for this for a moment, so I wonder why you are. Perhaps you are so terrified of losing her that you have lost all sense of what’s right. Where is trust? Where is mutual respect? Where is the marriage vow that says you should look out for each other, forsaking all others? As for her casual cruelty of having sex within your earshot, it quite takes my breath away. I hope, and I can hardly bring myself to say this, that it doesn’t give the lovers some sort of a kick. I imagine that the excuse offered is that there are no secrets, so it’s okay. It is not okay. None of this is okay. As to your wife’s attitude that she is simply offering compassion and relief, it contains a fatal flaw. Where is her compassion for you, her husband? What is your relief? Now, it may be – and I hope this is true – that you have been so understanding of the situation and protested so little that they both believe it is entirely acceptable to you. Perhaps all of you believe that a “liberal” attitude means no boundaries? That is simply not the case. Boundary violations destroy relationships, as you are discovering. You say they practise safe sex (well, that’s a relief, albeit of a different sort), but what about practising some safe emotion? The situation is never mentioned and, the next day, you carry on as normal. Perhaps the reason the subject is notdiscussed is not because everythingis fine, but because it is, literally, unspeakable. In other words, they know, as do you, that their behaviour is very wrong. So, what should you do? Tell them both, and not just your wife, how you feel. Tell them they are tearing you apart. Perhaps a bit of raw emotion and outrage might puncture that bubble of unreality in which you all seem to be floating. I’m not sure, either, why telling your wife how you feel means you risk losing her. Is your pain unacceptable to her and, if so, why? Or is it that she must be allowed to behave exactly as she pleases? In which case, it is not a marriage that you’re involved in – you’re simply holding up a narcissistic mirror so your wife can admire her own image. If you want to save your relationship, I suggest you speak up very loudly indeed, and if she leaves, then, frankly, she’s not worth having.   Can't Get Rid Of The Lump In My Throat August 12 2007 For more years than I can remember, at certain times I get a terrible pain in my throat. It comes on unexpectedly, and I find myself struggling not to cry. The more I try to avoid tears, the worse the pain gets. It’s like a huge lump in my throat. I find it difficult to talk, and sometimes it takes me ages to recover my composure. The problem is that I do quite emotional work (talking to and helping women who have suffered severe hair loss) and sometimes I get completely overcome by their distress. I find myself doling out tissues to both of us, which is really embarrassing, as I am normally confident and calm, but their pain really affects me at a time when I need to be at my most composed and professional. My father died suddenly when I was nine, and I was separated from what was left of my family, moved to a strange country and to a boarding school where I stayed for the rest of my childhood. It was traumatic, and I understand I have certain issues, but even if I reason with myself, that does not stop the throat thing happening. Please can you help? As a matter of fact, I think I can help. It’s a horrid condition known as “globus hystericus” – or lump in the throat. First described by Freud, it is thought to be a symptom of stress, anxiety or depression. It is intensely painful and can be so debilitating that sufferers sometimes become convinced they have throat cancer, despite every test result coming back negative. There are physical causes for a sensation of a lump in the throat (such as acid reflux), but once those have been ruled out, doctors tend to consign the condition to that grey area of “emotional, unknown” and prescribe antidepressants or mild tranquillisers. Sometimes they help, and sometimes they don’t. It is a psychosomatic disorder, meaning that it is a physical condition with a psychological origin, or “a physical disease thought to be caused, or made worse, by mental factors”. That does not mean it is imaginary. It is only too real, as I well know. I suffered from it for four years, and it was, frankly, hell. Mine was linked to severe clinical depression, but even once the depression had lifted, the lump in the throat remained. I called it “the throat monster”, imagining it as a long, scaly body wrapping around my neck, finishing with a claw that sank into my throat until I felt I couldn’t breathe or speak. Various psychiatrists and therapists suggested “a good cry” would help, but no matter how much I cried, the lump remained, and nothing would shift it. One therapist suggested a link to unexpressed grief or old, trapped emotions. I, like so many others, have a habit of saying everything is “fine” even when everything is terrible. According to the eastern system of chakras (the body’s energy centres), the throat chakra (or visudhha) is about communication and inner truth. It is the link between heart and head, so when it is blocked or weak, we cannot say how we truly feel. The less we talk about the way we feel, and the more we force down our emotions, the greater the blockage. If you have not talked through what happened to you as a child, it might be helpful if you did, with a good therapist. Obviously, the work you have chosen to do comes from a place of great empathy and understanding, but sometimes, when we cannot bear our own pain, we deny it by trying to heal others – perhaps in an unconscious desire to try to heal ourselves as well. If we focus on somebody else’s pain, we may unconsciously be trying to take our attention off our own, but, as Carl Jung said, what you resist will persist. So it is perhaps unsurprising that somebody else’s distress might trigger your own, unattended grief. Talking about your childhood with care and compassion might start to ease your throat. Think of it not as self-indulgence, but as self-care. Perhaps it’s time you looked after yourself rather than everybody else. As for the physical sensation of a lump in the throat, I discovered a miraculous (to me, anyway) cure. When I described the throat monster to an acupuncturist, he nodded and said that, in Chinese medicine, it is known as plum pit or cherry stone. I was amazed that he had even heard of it – most people haven’t – and was sceptical when he said he could get rid of it. It had defeated every aspect of psychiatric treatment. But get rid of it he did, in two sessions, and it has never come back. I still have acupuncture regularly, as I believe it is one of the finest therapies for good emotional health. Eastern medicine believes the mind and body are one, and that when they are working in total harmony, we are at our best. In the West, we tend to keep the two separate and ignore our own hearts. So now it’s time to take care of yours, which will help with your throat. Do seek out a good, well-qualified acupuncturist, as well as finding one with whom – just like a therapist – you feel comfortable. I wish you well and hope that soon you will be free from pain, in every way.   I Can't Get Rid of This Resentment August 5 2007 I have a problem wiith my aunt. She is battling cancer for the second time, so my need to resolve it feels quite urgent. Our relationship is such that we see each other seldom and enjoy the reconnection, but she sees it as her duty to nag me politely about my weight, appearance and behaviour. I’ve endured this with good humour for years (she compensates with generosity and warmth), but I made the mistake of confiding in her about a problem in my marriage. When she offered to help, I doubted she could, but I humoured her, half hoping she might have the solution. Instead, she said that all the problems that she nagged me about were at the root of my marital woes: mainly, my bony appearance, bad dressing and awkward social manner. I am devastated that she would use a time when I am vulnerable to push her own agenda to such a vicious end. All her points have a grain of truth, so I cannot refute them completely. I feel I am behaving like a child, but I can’t shake off the anger and hurt. My father has told me to get over it – it’s her way. I don’t want to confront her in case I lose her when we’re at odds. How can I see the big picture again? Ah, yes, resentment. I think every one of us knows how you feel. We have all experienced the small slight (or even the passing, chance remark) that grows into a mountain of bilious emotion, so we could all do with lessons in dealing with resentment. I know I have gone over this myself, time and again, and the only helpful approach I have discovered is to concentrate on my own behaviour. I know that seems counterintuitive. After all, we did nothing wrong – it’s other people who are at fault. Or are they? Once the incident is over, it is in the past. The only person who is keeping it alive is me, or you. What was a spontaneous reaction of pain or anger becomes a lingering grievance, to be brooded over and, yes, nurtured. Resentments do not grow without our full attention, and unless we change our thinking, they are liable to assume a stature disproportionate to the actual event. The word resentment comes from the Latin word sentire, which means “to feel”. The prefix re means “again”. So resentments repeat themselves, like an unshakeable song playing over and over in our heads. Mixed in with the melody are all sorts of self-justifying and self-righteous thoughts, because it is the self we are protecting. Resentment makes us self-righteous, and self-righteous anger (or indignation) is one of the most common and destructive of all the emotions. You see it every day – in road rage; in a queue at the post office. We assume that people are deliberately provoking or annoying us when, in truth, they are very rarely thinking about anybody other than themselves. In other words, it is not personal. If we sit with a resentment against another person, it is liable to grow and fester. The best thing we can do is confront it – and them. But first, we have to get our thinking into proportion. I know you feel your aunt was pushing “her own agenda to a vicious end”. Was she really? Or has your description blown the original incident out of all proportion? Often, when we point out flaws in other people, it is because we recognise them in ourselves. Your aunt may have been projecting her own feelings of low self-worth onto you. Perhaps her own weight, appearance and behaviour bother her, which is why she nags you about yours. Then again, perhaps she is simply clumsy when it comes to emotion. Some people are. As your father says, it’s her way, so perhaps you should let go of your expectation (a primary breeding ground for resentment) that she is going to be a sweet, cosy aunt and see her as she really is. Once you do that, you allow people to be themselves and you let go of the need to defend yourself. Yet you also say she is generous and warm, which is why I wonder how much of this is down to her – and how much is down to you. Obviously, she hit a nerve, which is why those “grains of truth” have snowballed into huge boulders, blocking your relationship with her. Is it worth it? Might it not be better first to address those issues that bother you, such as believing you can feel good about yourself only if other people endorse you, and then address her? Don’t allow her illness to get in the way of speaking out. We can always find reasons not to confront people, but the less we say how we feel, the greater those feelings become. Explain, quite simply, that she upset you badly, because you felt her words were a personal attack rather than an act of helpful compassion. I suspect she will be horrified and hasten to explain her intention. If that seems too difficult, then try the method used by every spiritual discipline to deal with resentment – prayer. It doesn’t matter to whom or what you pray – it could be yourself, if you like – just ask for the willingness to let go of your resentment. It is willingness that is important here – a willingness to accept and forgive ourselves as well as others.   My Boyfriend Won't Marry Me July 29 2007 My boyfriend and I have been together for two years. We’ve both been married before (I have young children; he has none). He is an amazing person, whom I love very much. I want to spend my life with him, and he says he wants the same, but he doesn’t want to get married. He says he tried it and it “didn’t suit” him. I desperately want a future together, but feel that, without the ultimate commitment, something will always be missing. My parents have been happily married for 30 years, and I want the same stability and continuity. I don’t understand why, if he really loves me and wants to be with me, he won’t marry me. If I’m honest, I have a niggling fear he wants to keep the door open for something better. We haven’t discussed marriage often, as he made his views clear early on and there is nothing less likely to make him want to marry than me harping on about it. I cannot imagine a future without him, but I’m starting to question his commitment. If he won’t marry me, should I end it, so that one day I might fall in love with somebody who would? I always think that ultimatums (even those made in the privacy of one’s own head) are dangerous, unless we have thought a situation through so clearly that we are prepared to accept either outcome. I know that you haven’t (yet) given your boyfriend an either/or, but I sense you’re building up to one, just as I sense that marriage is dominating your thoughts to the exclusion of every other aspect (good and bad) of your relationship. You know I can’t tell you whether you should or shouldn’t end the relationship, but what I can do is encourage you to ask yourself some serious questions. Try to answer them with ruthless honesty. The first is: what does love mean to you? The second is: what does marriage mean to you? You say you love your boyfriend very much and cannot imagine a future without him; yet you are imagining a future without him. Despite your love for him (and his for you), you are prepared to leave him. What does that say about love? That it is conditional on his agreeing with you? Or perhaps you believe that love can’t really be love unless it is contained inside marriage? There are, by the way, no right or wrong answers here. There is only your answer. This is about you and nobody else. It is not even about your boyfriend: he has made his feelings clear. So the only person you really need to question is yourself. If you are perfectly clear that you cannot feel emotionally safe (which is what this is all about) unless you have a ring on your finger, then you need ask no more questions. However, it may be that you are so set on marriage that you have not fully considered the options. What if you did leave this “amazing man”, whom you love “very much”, and met another (slightly less) amazing man, for whom you felt a moderate kind of love, but who was keen to marry you? Would the act of marrying be sufficient to turn a moderate love into a great love? And do you believe that somebody who does not wish to marry is less capable of wholehearted love than someone who does? That seems to be your present judgment on your boyfriend. You are saying that you don’t really believe him when he says he feels that marriage doesn’t suit him; you think, instead, that he is saying that you don’t really suit him. That’s a leap of emotion, rather than of logic. You question his motives (“the door open for something better”), his commitment and his belief in the relationship. It’s okay if you feel that way, as long as you accept that it is simply one belief and that your boyfriend has a right to hold a different belief. A relationship can accommodate a difference of opinion as long as you are both able to understand that both views are valid. There is no right or wrong here; there is only difference. Marriage is one route to happiness. It may be the preferred arrangement, but that does not make it the right, or the only, one. Try not to make the judgment that your boyfriend loves you less because he does not believe as you do. Look at it from his perspective: he could just as well say that if you can’t accept him as he is – as a nonbeliever in marriage – it’s because you don’t truly love him. So, ask yourself all those questions, and then, if you are completely sure that you can never feel emotionally safe unless he agrees to marry you, I think you need to explain to him exactly how you feel. Don’t threaten to leave and find somebody else if he won’t do as you want. That’s not love; that’s bullying. Just tell him, clearly and simply, how you feel. It may be that you can talk it through and find an accommodation. It may be that you both decide that such a difference of opinion will eventually drive you apart. But at least you will have faced each other with an intimacy and an honesty that not even marriage can guarantee.   Teen Love Blues July 22 2007   I’m 17, but please don’t dismiss this as teen angst. My parents are kind, highly successful people, who, although well meaning, have no time for intimacy. I don’t remember ever hugging them or seeing them cuddle or kiss; they treat feelings as some sort of obstacle to success. My problem is a weird pattern of relationships. I meet a boy I like, who begins to pursue me while I remain indifferent. Right around the time I show an interest, they give up. Once they have made it clear that they no longer feel strongly about me, I fall into depression: I cry a lot, self-harm, contemplate suicide and find it difficult to get out of bed. I become convinced that they are everything I have ever wanted. It has just happened for the third time, and I feel there is no point going on. There is one boy who claims to be on-off “in love” with me, but I’ve never felt anything for him. Surely this means that not every boy who falls out of love with me becomes my idealised love object? And is it relevant that, after my latest heartbreak, I have clung to my parents rather than spending time with friends? (I have disliked my parents my whole life.) Please help – I’m so scared and miserable. I wouldn’t begin to dismiss your feelings as teenage angst – which is, in any case, as valid and real as any other form of angst. I just wonder whether, in direct opposition to your parents’ attitude to emotions – which is, essentially, to dismiss them – you treat them as an incontrovertible truth and attach too excessive a meaning to them. There are many schools of thought, including cognitive behavioural therapy, that work with the idea that an emotion is merely a thought in action. In other words, we cannot have an emotion without a thought preceding it. If we dwell too much on difficulty, we can allow our thoughts to magnify and lead us into what is known as “catastrophising” or “catastrophic thinking”. For example: “I’m always going to be shy, which means I’ll always find social situations difficult, so I’m never going to meet anybody, so I’ll never be happy.” If we allow that sort of thinking to become entrenched, we end up with what are known as “core beliefs”. In other words, from that example of catastrophic thinking, we may end up with three core beliefs: “I’m shy”; “I’m crap at parties”; “I will never be happy”. Blessedly, you are young enough not to have formed any core beliefs that are too concrete (age tends to turn them into difficult, although not impossible-to-shift, emotional blocks), so I think that it would be useful if you could challenge those that are building, as in “I’m rubbish at relationships” and “I’m a depressive”. I also think that you should confront the real issue here, which is, I suspect, that you feel starved of attention and affection from your brisk, busy and highly successful parents. What does that have to do with the three boys? Perhaps they looked possible candidates for affection – except that you felt nothing for them. Because any lack of feeling sends you into despair, you assume it must be something lacking in you, rather than any failure of connection, so you compensate with a highly charged emotional fantasy. Why? Well, there are lots of possible reasons, but one may be that any withdrawal of attention or show of coldness triggers feelings of not being sufficiently loved by your parents. I’m sure that’s not true and that they love you very much, but it seems that you have adopted this as a core belief, so I suspect that your descent into depression and clinging to your parents is actually a cry for attention, rather than for any real feelings for the absent boys. As for the “on-off in love with me” boy not becoming an idealised love object, he hasn’t actually withdrawn his attention, so you’re not feeling abandoned. And feeling abandoned is, I think, the key to all of this. There is an answer, although you may reject it at first. Talk to those kind, well-meaning parents of yours. Tell them about the self-harming and acute bouts of depression. I suspect that you tend to keep things bottled up and put on a good front of coping well, so they are either unaware of how you are feeling or imagine that you are going through “a teenage stage”. They cannot help you if you don’t ask for help. Nobody can help us if we don’t ask for it, because none of us is capable of inhabiting somebody else’s head or heart. I suspect they will be devastated and will want to do everything they can. In that spirit, family therapy might be useful, because it seems that this is about a breakdown of communication rather than any lack of love. A session will allow you to say how you feel without being told that you are too emotional and enable your parents to understand that their behaviour may not be terribly helpful to their child’s wellbeing. Few of us are really aware of how our behaviour affects other people, particularly our children, and it seems a tragedy for them, as well as for you, that you have spent 17 years disliking them. If you mend this relationship, your future relationships will be so much happier – so do, please, take your courage in both hands and speak to them. Desperately Unhappy in My Marriage July 8 2007 I’ve been married for four years and I’m desperately unhappy. If I’m brutally honest, I knew I shouldn’t have got married to my husband. We have no sex life, and haven’t had since before the wedding. We’ve been together eight years, and in the early days had good, regular sex, but it was always initiated by me. After a short separation, he said he couldn’t maintain an erection using a condom. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but eventually went to see my GP, who suggested a vasectomy (we don’t want children) or the mini-pill. My husband said no to a vasectomy or me “filling my body with hormones”. I felt let down and stopped initiating sex, so no more intercourse. We go to bed separately and get up at different times; most weekends, he just watches sport. Despite everything, he treats me like a princess and whisks me away on surprise trips, but I don’t enjoy his company because I find him negative and impatient. If I try to discuss our life, he walks away or says I expect too much. All I want is a relationship that makes me feel good. Is that really too much to ask? And is it too late with him? It really is hard to see why you stay with this man or, as you say, why you married him in the first place. But you do stay, and you did marry him, so I can only assume he fulfils some need in you, or that you have so lost sight of the infinite pleasures and possibilities of life that you assume this joyless and limited existence is all there is. Either that, or you are so afraid of taking responsibility for your own life that you are incapable of making choices. One choice might mean saying: “Do you know, this is not good enough, and I’m going to do something about it”. Another might mean deciding to turn our full attention on the person with whom we are intimate and really exploring the possibilities (or limits) of a relationship. We can, of course, do neither of those things, but instead simply disengage, as you have done, and live in limbo – not satisfying, but not frightening, either. The thing about making a choice is that it might mean we have to feel afraid. It might mean an end to a relationship. It could mean being on our own for a while. So we would rather tolerate the unhappiness of a joyless, passionless relationship than actually make a choice, because with choice comes the responsibility of outcome. So, you make no choices, but allow your husband to make them for you, then blame him for your unhappiness. It is all too common to refuse to take responsibility for our own lives and blame somebody else for our unhappiness when, in truth, we have elected to be a part of that unhappiness. Your husband says he cannot maintain an erection if he uses a condom, and you comply because you don’t want to make a big deal of it. Well, it is a big deal, but you go along with his needs rather than your own, until you come up with some practical solutions. He dismisses them and, instead of saying what you want, or even suggesting perfectly sensible ideas such as the coil or the cap, you withdraw. So now we have two people avoiding intimacy, not just one. And I do think that’s what all this is about. Intimacy is messy (all those ungovernable emotions flying around) and so, gloriously, is sex. Your husband sounds like a man who is extremely frightened by both. He has never, in eight years, initiated sex, he keeps you at arm’s length emotionally, walking away if you try to discuss your relationship, and, on top of that, he chooses to go to bed late and get up late so as to avoid any real contact. As for treating you like a princess, that’s just another way of avoiding intimacy. Men who like their women on pedestals don’t put them there out of desire, but because they want to keep them at a distance. They like the fantasy of femaleness, not the flesh-and-blood reality. Yet I wonder if you’re frightened of intimacy too. Rather than state your own needs and desires, which might mean engaging in difficult exchanges, you withdraw into silence and resentment. When you do actually get some time together, on one of your husband’s surprise trips, you don’t try to reach out to him, but focus on his faults and use them to keep him at arm’s length. You don’t want to be there, but you don’t say so. You even got married without wanting to. Which brings us back to choices. You have a choice about what is acceptable to you in a relationship and what you want from your own life. If what you really want is a relationship that makes you feel good, well, you have a choice about that, too. The choice might be that you tell your husband exactly what you need and ask him if he is willing to work to achieve it. Or it might be that you choose to leave because he is incapable of coming to an understanding with you. Either way, making a choice about your own needs will free you in a way that the deadend street of silence and simmering resentment never will.   Narcissist Alert June 24 2007 Last year, at 38, I met a wonderful man. He made promises and shared big hurts: his lifelong fear of commitment, daily temptation by girls (he knew they weren’t the answer) and years of therapy. Two months later, over dinner, he told me he fancied the waitress and wasn’t sure I was right for him. I was devastated. He sent a loving letter asking for forgiveness. We talked about the waitress and “other girls”. He was adamant this was not something he wanted to act on, but something he needed to be open about. Then he disappeared for weeks. When we met, he was very cold, but invited me to Paris. Weeks later, he said he loved spending time with me but feared I was too old to have his children and that he had a “childish dream” of marrying a more stunning-looking woman, like Cindy Crawford. He said, “I don’t feel it’s over – I see us together in five years, but don’t know how to get there.” He is gone now, and I need help to move on. I blame myself. Would you say a little something to girls like me, dumped by someone with whom I felt I had a wonderful bond and exciting future? Yes, I will say a little something. Take off those rose-tinted glasses. When a man is carrying a large sign that says, “Danger. No Entry”, pay attention. Don’t think you can change him. Don’t think he wants to change. If he did, he’d have done something about it (after all those years of therapy) and not picked on an innocent such as you. He’s not asking to be understood. He’s asking to be fixed. He wants unconditional love, no matter how badly he behaves. Maybe his mother never forgave him for the natural self-obsessions of a child, or maybe he was never loved, so he needs to test every woman to the limits of forgiveness. Or maybe none of that is true. For whatever reason, he is a black hole of need, and that black hole will drive him to ever-increasing cruelty. Forgive one misdemeanour, and he’ll throw another at you. He’ll hurt you, just to prove his power (the waitress at dinner), then beg forgiveness because he has to be the centre of your attention. Once he’s got you hooked again, he’ll manipulate you into fake emotional intimacy (“I’m so flawed, and only you understand”), but reserve the right to tell you his adolescent fantasies because it keeps you on your toes (“I won’t shag other women, but I’m going to tell you every last detail, just so you know I could – and might”). What he’ll never do is take responsibility for his behaviour. You did not have a wonderful bond with this man. The only person he has a bond with is himself. He’s so narcissistic that it’s bordering on a disorder. That may sound unduly harsh – I wish I had space to print every example of self-obsessed cruelty listed in your very long letter – but perhaps the brief insight here is sufficient to remind you. A man who tells you you’re too old to have his children – note the “his”, here – and too unattractive is not a man, but a sad, damaged boy. Teenage boys have delusions about marrying Cindy Crawford; healthy, mature men do not. He’s never going to commit, to you or to anybody else, because no woman is ever going to be good enough. Why? Because he doesn’t feel good enough himself. I know his charm and confidence make it appear otherwise, but narcissists construct a massive ego to defend a shatteringly fragile self-esteem. It’s a fatal combination, usually marked by manipulative charm and relentless cruelty. I suspect your need to be loved is so great that you’re blind and deaf to reality. You see the charm, hear the false promises and then dismiss the hard evidence and blame yourself for his behaviour. A report from the University of Georgia describes the type of person likely to be attracted to men such as your ex as co-narcissists. “[They ] accept blame readily, are eager to please, defer to other’s opinions, and fear being considered selfish if they act assertively.” You deserve much better. To move on and have healthy future relationships, you need to look at your emotional make-up. You may believe that you’re not worthy of love, so you accept any crumbs thrown your way. It may be that you don’t understand what makes a healthy relationship. Perhaps you need to look at the way loving people behave towards one another. Perhaps you might think about some counselling, or do some reading around the subject. But, whatever you do, don’t believe it is your fault. If he were stealing money, we’d call him a con artist, but in this case, it is your heart, and a heart is a great deal more precious, as well as being irreplaceable, so look after it by absolutely refusing to connect with him. That line “I see us together in five years’ time” is not a promise. It’s a threat. If you don’t cut him off completely, he’ll go on hurting you and seeking absolution until he’s crushed you into the ground. Helpful reading: Why Is It Always About You? The Seven Deadly Sins of Narcissism by Sandy Hotchkiss (James Bennett £7). You Can Heal Your Life by Louise L Hay (Hay House £9.99)   I Can't Bear To Be Away From My Boyfriend June 17 2007 My father died when I was 12 years old. I totally adored him, yet cannot recall crying. My guess is that the grief was too much for a child. My marriage ended three years ago. I worshipped my husband, forgave him countless affairs and betrayals, then begged him to stay when he finally left. I have been with my new boyfriend for 18 months, and we are madly in love. However, in my marriage and now in my new relationship, I cannot bear to be left. I find even a night out or an overnight business trip excruciating. My husband dealt with this by not doing the things he wanted and burying his resentment (hence the affairs?). I refuse to stop my new boyfriend doing things without me, but as soon as he says he is going away on business or out with friends, I feel sick with anxiety. I know this is my problem and not his, but he doesn’t know how to handle it and neither do I. His reassurances that he’s coming back don’t help. Ironically, when he is gone I am fine. It’s the anticipation that’s agonising. I’m so scared I’m going to push him away. Poor you. My guess is that the pain of your adored father’s death has become rephrased as an extreme anxiety about anyone you love leaving. It has become so entrenched that it has turned into a phobia. The mere thought of somebody being absent, even for a night, is agony. It may be irrational, but that does not mean it is not real. I sympathise. I had a phobia about driving that lasted 10 years. It started when my daughter was born. I was terrified she would die, perhaps because the daughter of a close friend had died suddenly from cot death. I have never seen anyone in so much pain. I suppose, or therapists told me, that I dismissed my fears as foolish or self-indulgent (who was I to claim her pain?), so they took another route and emerged as an intense phobia. Even the thought of getting behind a wheel