Category Archives: control

May 23, 2026

The Red Thread, part 2

By Steve Hauptman

Bert arrives

.

(Continued from The Red Thread, part 1.)

.

After the workshop I go back to doing

therapy with clinic clients. 

.

Mine is a typical outpatient caseload,

filled with the sorts of problems every

therapist faces: anxiety, depression,

addictions, bad relationships, parenting

problems.

.

But something’s different now.

.

Have you ever bought a new car —

say, a Honda — and take it out on the

road, and wherever you drive you

see other Hondas?  Suddenly the

world is filled with Hondas you

never noticed before.

.

This is happening to me.  Suddenly

my caseload is filled with control addicts.

.

The clients haven’t changed, I have. 

.

It’s like I put on new eyeglasses.  My

vision has refocused or sharpened

or something, and now I can’t help

seeing how relentlessly, compulsively

and self-destructively controlling

they all are.

.

They? I mean We.

.

Everyone.

.

Controlling, I find, is the universal

addiction.  It’s everywhere I look. 

Not just in my codependent clients,

but every client. 

.

Not just in clients, but in colleagues,

and friends, and family, and on the

nightly news, and in whatever I read

or watch on tv or in the movies. 

.

And, of course, in myself.  (I’ve discovered

Bert.) 

.

Like a red thread in a carpet, the idea of

control snakes through every problem,

every motive, every personality, every life.

.

Why is this?  

.

Originally I’d assumed that dysfunctional

families create codependency.  But now I

find the red thread running everywhere,

which must mean either that (a) all families

are dysfunctional (which is arguable) or

(b) the urge to control is  hardwired into

us, rooted in some deep part of our brain

 that can’t help rejecting what life hands

us and trying to replace it with what

we prefer. 

.

Or (c) both.  Or (d) something else entirely. 

.

I don’t know.

*

I spend the next fifteen years studying

the idea of control.

.

I hunt for books on control (there aren’t

many), then for books on related ideas

like desire and addiction and power. 

.

I buy lots of books. 

.

I start reading everything with a highlighter

in my hand, scribbling big yellow Cs 

alongside the parts that relate to control. 

.

Half my books start to look pee-stained. 

.

I buy more books.  I start typing out control-

related passages I like and collect them

in a computer file which as of today runs

to more than 200 pages.   

.

I become interested in Buddhism, which 

turns out to be all about control addiction. 

(Buddhists call it attachment.) 

.

I try meditating.  I hate it.  Well, not hate it

exactly, but I resist it like hell, to the

point I’m unable to sustain a regular practice. 

(Thanks, Bert.) 

.

I buy books on discipline.  Also more

highlighters.

.

I reshape my approach to therapy 

around the idea of control.  I teach

my clients to notice when they’re

monkeytrapped and how to escape. 

.

I write articles for them about

control addiction and ways to recover

from it.  (We teach what we want

to learn.) 

.

The therapy seems to work, for some

at least.  I am struck by how many

clients tell me, as they become less 

controlling, “It’s so much easier.” 

.

I decide to write a book.

*

Immediately I get blocked.  My

own control addiction prevents

me from writing about addiction

to control.  (Thanks again, Bert.)  

.

The block lasts for months, then years. 

.

I buy books about writing and the

creative process, which turns out to

have lots to do with (surprise)

surrendering control.  Some of

the books are wonderful.  I learn

a lot. 

.

The block persists.

.

But I am able to use what I’m

learning to help my clients,

parent my kids, manage my

marriage, cope with a monkey-

driven culture, and understand

myself a bit better. 

.

I’m not always thrilled with

what I learn, or what it shows

me about myself. 

.

Still. Better to know

than not know, I figure. 

.

I still project and worry, but now the

worrier in me has an Off switch which

actually works, oh, maybe half the time. 

.

Unfortunately that half is not the time

I spend writing. 

.

I finally start a blog in hopes that daily

writing and feedback from readers will

jump-start the book.

.

I call the blog Monkeytraps.

.

And I ask Bert to help write it.

*

He agrees.

.

So some of my early posts are from Bert’s point of view.

And I find that letting him write changes the writing.  

.

Hiding Bert had kept me ashamed of him.

.

It was the shame that was blocking me.

.

Letting him speak was like what happens in

AA meetings when members introduce

themselves by saying, “Hi, my name is X,

and I’m an alcoholic.”

.

Letting Bert speak was my first step

into recovery.

.

Coming soon: Bert Life

Leave a comment | posted in control

May 22, 2026

The Red Thread, part 1

By Steve Hauptman

How I discovered control addiction

So I’m giving this talk, and suddenly

realize I don’t know what I’m talking about.

.

I’m a new social worker, six months out

of grad school, working for a clinic attached

to a rehab.  My new boss has decided I’m 

the best one to run the weekly Family

Education Series, basically a crash course

in alcoholism and how it screws up families. 

