Posted by fxckfeelings on March 15, 2010
Part of being a kid is testing your limits with your parents-how late can you stay up, how many times can you hit your sister, how frequently can you have keggers in the garage-but what’s discussed less frequently is how parents have to test their own limits with their kids. While you might not want to be too forceful with your kid, part of being a parent is making choices and enforcing them. On the other hand, you don’t have to be so pushy that you go from parent to endless nag. It’s a careful balance, but the family buck stops with you, so you’ve got to make the call. Besides, if you don’t get it right, then those keggers will be the least of your problems.
–Dr. Lastname
My son was diagnosed with severe depression when he was a freshman in high school. I know it’s supposed to be a hereditary disease, but neither I nor my husband have any history of it; we both come from stiff-upper-lip backgrounds, and when our son attempted suicide, we were completely taken by surprise. He was also doing drugs, and we didn’t know it. He’s doing much better now, seeing a therapist weekly, but I still worry about his going off to college next year. He doesn’t share much with us, but I know he wants to do what’s “normal.” I don’t want to intrude on his relationship with his therapist or undermine his confidence or make him feel pressured, but we need to decide whether he’s ready to go. My goal is to make the right decision without hurting him in the process.
You can’t protect your son from of having an illness and all the trauma that goes with it, so for your own sake, and against all your instincts, don’t try.
On the other hand, if you try too hard to avoid all potentially painful issues with your son and stick to being stoic and reserved, you’ll be helping him avoid the hard choices he has to make, instead of doing your job.
Life is hard, precisely because it includes illness and drug abuse on top of the usual high stresses of being adolescent and finding a way to be independent. It’s a clusterfuck, and you’re the motherclusterfucker; you’re all in this together.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on March 8, 2010
In my practice, I give patients with ADD a special appointment option. Instead of their taking responsibility for keeping a regularly scheduled appointment (which means they’re obliged to pay full freight, with no insurance support, if they don’t show up), I encourage them to line up for a walk-in appointment which may keep them waiting longer, but won’t cost them a cent if they forget to come. It’s not that I discriminate, I’m just trying to make the best of things. That, to me, exemplifies the best way to deal with Attention Deficit Disorder, both for my patients and as a third party; keep your expectations reasonable, your appetite for shit bottomless, and your shrink understanding.
–Dr. Lastname
My roommate calls me the Ritalin vampire, because once my meds run out around 5, I become a different person (or really just a depressed, anxious mess). My mood drops so low so fast, and my nerves become so raw, that I have to drink just to get through the evening and get some sleep. It’s obviously driving my roommate crazy, but more than that, it’s messing up my life—I wake up hung-over, my boss is pissed, I feel sick all the time, so even when I’m not anxious and wired when I’m on my meds, I still feel like shit. My goal is to figure out how to get my ADD under control when the sun is down.
Most Ritalin users don’t have a terrible comedown with severe anxiety every time their meds wear off—what you have isn’t normal ADD, but ADD plus anxiety, plus, probably, alcohol dependence.
The medical term for your three-pronged disorder is a trifuckedta. Surprise, the prognosis ain’t so hot.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on March 1, 2010
A lot has been made recently about how it seems like every child is being diagnosed with autism; celebrities like Jenny McCarthy, whose son is autistic, have led the charge to blame and outlaw vaccines in order to protect kids. In reality, as science progresses and our understanding of the autism spectrum deepens, the disease hasn’t expanded, just the diagnosis, i.e., there aren’t more autistic kids, just more kids being called autistic. While today’s cases aren’t autism-related, they both illustrate the myth of the power of diagnosis. Focusing too much on what your disease is does nothing to improve your health. Incidentally, Jenny McCarthy has revisited her take on vaccines—it turns out her son’s diagnosis was wrong.
–Dr. Lastname
In the last ten years, I’ve heard voices in my head and most doctors describe my symptoms as psychosis, but nobody can tell me exactly what’s wrong, or find a medication that makes them go away, or really do anything but listen to me give them my laundry list of “how I’m crazy” and try to take the problem apart. In the meantime, I’m struggling to hold onto my job, my wife is struggling to put up with me, and my kids (now grown) just worry and get more distant. My disease stays the same, my life gets worse, my diagnosis goes nowhere. My goal is to figure out what is causing the symptoms, get a real diagnosis, and make real progress.
