Posted by fxckfeelings on October 4, 2010
We’re hardest on family because, unlike those we’re not bound to by blood, family is stuck with us forever. Then again, being stuck together often forces the released negativity to bounce back and forth, like light in a laser, until it gets strong enough to zap your perspective and make you feel like a loser. Getting out of that mindset requires looking outside of the family circle and unsticking yourself from your nearest, dearest and harshest.
–Dr. Lastname
I don’t consider myself a lazy person—I take care of the kids and sell some of my paintings—but my husband isn’t crazy about selling cars and would really like to stay home and take care of the kids himself, so he’s always making remarks about having to carry the harder load and asking me if I could find a way to make more money. I’ve tried to find better-paying work, but I’m dyslexic, and what I’m doing is probably about as good as it gets, given my skills and the flexibility I need for the kids. Anyway, he’s been nastier lately because car sales are down and it’s getting to me. My goal is to get him to stop putting me down.
You can’t stop someone from putting you down—haters gotta hate, as the kids say, even if the hater is your husband, and most husbands are haters, at one time or another.
On the other hand, just because someone you love is trying to put you down doesn’t mean you have to take their criticism to heart and sink, doomed unless you can get them to take it back and promise never to do it again.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on July 8, 2010
Hate makes us feel particularly alive; Sox fans may hate the Yankees (and the Rays, for the matter), but that rivalry is a big part of what keeps those fans coming back. At the same time, however, indulging in hate excessively is dangerous, because it pushes us to wreak destruction. Once hate takes over, levity leaves; you’re not for one team, you’re just against another. You can’t stop feeling hate, but you can learn to manage it. Otherwise, the season’s as good as over.
–Dr. Lastname
I hate life. What is the most reliable and painless way to commit suicide?
You hate life, and I hate the kind of dangerous, self-lacerating whining that makes a painful life seem meaningless, when it isn’t.
Hating life is an understandable feeling, whether the problem is a hateful life or your own, reflexive intolerance of life’s general hatefulness. There’s no doubt that life is sometimes hateful, some people’s lives are more hateful than most, and some good people are more sensitive to its hatefulness.
There’s more than enough hate to go around, and you can’t help how you feel.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on April 26, 2010
Bad habits are rarely personal—your average nail-biter doesn’t have a cuticle vendetta—but when one half of a marriage gets into bad behavior, even if it has nothing to do with his/her spouse, it’s hard for the other half not to blame his/herself. Women want to discuss the bad habit, men quietly stew, and either way, something impersonal feels like an affront. There’s no escaping the pain when a partnership starts to break down, but you can find ways to talk about bad habits without implying that anyone has failed, or doesn’t care, or just plain bites.
–Dr. Lastname
My husband and I have two kids, we both work hard, and he always used to find time to play with the kids and spend time with me, but in the last few months, he’s buried himself in online poker in the evenings, and the kids see a lot less of him (I do, too, and it’s been a long time since we had sex). He tells me there’s nothing wrong and that he’s not betting with real cash, but I know what I see, so I’ve told him we need to talk, and that’s what’s really infuriating, because then he won’t talk at all. My goal is to figure out why he’s stopped caring about me and find a way to get through to him.
You’re assuming there’s something bothering your husband that you can figure out and communicate about, because that’s what would allow you to fix things; that it’s not the poker that’s really the problem (or the not being poked).
Before you sit him down and try to take him away from the e-poker table, ask yourself what happens if it doesn’t work, which it often doesn’t, and clearly, in your case, hasn’t.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on March 29, 2010
For our 100th post, we address a problem that causes loads of people useless worry, and that is…useless worry. Just because horrible things may happen to you or someone you love (or because of someone you love), life shouldn’t end. Prepare yourself the best you can for whatever trouble you think you see coming, and then continue your regularly scheduled, useful life.
–Dr. Lastname
Living with my mentally ill 30-year-old daughter is wearing me out. My wife and I can never leave her alone, but we also can’t take her with us because she gets uncomfortable when she’s around people she doesn’t know and says inappropriate things in a loud voice and has to get up and leave. The problem isn’t her, though, it’s my wife, who is so worried about what will happen if we put her in a half-way house with other sick people that she can’t think clearly about it. We’ve got some money, but if we paid for my daughter to have her own condo and a nurse to keep an eye on her, the money wouldn’t last long. Then again, if she continues to live with us, we won’t last long. My goal is to get my wife to see that we have to get her into a state-supported program, for her sake and ours.
You hope to get your wife to see that your mentally ill daughter needs to live independently, but if you were making any progress in that direction, you wouldn’t be writing.
Let’s assume then, at least for the moment, that your hopes are false and your wife can’t let go, and if she can’t let go, she’ll always be thinking of new ways to make your daughter feel more comfortable and better understood. Which makes your goal a more and more distant dream.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on November 30, 2009
Seeing someone through a long illness makes saying goodbye a little easier, but that’s like saying that lifting weights makes it easier to lift a truck; losing someone you love is an impossible, painful task, no matter what the circumstances. You don’t protect them from death by protecting them from death, but by bearing the sorrow of their memories.