made me so sick with anxiety that I would shake uncontrollably, pour with sweat and feel faint. The strange thing is that I love driving. The good news is that a phobia can be treated, but it needs expert help, or it is likely to get worse. There are various approaches, so you will have to decide which suits you. First is psychotherapy, in which you might unravel the pain of your father dying and subsequent terror of abandonment. Deep-seated, unacknowledged pain can make itself felt in apparently unrelated ways, such as your putting up with your exhusband’s appalling behaviour. And it was appalling, even though you are inclined to take the blame yourself. A wife’s suffering is a poor excuse for serial philandering. While you may not directly connect your father’s early death to an inclination to tolerate bad behaviour from people you love, it may have left you so fearful that you will put up with almost anything to avoid being abandoned. Then there is cognitive behavioural therapy, which would be helpful in dealing with your immediate fears. It is based on the idea that behaviour arises from thoughts, so if you deal with the faulty thinking, you address the behaviour. It teaches us, literally, to talk ourselves down and is considered highly effective in treating phobias and anxiety disorders. I’ve seen it work brilliantly on somebody who had such severe panic attacks that she would vomit into wastepaper bins at work. The last therapy is neuro-linguistic programming (NLP), which you may have seen used by Paul McKenna on his television programme. I have never tried it, but have seen it work for a friend who was sexually abused as a child. She dealt with her pain by ignoring it, and the anger that should have been directed at the abuser, she turned against herself. The result was raging alcoholic binges, in which she drank until she blacked out, smashed up her beautiful flat or woke in the morning in a strange bed with two or even three men. She tried everything – antidepressants, therapy, rehab – but it was only through NLP that she was able to accept that the shame and guilt was not hers, but her abuser’s. The fear and rage left her, and so did the blackout binges. Not every case finds such immediate success (she’d had a lot of other therapy, so the result may have been cumulative), but my friend was amazed by its benefits. All I am saying is that you need not stay trapped in fear. When we have a problem that is interfering significantly with our lives, we owe it to ourselves to seek help. We cannot always do it alone, nor do we need to. We can take our mind to an expert, just as we take our body to an expert when we are physically ill. I know therapy is expensive, but if it frees us to live our lives well, surely it is a price worth paying. Soon enough, you’ll be waving your boyfriend off eagerly just so you can have the place to yourself. British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy; www.bacp.co.uk. British Association for Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapies; www.babcp.com. Association of NLP; www.anlp.org. The British Board of NLP; www.bbnlp.com   I Can't Get Over My Boyfriend's Ex June 10 2007 My boyfriend and I are happily in love, but I just can’t get over his ex.He was with her for seven years, then single for three, because he doesn’t think it’s fair to date until you’re over someone. However, they stayed friends and she rings every couple of weeks. At first I didn’t mind, but then I found some photos, and she has the same dark skin and curvy body as me. I talked to him and he said he understood and agreed not to talk about her. Then she rang, and I went really mad. Deep down, I never agreed to him keeping in contact, though I had not said so until then. I thought it was unfair on me. He calmed me down and said he would sort it out, but it’s eating me up. He’s such a nice man and I’m so in love, but I’ve broken it off and made up again simply because I can’t stop imagining. I don’t know if it’s jealousy or insecurity or some sort of mental problem, and I’m pretty sure he’s over his ex and in love with me, so why can’t I be happy? Please help. You say that you don’t know whether your obsession with your boyfriend’s ex is “jealousy, insecurity or some sort of mental problem”. Are you sure you don’t know? It’s hard to face our flaws. We particularly don’t like to admit to emotions such as jealousy because they seem so small-minded, and we don’t like to see ourselves that way. But until we face our feelings honestly, we cannot change them. You’re right. Jealousy is a mental problem – it comes from the mind, and it’s a problem because it is so toxic, it can poison our most loving relationships if we allow it to. But remember this: it is just fear by another name, just as insecurity is fear by another name. Your fear, it seems, is that your boyfriend will leave you. Well, he might, and it might not be for his ex. It might be for one of the millions of other women who inhabit this earth. In other words, that fear is a real possibility. All our emotions have some basis in truth, but what emotions such as jealousy do is to imagine truth, or reality, as certainty. They distort everything until we lose all perspective and proportion. They make things bigger than they actually are. The way to deal with them is to make them right-sized. We are all afraid of being left. It is a normal, human fear that is part of our evolutionary make-up. If our primate ancestors were cast out of the group, they were less likely to make it. That’s why we live in communities. We need each other to survive. So you have a normal, human fear that has become distorted. Your fear is telling you that if your boyfriend leaves you, you will not survive. A part of you knows it is not true (“I’m pretty sure he’s over his ex and in love with me”), but the fear is so overwhelming that your mind starts scrabbling around for hard evidence. That’s where the ex comes in. “See?” your mind says, “I’m right!” Your fear dismisses another piece of evidence – your boyfriend wants to be with you. He has shown you that in every single act and gesture. Not good enough, says fear. If he really loved me, he would want only me. He would not have nor want any friends. I should be enough, and I’m going to have a mighty tantrum until he proves to me, by dismissing his ex, that I am enough for him. Your fear is out of control. You need to rein it in. How? Start by owning your feelings. Don’t pass them on. When we have unpleasant emotions, we want to give them to somebody else or try to make them somebody else’s fault. That’s called blame, and it is another toxic, destructive emotion. Right now, you are blaming your boyfriend and his ex for the way that you feel. It has nothing to do with them. People cannot make us feel our feelings. Or, at least, they can’t if we take full responsibility for ourselves. So take responsibility for your fear. Bring it out into the open and take a good, hard look at it. Understand that it’s possible to change an emotion by challenging it. Notice jealousy when you feel it. By acknowledging it, you can step back and bring it into proportion. Unshackle it from your boyfriend or his ex. It does not belong to them; it’s simply an emotion you have attached to them. If you really want to detach yourself from it, treat it as a person – perhaps one you’d rather not see. “Oh, look, jealousy’s turned up again. How annoying. Think I’ll move to another part of the room.” Try it. It’s amazing how we can change our minds – or our mental problems – if we want to enough. There’s another technique you might try. Act as the Buddhists do with difficult emotions. Imagine them as dark clouds floating across the mind. We don’t reach up to the clouds and grab them so they rain all over us. We let them pass on by. Let your fear go. Live in love. It’s a much nicer place.   She Won't Return My Feelings May 27 2007 I became friends with a woman I knew was in a long-term relationship. I had no thought of pursuing her, but was overjoyed when she left her partner. After three months of cultivating the friendship, I invited her to bed. She had not had sex for two years; I for three. The sex was, in her words, “amazing”, and I’ve never felt so physically close to a woman. I didn’t tell her I was falling in love for fear of losing her and tried to suppress my emotions. Unexpectedly, she broke off the relationship, but then we got together again. The passion was even stronger, to my joy and relief. Then she ended it, saying there was “someone else”: a married man she had secretly loved for 10 years, who now returned her feelings. She said she was very fond of me, but didn’t feel as I did. My questions are: why do people do these things to each other? Why all the deceit and secrets? What are the chances of success of her “new” relationship, and the consequences and complications? I do not want her back, but answers will put my mind at rest and bring peace. Let’s cut to the chase. You ask about deceit and secrets, yet you kept it secret from this woman that you were falling in love and deceived her about the strength of your feelings, “expressing them sexually”, as you put it in your full letter. I am not saying you were wrong – sometimes circumstances, or instincts, make the truth so painful, we do everything to avoid it. All I am pointing out is that we do not always act honestly, even when we convince ourselves that we do. As to why we don’t, my own feeling is that it’s to do with fear. We are frightened of hearing the truth. We are frightened of being left. We are frightened of not being loved if people know the truth about us. We are frightened of being alone. We are frightened, in short, that we are not good enough. Sometimes the fear is so great that we cannot tell the truth, even to ourselves. I’m guessing you instinctively understood that, for her, this was not a great romance. That’s why you repressed your feelings. If you had made too many demands, she might have told you the truth about the way she felt – as she eventually did. I’m guessing, too, that you convinced yourself that passionate sex meant passionate emotion. It’s a common self-deception, and, contrary to popular belief, women don’t have a monopoly on it. When it comes to wishful thinking, the heart is a willing accomplice.We believe what we want to believe, and are shocked when reality bites. I’m also guessing that, deep down, you knew she’d leave one day, and you’re hurt and jealous that she chose somebody else. But you don’t like to admit that you’ve been duped, and by your very own self. She made no promises, as far as I can tell, so all the fantasies about happy-ever-after were unlikely to become reality. When it comes to secrets and deceit, I suspect that the person most culpable is you – but that would be too painful to admit, so you project the blame onto her. And, of course, it hurts. It hurts like hell. So, just as I don’t buy your line about deceit, I don’t buy the one about not wanting her back. If that were really true, there would be no need for your question: “What are the chances of her new relationship?” It seems disingenuous to me. Really, you’re asking if it will fail, leaving the field open to you. Who knows? I certainly don’t. What I feel, though, is that if she has harboured emotion for a married man for 10 long years, and if her relationship were to fail, that failure would eclipse any feeling she has for anybody else, including you. A grand passion cannot be matched by a man she is merely “very fond of”. So I should hold no torch, lest it burn you more badly than it already has. To help yourself to get over this, I think you need to become honest enough to accept the truth, however much it hurts. You were a charming interlude in her life. You discovered great sex after years without it. You opened yourself up to the possibility of intimacy and got badly hurt in the process. That’s tough, but life and love are tough. It doesn’t mean we should give up. It means that both are better done with our eyes wide open. If you had faced the relationship with greater emotional honesty, you might have recognised that she was bouncing out of a long-term situation and the trajectory meant she might eventually land elsewhere. By her lack of emotional commitment, you might even have intuited that she was incapable of giving her heart to you because it was engaged elsewhere. Why do people do these things to each other? For many reasons – fear, cowardice, lack of emotional honesty. There is, though, a way to stop it. It starts with you. It starts with all of us. I doubt my answer brings you peace right now, but I hope that one day it may   How can I stop behaving so destructively?   May 20 2007 My young daughter has quite substantial disabilities, and I’m separated from her father. Luckily, I have a good job and huge support from my parents. Sometimes this can feel a bit suffocating. I’m 36, but feel like a young girl again with the amount they interfere in my life. It’s hard work and tiring, but I have a close, joyful relationship with my daughter. Her father sees her regularly, and we are very much a part of each other’s lives. There have been times when we’ve been intimate, and lately he’s said he’d like to make another go of it. On very occasional nights out, I’ve met other men. Mainly, it’s drink-induced, and the men are inappropriate – the last was 18. I’m worried about my behaviour, but don’t seem able to stop. I’m also worried that if my ex found out, there’d be no chance of a reconciliation. But if I truly wanted to be with him, surely I wouldn’t behave so recklessly. Should I reconcile for my daughter’s benefit? I also think this behaviour makes me a bad mother. How do I decide whether to go for reconciliation or to let the idea go? Either way, how can I stop behaving so destructively? Your life sounds incredibly tough, and I absolutely applaud your lack of self-pity. Having said that, I think you should be allowed the occasional “poor me” – not in a blast of indulgence, but as an act of empathy. If you were a friend of mine, I’d tell you to cut yourself some slack. So, pretend you are a friend of mine. Put down that bag of guilt and start being nicer to yourself. I suspect you are behaving destructively because you keep such an iron grip on your feelings that the only way you can express your fear, frustration and loneliness (I’m guessing here, so feel free to replace with any suitable emotion) is to become somebody else. Alcohol allows you to do that, and so do men who don’t have you tagged as mother, daughter, wife, colleague or responsible good girl. With them, you are none of those things. Having some gorgeous 18-year-old fancying the pants off you must be balm for an exhausted 36-year-old soul. In the morning, back in the real world, the good mother kicks in and tells you off for being a bad mother. Every mother knows the good mother really well, and we wish she’d sod off back to her make-believe universe. On top of that, the part of you that thinks going back to your ex would provide the support, solidarity and understanding you crave thinks you’ve blown it by being a slapper (I’m just echoing the harsher words I bet you use about yourself). So you start beating yourself up, and the guilt and shame get so bad that the next time you’re allowed out of your cage, you go wilder still to crush those difficult feelings. I’m not saying your behaviour is good – obviously it’s not, because it’s causing you such distress. What I am saying is that it’s not so bad, either. The only person you’re hurting is yourself. Well, you know what you can do about that? You can say you’re sorry. But how do you stop the behaviour? In order to change, we have to do various things. First, we have to understand the emotions that drive us. “I feel like this and so I do that.” Be aware of your patterns. Knowledge is power. Once you have established the source of your discomfort, you have to ask yourself: “Is my behaviour in any sense helpful? Does it make me feel better? Are the consequences worth the action?” If the answer to any of the above is “No”, you need to change. I’m not suggesting you immediately take up yoga and meditation, but you might think of healthier ways to deal with feelings of isolation, loneliness and frustration. You could talk them through with a kind friend or a counsellor, for a start. That’s not self-pity; it’s more self-care. And don’t be afraid of going out and having a good time. Just remember that everything is cause and effect. If you wake up in the morning having had a couple of glasses of wine and a harmless, esteem-boosting flirt, you’ll feel better about yourself because you behaved well. The better we behave, the better we feel about ourselves. The better we feel about ourselves, the better other people feel about us. The better they feel about us, the more attention and admiration they give us. And I’m guessing that’s what you’re in need of. Everything (and everyone) in your life is focused on your daughter – even your desire to get back together with your ex. And I’m guessing that everything that isn’t focused on your daughter makes you feel guilty. No wonder you feel so profoundly neglected that you flip out with drink and sex. As to how to decide whether to go for a reconciliation, you don’t say why the relationship broke down in the first place. If the flaws that existed then still exist now, they’re worth examining. For now, I think you need to concentrate on what makes you happy, in a healthy, rounded sense. If you are happy, your daughter will be happy, too. You are doing your best for her. Try doing it for yourself as well. I'm A Successful Guy, but a Door Mat in Relationships May 13 2007 I’m a successful, highly motivated guy, confident, at ease with my sexuality and blessed with wonderful friends. Yet when it comes to relationships, I’m a total doormat, inwardly screaming from abandonment and loneliness. It took a marriage for me to realise I was gay. Since then, it has been a woeful litany of short-term happiness. There was a wonderful 18 months, during which I financed my boyfriend’s diploma course – and wrote most of his essays – before he ditched me. Two years with a seemingly sound guy ended in his sudden suicide. Six years later, I’m struggling to meet the needs of his elderly and demanding parents – his final letter asked me to take care of them. Two years with another Mr Wonderful, getting him through a nervous breakdown, ended when he dumped me – by phone. All my close friends are happily settled and I’m facing a nightmare summer of civil-partnership ceremonies. There’s loads to mourn, as you can see, and I’m starting to lose sight of the funny, happy, glass-half-full, heart-on-his-sleeve guy who used to be me. It would be a tragedy if I became bitter and twisted, but I feel such a sad bastard and a failure. Please help. It’s odd, isn’t it, how we can describe ourselves and our relationships with such clarity, yet fail to see the patterns we have drawn? It’s as if you’ve put all the dots in place, but can’t join them up to see the full picture. So, perhaps it might help if I join up a few. What seems perfectly clear is that your inner and outer selves don’t match. It’s as if you’re a stranger to yourself. The string of adjectives you use to describe yourself – “successful, confident, funny, happy, glass-half-full” – are so far from the men you choose as intimates, I think you’re in complete denial about your true, or inner, self. I once asked a therapist to define soul mates. She said: “It’s two people who recognise the damage in each other.” So much for romance – but what she was actually saying is that we are attracted to fragilities in other people that we know, often at an unconscious level, we share ourselves. If you really were at ease, you wouldn’t need to go around rescuing people who are insecure, anxious and inclined to melancholia. You wouldn’t need to rescue people at all. So, why do it? Well, when we don’t like our own fragilities, we deny them by painting ourselves as the opposite. We literally deny who we are. It’s called the false self. To strengthen the false self and protect the fragile inner self, we may become compulsive helpers and people-pleasers – anything to take the focus off ourselves and put it on other people. We promote ourselves as Mr or Mrs Wonderful. People don’t dare criticise or question us because of all the good work we do. I am not suggesting this is conscious, but I also think that, as with most PR exercises, there’s an implicit lack of honesty. If we are always focused on other people’s weaknesses and difficulties, it means we don’t have to look at our own. By deflecting attention onto others – “Poor them, look what I do for them” – we stop people seeing us as we are. If we can make people focus on what we do, not what we are, we distract them from the real picture. Now, back to you, and all those apparently vulnerable souls who dumped you despite all the great things you did for them – paying for their education, writing their essays, seeing them through a nervous breakdown, even obeying a call from beyond the grave to care for their elderly, demanding parents. I imagine they got fed up with being in the shadow of a conquering hero. Perhaps they sensed unease in you, too. No matter how great a job we do at constructing a false self, people eventually recognise an inherent lie. On top of that (and this, too, may take some time), they start to resent their rescuer. Nobody enjoys being beholden to another person, particularly in a romantic relationship. Intimacy is the admission of human frailties on both sides. It is an equal-vulnerabilities policy. Once you start rescuing people, you disrupt the balance of power. A relationship may work for a while, or somebody may be so vulnerable that they need help, but once they are strong enough, the rescuer looks like the oppressor. If you want a successful relationship, you need to start with yourself. I suspect you’re so good at denial, you may find this hard. The extreme wake-up call of a marriage to discover that you’re gay might tell you something about the extent of denial of which you’re capable. A course of tough-talking therapy would be a good start. You need to chip away at that false self. It makes intimacy fantastically difficult because it forms a hard, shiny barrier (like the hard, shiny words – “highly motivated, confident” – you use to describe yourself) so people can’t reach you. We all need to be needed. None of us likes being needy. Try to remember that when you are next confronted with the possibility of intimacy. You sound like a very nice man in search of a nice man. Take comfort. You don’t need to look far. He’s right there with you.   My boyfriend is in touch with his ex May 6 2007 I moved in with my boyfriend last year, after huge debate. We’ve both been married before and, while I felt we needed to move the relationship on, he found this quite difficult. We met soon after he had separated from his wife. I had been divorced for two years, and worried about whether he was ready for a relationship, but our feelings for each other were strong. Moving in together has been great and we are trying to start a family. However, I recently stumbled on some letters on his laptop that he sent to his ex during their divorce, asking her to give their relationship another go. He sent them 18 months into his relationship with me. I read them knowing I might not like what I found, but I don’t think ignorance is bliss, having had a bad experience with my ex, who cheated on me and ran up huge debts. I feel upset and betrayed. If she had agreed, I would have been dumped. It has stirred up feelings from my marriage of being second best again. Should I confront him or work through it alone? I want to have a relationship and a family, but does he? You need to talk to him. Don’t think you can work through this alone. How can you? You have only half the information – and a half that is distorted by your own past experience and fears. There are three things that make a good relationship: communication, communication and communication. There are skills involved in that. The most important is to listen dispassionately. We must try to keep our egos out of the picture, because it is our egos that will be shouting, “What about me? Poor me!” Our egos can’t hear clearly. They are deaf to everything but themselves. We have to allow the people we love to tell their side of the story, and not take it personally. I know it sounds mad. If it involves us, how can it not be personal? Well, the situation might involve us, but that does not mean that the feelings do. Your boyfriend was obviously trying to disentangle himself from old emotions around his marriage. Those have absolutely nothing to do with you. His actions, had his former wife taken him up on his offer, would have involved you. But she didn’t. Nor do you know whether, if she had said yes, he would have gone back to her. You only imagine that he would. That is not necessarily the truth. It is only the truth because you see it that way. We must accept that those we love have separate emotional lives that don’t always include us. We must also allow them to work through things in their own way. The more open we are – and that means taking our personal feelings of fear or betrayal out of the situation – the more they will work through those feelings with us. But if we are to do that successfully, we have to allow them to say what they actually feel and not what they think we might want to hear. The truth is sometimes brutal, but better that than a half-truth or a lie. People keep secrets for all sorts of reasons, but usually it is because they are afraid that they will not be understood or, worse, might be misinterpreted. Perhaps you are misinterpreting your boyfriend’s past actions and feelings. Here are the facts. He chose, after long debate, to move in with you. Perhaps that debate involved him disentangling his emotions from a marriage that went wrong? He set himself free, then decided to move forwards with you. Now, you might think the only reason he did so was that his former wife turned him down, so you are second best. Well, how do you know? Did he say so, or are you making an assumption? It sounds as if he was trying to do the right thing. He refused to live with you until he had worked through his past and was prepared to fully commit. I know this was happening while he was involved in a relationship with you, but it was before your relationship involved definite promises. Had he written that letter last week, after he had committed to you and to starting a family, it would be a different thing entirely. Perhaps he wrote the letter in a sudden moment of grief and longing to set the past right. That does not mean it is an emotion he still feels. If we all sat around worrying about what our partners might have felt in the past, we would drive ourselves mad. We all feel certain things at certain times, and might act on those feelings, only to bitterly regret them later when we realise that they were not authentic, but came from some place of hurt. Just because he felt a certain way when he wrote a letter, it does not mean he feels that way now. So, talk to him. Allow him his feelings and his past, but keep your focus firmly on the present. How does he behave now? What do his present actions say? Do they tell you he is telling you the truth in this moment? Your feelings of being second best are your feelings – not his. Ask him to be ruthlessly honest. Does he still want to be with his former wife? If he does, then you have a problem. If he doesn’t, you have absolutely nothing to worry about except your own fears and imaginings. It is those, not an old letter, that might truly destroy your relationship.   I'm In Love With Two Men April 29 2007 I have been in a dilemma, which has driven me to my wits’ end. My relationship has been going for nearly 10 years. Three years ago, we got engaged, but I discovered my partner had cheated on me. He was my first love and meant everything to me. I stuck by him, as I wasn’t ready to leave — physically or emotionally. I love him, but the relationship has been very damaged. Soon after I found out about the affairs, we broke up temporarily and I slept with another man. I became emotionally attached, seeing him on and off for a year, as well as staying with my partner. The relationship got quite intense. I believed I loved two men and could not choose. Not knowing what to do, I broke off the affair and concentrated on mending my relationship with my partner. Then I had an intense reconciliation with the other man, and I am again in a position where I cannot make a final decision. I’ve been having counselling for a year, and have also tried life coaching. I feel as if I’m going round in circles. Help. This is just a hunch, based on your much longer letter, but I’m not sure you’re terrified of making a mistake. I think you’re terrified of being you. You think you’re not enough, so having two people needing you makes you feel whole. You can’t make a decision, because you’re not focusing on the only person who can decide — you. I think there’s a sense in which you love being caught up in the middle of this drama. If you didn’t, you’d put an end to it. So why don’t you? Well, perhaps because, in the still, small voice of silence, you’d have to consider the really serious questions. What do I really want? What do I truly need? What is the meaning of love? What is the meaning of being me? Is it love that you’re feeling, or simply a desperate need for attachment? Sometimes we confuse loving with being loved. Really, your actions are not loving. Love requires kindness, selflessness and a willingness to reveal ourselves completely to another person. That’s what intimacy means. Try it phonetically — “into-me-see”. Which of those men are you allowing to see you as you truly are? Probably neither. I suspect, instead, that you need other people to fix your identity. Here’s an example. You leave, temporarily, the love of your life, who you say means “everything” to you. And in those fleeting few months of separation, you fall intensely in love with somebody else. How is that possible? How can there be space in your heart if your heart is already filled with “everything”? Did you look elsewhere because you were alone and could not bear to be unattached? Could it be that this is about not love, but a fear of aloneness? Well, I’m going to raise the fear level even more by suggesting you don’t choose either of them. Instead, choose yourself. There are no kids involved. You are a free woman. Live on your own. Take six months out from both these men and find out who you are. You need to be ruthlessly honest with yourself, because I suspect you’re good at manipulation. I don’t mean that unkindly: people who don’t know who they are generally are good at it. They need to manipulate other people in order to feed their identity. Keeping two people in thrall takes some manipulation. It certainly takes a lack of honesty. None of this is conscious. I’m sure you genuinely believe you are torn between the two, when in reality your lack of self-understanding is tearing you apart. I’d guess you’ve also been manipulating the counsellor and life coach. You are so frightened of being on your own (and making a choice means being on our own, because nobody can make our choices for us) that you’re asking other people to tell you not only what to do but also who you are. That’s why neither counselling nor life coaching has helped. You are hoping someone else will fix you. You are not prepared to take responsibility for yourself, your life, your feelings or even your future. That’s why you’re writing to me, too, to tell you what to do. Nobody can do that. A therapist certainly can’t. All a therapist can do is encourage us to know our true selves. The best therapist is ruthless. They see the truth in us and reflect it back. They make our feelings conscious — but only if we are honest enough to reveal ourselves fully. From there on, the hard work is down to us. We need to know ourselves in order to make honest choices. Facing up to the truth about ourselves is painfully hard work. Good therapy is not comfort and consolation; it is challenge and confrontation. So I think you need to confront yourself. Take the focus off your lovers (neither of whom you are making happy) and put it on you. If that means being on your own, do it. It is only when we are alone that we find out who we truly are — as well as who and what we truly love.   