I wish the word diagnosis meant “we know what’s wrong and what to do,” but it often doesn’t, except in certain special cases. (Like, right now I feel safe diagnosing your reaction as disappointment.)
Very often, all a diagnosis means is that we recognize a group of symptoms that often travel together in the same social circle, and often get a little bit better when they’re treated with a particular group of medications. Tada.
That’s almost always true when the doctor making the diagnosis is a psychiatrist, because we know less about mental illnesses than almost every other kind of illness (and less about the brain then we do about any other part of the body).
We really should use some other word than “diagnosis,” but we don’t, because we love to think we know more than we do, which goes to prove that doctors are just as vulnerable to idiot false hopes as everyone else.
Some people put a premium on hope of any kind, but false hope is dangerous, because we pay for it with unrealistic expectations that lead to feelings of failure. You expect that, once you get the right diagnosis, you’ll get the right treatment, but I diagnose that assumption as bullshit.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on February 15, 2010
As Valentine’s weekend comes to a close and the Holiday Death Triangle of Christmas-New Year’s-Valentine’s once again completes its cycle of horror, it’s time to reassess what makes relationships last. Sometimes Mr. Right doesn’t have a connection with you that makes you see fireworks, while a connection with Mrs. Wrong does make you see fireworks, but only after her left hook connects with your face (and your family disconnects from your life). Valentine’s Day might be about love, but there’s a reason why good relationships last for years and Valentine’s haunts our lives but once a year.
–Dr. Lastname
I’m in my mid-30s, about to have my first child with my husband of about a year. My husband is a solid guy—he’s steady, and very caring—but deep down, I know a big reason I married him is because I wasn’t getting any younger and wanted to start a family. I dated a guy in law school that I was really in love with, but he was a lot older, made it clear he never wanted kids, and was your basic passionate, unavailable nightmare. I admit, I’m hormonal, which means my husband’s been getting on my nerves a lot lately, which just makes me obsess more and more about how I’ve settled for a life without love. My goal is to figure out how to get through the next stage of my life and live with my decision.
Don’t get superficial and compare the Valentine’s Day smiles at the next bistro table to your current mood and nostalgic memories of past lovers. In my experience, finding the love of your life isn’t too difficult, but finding a good partner is a real pain in the ass.
By “good partner,” I don’t mean someone you’re crazy about, under any and all circumstances, forever and ever, amen. I mean someone who is strong, easy to live and work with, accepts you during your weaker and less likeable moments, communicates on your wavelength, and picks up the load when you can’t. As well as someone whom you can put up with most of the time.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on February 4, 2010
If someone’s related to you, there’s no guarantee they’re going to be honest with you, or even honest about you to anyone else. You can try to get them to own up to their problems with anger, eloquence, and/or the help of the court system, but the smarter choice is to stop pushing them towards the truth and hold onto the facts yourself. As long as you’re calm and factual, people can draw whatever conclusions they want and your relatives can stick to their version, but your part in the family affair is settled.
–Dr. Lastname
I’m fine now (I’m 14), but I’m trying to figure out how to deal with a crazy father who physically abused me until a couple of years ago—that’s when my mother finally figured out what was happening and had me come live with her. The trouble is, I guess you could say my father doesn’t see reality the way other people do and he never remembers hitting me. In his mind, when he’d hit me, it was because I was trying to destroy him, so what he tells the judge is that he loves me and that my mother is a raging alcoholic who has brainwashed me to hate him (my mother stopped drinking after the divorce, years ago) and he really believes what he says. My goal is to get him to stay away from me and convince others that his version of reality isn’t real.
Kids aren’t the only ones who have trouble accepting the fact that we often can’t protect ourselves from scary crazy boogeymen, particularly when the craziness isn’t obvious, and the boogeymen are family.