.

And tonight’s topic is codependency.

.

I know the topic well enough.  I’ve worked

as an alcoholism counselor, treated hundreds

of codependents, can diagnose one after

five minutes of conversation. 

.

But when I went to prepare this talk I found

I couldn’t define the word. 

.

At work we talked about codependency 

without ever stopping to explain what

we meant.   And when I looked into my

half-dozen books on the subject I found

each defining it in a different way. 

.

One was:

A specific condition characterized by

preoccupation and extreme dependence

on another person, activity, group,

idea, or substance. [1]

.

Another:

An  emotional, psychological, and

behavioral condition that develops

as a result of an individual’s prolonged

exposure to, and practice of, a set

of oppressive rules. [2]

.

A third:

A multidimensional (physical, mental,

emotional and spiritual) condition

manifested by any suffering and

dysfunction that is associated with

or due to focusing on the needs

and behavior of others. [3]

.

A fourth:

A recognizable pattern of personality

traits, predictably found within most

members of chemically dependent

families, which are capable of creating

sufficient dysfunction to warrant the

diagnosis of Mixed Personality Disorder

as outlined in DSM-III [4],

.

which sent me off to yet another book

to learn what the hell that meant.

.

Finally I came to codependency maven

Melody Beattie, who explained that a

codependent is simply

.

a person who has let another person’s

behavior affect him or her, and who is

obsessed with controlling that person’s

behavior. [5]

.

A fine definition.  Until I noticed it

describes just about everyone.

.

Having no idea which definition

would be best to offer my workshop, I

cleverly decided to present them all.

.

So here I am, having just done that. 

I’ve distributed a handout with the

five definitions on it, and read them

aloud, and am now looking at a

roomful of confused faces.

.

A man in a brown corduroy jacket

raises his hand.  I nod back.

.

“So what the hell is codependency?”

he asks.

.

Everyone laughs.

.

I laugh too.  (Inside I’m thinking

Shoot me now.) 

.

Then I shrug and hear myself say,

“Addiction to control.”

.

I am surprised at myself.  I’ve never

thought of it this way before. 

.

*

But Corduroy starts asking questions,

and answers are coming to me, and

it’s all making a new sort of sense. 

.

I explain that I see codependents as 

traumatized people convinced their

survival depends on controlling the

effects of “their” alcoholic’s illness. 

So they do things like hide booze and

avoid dad at certain times of the day 

and lie to his boss about why he missed

work or to the neighbors about why he

fell asleep in the driveway.  From all

these experiences they come to depend

on control as a way of coping generally, 

and set about applying it to everything

and everyone in their lives, to the point

where it makes them sick. 

.

“Sick how?” Corduroy frowns. 

.

Mainly anxious and depressed, I say. 

But also worried, and tense, and irritable,

and unable to relax or have fun, or identify 

and express feelings, or trust anyone, or

like themselves.  And self-medicating with

food or work or helping other people or

whatever else they can think of. 

.

And now Corduroy is nodding thoughtfully,

and so are others in the room, and I know

I’m onto something.

.

(To be continued.)

___________________ 

[1] Sharon Wegscheider-Cruse,

ChoiceMaking: For co-dependents, 

adult children and spirituality s

eekers (Health Communications, 1985).

[2] Robert Subby, Lost in the shuffle:

The co-dependent reality, quoted in

Whitfield (see below).

[3] Charles Whitfield, Co-dependence:

Healing the human condition (Health

Communications, 1991).  

[4] Timmen Cermak, Diagnosing

and treating co-dependence (Johnson

Institute, 1986).

[5] Melody Beattie, Codependent

no more (Harper/Hazelden, 1987).

1 Comment   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in control

May 21, 2026

The smell of the bait

By Steve Hauptman

.

Last night I replayed a conversation

for the eleventh time.

.

I was trying to get it right.

.

Not the conversation itself; that

was over and done with.

.

But how I felt about it.

.

I did not feel good.

.

So I reviewed

(a) what I said,

(b) what I should have said,

(c) what I shouldn’t have said,

(d) what the other person said,

(e) what they really meant,

(f) what they might be thinking now.

.

Each pass gave me a flicker of relief.

A sense that I was getting closer

to something.

.

But the longer I stayed with it,

the crappier I felt.

.

Which told me I was monkeytrapped.

.

By now you’re probably familiar with

this analogy:

A banana is placed inside a jar with a

neck just wide enough for the monkey’s

paw to slip inside. The monkey grabs

the fruit, then finds its clenched fist is

too large to pull back out. It could free

itself easily; it just has to let go. But it

really really wants that banana. So it

hangs on. And it’s still hanging on when

the trappers come to collect it.

.

That’s a literal monkeytrap.