I'm worried about my mother who is bulimic April 22 2007 I’m worried about my mother, who is bulimic. I am 28, and she is in her fifties. My parents are divorced; my father is an on-off alcoholic. Food is not her only problem — once a month, she drinks herself stupid and phones everyone to say what she can’t when she is sober. As you can imagine, with an alcoholic father and a bulimic mother, I find my relationships with food and other substances are a bit twisted. I have worked hard, and today I’m happy, although I struggle to have a normal relationship with food. My mother openly tells me about vomiting, loneliness and feeling ugly and sad. She is a “hard-core” Christian, while I have found happiness through meditation, yoga and Buddhism. I would like her to open her eyes, but I don’t want to push it. She doesn’t know about my eating disorders, and I don’t want to tell her. I feel like my parents have become my children, and I don’t know what to do. I’m in touch with my father but have had to distance myself for my own mental health; it is not possible for a daughter to cure her father’s alcoholism. I don’t want to distance myself from my mother — she needs me. But can I cure her? You really do have it all going on. I am not, however, going to say, “Poor you.” You’re doing brilliantly. Please tell yourself that, often. Then, once you can see how far you’ve come, try to go a little further. It is important to understand that your mother is not just a bulimic, but a multiple addict. She is addicted to food and alcohol (binge drinking to black out is as much alcoholism as drinking every day) and is dependent on religion. And she is co-dependent. Co-dependency is often central to addiction: addicts can clutch on to other people just as much as to a drug. Multiple addictions are not unusual — an addict may put down one addiction and pick up another, or may have them all going on at once. Addiction, it is said (by addicts), is an attempt to fill the “hole in the soul”, the bitterly lonely feeling that they, as they themselves, are not enough. It is not one problem but a web of emotional disorders, and is nowhere near as simple as it is sometimes made out to be. So, that is the model that you have grown up with and that you have fought to free yourself from. But your mother won’t let go. What can you do? You can love and support her, but from a distance. I don’t mean a physical distance, but an emotional one. We cannot change other people. We cannot make the world a better place for them. Sometimes, we cannot even comfort them. The only true comfort comes from ourselves. We are the only people who can feel happy in our own skins. For some of us, that is tough. We have to learn to love ourselves, but that means facing up to ourselves first, with total honesty and accepting full responsibility for our own feelings. In other words, we have to understand that other people cannot feel our feelings for us (co-dependency), and that we cannot use a drug (coke, alcohol, even food) or an activity (shopping, gambling, sex) to change the way we feel. The definition of full emotional and mental health is that we, as ourselves, are enough. Your mother is not ready for that, but you are. Now, let me ask you a question. Why do you recognise that it is “not possible for a daughter to cure her father’s alcoholism” but still think a daughter can (or should) “cure” her mother’s bulimia? Is it, perhaps, because you’re co-dependent with her? Co-dependency is bound to be an issue for you: you are the child of two addicts. For the sake (as you correctly say) of your own emotional health, you must put some distance in place with your mother, as well as your father. You are not responsible for your parents, nor can you be a parent to them. You can love them, but you can’t rescue them. To help your mother, first you need to understand and heal your own fragilities. You say you are still struggling, and I suspect the struggle is not simply around food. You need help. You can’t do it alone (it is way too hard), so I am going to suggest some ideas. Overeaters Anonymous (OA) is not simply about overeating, but about disordered emotional patterns around food and life in general. Life Works, which I consider the best addiction- treatment centre in the UK, offers an intensive five-day workshop, Life Renewal, designed to “overcome the barriers of a negative past and provide participants with the tools necessary for ongoing growth and healing”. You might also consider Co-dependents Anonymous (Coda), which will help you to understand why you feel so helpless (and guiltily angry) with your mother. It will help you to separate from her, but also love and support her. Love and separation are not enemies; they are healthy companions. It is unlikely that, as the child of a bulimic and an alcoholic, you were taught healthy emotional patterns, so as an adult, you need to learn what they are and how to put them firmly in place. These organisations can help you to do that, and that will then enable you to help your mother. There is a book, too, which might appeal. I wish you courage and much happiness. Co-dependents Anonymous; www.coda-uk.org. Overeaters Anonymous; www.oa.org. Life Works; www.lifeworkscommunity.com. Facing Codependence: What It Is, Where It Comes from, How It Sabotages Our Lives by Pia Mellody (HarperCollins £11.99)   My stepdaughter is choosing her wastrel father over me April 15 2007 My stepdaughter and her boyfriend came to see my wife and me to announce their engagement and ask our permission. We were delighted, but her father has always said that he wants to walk her down the aisle. He has contributed nothing emotionally or financially to her upbringing. We have done that (me for the past 21 years) and put her through private school and university at some sacrifice. She appreciates that. However, her father always plays the emotional-blackmail card. He is one of life’s wasters, becoming voluntarily unemployed when my wife left him — his meal ticket had disappeared. Our daughter is certain he will want to give her away, but she has not yet told him of the engagement. She asked if I would be upset. I’m not going to spoil the day, so I said it was something I’ve always had to face. Privately, I’m disappointed. Do you have any suggestions for an alternative way to give her away? Perhaps we could have two ceremonies, where she is given away by her father at the civic and me in church. Or should I swallow hard and attempt to enjoy the day? I understand that you’re upset, but isn’t this decision down to your daughter? I can almost feel the pressure the poor thing must be under from the tone of your letter. You sound rather forbidding about doing the right thing (asking permission, showing due gratitude), as well as a tiny bit self-righteous about your role over the past 21 years. So, perhaps it’s your ego that’s at the forefront here, rather than your daughter’s happiness. Whenever we feel particularly resentful and self-righteous about somebody else’s behaviour, we need to look at exactly what it is triggering in us. I’m guessing that you’re feeling disregarded and overlooked — all that time, love, effort and money mean nothing. Instead, one of “life’s wasters” gets all the glory, for doing precisely zero. I think you’re wrong. Your daughter has already done you the great honour of getting her future husband to ask you (not her father) for her hand in marriage. She hadn’t even telephoned her father to tell him of her engagement. I suspect she did that to make you happy. Perhaps you might return the favour and make her happy. She is obviously aware that you disapprove of her father, but he is her father and, no matter how he has behaved, these are still the ties that bind. Perhaps this is a promise he made to her long ago, when she was a little girl. It may be a promise that she has held in her heart all that time. I don’t know, and nor do you. I do know that being given away by her father does not undermine the love she feels for you or her gratitude for your nurture. She has already shown that through her actions. She came to see you first, and then she asked you if you would be upset, so obviously she cares about your feelings very much. So care about hers in return. If you start to interfere (and I use that word advisedly) with suggestions for alternative wedding arrangements, you will place her under intolerable pressure. Do you really want to see her unhappy for the sake of your own feelings? It’s bad enough trying to come up with a table plan that will keep all the relatives happy; coming up with a double-wedding plan to keep two warring fathers happy doesn’t bear thinking about. Getting married should involve only two people — and so should the sentiments governing a wedding. The inevitable and wearisome fuss that always seems to attach itself to the day is almost always about other people — their egos, their private battles and resentments. Little of it is ever about — or in the interests of — the two people getting married. A wedding represents love, pure and simple. If you love your daughter, and you obviously do, then the best thing you can do is support her wholeheartedly in any decision. You may think it’s the wrong one, your ego may want to jump up and shout, “Look what I’ve done for you for 21 years, when that wastrel hasn’t lifted a finger,” but what you’re actually demanding from her is a public acknowledgment of your part in her life. In other words, it’s pure showmanship. The most important thing, surely, is to show her privately just how much you love her. If love demands that you take a back seat, then that’s what love demands. The first and most important rule of parenting is selflessness. I’m sure that you know that. What is rule number two? There isn’t one. Personally, I think you should say to your daughter that you would absolutely love to give her away and that, should her father not be able to fulfil that role, you would do it with all your heart. But I do think you can insist on saying a few words at her wedding. Then write the speech of your life, and say it straight from your heart. There could be no greater demonstration of your affection for your daughter than your public declaration of love. It is, after all, what a wedding is about, and it will be a far, far finer thing than to squabble about who walks her up the aisle. I despair of my controlling mother April 8 2007 My mother has an incredibly controlling influence over the family. I go in and out of favour and often sink into a depression during the periods when she blanks me. I recently had a baby, my first child and her first grandchild. I am very keen for him to see his grandparents, but my parenting style is based on gentleness and respect; hers on dominating him. When he cries, she shouts at him and puts him down in the pram. She constantly criticises me for “spoiling” him, handles him roughly and “sports” for a reaction, often tears. I don’t like to leave him with her, although this is what she wants. She even bought a cot so he can stay overnight — never mind that I’m breast-feeding. My brother said that recently she paraded around saying: “This is my baby.” I find this really strange. I have a recurrent nightmare where my mother is shouting at me, and now I have them about her doing this (and worse) to my son. I feel I’ve lived my whole life being afraid of my mother and her reactions. I want to share my son, but not in the way that she wants. What I can comfortably give is never enough. Oh, mothers. There is at least one in my inbox every week. This is not about your son. But I expect you know that. It’s about you being brought face to face with the flawed creature that is your mother. In short, it is about growing up. You can either squabble with her about the best way to raise your child, or you can be an adult and show her exactly how you are going to do it. And how you would like it to be done. People may say, “Oh, it’s just her generation. Parenting styles are different now.” That doesn’t matter. It is your privilege and right to parent your son in the way that you think is best. How she mothered you is her business — sadly, not very successfully, if your depression and nightmares are anything to go by. You have to stand up to your mother. I know that is hard, because she has trained you to adopt the passive victim’s role. You sink into depression whenever she behaves badly, and dominating, criticising, manipulating, shouting at and ignoring you are all bad behaviour. Depression, by the way, is often referred to as frozen anger. Despair is our inability to express the way we truly feel. Now you have a reason to stand up to your mother: your son. I know you are feeling very black. You’re thinking: “What will happen to me if I refuse to share my son?” Try to look at it from a different viewpoint. What will happen to your mother if she’s not allowed to share your son? She will have to learn to behave better. And you are the one who has to show her. She cannot do it alone. Somewhere, your mother learnt that the way to get what she wants is through bullying. You don’t have to forgive her behaviour (that would be false), but it might help if you understood that aggression is often a cover for insecurity. Monsters are never as big or as frightening when we shine the light on them. Fear lives in the dark. You are far more powerful than you understand or believe. So, show your power. Make it clear to your mother that if she can’t play nice, then she can’t play at all. She’ll kick up a fuss, of course, but the fuss (in your case, a spell in Siberia) won’t last long. You’ve got something she wants, and the only way she is going to be allowed to have a part of it is if you let her. When she behaves towards your son in a way that you do not like, ask her to stop. Don’t just do it once. Do it every time. And if she won’t stop, remove your child from her presence. Stay in Siberia for a while, if that’s what it takes. She will come and get you. Bullies cannot bear to be ignored. It’s fine if they have cast you out into the cold, but if you remove yourself willingly, you take away their power. She may brand you as weak or pathetic or whatever emotional manipulation she can think of. Ignore it. She may well send your father to plead her case. That’s fine. Just don’t get cross. You can acknowledge the way she feels — “Oh, I’m sorry mum’s upset/ angry” — but it doesn’t mean you have to do something about it. That’s up to her. The thing to remember is that underneath that abrasive exterior is a woman who loves you and her grandson. She just has no idea how to express it with any grace. Don’t expect her to change overnight. If you behave as somebody who commands respect, you will eventually get it. Once you make a stand, try not to falter, but also try not to have any expectations about the outcome. Accept what comes a day at a time and deal with it a day at a time. Don’t project dark imaginings into the future or become hopeless and despairing. This can be sorted out. Relationships can and do change, but change, whether it’s a bad habit or an unhelpful pattern of behaviour, takes time and persistence. Stick to what you believe in — your son and his future, a good relationship with his grandparents. If you want things done differently, you must be firm in your commitment. Remember what Gandhi said: “Be the change you want to see.”   I left my wife and kids for another woman. Now I want to go back April 1 2007 I left my wife and children for another woman and we got married 18 months ago. But since then, we have had a lot of family issues – we have five kids from previous relationships, all between the ages of five and 11. I left her a month ago in the hope of being with my children, and I’ve been hanging around with them and my ex-wife. But I miss my current wife. I truly love her with all my heart, no question – we have the best adult relationship when we are alone. I don’t know what to do: do I stay with my children and the woman I don’t love as much, or go back to the woman I completely love, but with the kid issues? My children now hope that their mum and I will get together again, and they will be devastated if I don’t come back. I don’t want to hurt them again. Believe me, I would do anything for my kids – I would die for them. But when they are grown up, I want to be with my current wife. I have dug a hole, and no matter which way I go, someone will get hurt. I don’t usually feel cross with people, but right now I do. Selfishness, when it comes to children, makes me very cross indeed. Children have no power. They are forced to endure the choices that adults make. The only power they have is in making their feelings plain, so perhaps it is not surprising that your stepchildren are playing up. They did not choose you to be their stepfather. You chose that role. With choice comes responsibility. It was up to you to choose whether to fight with them or to act like an adult and show patience and understanding in the face of their distress. Instead, you chose to leave. Worse, you went back to the children whose lives you had already disrupted, confusing and hurting them even more. And you say you would do anything for your kids. I hope you mean that, but your letter is entirely about your own feelings. At no point do you mention how anybody else might feel. I suspect that you’ve run back to your own children because they give you the unquestioning devotion that young children are biologically programmed to give – no matter how appallingly their parents behave – and it makes you feel important and wanted. It’s just your protestations don’t ring true. “I would die for them,” you say. If that’s the case, I wonder why you put your own feelings first when you left. Obviously, your stepchildren don’t offer you unconditional love. You’re not their father, but a man who doesn’t want them. I dread to think how they are feeling now. It’s one thing for kids to kick up a fuss, it’s quite another to be left feeling responsible and guilty. Then there’s the emotional and financial mess you’ve no doubt left their mother in, and which they will have to help mop up. As to the feelings of the women involved, words fail me. If your ex-wife is prepared to take you back, then for the sake of your children and stepchildren, you might consider staying. Perhaps your stepchildren are better off without you. Even if you haven’t told them you would prefer it if they weren’t around, kids have a sixth sense. They will know instinctively that the only thing you care about is the “adult relationship” you have when you’re alone with their mother. Well, guess what? There is nothing “adult” about a relationship based on fantasy. The reality is that your new wife has three kids and you knew that, not only when you got together, but also when you promised, “for better, for worse”. As to your own kids, if you do stay, you have to learn to put them first, and their mother, too, whom you “don’t love as much”. Poor woman; I just hope she doesn’t know. It’s up to you not only to make sure that she doesn’t, but to make her feel wanted and safe. How that can happen, after your past behaviour, I cannot imagine. As to how your present wife is feeling, I cannot bear to think, but as you are not prepared to engage with her kids, she doesn’t really have the option of a future with you. What is needed now is clarity. Decide what you are going to do and stick to it. If you go back and forth, the children will learn that nobody and nothing is to be trusted. They will never feel emotionally safe, and if they don’t feel safe as children, how can they learn who to trust and how to have good relationships? Your erratic behaviour is setting them up for potential future misery. All you can do now is try to undo the damage you have done. How you personally feel about anything, including your new wife, is irrelevant. Just don’t keep her dangling, or allow her to fantasise about what you two will be doing in 10 years’ time. It is unbearably cruel to make somebody live in the future and waste their life in anticipation. Be clear and be kind. Don’t make false promises. You have messed up the lives of seven people. The least you can do is tell the truth.   He broke it off but now he keeps texting me. March 25 2007 My boyfriend ended our ‘very full-on’ relationship by phone after a minor argument. I sent him a letter, but got no reply. I find it difficult to move on, not only because I know I would be fortunate to share something as good again, but also because I never had a real explanation for his decision. During our last conversation, he said he didn’t make me happy, I deserved better and he needed to sort himself out — which may have been a way of saying he no longer loved me. As the weeks went by, he didn’t check to see how I was, which I found cowardly and callous. I gave in and sent a text, and he responded with many questions. I kept my reply polite, but resented the fact it was only when I made the first move that he asked me questions he should have asked months ago. Since then, texts have become flirty, always initiated by him. On my birthday, he sent chocolates and a card, and told me (by text) how precious I’ll always be to him. I’m fed up with this pointless texting. How should I finally get over him? I wish I could print your letter in full, as well as the letter you sent to your ex (which you forwarded to me). Perhaps if you could see them in black and white, you might see that it is not just your boyfriend who is sending out mixed messages. Your letters are filled with such painful need and chilly, self-righteous anger that most people would have run a mile. No wonder he didn’t respond to your letter. I’m sure you felt you were justified in punishing him, but when it comes to matters of the heart, resentment never wins the day. I’m also sure the wait for his reply must have been terrible. So, eventually, you sent him a text and got involved in a deathly game of cat and mouse. If you really want to resolve the relationship, either by giving it a second chance or by getting some proper closure, you need to stop hiding, pick up the phone and say: “I don’t understand what went wrong. Can we talk?” Better still, arrange to meet him. You need to do this face to face. You could also say: “I love you and I miss you.” What’s wrong with that? It’s pretty obvious it’s what you feel. It sounds as if it’s what he feels, too. You both need to use open, honest communication and stop the barrage of electronic ticker tape. Yes, texts are pointless. Worse than that, they’re emotionally avoidant behaviour (on both your parts). I hate texts, and I mean I really hate them. They may be fine for making plans to meet up with friends or reminding somebody to grab a pint of milk on the way home, but as a means of communicating emotion, they are a disaster. Here’s an example. You send your ex-boyfriend a text after six months of silence. He sends one back, thinking you are keen and happy to get in contact. You text back, this time with cold politeness. The subtext (literally) is that you are furious he has not asked you “questions he should have asked months ago”. He doesn’t know that. He knows only that you got in contact with him. Can you see the mixed messages? With one hand, you’re holding out a welcome, but with the other, you’re delivering a cold, resentful slap. You need to decide what you want from him. You certainly do sound hard to please. Now that you’ve got him sending cards and chocolates, and telling you how precious you are to him, instead of being grateful, you’re behaving as if he has insulted you. I guess you want to make him suffer, but, really, what’s the point? If you love him, give him a hug; if you don’t, let him go. Love and punishment don’t go together. Has that always been the pattern of your relationship? Something in your tone implies that you think he owes you — and not just an explanation about the break-up. Perhaps when he said he couldn’t make you happy and that you deserved better, he was trying to tell you that you made him feel as though he was never good enough. Perhaps he gave up trying — although he is obviously still attached to you, or he would not have responded to your texts, again and again. If you really want to resolve this (and you’ve written to me twice now, so I am guessing you do), you have to stop laying all the blame on him and look at your own behaviour. You say that you’re fed up with all this “pointless texting”, but I notice you haven’t had the courage to pick up the phone yourself. I know it’s hard to say how we feel, but isn’t it harder to suffer like this? If you want an explanation for his decision to end the relationship, you should ask him. If you want to get over him and move on, tell him you made a mistake and you want to stop all contact. And if you love him, tell him. Stop hiding behind letters and texts, and speak up. It’s amazing what miracles a little love and honesty can achieve. I left my boyfriend but went back. Now he treats me like dirt March 11 2007 I’m 25, and I feel I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. I was 20 when I met my first love. His controlling nature meant things often had to go his way. Despite that, we loved each other intensely. I loved making him happy, as it made me happy, too. Last year, to his distress, I broke free and left him. This meant I could finally do the things I wanted, such as dress as I please and go where I wanted without criticism. I had a few flings with people who made me feel like a goddess. Now I’m a slave to him again and have become a recluse, cutting off all ties with friends. I’ve put on one stone, my self-esteem is low and I’m an emotional wreck. I planned to travel the world this year, but have no desire to do that any more. He has me right where he wants me. I still love him and want to marry him. Although we sleep together, he insists we are not a couple and wants to take things slowly. I lied about the men I was with and can’t tell the truth now. Deep down, I know he still loves me and I would give my life to him. I don’t know what to do. There’s something frightening about your letter. You live in fear and shame. You can never be sorry or guilty enough. No matter the years when your boyfriend’s needs and happiness came first or that he drove you away through his controlling nature. No matter that he criticises, manipulates and withholds affection. You still want more. I suspect the reason he wants to take things slowly isn’t that you hurt him and he cannot trust you (although I bet that’s his line), but that he wants to punish you.And still you call that love. I know it’s considered heart-stoppingly beautiful in romantic fiction to say “I would give my life to him”, but, frankly, I think it’s sick — sick as in an unhealthy relationship, sick as in a wounded balance of power, sick as in an injured sense of self. But it is not — and I cannot say this enough — anything to do with love. We should not give our lives to others (think what a terrible burden that is): we should share our lives with them. I’ve written about addictive relationships before and get many letters on the subject. It seems that some of us confuse strong emotion or a deep attachment with love. Yes, love is a strong emotion and a deep attachment, but it is also kind, forgiving, compassionate and, most of all, selfless. So, there are four words that sum up love. Can you use any of them about your boyfriend? If we love in a healthy way, we are kind to each other. If we love in an unhealthy way, we try to control each other. We might control through indifference (but using unpredictable acts of tenderness to keep somebody hooked) or through sly and undermining behaviour. There are more subtle ways to control people than brute domination. My favourite therapist calls people like your boyfriend “vampires”. They suck all the life, energy and beauty out of those they say they love. Now, your concern is to see clearly both your boyfriend and the damage he inflicts on you. Look at the list you use to describe the way he makes you feel. I’ll paraphrase: lonely, cut off from the friends who love you, scared, depressed, overweight, filled with regret, unable to tell him the truth, guilty and ashamed. And still your heart is telling you that you love him and want to marry him. Well, it’s not your heart that’s speaking. It’s your need — a profound, corrupted, addictive attachment. Why? Perhaps because he has locked into something in you that believes love is about control. You are happy, you say, if you make him happy. Your needs come second. But if you don’t value yourself, you cannot expect to be valued by others. I don’t mean that in a narcissistic way (“because I’m worth it”), but because a balance of self-love (or self-worth or esteem) is healthy. So, what should you do? In the short term, go on that round-the-world trip. Break off all attachment. Behave as if he were a dangerous drug and just say no every time you feel a destructive impulse to reach out to him. It will be hard at first, but the more you practise, the easier it will become. Don’t think you can’t do it — you’ve done it before and enjoyed it. It means no texts, e-mails, or midnight drinking-and-dialling. Find some of those men who make you feel like a goddess. You are a goddess. We are all goddesses and deserve people in our lives who make us feel that way. In return, we owe it to the people who love us to make them feel beautiful, too. In the long term, think about some counselling and read one of the books I suggest below. They describe the difference between healthy and unhealthy relationships and suggest ways in which to love well. And take care of yourself. Somebody needs to. And if not you, then who? Helpful reading Is It Love or Is It Addiction? by Brenda Schaeffer (Hazelden £13.99); Escape from Intimacy: Untangling the Love Addictions: Sex, Romance, Relationships by Anne Wilson Schaef (Harper San Francisco £7.12); How to Break Your Addiction to a Person by Howard M Halpern (Bantam £6.62).   Why do I have difficulties finding the right person? March 4 2007 I am a 41-year-old man and have never had a serious relationship, although I have plenty of female friends. Until now, it hasn’t bothered me. I’ve travelled, pursued my hobbies and always believed that marriage and children happen at other times. You mentioned two things in a previous column: “holding out for emotions that are truly felt” and “the most extraordinary things can happen within a few years”. I’ve been waiting for the past 20 years, and have begun to wonder why they haven’t happened. I’ve tried the personal columns and internet dating, but my Ms Right simply hasn’t come along. I’ve suffered from poor self-esteem. I attended an all-boys school, so may have been rather shy in the company of women, but hopefully I’m over that now. Should I hold out for those emotions or be more proactive and continue paying fees for internet dating sites or even join a dating agency, at greater expense? I wonder why I have difficulties in finding the right person when other people find it easy, at lesser expense. People say that when you meet your Mr or Ms Right, everything falls into place. Do I accept that the gods above may be against me in my mission? Gosh, you sound sweet, if a little serious. Love is not a project or a deadline to be met. It cannot be calculated or paid for. It is sweat, blood and tears. It is flawed and ungovernable. It requires compromise and risk, sometimes with a dubious return. It is, above all, human. And it requires that we be human, that we take risks and make ourselves vulnerable to many experiences, not all of them perfect. It requires that we kiss a few frogs (practice makes perfect) on our way to the prince. Let me rephrase that — on our way to the princess. I don’t know why women are considered the romantic sex. Every dyed-in-the-wool romantic I’ve ever met has been a man. And that’s what I think you may be: an unreconstructed romantic. Are you sure it’s Ms Right you’re waiting for, or could it be Ms Absolutely Perfect? Are you, perhaps, so frightened of flesh-and-blood emotion that you are waiting for some shining princess to trip down your garden path? For the true romantic, something (or somebody) better is always waiting just around the next corner. Ms Pretty Fabulous may be standing right in front of the true romantic, but she’s totally eclipsed by the future Ms Perfect. Perhaps I’m wrong about you, but the alacrity with which you seized on those phrases from a previous column suggests I’m not. If you remember, they were made in response to a woman who was considering having a child with a man for whom she felt such vague affection, she didn’t even like kissing him. Now that really is not holding out for an emotion that is truly felt. It is grabbing onto somebody (anybody) out of a fear of the future and of being alone. You seem to have the opposite problem. You are waiting for an emotion that is so truly and perfectly felt, you can’t mistake it. You want true love. Plain old love just won’t do. Your fear is not about the future. It is about the present and about making a mistake. In answer to your question about why you find it so difficult to meet the right person when other people find it “easy, and at lesser expense”, I think it’s simply that other people are more open to experience. They are willing to take risks, make mistakes and generally mess up. I suspect you’re frightened of being messy, perhaps because it locks into your feelings of low self-esteem and shyness. Mess means vulnerability and being out of control. It means that people see you as you are, rather than as you’d like to be seen. To experience that true emotion I was talking about, we have to get messy and take risks. We have to open ourselves up to rejection as well as to possibility. We have to lose our shyness (which is simply fear of other people and not being thought good enough and is, in itself, a form of self-absorption) and reach out to others. In short, if we want to partake, we have to take part. So, yes, pay the expenses on internet dating if it gets you out and about, talking to flesh-and-blood women rather than waiting for a dream. You need to practise that vulnerability I was describing. You need to make yourself available, and that means you and not just your body sitting in a chair. Dating services are a facility, not a promise. All they do is speed up the turnover of people we meet. They are also good for teaching us how lonely, fallible and vulnerable we all are. Nobody is exempt. They teach us to reach out to people rather than wait for people to come to us. And who knows? That other phrase of mine you jumped on, that “the most extraordinary things can happen within a few years”, may just come true — if you allow it to. Believe me, the gods above are on your side, but only if you remember that you are most emphatically human. Remember, too, that time exists only in our minds. There is no right or wrong time for love.   