We’ve said it here before: certain crazy people are not obviously crazy and are particularly good at persuading other people to see them as injured victims because they truly, truly believe they are, no matter what really happened. It’s a kind of sickness for which no one has the cure, and nobody feels sicker than the victims in the wake of these sickos, who don’t necessarily feel sick at all.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on January 25, 2010
If you hate someone or something for reasons beyond your control, then those feelings are, in essence, beyond your control, so resistence is essentially futile. Hating something is one thing, but then feeling guilty for hating, then angry for feeling guilty, depressed for feeling angry…so it goes down the feelings spiral, down the emotional toilet.
–Dr. Lastname
When I broke up with my girlfriend, I felt like I didn’t have a choice; she was smothering me, she made me feel guilty and like a bad person all the time, and I just couldn’t take care of her anymore. We’d been together for a relatively long time and I had reached the end of my rope (she’d even started hitting me and breaking things in our apartment). The problem is now that I feel even worse because, in the months since I ended it and she moved out, she’s started getting high a lot and has threatened to kill herself more than once. If she goes through with it, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. My goal is to feel less awful about breaking up with her (which I did to feel less awful).
As a not-sociopath, you can’t feel less than awful about your ex-girlfriend’s drugging, depression, and self-destruction.
It’s the feeling responsible, as well as awful, that will not only do nothing to help her recovery, but will also turn your sorrow into well-entrenched, call-the-doctor depression. So…Dr. Lastname here, how can I help you?
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Posted by fxckfeelings on January 21, 2010
In-laws are classically seen as a pain in the ass, but when your in-laws’ offspring becomes your ex, and your own offspring remain, that pain doesn’t go away. Sustaining relationships with exes is hard—especially when those exes are drunk, crazy, and generally impossible—but when you have kids, you’re forced to sustain those relationships, with parents and grandparents, like it or not.
–Dr. Lastname
My ex-wife cares about our kids, but she’s always been overbearing and intense, which is why I ‘m very happy not to be married to her now. Her latest rage, in both senses, came from her new therapist, who persuaded her that she’s depressed and has bad dreams because she was neglected and maybe abused by her alcoholic parents, so now she wants our kids to have no contact with them, their grandparents, at any time, whether the kids are staying with me or with her (we have joint custody). Now, I’m not crazy about her parents and they sometimes drink too much, but they never did anything unsafe and the kids love them, so I was shocked to hear from the kids that they miss their grandparents (my wife never informed me about her new policy). I don’t want to trigger a court fight with my wife—I can’t afford it, and neither can she, but she spares no expense when she feels her kids are threatened by the forces of evil—and I’ve got no great wish to put myself on the line for her parents, but I don’t like having her tell me what the kids can do when they’re with me and I don’t think losing their grandparents is good for them. My goal is to send her a message that she can’t control what our kids do when they’re with me and protect the kids from losing their grandparents.
The short answer is, you can’t win a pissing contest with a fire hydrant.
Yes, your ex-wife has no right to tell you what you can and can’t do with the kids when they’re with you, and yes, it hurts them to be cut off from their grandparents, and yes, in the short run it’s entirely within your power to facilitate grandparental visits.
No, none of this matters in the big picture.
If your wife is the kind of self-righteous, crusading, angry asshole you describe her as being, then you have very little power to make things better and many, many opportunities to make things worse.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on January 18, 2010
People get demoralized when they feel they’re not getting what they deserve, be it pain relief or respect. It’s natural to go on strike and either A, start raging against the machine of injustice, or B, go the other way and surrender to a life on the couch in sweatpants and a snuggie. Of course, the resulting fall-out will feel like a side-effect of the original injustice, not a direct result of your tantrum, but you’ll be too high on rage/comforted by your snuggie to understand. Understand this now, before you protest; better to suffer the original injustice in peace than the further demoralization of unemployment, stiff drinks and a blanket with sleeves.
–Dr. Lastname
I have a dedicated husband, three teenagers, a nice house, a well-behaved dog—it’s not a bad life—but I’ve had a nagging sadness my entire life, and I still do, despite all the good things I’ve got. I deal with it, admittedly, by drinking a bit. I wouldn’t say I’m a drunk, and my drinking doesn’t interfere with my parenting or my marriage anymore than my mood does, but I know that what I’m doing is self-medicating. My husband wants me to see a shrink because he thinks I should take real medication for depression, but if my drinking doesn’t mess up my life, and if, despite all I have, I can’t be happy, anyway, then I don’t understand what makes one medication better than the other. My goal isn’t to be happy, just to withstand my misery, my way, right or wrong.
