You look stressed.

I am.

What’s stressing you?

My whole life.

My whole life…hurts.

I’m sorry to hear that.

I really hate pain and suffering.

Me too.

You do know they’re not the

same thing, right?

No. What do you mean?

Pain is inevitable. Suffering

is optional.

I don’t understand.

I never told you the rowboat story?

No.

This guy paints his rowboat.

It’s beautiful and he’s really

proud of it.

So he take it out on the lake.

And he’s rowing happily along

through the fog when another

rowboat suddenly slams into him.

Makes a huge dent in his

new paint job.

So he stands up and screams,

“You moron! Are you blind?

Look what you did to my rowboat!”

And on and on.

And then he peers through the

fog and sees that the other

rowboat is empty.

Which means what?

Life is full of empty rowboats.

We all get dented. Pain is

inevitable.

It only becomes suffering

when we take it personally.

Oh. I see.

Do you?

Maybe. Maybe not.

But for some reason I feel better.

My wife and I had a fight.

What about?

I took a nap.

You fought about that?

Yes. She wanted me to go

shopping with her instead.

She called me selfish.

Do you think you’re selfish?

I guess so. Mom always said

I was. Dad said it too.

When would they say that?

Whenever I didn’t do what

they wanted me to.

Like Felicia did.

Yes.

And Mom and Dad and Felicia

all acted like selfishness

was a bad thing.

Of course.

Funny thing about that.

About what?

About people who call other

people selfish.

In my experience,

they’re usually being selfish

themselves.

And what they’re really saying

is “Don’t take care of YOUR

self. Take care of MY self

instead.”

Ever notice that?

Not until now.

So how good are you at

taking care of yourself?

Awful.

Scared someone will think you’re

selfish?

That’s part of it.

The other part is believing…

I don’t really deserve to take

care of myself.

So you end up not selfish enough.

Yeah.

Well, don’t blame yourself.

That’s a tough manipulation

to defend against, especially

given how your parents

trained you.

Then again, if you don’t take

care of yourself, who will?

Probably not Felicia.

Probably not.

But you can start. At first

baby steps are enough.

Baby steps?

You listen to your body, and

find small ways to give it

what it asks for…

like taking bathroom breaks,

or resting your tired feet…

or going outside to let

the sun shine on your face,

or treating yourself to your

favorite lunch…

Or not going shopping

when I need a nap.

Just so.

Baby steps count.

How are you feeling

right now?

Like taking another nap.

How are you today?

Overwhelmed.

By what?

The usual. Work. Bills.

The marriage. The kids.

The house. Plus a hundred

other things.

The leak under my sink.

The hole in my roof.

The racoon in my attic.

My car needs a tuneup.

My lawn needs reseeding.

My dog needs shots.

I’m fat and should exercise.

I’m anxious and should meditate.

I eat crap and should eat vegetables.

And on and on and on…

You do seem to be juggling

a lot right now.

How have you handled

this in the past?

I try to keep all the balls in the air.

Does that work?

Never. I exhaust myself.

The balls drop. I feel guilty.

I get depressed.

I see. Want a suggestion?

Please.

Drop the balls on purpose.

Deliberately?

Yes. For today. Drop all but two.

Which two?

First, get some rest.

Second, find someone to lean on.

Lean on? Who?

Anyone who will give you

permission to be selfish.

Isn’t selfish bad?

No, selfish is essential.

Selfless is bad. Depression is worse.

Can I lean on you?

Please do.

Now take a nap.

(Silence.)

(More silence.)

(Slight snoring.)

(Whisper:)

Welcome to controlapy.

Okay, you convinced me.

Of what?

That control addiction is my

biggest problem.

What did it?

Our last session. Afterwards I

realized that I really do feel

like I’m trying to walk

seven dogs at once.

So what do we do now?

Controlapy.

What’s controlapy?

Control therapy. My nickname

for it.

That’s a stupid nickname.

I think it’s catchy.

And I suppose that makes

you a…

Controlapist.

(Sigh.)

And what does controlapy

involve?

Three lessons, basically.

First, what control addiction

is and how it affects us.

We’ve already begun that.

Second, where you personally

are addicted to controlling.

And third, what you can do

instead.

Do?

Yes. There are healthier ways

to cope with feelings than

controlling.

What ways?

There are three of them too:

(1) Surrender, or not trying to

control what you can’t control

anyway.

(2) Responsibility, or focusing

on your feelings and how

to manage them.

And (3) intimacy, or learning

how to be yourself with another

person and allow them to do

the same with you.

And what does controlapy

look like?

You bring in your daily

experiences and your feelings

and I decide which learning

we need to focus on.

Isn’t that controlling of you?

I suppose so.

But also contralapeutic.

There’s still something I don’t

understand about control

addiction.

What’s that?

You say everyone is addicted

to control.

Right.

Does that mean control addiction

is part of human nature?

Well, I’m not sure what “human

nature” means. So I’d put

it differently.

It’s perfectly normal for human

beings to be addicted to control.

It just isn’t healthy.

“Normal” isn’t healthy?

God no. How many normal

people do you know?

Lots.

And how many healthy

people do you know?

I see what you mean.

But I still don’t see what’s

normal about trying to control

everything.

Do you ever worry about the

future?

Sure.

You’re addicted.

Do you ever obsess over

the past?

Of course.