My elderly parents recently announced they have disinherited me February 25 2007 My elderly parents recently announced that they have disinherited me. Everything goes to my brother and his wealthy wife and children. I’m in my thirties, single, living in a rented flat and unlikely to have children. They’ve given me no reason. My brother’s view is: “Relax, our parents are mad. Whatever they’ve decided, it’ll be 50-50 between us.” However, his wife has expressed a fondness for their house, and my guess is that I won’t see anything. My relationship with my parents is back to “normal” — which means we haven’t discussed the will. My parents are ageing rapidly, and my brother lives abroad. I can’t foresee him or his wife doing anything for them. I get the impression they expect me to take on their care single-handed, while leaving my brother a small fortune. They seem to expect me not to mind about being disinherited. I have suffered from depression in the past, and all my parents do if I show negative emotion is to inform me that I am mental. Their mental-health records are way longer than mine, incidentally. I need a practical solution to the problem. How do I get my parents to change their mind and avoid the elder care? I’m not sure this is about money at all. I think it’s about feeling abandoned emotionally. In your longer letter, your parents do sound — as your brother says — rather mad. You describe how your father, who is constantly redecorating his house, gave you a wrapped-up box of “some of our lovely things for your flat”, which you later discovered to contain a used, broken lavatory seat. That would be funny if it did not make you so sad. Eccentric might be a kinder word for your parents, but, unfortunately, eccentricity does not make for great parenting. That, I think, is what the “practical solutions” you crave are all about. It is not so much that you want your parents to change their minds about giving you their money. You want them to change their minds and give you the love and attention you crave. On top of that, it may be that you resent caring for them because they have never cared very well for you. I might be wrong, of course, but there’s such a strong note of self-pity and resentment in your letter that you sound more like an abandoned child than a woman in her thirties. Please don’t take that badly. There’s a lost child in all of us. I feel great empathy for you, because I believe you may be suffering from a failure of care on your parents’ part — hence your inclination to depression and helpless negativity. I am not sure what you mean by your parents having mental-health records “way longer” than yours, but I suspect that if they have struggled emotionally, they have never been able to give you the full attention and care every child needs when they are growing up. Parents who are unable to put the needs of their child before their own — for whatever reason — may bring up a child who is emotionally needy and prone to depression. If, on top of that, you have inherited depressive tendencies (depression does have a genetic liability), then you are unlikely to be able to see them clearly as elderly people to be pitied — and loved. Instead, they have become people who are deliberately trying to withhold their attention and affection, and the money has simply become a symbol of that. In purely practical terms, if your parents are ageing so rapidly that they will soon need full-time care, and they have sufficient funds themselves, the state will expect them to pay. So I doubt there’ll be much money left. On top of that, your brother has said he will split whatever there is with you. In other words, you seem to be worrying over a problem that hasn’t yet happened, and may never happen. Another harsh reality is that this is their money, not yours. Stop thinking it belongs to you by right. In particular, stop believing it’s going to bail you out. That keeps you living in some mythical future, not making plans for the present and your own financial independence. If this isn’t, at heart, about money, and what you’re actually asking is how you can get your parents to give you the love and attention you so badly crave, the harsh answer is that you may never be able to. You have to accept them as they are and stop expecting them to change. If they are as eccentric and self-involved as you make them sound, they are never going to. Take the focus off them and put it on you. Help yourself. I suspect, because your viewpoint is so remorselessly negative and self-absorbed, that you may still be suffering from depression. Your resentment against your parents as well as against your brother (who sounds very sane and nice) and his “wealthy wife” is so symptomatic of the depressive’s attitude of “poor me, everyone’s against me” — I suffer from depression periodically, so I know it well — that it might be useful if you got help from a good therapist. Then, perhaps, you could get some emotional perspective on your parents, rather than taking their eccentricities so personally. You might even, one day, laugh at the gift of a broken loo seat.   How do I find the courage to tell my ex-boyfriend how I feel about him? February 18 2007 I wonder if you could help me get over my fear of revealing my true feelings to an ex-boyfriend. We broke up 18 months ago, having dated for about 18 months, because his work commitments meant we never got the chance to spend any time together. He felt he was being unfair to me and I felt lonely and let down. My self-esteem and confidence were at their lowest. The decision to break up was mutual, and painful for both of us. Despite that, we remained close friends and, about a year ago, I asked him if he would be my boyfriend again. He said he loved me, but couldn’t bear hurting me again, because his circumstances had not changed. I said I couldn’t stay friends, because I still had such strong feelings for him. We parted, but recently he e-mailed to say he missed me and wished he could make me happy. We saw each other, but didn’t discuss it — we were too busy having a laugh and the matter never arose. I still love him, but I’m scared of being turned down again and feeling like a fool. How do I find the courage to tell him how I feel? It seems to me that you love him more than he loves you. That’s the bottom line. He obviously likes you. He probably loves you, but what he is actually saying is: “I love you, but . . .” Pay attention to the “but”. As a wise woman once said: “In any sentence that starts, ‘Yes, but . . .’, everything after the but is bullshit.” The work commitments might be real enough, but the excuses are bull. If he wanted to be with you, he’d be with you. If he wanted to call, he’d call, no matter how busy he was. We always find time for the people who are foremost in our heart. And you, I’m afraid, are not. That does not mean that you are not in his heart. It simply means that you don’t come first, and that, I suspect, is where you need to be. As you said in your letter, it’s what drove you to leave him in the first place. He simply fell into line. Yes, he was upset. He was also aware of your loneliness and feelings of neglect, but was not prepared to do anything to change his behaviour. He felt the same way a year ago, when you asked him if he wanted to be with you. You were clear you could not be friends, but he broke the agreement and contacted you via e-mail. Does that mean he has changed his mind? I have never thought e-mails are to be trusted. They are too easy. A sudden moment of loneliness. A quick tap on the computer and a message is sent. An e-mail is a false intimacy. If you really want to know how somebody feels, stand in front of them, look directly into their eyes and ask them. Eyes don’t lie. Words do. It might have meant more if he had said something when you met. Were you really having such a laugh that the matter never arose? Or were you burning to ask while he was burning not to tell you, and so avoided intimacy with laughter? I wish I could give you courage. I know how frightening it is to hear somebody you love say no. I wish I could take your hand and say to him: “Look, what exactly are your intentions towards this woman?” Instead, you have to ask him. Let’s put it another way. You are in agony now. You have already said you cannot be his friend and see his smile and know it is not intended particularly for you. If you ask if he’d like to get back together and he says no, you will be in agony too. Which agony is preferable? The first is relentless. The second is sharp, but will fade with time. I wonder, too, if the real reason you can’t find the courage is because, in your heart, you know he’s going to say: “I love you, but . . .” A bigger concern might be that he says yes without meaning it wholeheartedly. I suspect it’s his concern, too, which is why he turned you down six months ago. He genuinely does not want to hurt you, and senses his power — that subtle imbalance of love. He might feel happy about being with you, at least for a time. But then work will take over, or whatever other concern happens to be uppermost in his mind, and he’ll be distracted from the thing you really want — his full attention. And you know what? It’s not good enough. A half-hearted love affair is never good enough. It is a gilded cage, half pleasure and half prison. It holds us back from the world and the full-hearted lover around the next corner. So, screw up your courage and tell him how you feel and what you need. Tell him your truth and ask him to tell you his — in full. Ask him to spell it out, if necessary. It may be that you need to hear every little detail, however painful. It is far better to live with the whole truth than to live with part of it, because our minds hang onto the stuff that is left unspoken and play havoc. Whether he says yes to you or no, if you share true intimacy and proper respect with each other, there will be real comfort in that. My boyfriend asked me to move out of our flat February 11 2007 My boyfriend recently asked me to move out of our flat, which he owns, saying he wanted some space to work through the problems in our relationship and to escape the fierce arguments that had become common. I rented out my flat to move in with him, but the tenant still has six months left on the contract, so I’ve been forced to move into a shared house with strangers. My boyfriend insists that I am the love of his life, and has asked me to stay with him while we try to sort out our relationship, but he believes we cannot do that while we are living in the same house. My parents and some of my friends are saying he has been disgustingly inconsiderate in throwing me out just so he can have the luxury of “space”. I still love him and, while I was not unfaithful or dishonest, I can see that many of our arguments were my fault. Should I wait around and try to persuade my boyfriend that we can live together again? Or should I write him off as a selfish man and move on with my life? It does sound pretty rough, being kicked out of your own home, but let’s try to look at what your boyfriend is actually saying. Parents and friends accuse him of being “disgustingly inconsiderate” — an emotional, knee-jerk response that is not terribly helpful. Righteous indignation may be understandable and even momentarily satisfying, but it’s also pointless and destructive. It’s all too easy to storm off in a fit of rage. It’s far harder to stay put and examine the situation from every angle — rather than from the blinkered viewpoint of an angry and defensive heart. So, you need a cool head and an honest heart. Let’s look at your behaviour first, because it seems to me that one’s own self is always the best place to start. I wonder why there were so many fierce arguments? You don’t say, although you do recognise that many of them were your fault. That’s undoubtedly the first step in repairing the relationship, but a more profound second step would be to work out the triggers that provoked those arguments in the first place. Was it insecurity that made you lash out? Does he make you feel neglected or jealous in some way; and, if so, how? Often the triggers to arguments are found in our own emotional make-up and, truly, have little to do with the people who provoke them. We make assumptions about other people all the time. We act as if we are clairvoyant about their minds and hearts, when we have no idea what they are really thinking or feeling. We also expect them to be clairvoyant about us. We may, for example, react angrily when what we’re really feeling is abandoned, neglected or overlooked. All they see is our anger, not our sadness. In turn, they react angrily too, and all good, loving communication is lost. We forget to tell the people we love how we really feel. We feel that the love of our life should mysteriously know exactly how we feel, and are upset when (surprise, surprise) they don’t, because we haven’t actually told them. It seems to me that your boyfriend is trying to get past the miscommunication and drama of the past few months and impose some cool space to save the relationship. He’s certainly managed to get your attention. Distance has forced you to look more clearly at what’s been going wrong. At the same time, the message he is giving you is loving and positive. You are the love of his life. He would like the relationship to work. He wants you to look at the problems together so that you can move forward — together. What he hasn’t done is end it in a fit of rage and angry words, though he was desperate enough to suggest a radical solution. It might seem unfair that he has stayed in the flat and asked you to leave. Was there another practical answer? Could he have afforded to leave, rent somewhere else and pay for his property, or should he have asked you to stay and pay? What would have been the fairest and most workable solution? Perhaps you think he should have tried to sort things out with the two of you living under the same roof. Perhaps he did, and it provoked angry responses from you, and yet more arguments? Perhaps this was the only way he could think of to make you stop shouting and think? I’m not sure he has been selfish, although I agree that, at first glance, it looks that way. I think he has been clear. That cold clarity has certainly focused your mind. So, now he’s been clear, what about you? Do you want the relationship to work? Is he the love of your life? Are you prepared to tell him how you feel when you’re upset, rather than provoking an argument? If aspects of his behaviour upset you, can you tell him without blame or shame? Can he tell you? In a nutshell, are you both prepared to be truly intimate? It may sound as if I’m saying that the fault is all yours. Actually, I’m saying the opposite. I think it’s entirely in your power to make this relationship work. He may have asked you to leave, but he’s left the door wide open. It’s up to you whether you want to step back through it and join him. Why can't  I stop being horrible to men who like me? February 4 2007 Why can’t I stop being horrible to men who like me? I’m 26 years old, and have been single for two years after a dysfunctional and sometimes mildly abusive relationship ended. Before that, I was the mistress of a married man for three years. I was happy with our arrangement — I now realise this was because I had all the perks of a relationship without the reality of proper commitment. I don’t know why I’m like this. My single friends moan about the lack of nice guys, but I’m always looking for the next Mr Unobtainable or Mr Nasty. I don’t even pretend I want a nice man, and I don’t want a relationship. I want to conquer the bad guys and move on. It’s these silly games that I live for, but how long can I play with people like this? I admit I’ve had my heart broken, but it made me stronger as a person. Now I’m almost too strong, too cold. I care only about having fun, and as soon as the games stop, I run away. I don’t want to be this cold and dismissive. I want to stop hurting people and being a bitch. On the surface, this looks like rare honesty. You admit to being a cold-hearted bitch and playing the age-old male game of “treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen”. And yes, it works — in a limited way. It gives you a sense of power that makes life exciting, if only fleetingly. Except that, after a while, it stops working because it is false and ultimately meaningless. It brings us nothing that, at heart, we want. You say you don’t know why you behave like you do and give me no clue in your letter, except to say that you adore the chase, but as soon as you get a man you like, your personality switches, and where you were loving and warm, you become “cold, arrogant, rude and dismissive”. It looks to me as if it’s not men you despise, but yourself. You despise them for loving, or even liking you because, deep down, your opinion of yourself is terrifyingly low. You believe that anybody who can’t see past that tough, confident exterior to the mess inside must be a complete fool. The choices we make say much more about us than they do about the people we choose. Your choices say that you’re terrified of intimacy and hooked on power because your self-worth is so low. It’s the only way you can feel better about yourself. If somebody wants you, you must be good enough. Except that you don’t feel good enough, so you only allow them to get as close as wanting you physically. Any attempt to get close to you emotionally and you’re kicking up dust. Despite your tough words, I suspect you’re a bit of a sweetie. As to why you’re so scared of showing men who you really are, you’re the only person who can answer that — and the only person who can fix it. The way to do that is to concentrate on the most important relationship we can ever have, which is with ourselves. You’re using men to avoid yourself. What appears to be honesty is surface and fake, much like the image you present to the world. The only honesty you need to summon is to, and about, yourself. Until we love ourselves, it’s pretty impossible to love somebody else. To answer your question — how you can stop being horrible to men who like you? — the first thing to do is go cold turkey. Don’t have a relationship of any sort, even a mild flirtation, for the next year. You are not only using men, you are using them as if they were a drug. You do that to avoid the way you truly feel. Put the drug down and see how it feels to come face to face with yourself. If that’s too hard, think about getting some therapy. I suspect that some of this is down to patterns of behaviour learnt in childhood, and those are tough to look at, let alone undo, on your own. Try to be nice to yourself — and I don’t mean indulging yourself with a new pair of Jimmy Choos. I mean treating yourself with the kindness and love you would show to a close friend. Have some respect. Tell that nagging inner critic to shut up. Understand that you are doing your best and that your best is perfectly good enough. Ask for help. Don’t think you have to be perfect all of the time, or even part of the time. Try to be a human being instead of a human doing. I know our culture pretends otherwise, but the most attractive quality we have is our vulnerability. Think about it. Think about who you love: Miss Glossy-exterior Perfect or Miss Bit of a Mess but Trying Hard? So drop the tough-girl act. You’ll have to if you’re putting any of the above advice into action. Spend the next year trying to learn how to have friendships with men, which, at heart, is exactly the same as having friendships with women. When it comes down to it, the only thing we all crave is to love and be loved. Life is about connection. It’s the only thing we have. Everything else is mere posturing. Does he want to marry me, and does he want kids? December 24 2006   I’m a divorced mother of three (the youngest is 15). My partner has never been married, and we’re both in our late thirties. He regularly tells me that he loves me, and that he’d like us to stay together, but whenever marriage is mentioned, he clams up. I’m in no hurry, but we have been to a few weddings lately, and his friends are asking when we’re planning to tie the knot. He just ignores them. They say he needs a kick to make him realise what he’s got. Then there’s the issue of kids. He loves them, but says he isn’t sure. The longer he leaves it, the less chance he has of becoming a father. What is his problem?   I don’t know what his problem is, or even if he has one. I’m guessing that it’s actually more your problem than his. The things that truly bother us about other people are usually the things that bother us about ourselves. There’s something in your tone when you say that you are in no hurry to get married that tells me you’re not being entirely honest — hence the friends you keep quoting. It is making your boyfriend nervous. Nobody likes to feel pressured, particularly about a subject that should be private, and the more pressure you put on him, the more he’ll clam up. You are careful to say it’s always his friends, not you, bringing up the subject. Is that true? Or are you putting out such strong signals that they’re picking them up? And if you’re really not bothered, why are you writing to me? You could just come straight out and ask him: “Would you like to get married and have children?” If you can’t be honest with him, what basis is there for a future relationship? I’m concerned that you’re allowing this to become an obsession. I think you need to challenge yourself, in case your need for a public declaration of love causes him to run screaming in the opposite direction. Why is his private word not enough? You say that he wants to be with you, that he loves you and tells you often. He is thoughtful and caring. He has accepted your children, which is an act of love in itself. What more do you want? Perhaps I need to rephrase that. Why do you want more? These are just my thoughts, by the way, and questions that you might want to ask yourself. Marriage is not a binding contract, as you are aware. You are divorced, so you know perfectly well that marriage is no guarantee of a happy ever after. Why don’t you concentrate, instead, on loving him well? If you do that, trust me, he will never want to leave your side. Loving well is a far greater guarantee than any marriage certificate, but you cannot love him well if you keep putting a distance between the two of you with your anxiety and unspoken demands. Sometimes what we don’t say makes the loudest noise of all. As for children, he has been honest with you. He has said that he is not sure he wants them. You don’t mention either of your financial situations. Perhaps he thinks he can’t provide for more kids. Perhaps he wants to focus on the ones you already have. Perhaps he doesn’t want any. I don’t know. I do know that, if you want more children, this is an honest conversation you need to have with yourself long before you discuss it with him. You keep putting the burden on him. “The longer he leaves it, the less chance he has of becoming a father.” Is that true? He’s only in his thirties. He can become a father at any age. You, however, cannot become a mother again at any age. So, perhaps this is actually about you. Do you really want another child, or is it a way of binding your boyfriend to you? You know that doesn’t work, and it’s the worst possible impulse for bringing a child into the world. So be honest with yourself and think it through carefully. If you really want another child and he doesn’t, then that’s another problem entirely. Or perhaps you’ll say that having a baby with him and getting married is a declaration of love — which takes us back to the beginning. He says he loves you. So, what exactly is it that you want? My advice is to realise that this is about a lack of security in you, rather than a lack of love or commitment in him. Relax. You are seeing marriage as a goal, a place you have to get to, but you don’t need to get to a fictional place. You are already there. You have love, companionship and true affection, as well as three children. What else is there? I suspect that once you relax and enjoy being with him, he’ll ask you anyway. Or he may not. Don’t turn it into a big issue. Accept him as he is and be grateful for what you’ve got. Love doesn’t happen every day.   December 17 2006 I'm 33, single, and I pine for a man I can't have. He is good-looking, charismatic and witty, but happens to be married with two children. We met abroad, and there were a couple of occasions when something might have happened, although it never did, but the chemistry was strong and the attraction mutual, I think. I’m back in the UK now, while he’s still abroad — although not for ever. I think about him all the time. Without his marriage and kids, he would be my perfect man. It’s stopping me from meeting anyone else. We keep in contact and are as flirtatious as ever. A friend said, “Men can leave their wives”, but this isn’t exactly a moral code to live by. Should I pursue it, or try to forget him? I guess you know that I’m going to say you’re behaving like an idiot. You’re so blinded by your own desires (although I suspect it’s actually neediness) that you’re in complete denial about what actually happened — which, it seems to me, is precisely nothing. The dismissive way you say he is married with two children, and that without his marriage and his kids he would be your perfect man, tells me that you’ve lost touch with reality. He cannot — and will never — be without his marriage or his kids. Even if he becomes an ex-husband, his marriage will be a part of his emotional make-up, and he will be a father for ever. He will never be the man that you have invented — unencumbered. Even if he did leave his wife, as your friend suggests, he would be laden with so much baggage, the weight of it would make your eyes water. Is that what you truly want? You’ve got to love somebody big time to take on that burden. And it is a burden, particularly if there is a furious, betrayed wife in the background, perhaps determined to deny her ex access to his children. Contrary to popular mythology, men are no better than women at being deprived of their children. Have you ever seen, let alone loved, a man who has been forcibly separated from his kids? It’s enough to make your heart break. It’s certainly enough to distract him from focusing on you, and that’s obviously what you’re after. Your needs have blinded you to the truth. Why are you so desperate for love that you have created a fantasy? Say that you did get together. What then? Do you have the maturity to take on somebody else’s kids? Do you have the selflessness to put your own needs aside and address his broken heart, let alone the broken hearts of two children? A divorce, however amicable, always breaks hearts. Where children are concerned, the heartbreak is magnified a thousandfold. Those young hearts will mend if given due care and attention, but they will need to be treated with great sensitivity. And that means their father putting them first, before you. And what of the woman this man “happens” to be married to? I’m not big on the sisterhood or blind loyalty, I’m just big on people and not causing them deliberate pain. Now it may be that the marriage is already busted, which is why this man is looking elsewhere. If that’s the case, and if the connection between you is as strong as you say it is, he would have told you and given you some reason to hang around in the wings. But it doesn’t sound as if he’s said any such thing. You “think” the attraction is mutual, but you don’t know. In other words, he’s given you no assurances, but is instead tucked up safely in his side of the marital bed and having a bit of fun in the playground. Chemistry does not mean he’s looking for a relationship; chemistry means he wants admiration and attention. Personally, I think that sort of behaviour stinks, but that’s because I think it’s so manipulative. He knows you’re on your own, and obviously vulnerable, and he’s manipulated you into a state of such emotional fervour that you’re already writing his name next to yours. Is that honourable? Can you love a man who likes to play with other people’s affections? Perhaps you don’t care about such things. Perhaps the wife and kids mean nothing. But I suspect that you do care, which is why you’re writing to me. Just as I suspect that if you did pursue it and land him, it would be a victory so hollow that it would leave an indelible taste of ashes in your mouth. That’s no way to start, let alone maintain, a good relationship. So do the right thing, for yourself as much as everyone else. Delete his numbers. Stop messing around on e-mail. Get on with your life. Go and play with some nice, single, available men. He knows where you are. If there really is anything between you, then one day, once he’s cleaned up his side of the street, he may come and find you. In which case you can meet him halfway, with integrity and self-respect.   I'm 20 and he's 41. Is he too old for me? December 10 2006   I’m 20 and he’s 41. Is he too old for me? I fell for him instantly, but we weren’t sure what people would think, so we decided to keep it a secret. Once our relationship became physical, though, and my feelings got deeper, I blurted it out to my friends. They were shocked by his age, but supportive. Seven months on, we are still seeing each other. We are in love, although he’s convinced that it will end in heartache. He has never been married, and doesn’t have children; yet he fears I’ll resent him if we end up together. I can’t imagine being truly happy without him. Should we put ourselves before everyone else or put our feelings aside for the happiness of others? Your last sentence implies that you’re a little too caught up in the drama of the situation. Say that you put this man aside. Would you expect other people to feel happy about your unhappiness? Do you think they even have the imagination to know how you would be feeling? And if they did, and they love you, what do you think they would want to do about it? Nobody can live our lives for us, just as nobody can inhabit our mind or our heart. They may want to, particularly if they are a parent, but what they actually want is a guarantee of happiness for their child. And no sensible person thinks that’s possible. I doubt your parents will be thrilled. They will feel suspicious of this man’s intentions. They may also feel suspicious that he has reached his forties and never married or had children. At least, as a parent, that’s what I would feel. I would need to be reassured by meeting the man in question and by witnessing his and my daughter’s happiness and balanced intentions. I would also like the relationship brought right out into the open, to see how it would survive the pressures of daily life. The more you hide, the more heightened the atmosphere will become and the less perspective either of you will have on it. The less light you shine on it, the less you will be able to see what this man truly means to you and whether you truly love each other, or whether secrecy has blown an infatuation out of all proportion. Love needs fresh air. A good relationship is like a flower. In order to grow well, it needs sunshine and space and room to breathe. In the dark, it grows tangled and complicated and develops out of all proportion to its true nature. So, tell your parents. You say elsewhere in your letter that you have a good relationship with them. Why spoil it now with secrets and lies? The truth may put a strain on things, at least temporarily, but it will do far less damage in the long term than not being open and honest. The reaction of your friends should have shown you that. Once the initial shock and curiosity were past, the details of your life blended right back into the wallpaper. I suspect that if anyone is going to come out badly from this situation, it is your older lover. I have a feeling he knows that, which is why he is trying to keep his distance. There is nothing like a fresh, young mind to make us feel older than our years. Now, he may be an exception. He may like clubbing, he may have the energy to stay awake until the early hours, he may love the erratic enthusiasms and impossible vigour of the young. He may even be able to keep up. You may find his concern with paying the bills and the mortgage and eating in decent restaurants, rather than grabbing a bite on the run, charming and reassuring. You may not grow bored with being with somebody who needs their sleep and likes to be tucked up early, or becomes irritable when they are facing a hard day’s work on less than eight hours. I am not being patronising. These are real concerns, but you are unlikely to encounter them until you make the relationship real. They may also take a while, even a few years, to make themselves felt. I have seen a close friend go through something similar with her daughter, who fell in love with a man 20 years her senior. At first, the friend was concerned about her daughter’s happiness but, three years later, her daughter is growing bored and feeling the claustrophobia of her lover’s age. Now it is the lover about whom my friend is concerned. He obviously loves her daughter, but is unable to give her what she craves — the company and enthusiasm of youth. The less he can do that, the more unhappy he becomes and the more her daughter pulls away. So, you see, it works both ways. If you are convinced by this relationship, then follow your heart. Just keep it open and honest, and take things gently. Tell your family, get past the secrecy and the drama, then see where this path takes you. If it works out, then wonderful. If it doesn’t, and you have both acted well, then you will be able to part with sadness, but without regret.   