–Dr. Lastname
My father, a Holocaust survivor, is dying of cancer. I’m his only child, and while my mother is doing the best she can, I feel overwhelmed with responsibility and grief. I don’t know how to stop feeling so helpless, not just because I love him and can’t save him, but because he overcame so much to make life possible for me, and now all I can do is watch him die. My goal is to figure out what I can do for him since he’s done so much for me.
Don’t fall for the common misconception that you fulfill your duty to your parents by taking care of them and keeping them safe when they’re old. As a genuine geezer, Dr. Lastname can tell you with authority: you can’t, and it’s not your duty anyway.
No, I’m not telling you to push your dad out on an ice flow or forget about him, not for a moment. I am telling you to think about two things: what your goal will be for your kids when you get old and need their help, and how little you can do for anyone when they’re suffering from old age.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on November 16, 2009
Despite the fact that every human medical oddity on basic cable has a spouse, from the “Half-Ton Dad” to the man with a leg coming out of his abdomen, there’s no gaurantee in life that we’re going to end up with somebody, let alone with someone who meets all of our needs, be they mental, physical, or otherwise. Missing out on an intense physical connection isn’t a sign of failure or even necessarily great loss, especially when you’ve been lucky to have any connection at all…and weigh less than 800 lbs.
–Dr. Lastname
My husband and I divorced two years ago after twenty-five years of marriage. Believe it or not, the divorce was amicable; I’ve never been truly happy in my marriage, and the second our youngest left for college, I told him I felt trapped and finally needed a chance to find myself. See, my husband was the first and only man I ever dated after a very sheltered, lonely childhood, and I’m haunted by the feeling that my life is missing something because there’s so much about life I feel like I’ve missed out on. Now that I’m on my own and have a chance to find my bliss—to be in a true, loving relationship—I wonder if my unhappiness from my husband stems from the fact that I might actually be happier with women. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s not something I ever even had the chance to consider before, and all I do know for sure is that life with my husband, especially sexually, was never really gratifying. My goal is to find someone, anyone, whom I truly connect with before it’s too late.
It’s nice if finding and making the right sexual connection gives you a greater feeling of connection to life and relationships in general, a realization of who you are, an acceptance of your place in the universe, etc., etc., whatever. That’s what certain of the early 20th century novelists were trying to argue, and maybe the whole sexual liberation movement of the 60s and 70s was driven by that hope.
In reality, however, sexual identity is just one factor in what makes human connections meaningful, and you can’t be sure that your feeling of disconnectedness is a matter of sexual identity or, in a broader sense, that it’s within your control.
If it isn’t, your goal of finding a better connection can become self-destructive, because then you believe that you’ve failed to find meaning in your life, which is worse than the pain of feeling lonely and disconnected.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on November 12, 2009
Boundary issues are always a fun topic for us at fxckfeelings.com; from those who want to get too close to those who push others too far away, people are always clashing over personal territory while assuming the other guy is violating the rules. But what if we’re wired to see our territories differently and talking about it just gets everyone more annoyed? That’s when your goal gets more interesting.
–Dr. Lastname
My next door neighbor is your typical Mrs. Kravitz…always in my business asking me personal questions. Lately, she’s taken to walking into my driveway while I am working to get more dirt. My proposed solution to remedy the uninvited driveway visits is to add on to the existing fence, cutting down the easy access. I don’t want to have a conversation about “why” I am putting up the fence, so I am just going to do it without letting her know. My only fear is that there will be some kind of future confrontation because this neighbor gets insulted at the drop of a hat. My goal is to protect my boundaries, one way or the other, without having an angry neighbor to deal with for the next 30 years.
Using a fence to block out your neighbor’s intrusive curiosity may work…unless it actually does the opposite.
After all, it may just serve to whet her appetite, and pretty soon, she’ll have you under 24 hour surveillance with Predator overflights and under-eaves webcams. You’ll look like Wile E. Coyote writing away to Acme (or the German Democratic Republic) for ever-more-advanced fencing.
In other words, your goal isn’t to stop her, but to try. If your goal is to stop someone from prying when you can’t, you’ll go nuts, and your helplessness will draw her like a magnet (and your misery will draw you to me like a magnet, trust me).
If you begin by admitting you might well be fucked, then you’ll probably try cheaper options first (unless you already have).
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Posted by fxckfeelings on November 2, 2009
Making the best of ill health, surprise, doesn’t usually feel good; there’s the burden you’ve put on others, and (if you’re caring for someone who’s chronically ill) for the burden they’ve put on you. If you can learn to ignore your emotions and focus rationally on what your life is really about, however, you’ll find that your pain isn’t really what’s important.