You’re addicted.

Ever hide your feelings for

fear of how others might

react?

All the time.

You’re addicted. Ever worry

about whether people will

like or love or accept you?

Constantly.

You’re addicted. Ever lie or

manipulate or distort the

truth to get what you want?

Okay, I get it.

Ever avoid annoying or

uncomfortable situations?

I said, I get it.

Ever plan? Strategize?

Analyze? Fantasize?

Agonize? Dream?

Ruminate? Obsess?

You can stop now.

Just making my point.

Controlling is so ordinary

that most of the time we

barely notice we’re doing it.

But life comes to feel like

we’re trying to walk seven

dogs at once.

Or like they’re walking us.

I’m starting to notice that.

I have a question.

Shoot.

What’s my biggest single problem?

Addiction to control.

Not my depression?

Well, that’s related to the addiction.

Not anxiety?

Related to the addiction.

My overeating?

Related.

Overworking? Fear of other

people? Fear of my wife?

Related, related, related.

All my problems are related to

control addiction?

That’s how I see it.

I sound pretty screwed up.

Actually you’re pretty ordinary.

We’re all addicted to control, and

it causes most emotional problems.

Explain.

There’s a part of each of us that

craves control. It’s always awake,

usually scared, and constantly

trying to control stuff.

What stuff?

Everything. External stuff,

like people, places and things.

And internal stuff, like our

own feelings, thoughts and

behavior.

We even try to control the future

by anticipating it and by solving

problems that haven’t even

happened yet.

Because this part hates pain and

discomfort, it’s always trying to

make reality painless or more

comfortable.

Which means it spends all its time

fighting reality.

I call this part the Inner Monkey.

And we all have one of these?

Yes.

And it basically runs our lives?

Yes.

Well, I don’t buy it. It doesn’t

sound like me at all.

Have you looked in a mirror lately?

“If I know I’m crazy, does that

mean I’m not?”

Interesting question. Why do

you ask?

I’m not asking, I’m quoting. I just

read that in a book.

What kind of book?

A mystery, actually. It’s about this

Thai cop trying to solve a murder

and practice Buddhism at the

same time.*

And does your Buddhist cop

answer the question?

No. Can you?

Yes: No.

No, as in knowing I’m crazy

doesn’t mean I’m not crazy?

Right.

Why doesn’t it?

Does finding a hole in your tooth

make the cavity vanish?

No.

Same thing. Noticing something

doesn’t make it go away.

Self-awareness can take you just

so far. I’ve had plenty of clients

who like to say they’re working

on their problems when they’re

really just thinking about them.

But real recovery takes work.

What kind of work?

The uncomfortable kind.

Why uncomfortable?

Because emotional problems

tend to come from avoiding

discomfort. So facing discomfort

is part of recovery.

Discomfort as in…

Owning mistakes, facing

our limitations, accepting

responsibility, becoming

vulnerable, taking risks.

That sort of thing.

I’d rather skip all that.

That’s how most people feel.

Look around you. How many

healthy people do you know?

Not many.

But when does it end?

Recovery work?

Yes.

If you’re doing it right, never.

Never? There’s no graduation?

No Nirvana to attain? No Emerald

City you reach?

Nope. Just the Yellow Brick Road.

Hmm. So what do I do?

You choose. You can keep trying

to dodge life’s discomfort,

or you can…

hit the road.

*The Godfather of Katmandu by John Burdett.

Okay, so I’m emotionally

constipated.

How do I get unconstipated?

You’ve already begun.

I have? When?

Remember when we talked

 about how you felt

towards your boss?

And you let yourself

express your anger at him?*

*Session 18

Yes. That felt great.

That was you

unconstipating yourself.

But I can’t go around

expressing anger all

the time.

Or crying whenever

I’m sad. Or running

out of scary movies.

No, but you don’t need to,

any more than you need

to spend your life on the toilet.

You just need to

become regular.

Regular?

Practice getting feelings

out on a regular basis…

in a safe place at first.

Like here?

Like here.

That’s enough?

 To start. Then over time it

gets easier to do elsewhere

and in other relationships.

And eventually you stop being

scared of feelings and learn

to see them as friends.

This will take a while,

won’t it?

It takes as long as it takes.

Why? You have something

more important to do?

Apparently not.

Constipated? What do you mean,

constipated?

Have you ever been

physically constipated?

Had to go, but couldn’t?

Sure.

Remember how the longer it

lasted the more uncomfortable

you got? Until it was all

you could think of?

Of course.

Well, feelings are like shit.

They’re meant to be

expelled, not stored up

in the body. 

And when we don’t express

them they don’t just go away.

They go into storage and

build up pressure.

And we experience that

pressure as symptoms.

What symptoms?

Anxiety and depression

usually come first.

Then there are physical

symptoms like fatigue,

headache…

stomachache, backache…

frequent colds, high blood

pressure, ulcers…

irritable bowel, cancer…

Yikes.

Take you, for example.

What do you feel

when you’re depressed?

Tired, mainly.

And?

And my heart hurts.

And?

My brain won’t shut off.

And?

I kind of hate myself.

I just feel shitty in general.

Shitty. Exactly.

So you’re saying I’m depressed

because…

I’m full of shit.

Stop with the hammer already.

Self-abuse is just another

symptom.

You’re not bad, you’re constipated.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)