My partner left his wife and kids for me.Now he wants to go back. December 3 2006 My partner left his wife and kids for me. I knew he missed his kids terribly, but I thought we were happy. Then one of his children refused to see him if he was living with me. The family came up with an ultimatum — the kids or me. He said if leaving me was the only way to be with his boys, that’s what he’d have to do. He also said that if he had to make it work with his ex-wife, he would. I told him that I loved him and didn’t want him to leave. I left it a week, then sent a text. Eventually, he texted back, saying he loved me. The confusing thing is, he also says he needs his boys. It isn’t clear where I stand. It’s breaking my heart. Should I just let go? Should you let go? I think that depends how strong you think the relationship is, and whether it has any future. It needn’t be an either/or situation. I suspect it needs time for his kids to feel safe again, and a great deal of strength from you to try to see things from another perspective. At the moment, because it’s all so new and painful, you’re stuck in black-and-white thinking. Perhaps you need to hang around in the grey area for a bit. From the kids’ point of view, this is not about you personally. You simply represent the person who took their dad away. They want him back. The only way they know how to do that is to say he has to choose. Right now, that’s probably your boyfriend’s only option. He needs to separate from you to reassure his kids. That doesn’t mean it’s always going to be the case. In your longer letter, you say he has gone to live with his mother. He has chosen a neutral place, to show his boys he is available to them. What he hasn’t done is go back to the family home as if nothing of importance has happened. Obviously, something of importance (you) did happen, so when he says that he misses and loves you, it is the truth. And, yes, of course he needs his boys. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t need you; it means he is a man capable of huge love and loyalty, for which I think you should be grateful. Personally, I’d be a lot more worried about a man who could leave his kids without a backward glance than a man who wants to do right by them. I know you feel abandoned, but try to see things from his perspective, and his kids’. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how important a father is to his children, or how much their relationship with him will affect their future happiness and emotional health. As for a relationship with his ex-wife, it’s an important consideration. Children suffer far less as a result of divorce if their parents can maintain a friendship. All this will take time. It depends how much you’re prepared to give it, and how much you’re prepared to put your own feelings and needs aside. And that’s what you will need to do, if you truly love and want to be with this man. He needs to put his aside, too, at least for a while — and that is just what he is doing. So, you see, it’s not about you, or lack of love or feeling. Rather, it’s about a man doing the right thing. After a time, when the boys are feeling more stable, you might suggest the two of you start seeing each other quietly. There is no need to make a fuss about it, just as there is no need to sneak around. He lives separately from them, so does not need to lie. Nor does he need to tell them the truth until the two of you are sure your relationship has a future. Once his boys understand that you are not going to take him away, that there is more than enough love to go around, and that you make their dad happy, they will probably accept you as a good thing. Whether they do that or not is up to you. If you stay in the background and act with loving kindness and compassion towards your boyfriend (and, by extension, his children) while he is going through this difficult time, he will truly love you for it. So, one day, will his kids. Whatever you do, don’t ask him to choose. It’s too great a burden to put on somebody. And why would you want to put someone you love in such a difficult place? You don’t say whether you want to have children of your own soon. It may be that you don’t want to take on somebody else’s kids in addition. It may be that you feel you can’t wait, or will feel too lonely having a part-time relationship, at least for a while. These are practical considerations that only you can resolve. All I can say is that if you want to be with this man, it sounds as if it’s entirely possible. It will take a great deal of patience and love and honesty on your part, and on his. Right now, I’d say: do nothing but act with love. Time will tell and time will heal.   Should I marry my lovely but unexciting boyfriend or wait for true love to come along? November 12 2006   I’ve got back with my old boyfriend. I finished with him after four years, because there wasn’t enough chemistry. But he is kind, funny and intelligent. When we split up, I hurt him deeply. Since then, I’ve spent three years internet dating and had an affair with a married man. Now I have slipped back into seeing him, but I don’t feel much when we kiss. Sometimes, I’d be happy not to kiss at all. My problem is that I want children. Although I still have a few years, I don’t know whether to finish it or stay with him, work on the sexual side and have a real companion for life. I think sex is important and I am worried about my potential to stray. I could wait another 10 years and still not find the right man, or I could settle down, but worry I have missed out on true love. Does such a thing even exist? You started your (longer) letter by asking me what I think. I think that he is in love with you, but you are not in love with him. I think that you love him and value him hugely, but as a friend for life rather than a lifelong sexual and emotional partner. You feel no passion for him. Passion is not simply about sex. It is an overwhelming desire to be with somebody, not just in the moment, but for as long as we can imagine breathing. It is the urge to be truly intimate with somebody, body and heart. If you did make your life with your boyfriend, would you always feel guilty, knowing that you did not match his love? I wonder, too, what would happen if somebody came along for whom you did feel true passion. As you say, sex is important to you; after a few years of lifeless sex, you may find that it is more than important, it is overwhelming. What if, by then, you had two small children? Could you say to passionate love, “No, go away, I made my choice. The life that I have is not only good enough; it is enough”? All this makes me sound like an unreconstructed romantic. Actually, I’m not. I think romance, or the myth of the happy-ever-after, has ruined more lives than reality ever did. I am not an advocate of “true love”, in that I don’t believe we should make another person wholly responsible for our happiness. I do believe that we should have the courage (and the kindness) to hold out for the things we truly believe in and emotions that are truly felt. You say you want children. But do you want this man’s children? Having kids isn’t an end, as your letter seems to imply. It may be where all the true-romance books stop, at the marriage and kids and the happy-ever-after. What then? Life doesn’t dissolve in a haze of pink smoke. In a way, it gets much harder. Having kids is a big deal. We don’t always get it right, but it seems to me that we should start out with absolutely the best intentions. If we think, in our deepest hearts, that the relationship that is going to make those children is not right, then I think we have to look at it, and ourselves, with lacerating honesty. Children grow up and leave. It’s our job to teach them how to do that, with happy confidence. That starts much earlier than you would ever believe — in that first moment they go to school, the first moment they turn away from us and towards their friends in the playground. They are their own people, and the imprint they leave makes a child-shaped hole. That’s where our adult relationships are truly important, because that’s when loneliness or need or the other difficult emotions we are prey to really kick in. That’s when we need our partners most. You say (in your longer letter) that your boyfriend will always be there for you. But will you be there for him? That intuitive sense of doubt you are feeling now may get stronger as life knocks you about a bit. And it knocks all of us about. If you can’t take pleasure in a kiss now, will you take comfort in one in 10 years’ time? Or will you be turning away with barely concealed impatience and a brisk “Not now, darling”? You haven’t, to be terribly honest, been very kind or brave so far. You’ve been drink-dialling a man you know cannot resist you, and you’ve gone back to him in a spirit of disappointment after a few dreary dating years, rather than out of a true desire to be with him. I’m not saying you’re a bad, cruel person. I do think, though, that you are confusing need with love. You are also confusing feeling loved with feeling love. You say you have a few years left before kids become an issue. The most extraordinary things can happen in a few years. The most extraordinary things can happen tomorrow. I think you owe it to this man, whom you love, but are not in love with, to make a good choice, rather than a good enough choice. If you can commit to him with your whole heart and body, then go for it. If you can’t, then allow him to have a life with somebody who truly can.   My sixteen year old daughter has moved out and blames me   November 05 2006   My 16-year-old daughter has left home. She has moved out to live with a friend in a rent-free flat. She would not discuss it but blamed me for making life at home uncomfortable.  We had a very good relationship but over the last few months she has become a difficult teenager.  The hardest thing is that she has turned against me and become very vicious and attacking. I am in a state of shock and deeply distressed.  It has also been humiliating, as it has been done in a very public way.  Her father and I are separated and he has helped to drive a wedge between us. I cannot bear the thought of losing her. She is my only child, born after another child died suddenly and unexpectedly. I feel I have to make the moves and accept blame because she is very stubborn yet I feel so betrayed and angry with her for treating me with such contempt.  I think if I don't handle the next few weeks carefully she will just cut off from me. I feel for you. I have a teenage daughter, who is also an only child. I am also separated from her father. So, what should you do? Absolutely nothing. Do not react. Above all, do not allow your anger to show. Behave lovingly and gently at all times and allow your daughter to work out her distress in her own time. If she is vicious and attacking, she is likely to be in emotional pain. Humiliating you is a way of keeping you at a distance while she tries to establish her identity and sort out her problems. If you react, you will make her feel guilty and ashamed (which she is no doubt already feeling, even if it doesn’t look that way). Behaving badly to those we love always makes us feel ashamed. The more ashamed we feel, the more we run from the person who makes us feel like that. So don’t respond, but don’t cut off communication either. Stay in contact, but keep all contact loving, compassionate and non-judgemental.  I asked my own teenager how someone of her age might be feeling. She said, “It’s probably not about her mum at all. It might be a problem with a boyfriend or a friend. And if it is about her mum, it might be because she’s too smothering. The worst thing she can do is be cross or take it personally. If she does that, her daughter won’t come home because she won’t feel safe.” Okay, so that’s the teenage view. Here is mine. I think you need to stop focusing on your daughter’s behaviour and start looking at your own. A relationship takes two people. The breakdown of a relationship takes two people. We all have our part to play, however much we don’t like to look at it. We especially don’t like to see our own faults. For that, we need a level of humility most of us are not prepared to entertain. We like to hang onto our resentments and sense of entitlement. Sadly, that does us little good. I mentioned humility in a previous column and had a barrage of furious (some might say, spiteful) letters. They took me aback until I realised that they were confusing humility with humbling oneself - or grovelling. They are two quite different things. One definition of humility is “a lack of false pride”. False pride is to do with ego. When we show humility we take our ego out of the picture so that we can see things more clearly. At the moment, your ego is feeling betrayed, angry, humiliated and abandoned. That will prevent real clarity because all you can hear is, “It’s not fair. How dare she. What about me?” Just look at your sentence, “I feel I’ll have to make the moves and accept the blame.” The grudging way you say that is your ego talking, as in, “it’s not really my fault, it’s hers, but I suppose I’ll have to eat humble pie.” Now look at your own behaviour. Might it have contributed to the split with your daughter? Have you perhaps been over protective or inclined to smother? Did the terrible grief of losing a child cause you to place too much responsibility on your daughter’s young shoulders? Does your daughter feel guilty that she can never make up for what you have lost? Is your relationship with your ex-husband so sour that your daughter is stranded in some hostile no-man’s land between the two of you? I notice that she did not run to her father, but chose the neutrality of a flat with a friend. Obviously, there is a lot more to this situation than your daughter suddenly becoming “a difficult teenager.” Please don’t level that accusation at her. It will simply make her feel that you don’t understand. It is difficult to be a teenager, a mess of emotions and hormones. Adolescence is a time fraught with the need to establish identity and independence and to separate from our parents. We might do that by rebelling or by (temporarily) hating them and everything they stand for. We might, even, run away if we feel we cannot escape from their imposing presence in any other way. So do try and put aside your own feelings of betrayal, anger and humiliation and treat your daughter with compassion. I know that’s tough but tell me, what would you rather hold on to? Your anger and resentment, or your daughter? How Do You Leave Somebody When You Don't Want To? October 29 2006   He’s the first man I slept with, but we are growing apart. I’m 19 and he was a friend I met at university. It was great at first, and I’m really attached to him. Lately, we haven’t seen each other much — he hardly calls, and when we do meet, instead of spending time together catching up and talking, I end up drunk and sleeping with him. I’ve been obsessing over trying to fix things. I have a strong tendency to stress out and get depressed, and I’ve had a rough few months because of it. Some friends say dump him, others say talk to him, but I always chicken out, or he acts nonchalant or makes me laugh. How do you tear yourself away from someone you don’t want to leave? Do I have to make myself hate him?   No, of course you don’t have to make yourself hate him. That would be childish, as in: “If you don’t love me (do what I want/ be what I want you to be/behave in the way I think you should behave), I have to hate you.” What is there to hate? It sounds as if he’s trying to let you down gently and take things back to where you started, as friends. He hasn’t called much because he is trying to put a distance between you. That may not be brave of him, but his intentions are good, even if his methods are lousy. He is frightened of hurting you. He would like to keep you as a friend, but doesn’t know how. His nonchalance and jokes are a way to avoid telling you something he knows you don’t want to hear. You don’t want to hear it because, at heart, you know what it is. The reality is, you don’t want to face the truth. But you both know the truth. He doesn’t want to express it. You don’t want to hear it, so you get drunk and jump into bed with him. Really, it’s not the best way. It is meaningless, avoidant sex, which leaves us feeling shabby and empty, because we know we are not sharing real intimacy, but using sex to avoid real intimacy — which is telling each other the truth about the way we feel. And he is going to say yes to sex. He’s a bloke, and I bet you’ re gorgeous. That doesn’t mean he wants to be with you, it just means he wants to shag you. If he wanted to be with you, he’d have made a lot more effort than he has been doing recently. So you need to accept that. But there’s a lot more invested in this, because you started out as friends and, perhaps, eventually that’s the way you would like to be again. If that’s the case, then you do need to talk to him, in an adult way. That means asking him to tell you truthfully how he feels, and accepting his reply without bursting into tears, blaming him, getting angry or running away. It will hurt less once you hear the truth. The thing that has been stressful for you is not knowing. The philosopher Nietzsche said: “It is not fear that drives people mad, but uncertainty.” Being clear is always the best way. So sit him down and ask him to be straight with you. Don’t avoid the truth or difficulty. Avoidance simply sets us up for more problems. All those unspoken truths have a habit of hanging around and poisoning relationships. He can’t say what he feels, you can’t bear to hear him say what he feels, so you both end up avoiding each other, and what could have been a good friendship ends up wasted. I know how much it hurts to admit that somebody does not want to be with you. But that is a part of accepting that we can’t always have what we want. And that, I’m afraid, is life. You need to step back a little and see that this is not personal. I know that sounds mad (what is rejection, if not personal?), but he’s not saying that he doesn’t value you, he’s saying that he can’t connect to you in the same way that you would like to connect to him. It does not make you less lovable. It just makes you feel less lovable. There is a world of difference in those two statements. I know it’s tough. Every single person reading this knows how tough it is. We’ve all been there. So how do you stop the feelings? By accepting them and behaving with grace and dignity, which restores self-worth and self-love in a way that hating somebody never can. Hatred is toxic. It poisons and corrodes you much more than the people at whom it is directed. Here’s another quote for you, because that’s the kind of mood I’m in this week. It’s from the Buddha, who said: “Hatred does not cease by hatred, but only by love; this is the eternal rule.” He does not mean that you have to love your boyfriend when that’s the very last thing you’re feeling. That would be false. It means that you have to behave with love, and by behaving in this way, you will not only experience compassion for others and how they might be feeling, but, perhaps just as importantly, you will feel compassion for yourself. And if there is any single antidote to stress and depression, it is compassion.   My Wife Doesn't Want Sex October 22 06   I thought I had a reasonably happy marriage (despite many ups and downs). I’m 58 and my wife is 48. We have two lovely teenage boys. Four years ago, however, my wife announced that she didn’t fancy me any more, and that any physical relationship was “a thing of the past”. Sex has always been important to me — and, I thought, to my wife. I feel like I’m in no man’s land — we’re together and not together. We still share a bed, and have agreed to stay together until the boys leave home. Neither of us is seeing anyone else, although we are increasingly developing our own social lives. It’s like a knife through the middle of our marriage. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, and get depressed and feel a bitter resentment towards my wife. I have tried to get her to see a relationship counsellor, but she refuses. It is such a waste. She seems perfectly happy to carry on, and surprised when I want to talk things over.   Your letter is more of a declaration than a question. I suspect you are appealing to me to give you some insight into my gender and our — as you see it — baffling behaviour. I am assuming, because you don’t say otherwise, that your side of the scorecard is squeaky clean and that your wife’s attitude is not based on built-up resentments over some behaviour of yours. I am also assuming that there are no underlying issues, such as health problems or depression, both of which can play havoc with anyone’s sex drive. As to the behaviour of my gender, this is going to win me no friends, but I think there’s a real female myopia about the importance of sex in a relationship. I am always astonished by women who are outraged when their man goes off and shags somebody else after enduring four or five (often more) pretty barren years — or, in other words, almost constant rejection. What did they think would happen? I’ve lost count, too, of the number of times I’ve heard a lack of interest turned into a funny one-liner: “Oh, God, he wants sex again. That’s the second time this year.” It is different, of course, if there are young kids. There is no greater prophylactic than a set of toddlers. I know we all get tired as we furiously multitask our way around kids, careers and chores, but it seems to me that avoiding sex with someone you love is the same as avoiding talking to them. It’s an emotional deal-breaker. Sex is where quarrels are made up, confidences are shared and understanding is profoundly enjoyed. It is, if you like, a communion. Sex is a huge part of intimacy. When the urge to have sex — to couple, to use an old-fashioned phrase — with somebody disappears, the urge to be intimate dies a little too. I know there are couples who say they enjoy successful sex-free relationships, but they are rare. The decision is always mutual, too. When it’s not, it often turns out that they are deceiving themselves. Crank up the speed a bit, expose a flaw in the relationship that seems entirely unconnected to sex, and the wheels come right off the bus. Lack of sex is not simply an issue: it is the issue. Your wife acted unilaterally in banning sex. There was no discussion. She won’t talk about it. She acts surprised that you think it is important and refuses to see a relationship counsellor. It is not simply that she is refusing to have sex; she is refusing to have intimacy, full stop. It seems that she feels the relationship has come to an end. That’s sad, but it happens. What’s sadder, for both of you, is that she feels unable to say so directly. When people are in denial about their feelings (men also withdraw sex or lose interest, although not as frequently), or find revealing themselves (in every sense) too difficult, they may load the problem back onto their partner: “Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Sex is not important. It’s just one part of the marriage, not the whole thing.” The point is not whether sex is (or isn’t) important. The point is that it’s a rejection of intimacy — and that, obviously, is what you are feeling so keenly. For your wife’s part, it is, I’m afraid to say, quite a hostile and cowardly way to end a relationship. It is designed to make you feel ridiculously demanding, push you away emotionally and avoid being honest about how things stand. You say you’ve agreed to stay together until the kids leave home. That’s fine, if you can bear it. You’ve already spent four years in a sexless, loveless marriage (and her refusal to communicate or help you out in any way is loveless) and, at 58, you don’t want to be hanging around. Four years of impasse should tell you you’re not going to solve this. Better to accept and move on, if not physically then at least emotionally. If you are wondering whether you have the right to feel depressed, then, yes, of course you do. Try, though, to work on reducing your feelings of bitterness and resentment. They are useless, self-sabotaging emotions that cloud our judgment and blind us to reality. If the reality is that your wife no longer wants you, then there is another reality to consider, too: somebody else will, and very much.   I Don't Know How To Be Happy October 15 2006   I am 26, and used to know what I wanted and followed my dreams. Now I feel that life isn’t giving me true happiness. I’ve struggled with different addictions — food, drugs and alcohol — although not to extremes, just a quick fix that makes you feel a whole lot worse later. I’ve put on a lot of weight, can’t sleep and smoke weed before going to work. I know what I should do, but can’t make it reality. I get bored easily, and find it hard to concentrate. I’m a perfectionist, but can’t get a grip. I’m scared that my depression is taking over. I’d love to be a free soul and not worry. All I do is work and worry, eat and drink and feel awful. I’ve tried meditation and yoga, but, though I get excited, it doesn’t last and I’m soon back to bad habits. I’m a mess, but want to find a way out.   I think you’re looking for answers in all the wrong places. Let’s start with your first sentence. Life doesn’t give us happiness. We make our own happiness. Life is painful and difficult, with moments of contentment and bliss. That’s not personal. It’s just life. It is up to us what we do with it. Right now, you’re expecting things to give you happiness — food, drugs, alcohol, even yoga and meditation. When they don’t give you what you want (rather than what you might actually need), you get bored and give up because you’re not actually engaging with the process. Life is a relationship. There’s us and there’s life. You wouldn’t sit around expecting a lover to tend to your every need and not give anything back in return. He’d either fall asleep out of boredom or push off. It’s the same with life. As for depression, you may be mildly depressed, but I suspect that’s more out of inertia than anything else. We need to keep our minds stimulated in the way we need to keep our bodies active, to keep them happy and content. Think of your mind as a baby. If you gave a baby too much food, fed it sedatives such as drugs and alcohol, and didn’t bother to engage with it or stimulate it, you’d have a pretty sad baby. Well, I think that’s what you’ve got — a sad baby. So now you have to start behaving like a good parent. Addiction is an expression of discontent. You don’t like your own world, so you try to change it. You attempt to alter your reality. You say your addictions aren’t extreme. A spliff before work sounds pretty extreme to me, and it’s a rubbish way to start the day. You’re really not giving yourself a chance. There are better ways to change your reality. Here are a few, proven to be effective by psychologists such as Martin Seligman at the Positive Psychology Centre at the University of Pennsylvania. The first is: count your blessings. Make it a daily habit, before you get up in the morning or before you go to sleep. Let’s start with the morning. Before your head starts moaning about what a drag work is, and you reach for the weed, think: “Somebody thinks I’m good enough/talented enough/clever enough to employ. They actually want to pay me money for what I do.” Then, before you load your body with processed carbs and sugar at the local Starbucks (probably a given, after all that weed), try thinking: “My body is young, strong and healthy. Lucky me.” Practise every day for six weeks — the time it takes to make, or break, a habit. It’s not a new idea. Every spiritual tradition, from the Buddhists onwards, employs it, and with good reason. Making a daily gratitude list (I do it in my head, every morning, before I meditate) has, frankly, miraculous results. Next, practise an act of kindness every day. Seligman discovered that a single act of kindness makes people feel far better about themselves (for a full day) than any transient act of pleasure, such as buying a new pair of shoes. He calls the feeling it inspires elevation. An act of kindness might be asking the man who runs the local newsagent how he is, rather than slamming your money wordlessly on the counter. It might be standing aside to let somebody pass, instead of barging past them. When we think about how other people are feeling, we stop concentrating so hard on ourselves. We expand, rather than contract, and the world expands along with us. We can change our whole day (and other people’s) with a single kind word, or ruin it with an angry exchange. By thinking outside of ourselves, we stop thinking about how life isn’t giving us happiness and consider how we might give a little happiness to life. Finally, please, stop being a perfectionist. In my book, it’s just a polite way of saying control freak: “My way, or no way.” We are not supposed to be having a perfect experience. We are supposed to be having a human experience. When we are human, we don’t mind messing up. We don’t have to be the best, because good enough is just fine. So, get out there and be human. Experiment, try new things and make your own happiness. Authentic Happiness: Using the New Positive Psychology to Realise Your Potential for Lasting Fulfilment by Martin EP Seligman (Nicholas Brealey £15). Prof Seligman’s website is www.authentichappiness.sas.upenn.edu     My Mother is Critical and Overbearing October 8 2006   My mother is critical and overbearing, and thinks nothing of gossiping viciously about me. I have had my down times, when, sadly, my life revolved around wine bars and one-night stands with totally inappropriate men — seeking love, approval, affection, whatever. My mother knows everything, good and bad. Recently, I met a lovely man. My mother criticised him nastily, which she does every time a man gets close to me. Then she told him about my “sleeping around” and drinking, saying I would use him and kick him out. She told him not to tell me about this conversation. She did the same thing with my ex-husband. Friends say she is jealous. My boyfriend and I are getting married next year. I have never been happier, my drinking is moderate and I’m calm and content in a way I’ve never been before. My mother lives three minutes away from me, and is nice and normal to him now, which makes me want to be sick. I know she is my mother, and I should forgive and forget, but it is screwing me up.   It is impossible to unravel a mother/daughter relationship in a few words, but here goes. There are contradictions in your letter. Your mother makes you sick. You live three minutes away from her. Why? She is a vicious gossip, but you confide your intimate secrets. Why? She has done appalling things for which she has not apologised, but you must forgive and forget. Why? Would you live near a friend and confide intimate secrets, only to have them thrown back in your face, yet continue to believe you should love her, and forgive and forget? I doubt it. So why do you expect that of your mother? Why is she in any sense different from any other person on this planet? Because, of course, she is your mother, and that gives you both licence to conduct an unhealthy, co-dependent relationship in which you wind each other up to intolerable emotional levels. You really want my advice? Separate yourself. Stop being a child seeking approval and support. Set up some boundaries. I would even go so far as to say move house, if that’s possible. This is not running away. It is removing yourself from a toxic situation and giving yourself the space and distance to get things into perspective. You say, in your long, intensely complicated and resentful letter, that you have done some therapy, most of which focused on your mother. You say you have suffered from alcohol dependency and depression. You have a pretty insatiable need for approval. In other words, you are looking at yourself honestly, which is fantastic. Now do the same thing for your mother. Look at her clearly, in all her (obvious) damage and pain. Try to see where it might come from. Perhaps a difficult relationship with her own mother? Perhaps an overwhelming need for love and attention? We can seek attention by acting the good girl (you, always trying to please) or the bad girl (your mother). Both come down to the same thing. We feel unloved and overlooked. Our desperation to get noticed leads us to behave in ways that may be damaging (you — getting drunk, having one-night stands) or destructive (your mother — gossiping viciously, interfering in other people’s lives), but certainly get attention. Don’t try to forgive your mother — try to accept her. Drop the “shoulds” and “musts”, as in: “I should forgive her and I must love her, because she is my mother.” Look at her as a person, not your mother. See her faults. Look, too, at her virtues and strengths. Seeing the whole of her makes accepting the whole of her easier. Next, accept that she can trigger you because she knows all the right buttons. When she presses a particular button, try to see it with humour — “Oh, look, there goes that button.” Work on disabling each button, disconnecting them one by one. It takes time, sometimes years, but it is possible. We all have mothers, and they are rarely who we would like them to be. There’s the problem. We would like them to be some mythical, all-loving, all-approving, all-perfect being, instead of just another flawed and fragile woman. See your mum for what she is and, within that acceptance, you may find peace. You are presently in a perfect position to do this, as you are in a healthy relationship that makes you feel loved and accepted. You no longer need her love or her approval to survive, because you are no longer a child and have found that elsewhere. Your mother, however, may feel unloved and lonely, so she turns to the person to whom she has the greatest connection — her daughter — and, in her confused way, tries to get your attention. Of course she is jealous. You have left her and claimed your own life. She is not jealous of what you have. She is jealous of what she no longer has — your unquestioning love and devotion as a child. She does not know how to let you go or relate to you as an adult, perhaps because her own relationships with adults are difficult. So, this one is down to you. You cannot change her. You can only change yourself and your responses to her. Once she discovers those responses or buttons no longer work, she will give up trying to press them. She will have to find another way to relate to you. This time, make it your way.   