My dad sexually abused me when I was a kid. And, maybe even worse, I acted as his wife during adolescence when my mom was away for long periods (his date on business dinners, housework, taking care of my younger sibling, making his drinks).

I’ve done years of therapy (over a decade), confronted him, told my extended family (years ago), and dealt with the fallout. I’ve done a shit ton of work. Now I enjoy my work, my friends, my family that I kept, but long-term romantic relationships have eluded me in the years since I dealt with the abuse.

I can fuck people (and I do enjoy sex and it feels like mine now) and there have been times when this felt fun and free, but I’m starting to really want a relationship and finding just sex to be empty. But, I can’t seem to make it work.

It’s nothing dramatic, just one mundane mismatch after another – I’m not attracted to him, he’s not attracted to me, he just wants something casual (this comes up a lot), etc. But I can’t help returning to the thought that I’m doing it wrong, especially since I’ve been dating for about 3 years now with nothing that lasted longer than 5-6 dates.

I suspect that I might be too protective of myself, that I don’t reveal who I really am, so people can’t really get a sense of me. And that I am looking for what’s wrong with people, instead of thinking the best until proved wrong. I can definitely be hesitant to express my positive feelings to men, especially without knowing they feel the same way.

I don’t have an exact question, but am wondering what you think.

You’re not doing it wrong. You’re fine. Normal, actually. You’ve just got one thing left to do, and it may require a little more therapy. (Not the heavy stuff. Don’t worry.)

I’m thinking you know yourself pretty damn well, which means your self-assessment is accurate. You’re too protective of yourself. You’ve got your guard up, and you don’t know when or how to let it down. So, how do you learn? What skills do you need? What’s the solution to your problem? In a word, vulnerability.

You don’t know how to be vulnerable in a romantic relationship. It’s too great a risk for you. You can handle five or six dates worth of emotional investment and intimacy, but you’re not willing to take it any further. You don’t reveal who you really are, because you don’t want people to get a sense of you. It’s all very deliberate.

Why is that, do you think? Could it be because falling in love makes you vulnerable to betrayal? Could it be because you’re simply not willing to put yourself in a position where you could be betrayed by a man that you love? I totally understand why that kind of thing would be too great a risk for you.

Your entire life has been defined by a betrayal of such magnitude that I can barely imagine how you’ve managed to recover. Still, you have, and I’m super impressed with how well you’ve got your shit together. Like I said before, you’ve really only got this one thing left to do, and that’s to embrace some vulnerability.

In order for you to have a long-term relationship, you are going to have to put yourself in a position where you could be betrayed by a man that you love. You are going to have to be vulnerable, and you’re going to have to reveal who you really are. There is no way around it. (The inevitability of it is why I suggest you walk this path with a therapist. You’ll need someone to hold your hand a little. Again, nothing too heavy, but you shouldn’t have to do this kind of thing by yourself.)

Learn how to be vulnerable in a romantic relationship, even though it means risking betrayal. Of course, be picky. Choose your partner wisely, but when you do, put yourself out there. Reveal who your really are. You might get hurt, but it’s the only way a long-term relationship will ever work.

The man I thought I was going to marry died suddenly and young, and while we’d both moved on and he married someone else, I feel like someone punched me in the chest. But also a part of me feels like I don’t have the right to be as upset as I am. We haven’t spoken in years. I was asked to stay away from the funeral out of respect for his widow (whom I’ve never met). I get why, but it just seems like now the business between us will never be finished. I guess I don’t know where to go from here. I have all this grief that I don’t even feel a right to.

You have every right to grieve in whatever manner is necessary.

I don’t know who asked you not to attend the funeral, but unless it was someone speaking directly on behalf of his widow, I would ignore them and go to the funeral anyway. (Since you’ve never met the widow, I doubt this warning came from her, and I’m guessing it was just someone with a personal opinion who’s meddling.)

Unless there’s some serious shit between you and the widow, it’s not at all disrespectful for you to attend his funeral. You don’t have to be all front-row about it, but he was a major part of your life, and you deserve to be there as much as anyone else.