–Dr. Lastname
I have been basically bedridden now for almost a decade with constant pain and fatigue, and I’m not even 50. I have been diagnosed with many auto-immune diseases, as well as central nervous system disorders that have led to constant pain, and am on a diet of many medications for pain, neurological disorders, and sleep. I find myself asking why bother? I have lost so many years of my life; my “thrill” in life is getting through a grocery trip. My body is weakened and aged, I cannot please my husband, my now grown children see a mother who is weak and sad. Before this, I was an active, involved, strong woman looking forward to a wonderful active life with my husband, and ready to see my children become healthy adults with families of their own. Now I see a life of pain that no medication has been able to stop, the constant craving of sleep, and utter depression.
If your goal was to be have a wonderful active life with your husband and watch your grandchildren grow, you were screwed before you began.
We all wish for a life like that, but the reason I’m open for business is that none of us can make such a life happen, even with a perfect start and wonderful marriage, not in this world. So if you make a goal of wishes like these, you’ll feel like a total loser when uncontrollable things happen, like incurable illness and pain.
A better goal is to find a partner who is sufficiently strong, caring, and devoted to kids so that he will shoulder the load when you can’t and stick around when you’re not much fun to be with. Lucky for you, you’ve succeeded.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on October 29, 2009
When people feel most powerless, they instinctively attempt to exert as much control as they can; even—especially—when they have less control than ever. In those situations, they go to the one thing over which they feel they’ll always have control, which is their own life, or the lives of those closest to them, but the more they discuss whether or not to continue life, the more they make that life difficult. Ultimately, it’s best not to ask “should I live,” but to admit—you guessed it—”I am fucked.”
–Dr. Lastname
I can’t seem to make a decision about the life/death issue. I want to want to live, or have the balls to call it quits. Shit or get off the pot. It takes too much damn energy vacillating.
“To be or not to be”—that’s still the question, right? Well, it’s also a question I never like to answer or hear.
Shakespeare or no, it’s a bad question to ask, because most people who ask it don’t really want an answer; they want an antidote to their hurt or someone to blame for not providing it.
It’s similar to the way Boston taxi drivers ask the passenger whether to take the Pike or Storrow to Logan airport — to have someone else to blame when, either way, they inevitably run into heavy traffic.
I know, the question expresses your deepest feelings. It also wears out friends, drives them away/proves that no one can help, and confirms your right to be very, very unhappy. The whole cycle sucks and it’s unhealthy. Keep asking it, and somebody will go ahead and hurt you more.
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Posted by fxckfeelings on October 26, 2009
Like the injured gazelle at the watering hole, human beings also have an instinct to conceal their weakened status; often, our worst fear isn’t being set upon by unknown predators, but by those close to us, who will be disappointed when our wounds impair our usual performance. Even a gazelle, however, would realize that, when wounded, putting pride and other people’s needs first is ridiculous.
–Dr. Lastname
I’m an early middle-aged woman, lucky enough to have the problems that come with getting saner and older. I grew up in one of those sad alcoholic homes from which I never gave up working to extricate myself. I screwed life up at first but have been recovered from alcoholism over twenty years, similarly recovered from eating disorders (bulimia, anorexia, binge eating), returned to the school I had ditched to finally graduate with honors, kept jobs (now retired) and, a real miracle, I have been married to a terrific guy in my sobriety and am (for real) happily married. I have solid loving friends. I’ve seen therapists for the depression, which intermittently interferes but even found a half-assed but useful medication. A good life…except for the real problems that come with age. That wonderful husband has a couple of chronic diseases, my best friend died of the cancer I survived, and everyone is dead in my small original family. I am experiencing that trapped childhood feeling of being in a world in which I am helpless and those I love are hopeless and going away. I realize I must just feel the hurt and keep on anyway, but I am tired, and my stamina is more fragile now. I disappoint those I love and make mistakes more. Goal in writing you: To get a better grip on myself and accept more deeply that I cannot change the pain of life. I would like to not keep blaming myself, a old bad habit that lingers. Sorry I’ve gone on so long but I guess I wanted to show that I have really tried to help others and myself even if I’m whining now.
You see your goal as rising above the pain of aging, but you can’t fool me (remember, I went to Harvard): your deeper goal is to help people, to the point that their aging has worn you down and caused you to forget that you have other goals. For example, not getting worn down unless it’s really necessary.
So it’s not aging that’s your problem, but what aging has done to your ability to help others while keeping your priorities straight. That’s what I think is causing you the most grief. After all, if you were old but weren’t as responsive to the needs of others, all you’d have to worry about is your bad back and Tivo’ing NCIS.
On top of ascertaining your real goal, I can also guess you’re not from Samaria, so you don’t have a Samaritan license (funny, you don’t look Samaritan). That’s the first thing that’s wrong with your initial goal—wanting too much to help others.
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