I'm Still in Love With My Ex-Girlfriend October 1 2006   Just over two years ago, I met someone. We quickly “clicked” and, for six fantastic months, seemed destined to be “soul mates”. I had been alone for some time, so I really tried — flowers, cards, compliments and so forth. She says I am a “man in a million”. Then she met up with her previous boyfriend and, sadly, had a few intimate dates before asking forgiveness. I took her back and tried to find out why she went back to someone who had been uncaring, unloving and, at times, abusive. Over the past 18 months, this has happened six times. We have tried counselling, for both of us and for her alone. The only explanation is that when she was a young teenager, her mother left and, subsequently, her father threw her out of the house, which led to her having a nervous breakdown — a situation she finds too painful to discuss. We are not seeing each other, but I long for the amazing early months of our relationship. Is it too late? Should I, as my friends tell me, move on?   I think there are two separate issues going on here — you and her. First, you. You sound like a really nice man, perhaps too nice for the present circumstances. You are generous, sympathetic, reassuring, forgiving and prepared to go into counselling with a woman who has cheated on you, not once but six times. She says you are a man in a million, but before you go getting too happy about that, what she is also saying is that you don’t rock her world. She is telling you that you’re so damned nice, you’re her brother, best friend and counsellor, all rolled into one. Which is great, if that’s what you want. Sadly, you don’t. So, what do you want? Where are you in all of this? What are your needs, desires and passions? You don’t mention them once. Where is your own sense of self? Are you in the habit of rescuing people? Sometimes, that can be a pattern of behaviour we fall into because it makes us feel better about ourselves. It sounds as if your identity has got so wrapped up in this woman that it has got lost somewhere along the way. You’ve ended up as a strong, manly shoulder to cry on — except that it sounds as if there is no man attached to that shoulder. I’m not saying that women only like manly (as in mean) men. We are not, despite all the publicity telling the world otherwise, keen on that particular model. But we do like men who have a strong sense of their own identity and who don’t always indulge us when we behave badly. We like parameters: the ability to say no speaks of a confidence that inspires respect. The occasional stop sign is no bad thing. All I’m saying is that you haven’t exactly been setting yourself up as a boyfriend. You sound, instead, like a girlfriend; and, much as we girls love our girlfriends and crave their kindness, sympathy, understanding, support and so on, we don’t generally want to shag them. Now, her. It sounds as if you are dealing with a woman who learnt about love the hard way, and so only truly responds to men who treat her in a hard way. From what you say, she had a bullying, abusive, uncaring father, not to mention being abandoned by her mother. So this is what she knows. Damaged love is ingrained in her. At the same time, she knows that’s not right. She knows that kind, decent men like you are right. So she is torn. She wants to be in a healthy relationship, but she is drawn to her unloving, abusive ex. On the one hand, she has a man like you, who doesn’t know how to say no, and on the other, she has an ex who only knows how to say no. She is lost somewhere in the middle. So what does she do? She goes back to the thing that she knows — her ex, or damaged love. But you love her, despite all that. She is your “soul mate”. A therapist once told me that soul mates are simply “two people who recognise the damage in each other”. You might want to think about that, and your own issues around relationships, before you wade back into the wreckage. If you do decide to get back into the relationship, you need to be crystal clear what you want from it. That means being very definite about your own wants and needs, as well as hers. It may also mean asking her to do some seriously hard work on her issues around men, love and relationships. This will be very painful and difficult for her — and you, too — so she will need support. That does not mean indulgence: the two are very different. Tough love means sticking to boundaries, and seeing her ex is a boundary violation; asking for forgiveness and not respecting that forgiveness is a boundary violation; trashing any mutual agreement is a boundary violation. If she is up for it, and you have the strength and the energy to see it through, then you may feel it is worth a try. But don’t forget that she is hard-wired to go in an entirely different direction. Right now, it is damaged loving that rocks her world. She has a lot of learning to undo and, in that process, you stand the risk of getting hurt over and over again. Your friends do have a point, you know. Sometimes it is better to move on.   Letting Go of The Ex September 24 06   I had an unhappy marriage that ended five years ago. Even during divorce proceedings, my ex-husband declared his love in a bullying way, often in front of the children. He said he didn’t want to be divorced, but his pattern is to promise that things will be different, then revert to manipulative and selfish behaviour once the crisis is over. Now he lives with someone, but denies it because of the CSA. He has also failed to disclose that he rents out our old family home, which he insisted on keeping, while I had to buy a house and work full time to support our sons. It hurts me to think how badly he has treated them, saying they must take responsibility for themselves, when he is clearly unable to do the same. I’ve tried to talk to the boys, but they don’t want to know. I feel responsible because I began divorce proceedings and had an affair towards the end of our marriage, which my ex-husband knew about and allowed to continue, making sure our sons were aware of it. I’m hoping you will say what a terrible man he is because I feel I’ve done everything wrong and permanently damaged my sons.   This is your second letter to me, and both have been so hugely tangled up with guilt, shame and furious detail about your ex-husband, it is difficult to get to the heart of the problem. But I shall try. I can see how much you’re suffering, but I have a feeling that it’s not just guilt that is keeping you trapped, but your inability to let your ex-husband go. The interest you take in him shows how much power he has over you. And you’re giving him that power, through your obsessive focus. Your sons are obviously trying to put it in the past, but you won’t, and you won’t let them, either. Perhaps he is a terrible man — I don’t know. But I do know that things are rarely as black and white as “he’s bad, I’m good, end of story”. Yes, he did you wrong, but you did him wrong, too. And please don’t say: “But I only had an affair, whereas he did all those other terrible things.” Why did you have an affair? Why did you tell him? To hurt him, I would guess. You have both behaved badly and not, I think, out of hatred, but out of distorted love. Your marriage sounds so mixed with need, passion and abandonment that you ended up manipulating each other, just to get a response, however horrible. And your affair was, I suspect, pure manipulation. This sort of furiously enmeshed relationship has a name. It’s called co-dependency. You can get help to understand it, which might mean you could lay your marriage to rest, once and for all. Melody Beattie, the author of Codependent No More, describes a co-dependent person as “one who lets another person’s behaviour affect him or her, and who is obsessed with controlling that person’s behaviour”. I know you don’t think you’re trying to control your ex-husband, but if you look hard you’ll see that you are, by constantly ruminating on him and co-opting your sons into agreeing with you about how badly their father has behaved. Here are a few more characteristics of co-dependency: “An exaggerated sense of responsibility for the actions of others. An extreme need for approval and recognition. Lack of trust in self and/or others. A tendency to do more than their share, all of the time.” Does it sound familiar? You need approval and recognition even from me. You want me to tell you that it’s not your fault. You want approval and recognition for the damage you have been done. You don’t trust yourself or your judgment. Then, after blaming your ex-husband through the early part of the letter, you suddenly turn all the blame on yourself and take on far more than your fair share. Try to let go of whose fault it was. Constantly dwelling on it keeps us locked into that hamster wheel running in our heads. We stay in pain when we stay in fault and blame. The boys want to move on. That’s your role: to be a present mother, not an embittered and guilty ex-wife. Help them. Live by example. Stop worrying about the damage you feel you have done and start acting with love, compassion and acceptance. Show them the way to a better truth. You can’t do that if you’ re paralysed with guilt, shame and blame. Those are destructive, corrosive emotions that will do neither your sons nor you any good. Try to accept what happened and accept your ex-husband. That doesn’t mean forgiving his behaviour; it simply means accepting him as the flawed, self-centred man that he is. It might also help to look at your behaviour, not with blame, but with compassion. You got it wrong. We all get things wrong. Let it go. Turn your head to the future and try to get it right next time. Looking at your weaknesses and strengths will help you to develop healthier relationships. If you’d like to know more about co-dependency, there are good books and an excellent support group, Co-dependents Anonymous (Coda), which offers a 12-step programme and has a website that helps to identify co-dependent traits. If that tangle in your head feels too tough to unravel alone, it might be good to see somebody. Talking face to face helps us to confront ourselves in a way we can avoid when we are simply reading columns such as this. 1 Codependent No More: How to Stop Controlling Others and Start Caring for Yourself by Melody Beattie (Hazelden, £13.99). Coda: www.coda-uk.org   I'm in Love. Trouble is, I'm Already Married September 10 2006   I’m happily married, with an adoring husband, wonderful children and a great family. I’m very attractive and like to flirt, and I have had lots of offers over the years, but stayed faithful because I’m in love with my husband. Five years ago, I met a man I was very attracted to. I didn’t do anything about it, as we were both married, but we met for coffee every Tuesday and it was the highlight of my week. Then I found out we were moving away, and told him how I felt. Over the next two months, we had an intense affair. The sex was great, but we spent more time laughing and talking than making love. Neither of us could bear the thought of breaking up our marriages, so I left. I missed him so much, it was like a physical pain. He missed me too, and couldn’t eat or sleep. Gradually, it got better. We kept in touch by e-mail every few months. Today, I received an e-mail saying that he and his wife have separated, and that he wants to see me again. I know that if I go, I’ll stay. We both feel we were meant to be together. Should I give up everything for him? I suspect that you want permission, not advice. You tell your story as if it is a grand romance involving star-crossed lovers, instead of a rather ordinary affair. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but a sharp dose of reality may be no bad thing in your situation. You can always dismiss me as a cynical idiot with no soul. I’m interested by the contradictions in your letter, and perhaps in your mind. First, you say that you’re in love with your husband. Then you say you took a lover. Why? If you were so much in love with your husband, why would you look elsewhere? Please don’t say: “My life was great, but somebody came along. I didn’t want it to happen.” If it really was great, there would be no room in it for anybody else. According to social psychologists, we are brilliant at the art of self-deception. It’s hard-wired into our genes. We can convince ourselves of almost anything. It takes enormous effort, and honesty, to see ourselves clearly. Your story is: “I can’t help myself. This is bigger than me.” I’m sure you believe that, but I’m afraid to say that I don’t. I do think that love can be bigger than us. I also think it happens very rarely. We convince ourselves because we want to believe it, or because we want an excuse to leave a situation. Or simply because we are in love with the idea of love — or love the idea of ourselves at the heart of a great romance. None of this may be conscious: we have to delve deeper to see what’s really driving us. Let’s use honesty now. If you were supposed to be together, how have you managed to stay apart for so long? You left your lover and, although it hurt, it didn’t hurt enough to send you back. I know, you were doing the honourable thing. So what’s changed? Is it because he’s suddenly available? Is your marriage less happy than you are making out? Or is it because your attachment to this man is not actually real, but simply a romantic fairy tale to add excitement to an unblemished and fairly uneventful life? You even paint yourself as the princess. You are “adored”. You are “very attractive and have had lots of offers”. None of which you accepted, of course, because your heart already belonged to somebody else. It sounds so charming. And not quite true to life, at least not in the sense that most of us are intimate with life. Even your payoff line is storybook drama: “Should I give up everything for him?” Let me put that another way: “Should I destroy everything for him?” It doesn’t have quite the same ring, does it? I don’t feel particularly moralistic about this. Marriages break down. Lives change. We fall in love with people when we least intend it and out of love with others when we least intend it. But this much I know: a good marriage is a precious thing. You say you have wonderful children and a great family. In other words, you have years of history, a head and a heart full of memories, habits and funny, precious family rituals that can’t be replaced. They can, however, be smashed and sullied beyond recognition or repair. You have to ask yourself, would the result be worth the damage? I don’t mean to your husband and children — I have no doubt the result would never equal the damage to them. I mean, would it be worth it to you? If you truly felt that you couldn’t exist in any meaningful state without this man, then he would inhabit your soul. And your husband would, long ago, have become a pale imitation of love. Yet you are still, as you put it, “happily married”. What story are you telling yourself? Where is the truth? Where are the bad times in this too pretty picture? We cannot be truly intimate with somebody until we have shown them our darker selves. Have you? Can you? Would you? And would love deepen and mature as a result, or would it be too flimsy to withstand the onslaught? I think, before you do anything, that you have to get yourself, your life and your lover into forensic focus. Stop telling it like a pocket-book romance and face reality. What would you be walking away from? What would you be walking towards? And is the journey truly worth it?   I Don't Like My Sister-in-Law September 3 2006   I am 24 years old. My brother, who is 33, recently got married. The problem is, I really don’t like my sister-in-law. We all live together, in the Indian way, even though my parents want them to get a separate house. My brother blames me for “not getting on”, and expects me to be her best friend. I know I should do it, because I love him, but I don’t see why I always have to make the effort. It’s affecting my brother badly, and I cry most days. I wrote her a card, saying that I wanted to make our relationship better. We talked and both said we would make an effort, but even though it is a bit better, she doesn’t really try. I told my brother, but he always takes her side. My mum consoles me often. My dad doesn’t know about the situation, otherwise he would throw a wobbly: he believes family is really important. I don’t feel like I’m overreacting. I have lost my best friend.   I can see that this hurts very much, but you have to let your brother go. If you really were his best friend, you would want the best for him and, right now, that is a happy marriage. Too often, we think of our friends or family as our possessions. Think about it: my brother, my best friend. Well, they’re not possessions. They are people, with their own hearts and minds, and they have a right to do as they wish with them. The more we understand that, the better a friend or sibling we can be. You are confusing need with love and being emotionally needy. That is very different from being loving, although often the two become confused. When we love somebody, we see a whole person. When we need somebody excessively, we see an attachment of ourselves. Neediness drives other people mad because it inspires terrible guilt — the guilt of letting down somebody that we love. To make another person feel that bad is never fair. No single person can satisfy another person’s needs. It is not in their power. Right now, you are behaving like a black hole of need. Your brother could never fill it: he would have to give you 24-hour attention to make you feel secure. You need to look at the source of your insecurity. You also need to think about your jealousy issues, which usually come from insecurity. This is jealousy, pure and simple, not of your sister-in-law for what she is, but for what she has — the attention of your brother, which you think she is taking away from you. Love is not finite. There really is plenty to go around. Your brother doesn’t have just one bag of love, he has an infinite supply. He can give you the same amount of love that he always gave you. You can’t see that because you are concentrating not on the amount that he’s giving you, but on the amount you think he’s giving her. You think she’s taking something away. Well, she can’t. It is not possible for somebody else to take away another person’s love, although we can lose it through our own behaviour. We are so frightened of looking at ourselves and taking responsibility for our behaviour that we blame somebody else, just as you are doing with your sister-in-law. Taking responsibility is difficult and painful. Blame is easy. It is also a highly destructive emotion. It destroys love and it ruins friendships. And you, I’m afraid, are on the fast track to destroying your relationship with your brother, which would be a terrible pity. In your (much) longer letter, you say that your sister-in-law is possessive. Can’t the same thing be said about you? Often, the things that drive us mad about other people are the exact same things that drive us mad about ourselves. I know that the last thing you want to hear is me taking your sister-in-law’s side, but, as your brother says, try to look at it through her eyes. It must be difficult for her to be brought into such a close, tight family and live in a strange house. I’m sure that she would much prefer to have her own home and start married life without the tiresome demands of a jealous and possessive younger sister, but perhaps they don’t have enough money yet. This situation is, you say, affecting your brother badly. Let me put that another way. Your behaviour is affecting your brother badly. Is that really what you want? Is that the action of a best friend? Of course not. You love your brother very much, so show him some love and compassion. You absolutely don’t have to be a best friend to your sister-in-law, but you do have to accept that she is another human being with as much right to kindness and respect as you. It might also be a good idea to look at your other relationships and perhaps look outside the family to make some good, close friendships. Your brother is nine years older than you, so maybe it is time for you to find some companions of your own age. Concentrate on that, and on establishing your own life, and your brother’s life and choices will stop being so important and painful to you, because you will be far too preoccupied with your own.   I saw our son wearing women's underwear. Should I confront him? August 27 06 Our son is 32. He is 6ft, a rugby player and used to row for his university. This guy is our only child and has a good job in the City. He has his own flat but when his mother and I go on holiday he looks after our house. Last week we returned a day early from our holiday. When we entered the house our son did not hear us come in. When I went into the bathroom I saw him wearing women’s underwear. He did not see me. I left the house and sounded the car horn. When we got into the house he was coming out of the bathroom, saying he was about to take a bath. Should I tell him I saw him and do I tell my wife? I wonder what your feelings are about this? You don’t give even a hint what they might be. I imagine, because you are writing to me, that they are more to do with confusion and concern than outrage or disgust. Which is good. It gives you a better base to work from if you are not battling with strong, negative emotions. Then again, I wonder why you have not already shared this with your wife? Perhaps you think she might react too strongly, or perhaps you feel too shocked to know what you feel. Perhaps, even, you feel ashamed. Sometimes, the secrets that we choose to keep say more about the emotions we find difficult to face than the actual matter in hand. I can see that this would be hard for you, and not simply because he is your only child. It is always hard when we discover that people are very different to the picture we have of them. That’s not so bad, in that it might add a different dimension, but it takes quite a lot of thinking to accept this, newer, identity. It also provokes us to consider our own responses and forces us to think, with great clarity, how we might feel about things that are outside what society considers the norm. Which, again, is not bad thing. I recently did a radio programme with Grayson Perry, the artist who likes to dress in women’s clothing. He is married and has a teenage daughter, (who tends to roll her eyes at dad’s little ways). I haven’t met a warmer or nicer man in a long time. One of the reasons he is so engaging is because he has reached a place of absolute self-acceptance. He accepts his need to dress in women’ clothing as just one part of his character, just as he accepts his artistic ability or brown hair. It is no more important or alarming than that. He also admits that it has an erotic aspect, but accepts that simply as one part, rather than the whole, of his sexual nature. In facing himself fully, he has defused the guilt and shame that might otherwise have crippled him. I know the situation you face is not easy, but if you can approach it with the understanding that this is just one part of your son’s character, and not the whole, you might find the idea more comfortable. Wearing a pair of silk knickers does not actually change the fact that he is a six feet hunk of rugby playing oarsman, it simply changes your perception of it. I am sure, though, that as a parent, that you are worried about his future happiness. Many people are shocked or disgusted by the idea of a man who likes to put on women’s underwear, so you may be concerned that, if he tells them, it will limit your son’s future partners. And if he doesn’t and it is suddenly discovered, it may cause two people unhappiness. I feel that everybody has a right to a private sexual life. Your son is an adult. I wonder how you would feel if you had surprised him using hard core pornography or dressed in full S&M fetish latex? In a sense, this is none of your business. In another, it is your business, if you feel that your son might be troubled by this aspect of his sexuality and needs help with it. Guilt and shame can be intolerable emotions, and very corrosive to a person’s happiness. Getting things out into the open diminishes their power. Only you know the answer to that. Not being a man, so less conversant with the male psyche, I canvassed a couple of men’s opinions on this. Both are fathers of sons and both said, talk to him, bloke to bloke. My feeling is that you should only do so when you are ready. I feel it would be wrong, for both you and your son, if you have not come to terms with the idea yourself. Until you feel able to accept this part of your son, you might be in danger of projecting your own feelings on him. It is very unlikely that he will change his behaviour, just because you know about it. Disapproval will only drive him further into secrecy, and if there is one thing that is likely to destroy trust, it is to feel disapproved of or shamed by those we love. In Love With Emotional Damage August 20 2006   I recently split up with my boyfriend. I am 23 and he is 34. At the beginning, we were both besotted. He pestered me for months to move in, but when I did, everything changed and he began to ignore me or ridicule everything I said. I had to make excuses to friends because he got angry if I went out, but when I stayed in, he treated me with no respect. I never knew what to expect; one week, it would be totally fabulous, and the next he’d start putting me down. I only left when I realised how worried my family and friends were. I had lost substantial amounts of weight and was down to a size 6 because I was running on nervous energy. Three months later, I’m considering getting back with him and think I still love him. Is it because I’m lonely? I stand him up and don’t return his calls to give him a taste of his own medicine. Half of me thinks my friends and family are right, but should I get back with him and discover for myself what is right?   This man sounds emotionally damaged, and if you hang around with him long enough, I suspect that you’ll end up damaged too. You’re already joining in with his behaviour, standing him up or not returning his calls in order to give him “a taste of his own medicine” — and that, I promise you, is just the beginning. The minute you slip into that sort of sick behaviour (sick as in the opposite to the behaviour in a healthy relationship), the more addictive it becomes, because both of you are constantly trying to get the upper hand. “You hurt me, so I’ll hurt you. In fact, I’ll hurt you more.” When that toxic relationship really gets going, you each have to outmanoeuvre the other by playing more and more complicated and hurtful games. It always amazes me how inventive people can be when it comes to torturing each other in the name of love. He’s a control freak, and I don’t mean that in any smart or sassy way. He likes to control, manipulate and humiliate other people. He bolsters his non-existent self-worth by putting other people down in order to build himself up. This man does not want a healthy, loving relationship. Or it may be that a part of him wants one — which is why he will suddenly act loving — but he has no idea how to actually have one. Intimacy is so frightening to him that when he is confronted by it, he withdraws or becomes hostile. Deliberately ignoring somebody you love, or putting him or her down, is an act of hostility. He is what is known in therapeutic language as an “avoidant”. In other words, he’ll avoid intimacy with another person. It’s incredibly confusing for anyone involved with an avoidant, because he or she usually starts out behaving charmingly. They’ll do anything to get your attention and affection, then, once they get it, they’ll dump all over you in order to avoid any real connection or love. They want you close, but not too close. Look at your boyfriend’s past behaviour. First he hooks you (acting besotted in the beginning), then he pulls you in (pestering you to live with him), then, once he’s got you safe and sound in his territory, he tortures you (by ignoring or ridiculing you). It’s power play, not because he actually feels powerful, but because he wants to feel that way. It might even sometimes feel as if he hates you. They say that hate is the flip side of love. That’s open to debate, but what is true is that both are such strong emotions, they become ways of claiming our undivided attention. He won’t let you out to see your friends. He wants you with him, but when he’s got you there, he treats you with no respect. It’s the perfect portrait of the avoidant. He’ll use any amount of charm (or even threats, as in the case of his anger) to get you next to him, then will shut down totally or become hostile because he is so terrified of closeness. No matter how much you might think you love him and want to rescue him (or think you can change him by showing him what love really is), you’re not going to win this one. He needs to do some serious work on himself, and he won’t until he looks at his own behaviour. Nobody else can do it for him. You are 23 years old. You have a whole life ahead of you, as well as loving, kind relationships that will make you happy. Don’t throw those chances away on this man. Listen to your friends and family. They love you. They can see how bad he is for you or for anyone he gets close to. I know that I always say the same thing, but I also know it to be true: we cannot change other people. It is not in our power and we only drive ourselves mad or cause ourselves terrible pain by believing that it is. I don’t believe it’s love that you feel, although it may be that you feel lonely. That will pass. What I suspect you are feeling is excitement and heightened adrenaline (hence the nervous energy and weight loss) because you are being tormented and tantalised. Avoidants are good at that. What they can’t do is deliver. Trust me, that’s not love.   My Boyfriend Treats Me Like A Flatmate August 13 2006   Two years ago, on my 31st birthday, I met a wonderful man. For three months, I was in heaven. He was attentive, romantic and talked of marriage. Then things changed drastically. He became less affectionate, but explained that he didn’t love me less, just that the infatuation had worn off and he was being his normal self. Since I moved in with him, things have become increasingly difficult. He admits he finds it hard to share his life, saying he is independent, and even that he may be better suited to living alone. On many levels, we work well together. But I’d like more intimacy and to be treated like a girlfriend, rather than a flatmate. I constantly question his love, which has led to him doubting our relationship. He thinks I’m unhappy with the level of love he is able to offer and therefore we are, ultimately, incompatible. As he says: “It’s not that I don’t love you, I just don’t love you enough for you.” I’d still like to have a family and children, which we talked about in the beginning. Or should I just throw in the towel and leave now?   I think you need to relax a bit. He’s a bloke. He’s really not the only man to behave like this. I’m mad about someone who, I know, is mad about me. We just have different ways of showing it. I’ll send him a long, romantic, heartfelt text. I’ll get one back and it’s not exactly a Shakespearian sonnet. It’s two words: “Same here.” It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me. It means exactly what it says on the tin: “I feel the same way about you.” So do try to accept that what your “wonderful man” says is true. He loves you. How great is that? The man that you’re desperately in love with is in love with you. Really, it can’t get much better. But you want it to be better. Why? You say that you’re passionately in love with him, that you want to have his babies. At the same time, you’re saying that he’s not good enough and that you want to leave him. Which is the truth? Try to look at it through his eyes. He has asked you to move in, despite hugely valuing his independence. He’s put that need aside in order to be with you. He’s tried to fit his life with yours. But it’s not enough. You need more evidence, on a daily basis. He can’t really understand what else you need; still, you keep at it until, in self-defence or because your constant questioning begins to make him think he really is lacking in the heart department, he says that, after all, he’s just not very good at sharing his life. Not because he really feels that way, but because no matter how much he tries to show you he loves you, you can’t accept it. Why? Is it perhaps because you don’t think you’re quite good enough, or that you’re only good enough if somebody constantly tells you that you are? There is nothing in your letter to say that he has behaved in a way to make you feel so insecure, so I can only assume that this is your stuff and not his. It might be helpful to take the focus off him and look at your need for reassurance and where it might come from. Now, you might have a look and decide that it’s simply in your nature to need a more affectionate and attentive man. In which case, your boyfriend is right. You are “ultimately incompatible”. He sounds as if he is trying to tell the truth. He says he does love you, but he doesn’t love you enough for you. That sounds to me like the truth, as well as a formidable but welcome honesty. He is telling you that he knows his own nature, and yours; that he loves you but that he cannot fall in line with your insecurities. Your reply is that his honesty is still not enough. In other words, you don’t believe or trust him. I would guess that that would make him feel pretty bad. Not to feel trusted or believed by the people we love always makes us feel bad. So we become defensive, either by agreeing with them or by giving up. He sounds as if he’s on the verge of giving up, saying that perhaps he is “better suited to living alone”. That may not be true, but your insistence that he is not capable of intimacy might make him believe that it is. If somebody tells us often enough that our behaviour means one thing, even if it’s the direct opposite of our actual intention, in the end, we might begin to believe that what they say is true. We doubt our own instincts. So what can you do? You can take responsibility for your own feelings and stop asking him to fix them for you. You could admit your insecurities and ask for his tolerance and understanding as you try to work them out. You might ask him to help you as you do so by showing you more affection and attention; in return, you could promise that you will try to believe and trust him more. Relationships are a two-way street. To receive, you must give, and not just in words and gestures but in true sympathy, understanding and commitment. Try to understand the man that he is and the woman that you are and see if you can make that fit. It sounds as if there is a lot of love there. It would be a terrible shame to throw it away. But if, on reflection, you decide that his way of loving doesn’t suit you, then you might be happier finding a way that does.   