However you decide to say your goodbyes and pay your respects, this is really only the beginning of your grieving process. His death is gonna fuck with you for a long time in ways that you won’t be expecting. Not only is it okay to feel all that shit, but you kinda have to. It doesn’t matter that your lives diverged. He was a part of your life, and you were a part of his. That will always mean something, and it will always be important.

I just had a four year relationship come to an end, he said he did not have romantic feelings for me anymore. He also said we had no disagreements or arguments, that we were complimentary, and it wasn’t what he was looking for. I’m so confused. It hurts, and it is shit. I love him and all the moments we shared. He still comes to me when he deals with some issues and says he finds comfort in me. I absolutely want him to be happy even if it’s not with me, and will be there to comfort him. It’s been very hard to rid of the feelings, but what am I even doing. Yet, I have a question or a few questions. 1) How can someone feel all these intense emotions for another person who has stopped feeling the same? 2) How can someone just not be in love one day? 3) How do I stop having feelings for him? 4) How can I still be a person to help him, without hurting myself?

1. He’s already had time to come to terms the end of the relationship. You haven’t. It’s perfectly normal for you to be feeling intense emotions right now. I promise, those feelings will eventually subside.

2. It didn’t just happen one day. It was a process, one that took time, and one for which you are not responsible. Your instinct will be to find ways to blame yourself, but this isn’t on you. Four years is a good run. The relationship simply ran its course, and he was ready to end it before you were. (I doubt you’ll believe me, but if it hadn’t been him first, eventually there would have come a day when you would have been ready to end it.)

3. Time, distance, and personal reflection. Those are the ingredients required to stop having feelings for him. I have no idea how much time it will take you. Distance includes both emotional distance and physical distance. As for personal reflection, that’s going to be tough. This is your first time dealing with a broken heart, and being new to the process, you’re just gonna have to find your own way.

4. You can’t continue helping him without hurting yourself, nor does he deserve to find comfort in you after ending the relationship. Stop being there for him. Stop comforting him. Stop letting him take advantage of you. (Yes, he is taking advantage of you.) This will prove difficult at first, but it is absolutely necessary in order for you to move on. He broke up with you. That means he doesn’t get to have you anymore. I can’t stress that enough. He doesn’t get to have you anymore.

I’m currently a woman in my early/mid 20’s who is dating a man in his early 30’s who is ridiculously smart, funny, emotionally intelligent, sweet, and handsome. I haven’t felt this way about a person in a long time, honestly, and I could honestly see myself with this person in a long-term relationship. However, I’m afraid my parents, who are your typical old-school, traditional immigrants intent on marrying me off to a wealthy and successful man of my same ethnic background, would never approve due to his physical disability (he uses a wheelchair). Am I thinking too far into the future and needlessly worrying? Should I just keep dating this person and enjoy it for what it is?

Of course, keep dating this person. Enjoy yourself.

Off the top of my head, I can’t think of a better reason to tell your ignorant-ass parents to fuck right off with their regressive opinions about your life choices.

If they give you one ounce of shit over the fact that this man you care about is in a wheelchair, I encourage you as the daughter of typical, old-school, traditional immigrants to scare the hell out of them with the following argument:

“There will come a day when at least one of you will be physically disabled due to your old age. How would you like me to treat you then? When it’s your turn to be in a wheelchair, do you want a daughter who supports you, or do you want a daughter who resents you? Your hypocrisy will have consequences, so I recommend you be very careful with your disapproval.”

i’m having a tough time in NYC. i’m a receptionist at an ad agency, and though i keep sending myself reminders to do stuff, i let items slip through the cracks and have to implement last-minute measures. i get profoundly uncomfortable talking on the phone where others can hear me (i get strangely neurotic when people in meatspace are within hearing range). i feel like i hit a wall every time i try to take on large projects, and i have difficulty keeping myself organized and my shit together.

it doesn’t help that i’ve been dealing with a yearlong shitty roommate situation and a series of emergencies that’s made money tight, both of which have distracted me. But still, i need to do a good job, and i want to do a good job. How can i kick my own ass? i’m sure everyone who’s been in the workforce for more than three years has faced this. Any thoughts on how to just stick through it?