I write about the psychological version:

any situation which tempts us to hang

on when we really should let go.

Any discomfort which pulls us to try

and control what can’t or shouldn’t

be controlled.

.

Last night I was hooked by the promise

that if I just thought a bit longer,

analyzed more carefully, revisited

the conversation one more time, I’d

finally feel better — less tense, or

uncertain, or uneasy, or guilty, or

whatever the hell it was that I

was feeling.

.

Relief seemed just one more attempt away.

.

And then I noticed something new:

I’d been trapped by the smell of the

banana.

.

It was the irresistable smell of relief

that kept me obsessing over that

conversation, long after I should

have realized that its promise of

relief was a lie.

.

And lately this is something I’ve

come to see more and more clearly

in my work with clients:

.

Monkeytraps trap us because they work.

.

Just for a moment, they work. There’s

this tiny flicker of relief that comes

from replaying, analyzing, obsessing,

rechecking feelings, trying to think

our way into certainty.

.

Just enough relief to answer the inner

voice whispering You need to fix this.

.

So we set about trying to fix, and it

feels like we’re doing something,

clarifying something, moving toward

some kind of answer.

.

That moment is the hook. Because

the flicker of relief is real.

.

Then it fades. And we have to grab

for it again.

.

And again.

.

Psychologists call this negative

reinforcement. Negative refers to

removing something unpleasant,

reinforcement to encouraging the

behavior that removed it.

.

Translation: Controlling behavior

relieves just enough discomfort to

lead us into more controlling behavior.

.

It’s what makes controlling an addiction.

.

So it’s the smell of the bait that leads

us to review the conversation one more

time, or read another person’s mind,

or ask others what they think, or

doubt our perceptions, or beat

ourselves up for mistakes, or …

.

You know.

.

Over time, this becomes less of a choice

and more of a reflex. The moment

something feels off we move automatically

into managing it, or trying to.

.

Anyway. Last night all this flashed through

my mind pretty quickly, like a sudden

mental ZIP download.

.

Followed by one of my favorite aphorisms:

Where you put you attention is what grows.

.

So I took a deep breath, and suspended

the replay

.

I felt around in my body.

Found a small tightness in my chest.

.

It was the discomfort I had been

trying to fix.

.

Now I just looked at it.

Just looked.

.

I imagined it as a rubber band around

my heart.

.

I took another breath.

.

I kept looking.

.

There was no dramatic shift, no

immediate relief or resolution.

.

But the rubber band began to loosen.

Not all at once, and not completely.

.

But I felt better.

.

Not because I had figured anything

out.

.

Because I’d stopped trying to.

.

.

Bert and I recently began

publishing on Substack.

Come follow us.

https://substack.com/@stevehauptman

.

.

.

.

.

Leave a comment   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | posted in control

May 17, 2026

Welcome to Monkeytraps (the Substack version)

By Steve Hauptman

.

I recently began publishing on Substack,

and this is the Welcome I posted there.

Come follow me.

https://substack.com/@stevehauptman

.

Welcome to Monkeytraps

.

My name is Steve, and there’s someone else

you should meet before we go any further.

.

His name is Bert.

.

Bert is my inner monkey — the part of me

that worries constantly, avoids feelings, replays

conversations at 2 am, and is absolutely convinced

that if he just thinks hard enough, plans carefully

enough, and controls enough of what happens

around him, everything will finally be okay.

.

He’s been with me for seventy years. I only

started noticing him about ten years ago.

.

He did not appreciate that.

.

He prefers to remain unnoticed.

x

If you’re in therapy, or in recovery, or just

quietly exhausted by the effort it takes to

manage everything, then you probably

have a Bert too.

.

Maybe yours is louder. Maybe quieter.

.

Maybe yours shows up as people-pleasing,

or rage, or a to-do list that never ends, or

a glass of wine at the end of every day

because that’s the only thing that makes

the noise stop.

.

Whatever form it takes, I’d guess you

recognize the feeling underneath it:

.

I need to get this under control.

.

That feeling is what Monkeytraps is about.

.

I’m a therapist who spent thirty-plus

years sitting with people in pain,

and who slowly came to believe

that nearly everything they bring

into therapy — anxiety, depression,

frustrating relationships, broken

communication, addiction,

the chronic low-grade sense that

something is wrong with us —

has a common root:

.

We are addicted to control.

.

I’m not talking metaphorically here.

We’re addicted in the same way

someone is addicted to alcohol or

drugs or food or work: we chase it

compulsively, automatically,

mostly unconsciously, and with

the absolute conviction that we

can’t survive without it.

.

I wrote a book about this called

Monkeytraps.

.

Here I plan to continue

thinking out loud about what I found,

and keep finding, in my clients,

in myself, and in the ordinary disasters

of being human.

.

What you’ll find here

.