I Don't Want Children and Don't Know How To Tell My Husband August 6 2006   When I first met my husband, I was lacking in self-esteem and naive about sex, and I always deferred to him. We never had much in common, but over the years we have renovated a number of properties. The fantastic results prove what we can accomplish as a partnership. The latest is a family house. However, I’ve come to realise that I’m not ready to have children. I always thought I would wake up one day and want them, but that hasn’t happened. A year ago, I stumbled into another relationship. I’m really shocked at being unfaithful, but when I’m with my lover, I feel confident, capable and sexy. I’ve never been terribly affectionate towards my husband, and for years I believed it was “just me” and my inability to be tactile or show emotion. This affair has proved otherwise. My husband is desperate for a child. I feel guilty and don’t want him to be unhappy, but I don’t want to have his child simply to relieve the pressure. Perhaps you expected that your husband would help you to grow up. Perhaps you think you have. Instead, you’re behaving like a secretive teenager faced with a scary authority figure. You’re hiding behind an affair to avoid the truth, you’re lying to your husband about how you really feel about him and you’re failing to live up to your side of the marital contract, which is to love and to honour. Honour your husband. Tell him the truth. It’s up to you whether you tell him about the affair, but surely plain decency demands that you tell him about not wanting children? If he is desperate for them, it is unspeakably cruel to allow him to believe that one day soon, you will change your mind. Will you? It sounds as if you are in this marriage more out of fear of being without his steadying influence than out of true affection. You say you’ve “never had much in common”, and that you make a fantastic partnership — not, mind, a partnership in daily intimacy, but only in the business of renovating property. Where’s the love? You may make great houses together, but can you make a home? A home does not, of course, have to include children, but it does have to be built on intimacy — and that means absolute honesty. You are not being honest with your husband or yourself. I wonder if you got married because you thought he would look after you. You might have convinced your head it was a good idea, but your body seems to be saying something else by refusing him affection or physical closeness. In other words, refusing to be intimate. When you say it is “just me”, well, yes, it is “just you” revealing the truth about how you really feel, not about sex, but about the man you promised to share everything with. Marriage is the most wonderful institution when two people are in it wholeheartedly. In its best expression, it is a meeting of mind, body and spirit. It can’t always be that way, of course, because the difficulties of life intrude, but that should be its underlying core. If you don’t have that solid foundation, it can become rather difficult when children enter the picture. It’s tough having kids. When people say your life will change, you think, “Yeah, sure, of course.” What nobody is able to tell you is quite how completely it changes, because nobody can convey the experience of suddenly being absolutely and endlessly responsible for another human being. Their needs always come first, way before yours, and that requires a selflessness that is patience-sapping, to say the least. It is also perfectly wonderful, because you fall completely in love with your child, but the absolute focus of that love can play havoc with the adult relationship, as there are now two people who want your undivided attention. It doesn’t sound as if you can cope with one, let alone two. So you’re not ready for that, and you understand that much about yourself. Great. But try to understand your husband. See him not as your husband but as a separate human being, a good friend, perhaps. Now, imagine that friend telling you how much he wants children. He has tears in his eyes. His desperation is obvious. Now, imagine you know his wife well. You know she doesn’t want kids. You also know she’s having an affair with another man with whom she is truly intimate — in a way that she can’t be with her husband. Now, imagine watching that man, longing for a family and closeness, and innocently believing he’s going to get it, because, of course, he has no idea he’s being deceived twice over. Heartbreaking, isn’t it? Surely, you would want that friend to be allowed to make up his own mind about his future? So give your husband that chance. Don’t play God. Tell him you don’t want children and also that you find intimacy with him difficult. It may be something that you can work on together. On the question of children, he may decide to stay in the marriage or he may not. Honesty may bring you to a better understanding, or it may break you apart entirely. But for goodness’ sake, don’t have a child just to “relieve the pressure”, or because you can’t face telling the truth. Regret is the most indigestible emotion of all. It repeats for years. And not just on you.   I Feel As if I've Lost Myself July 30 06 I feel as if I’ve lost part of myself over the past three years, and I’m scared that my discontent and introspection will spoil my wonderful relationship and stop me ever being happy. Three years ago, my mother died suddenly. Although I have moved on through the grief, I feel a perpetual sense of disconnection. This is not obvious to other people (including my partner), as, most of the time, I am still outwardly confident and fun-loving, but my responses to things that previously excited me seem irreversibly dulled. I adore my partner, but I’m frightened that if my lust for life doesn’t return, he’ll tire of me and I’ll lose someone else precious. I’m preoccupied with death; I hate the negative, fatalistic thoughts, but cannot get rid of them. Paradoxically, I have never been happier (in love with my childhood sweetheart, solvent, with a beautiful baby and home). I can’t make sense of this dichotomy. I am going to make a suggestion — please follow it up, as I only have your letter to go on and I believe that you need an expert opinion. I have a strong feeling that you may be suffering from depression. I don’t mean depression as feeling a bit low, but depression as an illness. It has definite symptoms, but most of us don’t know them. We know the symptoms of physical illness and know when to take action, but we are almost completely ignorant about the symptoms of mental illnesses (not to mention ashamed, embarrassed or frightened by the very subject), so we tend to ignore them and hope they will go away. They won’t. Untreated depression rarely gets better. It gets worse. This is a subject close to my heart. Six years ago, I had a breakdown and was diagnosed with severe clinical depression. I had many symptoms in the year leading up to it, but out of sheer ignorance, I ignored them. I did not think I was the type of person to become depressed. I am strong. I cope well in most situations. In many ways, my life was good, so I did not think I had the right to feel the way I did. I was also good at putting on a front, as I didn’t want to be a bore or a burden to the people around me, or drive them away. Sound familiar? As a result, the illness mutated from reactive depression (a reaction to life events) into serious depressive disorder, which it can do if not properly treated. I was extremely ill for nearly four years and hospitalised three times. It was more horrible than I can say, and I would not wish it on anyone. That’s why I’m urging you so strongly to take action. You describe many of the symptoms of depression vividly. One is a lack of pleasure in all the things that usually engage you. Another is a preoccupation with death or dying. This is not morbid self-indulgence, but a clinical symptom of depression. So are constant negative or fatalistic thoughts and a perpetual sense of disconnection. Other symptoms include changes in sleeping and eating patterns (waking very early or sleeping too long), suddenly losing weight or gaining a great deal. Grief can — but doesn’t always — mutate into depression. Enduring, unshakable grief should not be ignored. Three years ago, your mother died and, ever since, you’ve felt you have lost a part of yourself. While you have moved through the grief, you are stuck in another place. I understand exactly what you mean. Depression is like being trapped behind thick glass. It is as if you have lost a part of yourself or no longer even recognise who that self is. You describe it perfectly. It is a complex and complicated illness, and even the experts have no firm idea of its actual cause. What’s important to remember is that it is an illness and, just like any other illness, can strike anybody. I know you think that you “should” not feel the way you do. Would you say that you “shouldn’t” have pneumonia because you have a nice house and somebody who loves you? Of course not. Think of depression in the same way. It is an illness, not something to be ashamed of or to hide from those closest to us. It can be treated, but the sooner the better. Please go to your GP. Don’t try to be brave or dismiss what you are feeling as self-indulgence. Be very honest and describe every single symptom, even those that you think are unimportant or “just a feeling”. Your GP can advise what’s best for you, because every case of depression is different. Most experts agree that the most effective treatment is a combination of antidepressants and therapy. Don’t dismiss therapy as unnecessary or an indulgence. Research proves that it is just as important a clinical treatment as drugs, and the combination is far more effective than taking antidepressants alone. Also, do please confide in your sweetheart. Secrecy — pretending to be okay when you’re feeling terrible — is the perfect breeding ground for depression. Too much of it goes undiagnosed or untreated because people are too ashamed or embarrassed to ask for help. Please get help. I wish you well, in every sense. My Grown-Up Children Won't Accept My New Wife July 23 2006 I am a man who has remarried, and my two children, who are 23 and 27, do not wish to be part of my new life. They talk to me only by mobile and will not visit or call my new home in case “someone else” (which is how my new wife feels) answers the phone. As their weddings loom, my wife says she’ll be unhappy if she’s not included, and that if I attend, I’ll be condoning the children’s behaviour, which is out of place, given that they are adults and it is 10 years since I moved out of the family home. There was a lot of hurt at the time, but do you feel it is unreasonable of me to think it is now time the children grew up, accepted the situation and showed an interest in my new life? What should I say to encourage them? The question of second marriages and children is an increasing problem. Hardly surprising, considering that nearly half of all marriages in the UK break down. It doesn’t really matter what age your children are. They may be adult in years, but their divided loyalties, pain and feelings of betrayal are linked not to age, but to anger and disappointment. We do not want our parents to have their own lives or exclusive feelings for other people. Well, we do, but not at our expense. Most of all, we don’t want them to choose somebody over us. By us, we include ourselves with the parent who was left behind. That may not be right, but it doesn’t stop it being the way we feel. So there are often all these feelings running around, of hurt, betrayal and abandonment. You don’t say how you left your marriage — not well, judging by the response of your children. Or perhaps your ex-wife painted you as an ogre and herself as the abandoned innocent who never put a foot wrong. Or perhaps she didn’t. Maybe you behaved badly all by yourself. It doesn’t matter. That’s in the past. The thing you can’t do now is pretend that it never happened, and that “it is time the children grew up and accepted the situation”. These are stunningly bad tactics. The more people tell us to grow up, particularly when we feel we have a right to be angry, the more tempting it is to behave like children. I can understand you wanting them to show an interest in you, but why must you insist on their approval of your new life? That may come, but first you — as you, rather than as part of a matching set — have to establish a relationship with them. Are you being unreasonable? Yes, but not quite as unreasonable as your new wife, who seems to have her notions of maturity somewhat confused. She accuses the children of behaving like children while behaving like a child herself. Her “it’s me or them” line is positively infantile. Of course you must attend your children’s weddings. If your new wife is not invited, well, she is not invited. She may not like it, and none of us would, but she has to be a grown-up and take it on the chin. She knew when she met you that there were children involved. She knew she was breaking up a home, and whether she was directly culpable or not doesn’t much matter. She played her part and has to accept responsibility. Her message that your kids should grow up and get over it is counterproductive. She may not say it directly to their faces, but that dismissive impatience may be tacit in her attitude. She caused them a lot of pain. That may not have been her intention, but it was the result of her actions. She’s now behaving as if nothing happened, as if it’s all in the past and they should just forget about it. It is time, instead, for her to grow up and exercise some tolerance. Your children might look like adults to her, but they aren’t. They’re your kids, and will go on being your children and behaving as such. She needs to understand that. So do you. Make it clear to your wife that your children are as important as she is. She won’t like it, because she obviously feels insecure, and it sounds as if you’ve overindulged her to keep her happy. It may, however, give her a taste of the way the children feel and inspire some sympathy. It may be good all round. Then talk to your children. Make it clear how important they are and how much you love them. Show some humility and contrition. You hurt them, however unintentionally, and you need to ask for their tolerance and patience in accepting the life you have chosen and your new wife. Renew your relationship with them and you may find that they accept your new life as part of that relationship. You made a decision. They didn’t. You surely don’t expect everyone else to approve of your decisions. Why do you expect it of your children? If you want them to respect your choices, you have to earn that respect, not simply think it’s your right. I Love My Boyfriend But I Want To Explore July 16 2006 I’m a 21-year-old woman and have been with my boyfriend for just over a year. When we met, I was shy and felt unattractive, but someone has made me realise that even if I wasn’t with my boyfriend, I wouldn’t have to be alone for the rest of my life. Also, I once had a short relationship with a girl, but broke it off because I was confused and uncertain. Now, I feel that this is a side of me I’d like to explore, and that it would be a shame if I didn’t. I feel terribly guilty about this. My boyfriend is so kind, loving and patient and is always there for me. I want to be there for him, too, but I feel that, before I spend for ever with someone, I want to enjoy being myself for a bit. I can hardly say, “Please can I have a year to get some things out of my system? Then I’m all yours.” Am I in the wrong? Should I just try to forget these worries and be grateful? How heavenly to be 21 and think that the world is your oyster. How wonderful to imagine all those boys and girls out there just waiting to be kissed. How much better than the opposite, which is to sit around feeling miserable and thinking that things area never going to change. Of course they will change. It may not feel like it at the time, and situations may go on for far longer than we would like, but they will change because it’s the law of the universe that nothing stays the same — good or bad. Try to remember that, whatever you decide to do with your life. At the moment, you’re in the comfort zone. You’re not single and wondering where all the decent men have gone, or how come they are all with other people, gay or total emotional retards. It can be hell being single. It can also be hell being in a relationship where there’s hardly a pulse, let alone a heart. As for which is worse, that’s open to interpretation, but research says that being unhappy in a relationship is the most miserable state of all. You’re with somebody, but filled with the excitement of discovering your own power. You want to experiment, test your limits, try out your sexuality and discover who you really are — or are becoming. That’s normal. I’m sure you know that. What you don’t know is the future. What if you leave your boyfriend and spend the rest of your life living in regret? What if he was the one? On the other hand, what if you settle down and discover you feel trapped? What if you miss out on all those peachy boys and girls? What if you find out that going out, having fun, sleeping with a few people and experimenting sexually with women is, after all, no fun at all? What if you end up on your own? What if is not only one of life’s great questions, it is also a total waste of time and energy. It can paralyse us, leaving us so stuck in fear and anxiety that life passes us by. We have to make choices, that’s part of life. Sometimes we make good choices and sometimes we make bad ones, but mistakes and failures are as much a part of learning as success. Perhaps the greater part. So is learning to accept our choices and mistakes with good grace. The way to be — and this is a personal view — is open to possibility, but careful of feelings. Treat other people’s hearts in the way that you would like your own to be treated. It may be that you have to tell somebody something they do not want to hear. It may be that you have to hurt somebody in order to follow your own heart. That’s life. You can do it badly, or you can do it well. As for asking for time out from your boyfriend, I think you might find it takes more than a year to get all those questions out of your system. More like a lifetime. It’s not that I think you’re too young to settle down, so much as that your heart’s not really in it. People do meet their significant other when they’re young and then grow together. And I don’t mean they grow old. They grow in understanding and respect. But that requires mutual honesty as well as mutual love. Right now, you’re not being honest. You’re like a baby bird, not wanting to leave the security of the nest, but longing to test out your wings. Believe it or not, that happens no matter what your age. It happens after 20 years of marriage, as many of the letters I get show. I can’t tell you what you should do, but I do feel that the urge to fly may well outweigh the love you presently feel for your boyfriend. The only way to handle that is not to lie or cheat. Be brutally honest. Don’t trash the love you have for each other. Treat it carefully in whatever form it takes, whether as present lovers, future friends or lifelong companions. If you decide to go, do it with grace. If you decide to stay, do it with your whole heart. We can’t know what the future holds. The only thing we can try to do is live well in the present. I think that’s true, no matter what our age. I Can't Forgive My Mother for Staying With Her Abusive Lover July 9 2006 When I was 18 (I am now 32) my mum's long term boyfriend kicked down our front door and attacked my mum. When I tried to help her, he thumped me so hard I fell down a flight of stairs. Then he pinned me to the wall, saying everyone knew I was a tart. I have been with the same boyfriend for two years. I can’t understand how my mum could stay with such a beast. Although I remain civil, I don’t speak to him unless absolutely forced to, so I have never confronted him. I have no respect for him and moved away from home soon after, so I wouldn’t have to see him. I can’t seem to forgive my mum for still being with him. Now I am about to become a mum myself. I want to be a stronger person. What happened to you is terrible. But it happened. You can’t change that. What you can change is how you look at it, and what action you can take. I can feel how powerless you feel, and how frustrated. I suspect that you are refusing to confront those feelings because you feel so hurt and angry that you are afraid the words will come out wrong and will destroy your relationship with your mum. First, ask yourself who you’re really angry with. Is it your mum’s boyfriend? Or is it your mum? He was the one who committed the violence, but she, as your parent, did nothing to protect you. I don’t mean she did nothing at the time — a woman is physically no match for a man in the grip of a catastrophic rage. I mean she did nothing to protect you emotionally. You feel betrayed. She put him first. I think that betrayal may feel particularly overwhelming as you are pregnant with your first child, and thinking hard about what makes a good parent. Our parents are supposed to protect us and keep us safe. It’s not only that we want them on our side; we need them to be there. Your mum was not on your side, so you feel abandoned as well as betrayed. You can’t understand her and you can’t forgive her. You are seeing, quite clearly, how human and frail she is. She is no longer the wise adult in your life or your protector. She is weak, perhaps frightened of being alone. Her fear of being without her boyfriend is greater than her need to protect her child. I know it’s tough, but try to feel some compassion. Fear keeps her trapped, living with a bully. You don’t have to do that. She does. The most important thing for you — and I really mean you, and not your mum, or her boyfriend, or anyone else — is to practise acceptance. Otherwise, the past will destroy your peace of mind. Big, unresolved issues tend to recur, manifesting in an awful sick feeling whenever we think of the wrong that was done to us, or showing up in consuming inner rage. They are not good for our emotional health. We need to express them. There is a prayer — or a poem; you can call it whatever you like, according to your beliefs — which, when you repeat it to yourself, as often as you need to, can be enormously helpful. This is how it goes: “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.” First, use wisdom to look at the things you cannot change. Wisdom says that you can’t change the past and you can’t change your mum. She is with this man. That’s her choice. You may think it’s the wrong choice, or a bad one, but it is not yours to change. So, accept it. Accept the things you cannot change. Now you have to find the courage to change the things you can. What are those things? You can change your silence. You can speak up. You can talk to your mum honestly. Ask her not to interrupt, just to let you have your say. Don’t attack her verbally, or her boyfriend. Simply express how terribly betrayed and abandoned she has made you feel. Let her know that you are hurting. Finding the courage to do that is really hard — that’s why it’s called courage. So is expressing our pain without accusations or blame. What happened in the past is not important. You can argue about it until you’re blue in the face. Your mum can come up with all sorts of reasons or excuses, but none of them matters. The only thing that matters is how it made you feel. So tell her. Be really honest. Don’t pretend it’s fine. It’s not. But don’t expect your mum to say that she is going to leave her boyfriend, or even to apologise. Just understand that by telling the truth and expressing your pain, you will feel better. Anger is mostly unexpressed pain. By taking action (changing the things you can), you may feel acceptance that your mum is still with her boyfriend. Acceptance is understanding that we cannot change other people. Courage is confronting them when they behave in a way that causes us pain. Serenity is understanding that they may not change their behaviour, but we have stood up for our own truth. How Can I Become More Confident and Likeable? July 2 2006 My confidence is battered. I'm 25, and used to go out with a man I adored, but who was horribly cruel to me. When I finally ended it, I rebounded into a relationship with my previous ex, who loved me more than I loved him (and so bolstered my selfesteem). Out of frustration, he became abusive - physically and emotionally. During this time, I started a job, but was bullied by my boss, who used to throw things on the floor and make me pick them up. My friendships are enduring but slightly superficial, and I feel disengaged from other people. I’m paranoid that people think I’m strange, inadequate or standoffish. How can I become more confident and likeable? I want to be the sort of person who doesn’t get picked on. I try not to hurt people and am generous with time and money, but often get used. You seem to have developed a heat-seeking ability to search out the nearest bully. You have to ask why. Take a hard look at yourself, resisting any temptation to dive into self-pity — because if there is one absolute truth about self-pity, it is that it so enrages other people, it turns them into bullies. That is not to say that we should dismiss our own pain. We need not, though, drown in it. We can acknowledge our vulnerabilities with compassion, then do something about them. I dislike the expression “low self-esteem”. It is an established disorder, but too often it becomes a lazy, self-fulfilling prophecy: “I suffer from low self-esteem. There’s nothing I can do about it. Poor me.” It takes away our power and allows us to avoid looking at our own behaviour or taking responsibility for it. We get so caught up in ourselves that we can’t see other people clearly. We see them only from the perspective of how they see (or how we think they see) us. When you say you are “paranoid” that people think you’re “strange, inadequate or standoffish”, you’re not actually thinking about other people and how they might be feeling, but only about what other people think about you. You complain that you are generous with your time and money, but often feel used. Perhaps you are generous not because you feel generous, but because you want something in return. When people sense that about us, they become cynical. We can look at low self-esteem, and how to deal with it, from a western or an eastern viewpoint, the best known of which is Buddhism. I prefer the eastern approach because it gives us practical tools. The west would say that to deal with low self-esteem, we need to build up the self or become more confident. Buddhists believe that low self-esteem is actually the self becoming too dominant. They call the self we present to the world the ego. The true self, which is the essence of a person, is the small or higher self. The ego demands huge amounts of attention, is super-sensitive and takes offence at the slightest thing. It is also frightened, vulnerable, anxious and needy. We all have an ego. Those people who (you think) regard you as strange, inadequate and standoffish probably feel the same way about themselves. But you are so conscious of your own self that you can’t get past it to see that. Your self is too big, not too small. It is oversensitive, or paranoid, as you put it. What makes a bully? Fear, weakness and a need for attention. Think of the boss dropping things on the floor. He picks on the new junior, somebody less powerful than himself, so he can feel important. Next time you meet a bully, try to see him for the poor, sad man he is. Imagine you had said: “Silly you, look at those things you dropped. Shall I help you to pick them up?” Look at a bully’s behaviour differently, behave differently, and you change the contract between you. People are not that frightening. Nor are they that powerful. We give them power by believing they have it. We make them frightening through our own perceptions — not because they actually are. They might, however, be toxic. Some people are simply best avoided, but we have to see them clearly to understand that. If we are always worrying about what they think about us, rather than what we think about them, we are unlikely to be able to do that. Try, for a while, to forget about yourself. Concentrate on other people. And I don’t mean try to be nice to others people so that they are nice to you in return. That’s simply more of a focus on the self. Practise kindness with no return. Show a genuine interest in other people and they will blossom before your eyes. And you will blossom in theirs. Everybody has something interesting to contribute because everybody is unique. There is no such thing as an ordinary life. Understand that and you will begin to connect with other people. And in that connection, you may find that you lose your fear of other people, as well as your fear of yourself. Helpful reading: Wherever You Go, There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation for Everyday Life by Jon Kabat-Zinn (Piatkus £12.99) May I Offer You A Male Perspective on Separation? June 25 2006 May I offer you a male perspective on separation? My wife left the family home to live with another man 18 months ago. She comes to what is now my home to look after our sons when they are back from boarding school, to cook and deal with their washing. My counsellor is extremely concerned that she is behaving in this way, as her new home is with her partner. Perhaps because of a guilty conscience, my wife has agreed with her partner that our sons come first. Yet I seem to have no say. We do not plan to divorce, as our sons are teenagers. I try to be pragmatic and accept the food she cooks for the boys — if only because I’m better fed than if I were cooking for myself. It seems there are no legal guidelines regarding my wife’s visits, other than as part of a divorce settlement. Meanwhile, I have to suffer the pain it causes me when she leaves, after our family meal, to return to her new home and new partner.   Reading your letter made me feel as if I were sitting through Mike Leigh’s film Secrets and Lies. So much scary hypocrisy. So many elephants in the room. Your wife lives with another man. Your marriage actually no longer exists, except as a piece of paper. Yet you say you are not planning a divorce because your sons are teenagers; yes, putative adults, who one day may face infidelity, divorce and pain themselves. You are hardly preparing them for that by behaving with such guilt-laden hypocrisy. I’m sorry to be brutal, but you have to include yourself in this, for allowing your wife to behave in the way that she does. Of course she feels guilty. She’s screaming with it. She might pass off her behaviour as loving and kind and “putting the children first”, but she’s actually putting herself (or her guilt) first. She is trying to make herself, and nobody else, feel better, and doing it under the cosy and convenient cloak of maternal love — unless, that is, you are a complete incompetent who is likely to neglect and starve your children. You say you are separated. Think what that word actually means — separate lives. Impose some of the rules that go with separation — not to mention some reality. Ask your wife to have the children to stay for half the holidays. The other half, they stay with you. That is, unless you are the one who is being manipulative in refusing your wife access to your sons outside the family home because you don’t wish them to engage with her new partner. If that’s the case, then you’re doing nobody any favours, least of all your sons. I’m assuming, of course, that you have actually explained the situation to your boys, and that your wife is not sneaking out of the house after they have gone to bed and getting back before they wake in the morning. Kids need the truth, just as they need adults to set as good an example as they possibly can. Your wife has fallen in love with somebody else. Your marriage has broken down. Bad things happen, but we can move on. Kids need to know that, just as they need to know their parents can handle difficulty with grace. They learn by example, and maintaining a ridiculous charade in order to assuage your wife’s guilt is not a good example. You’re telling them that lies, guilt and shame are acceptable behaviour. Also, kids need to be consulted about their own lives and treated with honesty and dignity. I know something about this. My husband and I have been separated for six years, but have never got around to divorcing. Our teenage daughter lives equally between us. The only time she feels unhappy is when her wishes are not taken into account or her opinions disregarded because she is a child. “It’s my life, too,” she so rightly points out. It may be that I have only a tiny part of the story from your letter, but if I were your counsellor, I wouldn’t be worrying about your wife’s behaviour, I’d be worrying about yours. You are showing your sons that passive acceptance is okay. This is what psychologists call “learnt helplessness”. That “Well, there’s nothing I can do about it, so what’s the point?” attitude is one of the (well-researched) ways we can set ourselves up for future depression. Don’t teach your boys that lesson. As their primary role model, you need to show them strong, creative solutions to problem-solving, not sit around wringing your hands while your wife plays out her guilt like Lady Macbeth. You say you’re being pragmatic in accepting the food she cooks because that way you are better fed. Some might call that charming optimism. Personally, I feel you should get a grip. Take a cookery course. Make a lovely home for your boys. Women don’t have the upper hand on living well. Men are just as capable as women. I don’t think your letter is a male perspective on separation so much as a victim’s view of it. I know that’s cruel, but perhaps you need me, a perfect stranger, to give yet another perspective. Tell your wife to go and lie (and cook) in the bed she has made and get yourself a life, as much for your sons’ future as your own. I want to stop my son getting a divorce June 18 2006 My son’s wife has told him that he should leave – and I don’t know why. They’ve been married for ten years and have two young children. They say they haven’t got on for some years and have tried various counselling-places but have been told there’s no hope. I like and love our daughter-in-law. I’m convinced it’s a communication problem and would like them to find someone they gel with. Our son thinks his marriage is over and wants to find a place near his family so that he can see his sons regularly. I don’t know what to say to our son so he does not get cross. I don’t want to say, “think of the children,” as he does realise they will be hurt.   