i’m also trying to look for other jobs, decide what field i’d like to be in, see if i even want to stay in NYC. i’m finding it difficult to even be in my own space, enjoy watching TV or reading, or even sit down long enough to look for prospects, because i have so much anxiety about everything.

i don’t know if grad school is right for me. i’d have to be very certain on the field and the job prospects it could bring to go to grad school. i’m thinking of an MBA, but a brief look at Columbia’s MBA page kind of disgusts me.

basically, i would like to live a comfortable life that doesn’t regularly demand fourteen-hour days, stop being so anxious about everything, learn how to make better use of my time, and do good work. i am trying to see a therapist too, but you always have good stuff to say. So lay it on me, even if it’s nothing but harsh truths.

You’re radiating a special frequency of generalized anxiety that’s unique to twenty-somethings living in New York. It’s the city itself that’s causing it. Most of you end up self-medicating with casual sex and benzodiazepines, but those are short-term solutions to a long-term problem. Grad school is a short-term solution too, but it’ll cost you a hundred thousand dollars to confirm the fact that you still don’t know what you wanna be when you grow up.

Basically what I’m saying is that maybe New York isn’t the right place for you. There’s no shame in admitting it.

I don’t know where you’re from or what you’re about, but if you want a comfortable life, you’re never gonna be happy in New York. That city doesn’t do comfortable. Ever. That’s kinda the whole point. It’s just eight million people agreeing to be uncomfortable with each other for the privilege of living in New York. Some people thrive. Some people wither. Most people just keep their heads down and survive.

If you’re a receptionist at an ad agency that means you’re a conventionally attractive white girl with a liberal arts degree and a boilerplate resume that’s slightly above entry level. That’s a pretty decent place to be. You’ve got all kinds of options. Maybe you should start looking elsewhere, both spiritually and physically.

Broaden the scope of your search for purpose. The world is large, but the bite you take out of it doesn’t have to be. Think big, but be open to smaller opportunities. Look everywhere from Portland to Paris. Find your hustle. Find your place. Find your people, and find them quickly. You’ve only got a few more years before this kind of aimlessness and anxiety petrifies into stagnation and regret.

You said you’re an advocate of the right to die, and I’m now in a situation where it’s my only way out. This isn’t a suicide plea, so if you’re willing to hear me out, I’d appreciate it.

I’m young and living away from my parents. Long story short (it’s actually a short story) I was in an accident at work which destroyed my cock and left leg below the knee. I’ll be fitted for a prosthetic soon and I live in Ontario so OHIP is hooking me up nicely.

They can’t fix my cock though.

And yeah, I’m that simple. I’m twenty-two. I have no cock and soon I’ll be on a fake foot. I don’t feel obligated to look for any deeper meaning because I don’t want to, and not wanting to live makes me cancerous so long as I do. I don’t want to find a reason either. I’m actually, anger aside, also content with everything I experienced so far because I’m truly fucking privileged.

I know it will devastate some family, but I want to do my very best to explain why it happened. They don’t know about the accident yet–they can easily find out–but that isn’t what I want to explain.

Maybe you’ll just tell me to rewrite what I have, but is there any way to leave behind a note that can articulate the simplicity of life? That I’m leaving this behind because an intact body is minimum for me, and that my anger is residual, but has nothing to do with my choice to check out.

I’m a whole human being. People keep wanting to ‘enlighten’ me but I did all that shit when I got raped at seven. I’m way more hardcore than reinventing myself beyond the physical body, because I know that’s all there is for me. I feel like I have to come off as a prick to keep people from coming at me with ‘metaphysical life’ like I haven’t already rejected it.

I just want them to know this is a decision, not a reaction, and that I’ve become happier since making it. Not as ‘some manifestation of life, not death’ but exclusively because I know this won’t go on when I decide it won’t.

I’ve decided it won’t. Is trying to explain it going to make things worse?

I am absolutely an advocate of a person’s right to make their own end of life decisions. People have the right to die with dignity.