I understand that chronic depression, which is what we call “nagging sadness” in the biz, isn’t fun. It can make you grumpy, negative, unmotivated, scattered, and lousy at whatever you’re trying to accomplish.
All that’s excluding the pain, so no wonder it can demoralize you into seeing a negative future for yourself. It’s enough to make you want to turn “what the fuck” into words to live by.
If there was some way to relieve your pain that was risk-free and didn’t affect your other life priorities, that would be wonderful (for you—the aforementioned biz would probably dry up).
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Posted by fxckfeelings on January 11, 2010
We’ve often made the point that shrinks are doctors, not magicians, but we got a couple of cases this week take that point even further; not only aren’t shrinks magicians, they’re also people (and it turns out that surgeons are doctors and people, but really don’t want to be confused with shrinks). Not surprisingly, even doctors need a doctor once in a while, even if it’s an e-MD…with no magical powers.
–Dr. Lastname
I’m a therapist who takes great pride in being available and supportive to my patients, but I’ve got one who’s driving me crazy. At first, he thought I was great at helping him get more confident and functional, but lately he’s been slipping and drinking too much and fighting with his wife, and, instead of seeing me as a supporter who wants to help him control behavior that’s hurting him, he blames me for giving bad advice and being critical. I asked if he’d like to see a different therapist but he said he wants me to apologize and listen to him more carefully so I can make up for the pain I’ve caused. I’ve listened, and all he does is give me an endless earful about how badly I and other people have treated him and how I’ve made him feel worse, not better. I want to refer him elsewhere, but I can’t, because I wouldn’t wish this guy on my worst enemy but I can’t abandon him, and I don’t want to get sued or burn any bridges in what’s a pretty small professional community in this area. My goal is to get rid of this guy without feeling like I’ve abandoned him or triggering a malpractice suit.
If your goal as a therapist is to make people feel better, then it’s no wonder you’re fucked; as such, you’ll have no defense against the kind of asshole who feels you (or really, anyone but them) is responsible for their happiness and pain (mostly pain) and therefore deserves punishment when things go bad.
Under your rational exterior, you seem to agree that you’re responsible, Dr. Feelgood, so he’s got you, and he knows you speak his language. Asshole 1, Therapist 0.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on January 4, 2010
In fxckfeelings.com terms, most resolutions are just grand, annual wishes, not goals. Goals, as we define them, are realistic, while wishes are failure-prone yearnings that are usually best ignored. The holidays are over, and so are the excuses n’bullshit, so for our own New Year’s babies/cases, happy New Year, and it’s time to ditch these resolutions, stat.
–Dr. Lastname
My girlfriend got mad at me on New Year’s Eve and now she tells me it’s blown over, but I can’t believe her. I’ve always had these massive how-stupid-could-you-be thoughts that I can’t get out of my mind after I say something that might be stupid, even if it isn’t really stupid, but I keep on thinking about what I said and have to tell a friend about it and then, when they re-assure me, I can’t believe them and have to ask them again until it drives them crazy, and I start to worry about how stupid I sound to them, and so on. So my big New Year’s resolution was to stop myself from being so insecure, but now it’s happening again and, even though my girlfriend is a pretty uncritical person, I can’t stop wanting to ask her for re-assurance. My goal is to be able to tell myself that I didn’t say anything stupid and have more confidence in myself and finally become the person I want to be.
Many people don’t grow out of their “I-hate-myself-for-being-so-stupid” reaction, no matter how much they accomplish, or get reassured, or seek professional help. They never find out why they’re so stupid, but they never stop asking.
The reason for their so-called immaturity is a kind of painful mental tic that hurts like hell when it happens, and can’t really be prevented or eliminated (other than by lobotomy, which is a skill I’m trying to acquire, as soon as I can find a willing test patient/Jon Gosselin returns my calls).
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