Tell me, how old is your son? Six? Or is he an adult who has already shown you that he has behaved with utter responsibility, seeing not one but “various” counsellors in order to rescue his marriage. He is looking for a place close to his family home so that he can be near to his sons and see them regularly. He realises his kids will be upset and has obviously weighed up the option that will hurt them least – parents who don’t get on and take a mutually responsible decision to part, or parents who stay together in a difficult and potentially emotionally toxic alliance. He has told you that he and his wife have not been getting on for some years so this is obviously not a snap judgement but a well thought out decision.   Now try and take a step back, and look at your own part in this. Is the problem really about your son or is it about you? Is it about listening to your son’s feelings, or listening to your own? You love your daughter-in-law. Good. There is absolutely nothing to stop you loving her. She will not become a different person, just because her marriage has failed. In fact, she will need love and support more than ever. Perhaps you are worried about loyalty. You do not have to take sides. You should most definitely not take sides. This is not about you. It is about your son and daughter-in-law’s relationship. That should remain between them. In your letter, you sound outraged, not because your daughter-in-law has asked your son to leave, but because, as you put it, “I don’t know why!” Why should you know? It is, to put in bluntly, absolutely none of your business. And, really, that’s the heart of the problem. You honestly believe that your son’s problem is your problem. You cannot separate your emotions from his. You are, in therapeutic language, “enmeshed.” The less polite term is, “smother mother.” In your eyes, he is still a child, incapable of making his own decisions so you over-worry and over-protect. You are being bossy and intrusive, putting yourself first, under the guise of sympathy and concern. I know you don’t believe that’s the case, but think about it. Every phrase in your letter is about your feelings, not his; “I don’t know why! I’m convinced that…” In other words, it’s all “me, me, me.”  I’m not surprised you’re worried he’ll get cross if you speak to him. He’s probably had a lifetime of dealing with your over-emotional reactions and inability to treat him with any sort of respect. His anger is about that as well as your lack of faith in his ability to sort out his own problems. His anger is telling you to back off. Our children deserve our respect, just as they deserve our love. They may be our children but first and foremost, they are human beings. Love is about letting them go, letting them be their own person. Your son is an adult. His relationship is with another woman, not with you. If you really want to know what to say to him, consider this: “I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do? What is the best way in which I can support you while you are going through this difficult time?  I love you and I’ll always be there for you.” Don’t bully him about seeing more counsellors or insist he tells you every tiny detail about his personal life. You may be convinced that you know the answer to his marriage problems but you are not in the relationship, so how can you? It is impossible to understand anybody else’s relationship because we are not in the centre of it. I am sure that you are also concerned about your grandchildren but so, as he says, is he. Don’t impose your own, rather overwhelming, version of parenting on your son. They are not your children. They are his and he has a right to parent them in the way that he thinks best. Offer to help and support him in any way that you can. Practical help is always incredibly welcome at these times. Keep quiet about your misgivings or what you think is the “right” way for him to deal with his marriage. Love and support him as you would any other adult who is going through a difficult time and he will not be cross. He will love you for it.   What should we do about our sex pest neighbour? June 11 2006 We find ourselves in a tricky situation with lovely friends who live next door. The husband is a dreadful flirt, targeting young girls and making embarrassing sexual comments to all women. We have turned a blind eye, excusing him because of our friendship. However, our daughter, who is in her thirties, recently told us with tears in her eyes that when she was 13, Pete tried to kiss her and force her on the bed, a behaviour that persisted for years. A lady friend also told us that Pete tried to have sex with her. She was able to brush it off — something my poor daughter could not do. Should we confront Pete? Not easy to do, as we do not want to lose the friendship of his lovely, gentle wife, or cause hurt to his family. And he is a pillar of our village community. Yet he has violated our trust, and we fear this may be continuing with others. I’m not sure I’d use the phrase “a tricky situation” about a sexual predator. Nor am I sure that you have entirely absorbed the seriousness of the situation. Your “blind eye” has blinded you to reality. I have a 14-year-old daughter and if anyone, friend or not, interfered with her, I would take immediate and direct action. Frankly, I would not even pass go. Interfering sexually with a minor is a criminal offence. And, yes, kissing a 13-year-old and “forcing” her onto a bed is interference. I’m going to quote you a phrase from the 2003 Sexual Offences Act: “A person aged 18 or over (A) commits an offence if he intentionally touches another person (B) and the touching is sexual, and either B is under 16 and A does not reasonably believe that B is 16 or over, or B is under 13. A person guilty of an offence under this section is liable to imprisonment for a term not exceeding 14 years.” In 1999, a man was convicted of indecent assault after licking a woman’s face. I know this happened to your daughter some time ago, but it continued for years and obviously she still cannot talk about it without becoming visibly distressed. As you are still friends with her violator, who is, it seems from your account, still highly active, “targeting young girls”, she may even be covering up the worst of her distress so as not to upset you. People who are abused often feel it is their own fault, even though that is patently not the case. You may think he has violated your trust. But now you know about the abuse your daughter has suffered, if you continue the friendship and don’t confront this man, you are violating your child’s trust, which is, to my mind, infinitely more serious. You are also, by your silence, condoning, if not downright rubber-stamping, his behaviour. How many other teenage girls in the village are going to suffer? The more he can get away with, the more he may try to get away with. A man who is so driven by inappropriate sexual impulses is not harmless. This is not mild flirting. It is straightforward abuse, and it may be that the behaviour you can see is only the tip of a very nasty iceberg. You appear to believe that his wife is innocent of her husband’s behaviour. Really? He makes highly suggestive remarks to all women and flirts inappropriately with young girls, and she notices nothing? Or is she “gentle” because she is bullied into submission? A man capable of attempting to seduce the teenage daughter of his neighbours (and “lovely friends”) may, within the safety of his own home, be capable of a great deal more. Don’t involve his wife. Confront him alone and directly. Do not accuse him or become angry. Simply tell him that you know about his behaviour towards your daughter and your friend. Do not allow him to brush it off under the guise of a little harmless flirting. Tell him that he has violated a minor and that you take his actions very seriously indeed. If his behaviour (in general) does not stop, tell him you will be forced to inform the police. Then suggest that he get help from a qualified sex therapist. He may well bluster and try to laugh this off, but he is, to put it mildly, very sick. Deep down, he is probably perfectly aware of this. We all know when our behaviour is inappropriate, even if we don’t admit it. Shame may prevent him from telling his wife, but if he does, it is possible that you will lose her friendship if she is allowing her husband’s behaviour by minimising it as “just a bit of harmless fun” because she is frightened of confronting him. I’m sorry to sound brutal, but that is not your problem. She may well come to you later for help. Right now, your real concern is your daughter. By taking action, you need to show her that you will go to any lengths to love, cherish and protect her. And protect those who walk in her footsteps. This man should have an Asbo slapped on him, and fast. If this were your neighbour’s son violating your property, and property around the village, would you hesitate to act? Antisocial behaviour is not confined to teenage hoodies. It is also perpetrated by “pillars of the community”, who conduct it in nastier, far more insidious forms.   My boyfriend refuses to sell out for his art but makes me pay for everything June 4 2006 After eight years as a single parent, I finally met a kind, caring chap. He is an artist and has two young kids. I was taken back by his kind, gentle, family orientated manner. Soon after he moved in with my nine-year-old daughter and me, his work dried up and he relied on me to pay the bills, always promising his luck would change. That was three years ago. Since he arrived, I have got into debt with both my bank and parents. We’re both in our mid-thirties and still living in my small rented home, which I pay for. I feel we should compromise, and he should work part-time, giving him time to do his own work. This causes massive arguments. He does not want to "sell out" to a regular 9 to 5 and works on unpaid projects, promising they are going to be the "next big thing". Often I come home from work to find no housework done and art materials all over the floor. Our sex life has suffered and we argue all the time. He says I am controlling, hating anything that does not include me. I say he does not live up to the financial responsibilities a family (or two!) brings – he does not pay maintenance for his children. I have been honest in my need for a more secure and reliable future. I have thought of separating from him, but he really is a wonderful, kind and caring man, who is faithful and does not go out drinking. I find his relentless determination amazing and infuriating at the same time. My close friends think he’s lovely, but worry about me not getting on the property ladder, nor being in a situation where I can have more children, which is what I want.  This is causing me terrible misery. I need unbiased advice. He’s not going to change. That’s the brutal truth. You want him to be somebody he is not. Perhaps you can’t even see clearly what he is; you’re so blinded by your need for him to behave differently. He is an artist, with all the exquisite and baffling selfishness that goes with that. Whether he is a good one, you do not say. Whether he has a chance of ever making money is impossible to predict. It is a notoriously unstable and chance-ridden profession. But he is determined to make it, no matter what the cost – to himself or to anyone else. His relentless determination is, as you say, both amazing and infuriating.  No amount of arguing and pleading is going to change that. We always think that we can change other people when, in truth, it is only ourselves that we can change. Expecting other people to be different is like banging your head against a brick wall. The brick wall is never going to become yielding wool, however much we might want it to. The more we beat ourselves against it, the more we hurt ourselves. The brick wall stays as it is. So perhaps it might be more helpful to stop focusing on him and to look at yourself, what you need and what, ultimately, you want. You’ve said it yourself – you want a more reliable and secure future. You want more children. You’d like not to bear sole responsibility for the bills. You’d like a foot on the property ladder. Those are the things that you want; yet you are acting as if the opposite is true. You choose to be with a man who will not, and openly admits to it, bring you those things. And it is your choice. I don’t mean that harshly. All I am trying to say is that we have a choice about our lives. The problem is, choice is scary. It is a huge responsibility. So huge that being responsible for our own needs and happiness terrifies us, at least until we are able to break through our fear and understand that absolute responsibility also means absolute freedom and, ultimately, happiness. When we make our own choices, our sense of worth is not reliant on anyone’s behaviour but our own. We have nobody to blame but ourselves. But that’s incredibly difficult so we try to find excuses not to make those choices. One of those excuses is love. Let’s look at love for a moment. You say that he is a kind, caring and wonderful man. When you first met him you were blown away by his gentle, family orientated manner. Those qualities in a partner are obviously of vital importance to you. Yet, by his behaviour, he shows that he is not caring about your needs or the needs of a family and nor is he kind about supplying them. He is faithful and does not go out drinking on a regular basis. Is that truly the definition of a kind and caring man, that he does not drink or whore? Is that the most we expect of men? I hope not, for our sakes and for theirs. Most, I think, would be horrified by such a low opinion.   I think that we often confuse intention and action. We listen to somebody say, “I love you.” And then we watch them behave in quite another way. But we are so deafened by the words, or by the intention, that we forget to look at the behaviour, or the action. What are his actions actually saying? Look at those, and the man he is, not the man you’d like him to be. Look at what you need from a relationship. I suspect that you’re frightened of being on your own again, and a single parent to boot. That’s tough, as I know only too well. But which is tougher? Living in a way that makes you unhappy or living in a manner that is true to yourself even if that means being alone, at least for a while? And where, just as an aside, is the rule that says we must live as the traditional, nuclear family when that rule suits nobody? Is it not possible for your partner to have his own flat, and make his own mess, and for you both still to have a relationship? Or are you frightened that if you’re not actually supporting him, that the relationship won’t survive? Try, if you can, you get past the detail and look at the bigger picture. Ask yourself what it is you truly want in a partner and what, to you, a good relationship really means? I'm addicted to my ex May 28 2006 I met my first real boyfriend when we were 18. When he left me, I was devastated. Six months later, I met someone else and we eventually married and had a child. Over the last 14 years my ex has kept in touch, sometimes as a friend, but often as more. Afterwards, I am as devastated as the first time. Then he contacts me and we start the affair again, only for it to end when he moves away or meets someone new. My husband has always been there for me and we have been happy. Even when he found out about my ex, he took me back. It is cruel to treat someone you love this way, and I don't understand why I do it again and again. Why don’t I have the self-respect to say no, and why do I risk so much for so little? You never once use the word love about your ex. It sounds, from your letter, as if you don’t even much like him. You despise your attachment to him, but feel completely powerless over it. He is like an addiction – toxic, destructive and utterly compelling. As you say, “I really don't understand why I want to do it again and again.” One of the definitions of addiction is, “doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting a different result.” Think of the way an alcoholic drinks, trying to get back to that first feeling of warm and powerful confidence. Or the way an addict keeps going back to crack, to get that first sublime high. They know it doesn’t work; they know it destroys their life and the lives of the people around them. But they still keep doing it. Why? Because they are trying to get back to the original feeling. They think, this time it will be different. This time, the result will be good. It has nothing to do with the alcohol or crack. They are the messengers, not the message. Try to think of your relationship with your ex in the same way. It has nothing to do with him as a person. It has absolutely nothing to do with love. You have attached yourself to a feeling. You keep trying to get it back, or to get back to it. First love is incredibly powerful. So is first pain. It never really leaves us but with most of us, it fades to a manageable regret. In you, it doesn’t. You have to ask yourself why. I doubt there is anything missing from your marriage. I suspect that You’re looking in the wrong place. The lost part is in you. Somewhere along the line you developed a powerful, compelling and inarticulate emotional need. You don’t know how to express it,  even to yourself, so you attached it to the first person for whom you felt an overpowering emotion – your first boyfriend. Every time you see him or even think abut him, that emotion is reactivated. It is not, though, about him. It is about a need in you. In some therapeutic models, the basis of addictive relationships is thought to be something called attachment disorder. In simple terms, it is believed that if we did not attach sufficiently to our primary caregivers (our parents) we are always left with a gaping emotional need. That need can then be activated by an intimate relationship and can be so overwhelming that we mistake it for love or for a, “it’s so powerful, it must be right,” relationship. What we need to remember is that it is not the relationship that is so powerful, but the need. Unresolved emotional patterns can lead us to behave in ways that we do not value or like. I know that some people sneer at the idea of love (or a person) as an addiction. It is, though, a convenient shorthand. Pain lies at the heart of every addiction. Ask any addict what they truly want. It is not alcohol or drugs. They want, they say, “to change the way I feel.” The drug allows them to do that, at least until the effect wears off when they feel worse than ever and filled with guilt and shame. The shame makes them feel so bad, they want to escape it so they go back to the source and do it all over again. If you look at that pattern in terms of your own behaviour you may see that you are using your ex to change the way that you feel, as well as running back to try and resolve the shame. If you could only understand it, you think, if you could only get to the heart of him and see him clearly as a man (who is not very kind to you), then you could let him go.  Except that you can’t, because you’re looking in the wrong place. You’re not crazy or a bad person. What you suffer from is surprisingly common. The thing is to recognise it for what it is and understand that it has nothing to do with your ex and everything to do with an old, unresolved emotional pattern. You need to look very hard at yourself and work out what that might be. Is it about abandonment? Is it about neediness? What is it that triggers it? Honest self examination is really hard work, which is why we ask therapists to help us. Therapy is simply about understanding ourselves. It is no more mystical and complicated than that. My suggestion is that you get help from a qualified relationship therapist. This will help you to understand yourself. Once you see yourself clearly, I’m pretty sure that you will see your ex clearly too – as another messed up human being who is as incapable of intimacy with anyone else as he is with you, or even with himself.         Helpful reading: How to Break Your Addiction to a Person by Howard M Halpern (Bantam Books). To find an accredited therapist in your area, contact the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy (0870 443 5252, www.bacp.co.uk) How do I leave my husband? May 21 2006   After endless agonising and indecision, I have just left a 25 year long, deeply unfulfilling marriage to a decent man who loves me. Nobody else is involved. The relief is overwhelming. However, I am feeling very guilty. My husband has done nothing wrong. He constantly asks when I am coming back and looks like a little lost 50 year old boy. I feel that I am abandoning my son, not my husband. I do love him in a way, but do not want to be his wife. I cannot justify it morally and that hurts. How do I make the split? Do I tell him the truth or break it to him gradually and continue seeing him? Am I an evil, selfish woman? Can you help me feel any better about all this? Unless your husband is so well versed in the art of self-deception that he has managed to convince himself that your leaving the marriage is simply an act of temporary insanity, then he knows the truth. He may not admit it. But he knows it. He hurts, of course, and why would he not? The end of any relationship is horribly painful, particularly one spanning 25 years. You confuse pity with kindness and you confuse him by both leaving and then by not quite telling the truth about the way that you truly feel. You don’t make a complete emotional separation. Instead, it’s death by misplaced kindness. I suspect you get a sense of self by rescuing and caring for other people. You are not alone. It is amazingly common. If other people need us, we must be worthwhile. We confuse need with love. Love gives us the space to be ourselves. Need overwhelms us but at the same time is so demanding an emotion that we believe it must be important. And it is, in moderation. But that small part of us that knows we would rather be loved purely for our flawed and fragile selves rather than for what we can deliver is always present. And, inconveniently, it suddenly demands to be heard. After a long “deeply unfulfilling” marriage, you are finally listening to yourself. You’ve taken action. You are on your own, being truly yourself. You feel overwhelming relief. Then, old behaviour kicks in. How dare you put yourself first? You are overwhelmed with guilt and shame. You are an, “evil, selfish women.” You don’t like those feelings. So what do you do about them? You are tempted to go back to caring for a needy and childlike man – just as you have done for the past 25 years. Why else do you feel that you are “abandoning” (a loaded word if ever there was one), not your husband, but your son? – “a little, lost 50 year old” Has the dynamic of your relationship changed or is that how it has always been? You even talk about him as if he was a child. “He has done nothing wrong.” Of course he hasn’t. The end of love is not right or wrong. It is simply the end of love.  Ask yourself, is it your husband who wants to be let down gradually? Or is it you who wants to feel better by letting him down gradually? When we can’t bear our own feelings, we tend to avoid them by misplacing them on other people. We think, by making them feel better, we can make ourselves feel better. The relief you feel is overwhelming because you have finally stopped lying to yourself, and to him. That’s very scary. Liberating, but scary. Now you have to tell your husband who you truly are, which is not his mother or his emotional Mrs Fixit. You have to ask him to be an adult, an independent self-functioning human being, and to allow you to be one too. You have to ask him to be responsible for his own feelings. You have to be responsible for your own. Facing up to uncomfortable feelings hurts. It is painful to grow up. It is truly difficult. The psychoanalyst Stephen M. Johnson wrote, “Life is mostly a race between maturity and senility.” When I first read that, I knew so well what he meant that I burst out laughing. I know where I’ll be first. Your husband asks plaintively when you’re coming back. The part of you that thinks you’re only worth something if somebody else needs you starts to waver. You side step the real issue, which is telling him that you do not love him as he wants you to. You do not want to go on being married to him. You are never coming back. If you tell him the truth, you have to put your own feelings first and that’s so difficult for you that you beat yourself up with words such as “justify” and “morally.” Tell me, where’s the morality in lying and pretending an emotion you do not feel? Try, instead, to take practical steps. Insist on time on your own to give you both some space to get used to the new situation. Don’t ask his permission, he’ll never give it. He’ll want you to rescue him. You’ll want to rescue him because that’s the way you get your self-esteem. Or used to get it. Tell him that you need to be on your own for a certain time – three months, or six, perhaps. Don’t make promises about what will happen when the time is up. It is just time, don’t load it with expectations. Then leave him completely alone. Make a rule of no contact. Don’t try to fix him. Don’t try to make it better.   And as you do that, think of this story. A novice Buddhist monk is sitting with his master, learning to meditate. A car is revving outside the window. The novice cannot concentrate. His master is obviously in bliss. Finally, the novice can stand it no longer. He goes to his master and says he cannot meditate. “Why?” asks the master. “The car outside the window. Can you not hear it?” The master closes his eyes. “Yes.” “Is it not bothering you?” The master says, “Is it the car that is bothering you? Or is it you who is bothering the car?” Stop bothering your husband. Stop bothering yourself. You are not an evil, selfish woman. You are facing a difficult truth, which is that we cannot be responsible for anybody else’s happiness. It does not mean we don’t love them. You are trying to be honest, both for yourself and for your husband. Well done. Do I have visitation rights to my step children? May 7 2006 I have been the stepmother to two children (my husband's and his previous partner's) for more than 10 years. They live with their father full-time so we have become very close. My husband and I are now in the process of an acrimonious divorce and he is threatening to cut me off from all contact with the children, which I am devastated about. As I am not a blood relative, I am not sure what my rights are and whether it is worth pursuing any attempt to maintain a relationship with my stepchildren - can you advise? I can see that you’re suffering but really, I think you need to forget about your rights. This is about your stepchildren’s rights. They have a right to be happy. They have a right to feel safe. They have a right not to feel like bargaining tools in a fight between adults. Invoking legal rights won’t save a relationship. You say that you’re devastated, which implies that you love the children very much. You also say that you have become very close. Then you ask whether it is “worth” pursuing any attempt to maintain a relationship. The law can’t answer that. You can.   Put aside all talk of rights and think about love. Say, in my place, what would love do? Even if that sounds too hokey, think about it harder. Ask yourself what love would do to help two kids who’ve already had more than their fair share of disappointment. You don’t explain in your letter what happened to their mother. I don’t know if she died, or if she moved on or, even, if she is still in their lives. The facts don’t much matter. What matters, is that they have already been through one major loss. They have been hurt before, and badly. So ask yourself what love would do. You know the answer. We all do. It would do everything to look after the happiness of those two children. And so must you. Now, I’m not suggesting you turn the other cheek and walk away, just that you take a long hard look at your relationship with the children and how you might best protect it and them. Surely, it must be about their needs more than your own? First, you must stop fighting over them. I know it’s a cliché but sometimes, when we’re upset and angry, we lose perspective. We forget that kids are people, not possessions. Your husband is using them as objects of blackmail. That is not fair. Perhaps you’re not being fair either. Why has it come to this? You may believe that the acrimony is all on your husband’s side, but is that really true? It takes two to make an acrimonious divorce. So look at yourself with ruthless honesty and ask yourself, am I trying to hold onto these children to piss off my husband or do I have their absolute best interests at heart? Then it’s up to you to rise above yourself and rise above your husband’s bitterness and anger. Blackmail is an act of fury. It is unbelievably sad when a marriage ends and sadness and disappointment often show up as anger. It is particularly sad and complicated when a second marriage ends. It feels like the death of a second chance, and more of a mess than usual because there are even more hearts involved. But it has ended, so let it go with grace and with charity. Let it go as you entered into it, as two loving, consenting adults. If your husband is finding that difficult, then you must make the first move. You may think this is giving way to blackmail. It is not. Meeting force with force just creates a nasty mess. Much better to step aside and allow some of the anger to subside. So try and defuse the situation as best you can by putting aside your own feelings of anger, injustice and “rights.”  You don’t say what age your stepchildren are but I assume, doing the maths, that they must be teenagers. They will soon be old enough to live independently and to make independent decisions about who they see. So let them know that although your relationship with their father is over, it has nothing to do with your relationship with them. Keep the two things very separate. By all means acknowledge that you are sad and disappointed – kids need to see that those emotions are fine – but keep any anger or feelings of rights (and wrongs) away from them. Let them know your door is always open and that they are always welcome in your life. Make them feel safe and make them feel wanted. Their father, at the moment, may make it plain to them that he does not wish them to see you. He may threaten them. There is nothing you can do about that other than attempt to repair some of the acrimony that exists between the two of you. Once you have established a better understanding with your husband, he may well soften his stance. Until then, don’t make the children feel guilty or bad. Above all, don’t criticise their father.  If they are teenagers, they no doubt have mobile phones and computers. Perhaps you could call them occasionally or keep in touch via email. Do make any contact light and non-threatening. That’s not to say it cannot be heartfelt or loving. Don’t make emotional demands, don’t build it into a secret to be kept from their father, don’t overwhelm them by involving them in what is not their business. Keep clear boundaries. Simply drop them a line or call them occasionally to see how they are getting along and give them your own news. Let them know you are thinking of them and that they are important to you. Keep it simple. And if they don’t seek you out, then let them go. It may not be possible to have them in your life, at least not right now. They may feel too guilty about their father, or too distressed and angry with you both. They may associate you with yet another difficult time in their young lives. They may want to have nothing to do with you. That is their right too. And it will hurt. But it will hurt far less, and feel far less personal if you have done everything within your power to heal the acrimony with your husband and done everything to act in the best interests of your stepchildren. And who knows what the future holds?

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