In your case, I can even understand how you’ve come to make your decision. Naturally, you’ve become happier now that you’ve made it. That’s a thing that happens. It’s how I know you’ve already made up your mind, and it’s why I won’t bother wasting either of our time trying to convince you otherwise.

I get that this isn’t a cry for help. It’s a genuine question about how to make things easier for the people you plan on leaving behind. It’s about how to communicate with your family about your decision to die. I respect that, and I appreciate that you thought to ask me for help in explaining yourself.

So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to support your decision, but I’m only going to support it conditionally, and you’re not going to like it. In fact, you’ll immediately dismiss it out of hand.

I’m telling you this first so that you’ll catch yourself when you do, because there will also be a part of you that knows I’m right, and I’m hoping to reach that part of you before you fuck up that last thing over which you’ll ever have any control.

I’m going to support and respect your decision to end your life on the condition that you support and respect your family’s right to come to terms with that decision before you act on it.

Your life — and its end — isn’t just about you. It’s also about your family. It’s about your loved ones and everyone you leave behind. As much as you have the right to make your own end of life decision, they have the right to be a part of it.

Yes, it’s true that the ultimate decision is yours to act upon, but it’s not a decision that you have the right to make by yourself. You don’t get to just type up a note and check the fuck out. That’s common suicide. It’s cowardly, selfish, and without a shred of dignity. I cannot and will not support you in that decision.

However, if you do the right thing — the hard thing — and bring this decision to your family so that they can come to terms with it first, then not only are you showing them the proper respect, but it will prove that your decision is worthy of consideration.

Now, I know you’re already thinking of a million reasons why you can’t tell your family beforehand, but all of that is bullshit rationalization. It’s cowardice and fear. Like I said, there’s a part of you that already knows involving your family is the right thing to do. It’s the only thing that could ever truly legitimize your decision.

Obviously, your manhood is important to you. Well, this is your last chance to be a man. Don’t go out a fucking coward. Have the strength of will and the depth of character to step the fuck up and do right by your family.

You only get to do this once, and there’s only one right way to do it.

You know I’m right. Don’t fuck this up.

My mother in an un-diagnosed manic depressive. Only un-diagnosed because she refuses to see a therapist and is enraged whenever its mentioned. Ditto for suggesting any medication.

When she’s in a downswing, she is beyond morbid, black, angry, sad, and likes to shut herself away from the entire world, including myself and my toddler (who is constantly asking for her). Nothing helps her. No amount of pep talking or consoling. Not one thing I say makes anything better for her, it just upsets her more. I’m 30. I’m a working mom. I’m busy. And we’ve been through this so many times that lately when she gets like this, I’ve just refrained from contacting her until she feels better. But I feel incredibly guilty about my silence. To me, this is the only way to deal without letting her drag me down into the abyss too, but I feel like I have a responsibility as a daughter to be there for her. Tired of the tightrope. Wishing I could help but realizing I can’t and switching to self preservation mode.

Not sure what my question here is. Any insights?

Manic depression is bipolar disorder, but it sounds like you’re describing major or persistent depressive disorder rather than something bipolar. (You mention the negative aspects of her depression, but you don’t mention the negative aspects of any manic episodes. Believe me. If she were manic, you would be complaining about that too.)

The fucked up thing is that there’s not much social stigma around a depression diagnosis these days, but there’s still tons of social stigma around a bipolar diagnosis. There really shouldn’t be. (Honestly, I’d much rather have someone in my life who has bipolar disorder than pretty much any of the personality disorders.) Regardless of whatever disorder your mom ultimately has, the problem remains that she doesn’t want anything to do with treatment, and that really puts you in a tough spot.

Obviously, your mom needs some professional help. Thing is, you’re not her doctor. You’re her daughter. You simply can’t be the one who helps her the way she needs to be helped. It’s true, as her daughter, you do have a responsibility to her, but at the same time, you are not responsible for her. You have to learn the difference. Your mother is responsible for her own mental health. You are only responsible for yours and your child’s.

Basically what I’m telling you is that it’s okay to step off the tightrope. You don’t have to do that anymore. If your mother isn’t willing to take care of her depression, then it’s reasonable for you to establish boundaries and not let her drag you down. Stop feeling guilty for protecting yourself and your child.

As her daughter, definitely keep encouraging her to seek treatment, and don’t let her anger dissuade you. Let it strengthen your resolve to maintain boundaries for as long as she refuses to help herself. That’s not just self-preservation mode. That’s the best thing you can do for her, for you, and for your child.

I’m “lightly medicated” on some Celexa for depression and kolonopin as needed. Lately I’ve been feeling like I dip too much into the klonopin (every evening to calm the fuck down and take the edge of anxiety off) instead of a couple times a week at best. I don’t want it to a be a daily thing, so I’ve been trying other ways of getting my heart to stop beating so fast and my mind not to snap in irritation at every noise outside or irritating question I get. CQ, what do you (or would you) do in moments like this to just chill wihout reaching for the benzos. Sometimes I take a hot bath, sometimes I gulp down an entire glass of water in one sitting, and sometimes I just try taking lots of deep breaths. They all work okay half the time. Any further recommendations? Thank you so much.

Benadryl.

I’m totally serious. It’s over-the-counter, perfectly safe when used as directed, and even though it’s an antihistamine, it has legitimate anti-anxiety properties.

If I run out of benzos or feel the need to cut back, the first thing I reach for is one of those little pink pills (especially in the evenings.) You’ll be surprised how well they work. Benadryl is my secret weapon against developing an ugly benzo habit.

I’m in university. My father just visited and surprised me at dinner saying he wants to take me to Paris and the Swiss Alps this summer. However, my mother, who hates him, has told me before that he’s an impulsive spender, we’re in severe debt and the IRS is going to come after him soon.

I have a genuine love for traveling, but also 2 younger siblings and a pervasive sense of guilt. (My dad has a drinking problem that will be tough to deal with on the trip too.) What to do?

Sorry, but you can’t go on the trip. Sure, Paris and the Swiss Alps sound wonderful, but you can’t vacation at the expense of the rest of your family. You already know that deep down. You know it was a rotten thing for him to offer, and you know better than to allow your father to make you his accomplice.

It sucks when you have to be the adult because your parents are acting like children, but sometimes that’s how it goes. And not to put too fine a point on it, but in addition to the obvious parent/child role reversal, there’s some wife/daughter role reversal going on here as well. (I don’t mean that in a creepy way. More in a Freudian way as further evidence of the super unhealthy relationship triangle between you, your mom, and your dad.)

Make the adult decision and politely decline. If you want to say no to your father in a way that won’t come back on you, tell him you’d love to go, but only if your siblings can come too and he promises not to drink. (He’ll pretend it’s a lovely idea, but the trip will never happen, and he won’t be able to manipulate you with any guilt.)

I live in Kalamazoo, Michigan. A month ago, a friend of mine called me needing help. He was crying and emotionally unbalanced because of shit going on with his estranged wife. I went to his house and hung out with him, listened to him, let him cry, etc. I also made him give me the guns that I knew he had. I brought those guns home with me, and I still have them. I am enraged and heartbroken about the shootings that happened in my town last night. I don’t think my friend should have his guns back. But they’re his property. Can you help me through this decision-making process, please? I’d feel enormously irresponsible giving him the guns. Thank you.

This is simpler than you think. First of all, the shootings that happened in your town last night should have absolutely nothing to do with your decision. Set that horrible shit aside and focus on your friend.

Now, all you have to do is answer one question. If you give your friend his guns back, do you believe he might use them to attempt to harm himself or others?

It’s a simple yes or no question, and if the answer is yes, tell your friend sorry, but he’s not getting the guns back. Furthermore, if you think that he’s a suicide risk, get the man some fucking help.

I mean it. This shit is no joke. If you were concerned enough to take his guns away in the first place, then you should be concerned enough to make sure your friend gets in a room with a mental health professional. Hell, at this point, you’re sort of obligated.

Tell him you’ll give him his guns back as soon as his future therapist calls you up and says it’s okay to return them.

Stick to your guns on this, even though they’re not your guns.