Essays — longer pieces that follow an

idea somewhere uncomfortable. Personal,

clinical, occasionally funny.

.

Bert’s Therapy — a serialized comic strip

following Bert’s reluctant, resistant progress

through psychotherapy. He arrives weekly,

grumpy and skeptical, slowly beginning to

understand himself. Despite his best efforts.

.

In the Dark — sequential image pieces that

enact the experience of monkeymind in real time.

These appear twice a month on Saturdays.

.

Bert’s Life — single images containing one

idea, fully rendered. These show up in your

Notes feed, along with brief daily thoughts

on control, recovery, and what it means

to be human.

.

Everything here is free. All I ask is that if

something lands, you share it with someone

who might need it.

.

And if you want to know whether this is

the right place for you, try this:

.

Think of something you’ve been trying to

fix — about yourself, about someone you

love, about a situation that won’t resolve.

.

Notice how long you’ve been trying.

Notice how much energy it takes. Notice

whether it’s working.

.

If something in you just got a little uncomfortable

— welcome.

.

You’re in the right place.

Subscribe below, and I’ll show up in

your inbox. Bert will try to talk me

out of it. It’s a thing he does.

Leave a comment   |  tags: , , , , , , , , , | posted in control

May 15, 2026

Bert’s therapy/Session 40: Holes

By Steve Hauptman

What’s with the hat?

I felt like wearing it lately.

“Holes”? What’s that mean?

It’s how I’m feeling. Like

something in me is missing.

Something in you?

Yes.

What brought this on?

Remembering my childhood.

What about it?

Dad’s drinking. Mom’s depression.

How they fought. How they weren’t

really there.

Ah. And the holes that left in you.

Right.

Got it. See that box by your foot?

Yes.

Open it. It’s yours.

Uh, thanks. Not sure this fits me.

Just listen for a moment.

We all have holes. All of us.

Because we all get hurt or

disappointed or damaged in childhood.

But you’re nobody’s kid now.

Your parents are gone.

And you can wear any hat you want to.

So you can walk around wearing your

Holes hat forever…

or you can get to work on making

yourself Whole.

Can I really?

You really can.

I’m not sure about that. This hat

still feels too large.

You’ll grow into it.

1 Comment | posted in control

May 14, 2026

Bert’s therapy/Session 39: Relapse

By Steve Hauptman

What’s with the hat?

I was pretending it’s New Year’s.

Why?

Because I made a resolution.

What resolution?

Well, since you convinced me

I’m a control addict, I decided

to stop controlling.

Stop controlling what?

Everything.

Oh. How did that work out?

It didn’t.

I couldn’t go two minutes

without wanting to control

something.

Of course you couldn’t. We

can’t live without control.

But I don’t want to be addicted.

Okay, let’s be clear. Control is

not an inherently bad thing.

It isn’t?

Of course not. Sometimes

it’s essential.

When I drive my car I don’t

want to give up control.

If my kid gets sick I’m not

going to just surrender

and hope for the best.

Control only becomes a

problem when we try to use it

on stuff we can’t or shouldn’t

control.

Like other people.

Yes, that, and

overcontrolling feelings and

becoming constipated…

or trying to control the future

by projecting into it.

Which is what I did with my

resolution.

Exactly. The empty future makes

us anxious, so we fill it up with

resolutions and goals and

planning and promises.

Doesn’t work, right?

Usually not. So what do I

do now?

Learn your lesson. That’s

what relapses are for, to

teach you something.

What did you learn?

That I can’t avoid relapses.

Good. that’s an important one.

And?

That relapses are lessons, so

I shouldn’t beat myself up

over them.

Good. And one more thing.

This is important too.

What?

Lose the damn hat.

Leave a comment | posted in control

May 13, 2026

Bert’s therapy/Session 38: Garbage

By Steve Hauptman

I remember my panic attack on

the first day of kindergarten.

I remember the bully who made

me eat ants on the playground.

I remember Dad getting drunk

and fighting my uncle on

our front lawn.

I remember running away from

summer camp because I was

so homesick.

I remember telling a girl I loved

her and her saying “Thanks.”

What the hell are you doing?

Remembering.

Why?

Bad memories just come up

when I feel stressed.

Well, stop chewing on them.

Why?

It’s bad mental hygiene. Like

looking for lunch in a garbage can.

I call it dumpster diving.

There’s nothing nourishing there,

and you just stink up your present.

But I’m just…thinking.

Not really. Most of what we call

thinking isn’t thinking at all.

What is it then?

Random mental activity.

Automatic, aimless, illogical.

Remembering, projecting, ruminating…

obsessing, fantasizing, worrying…

waste of time, mostly. And some

of it actually does harm.

How?

By triggering bad feelings that

have nothing to do with your

current reality.

Oh. Yeah.

It’s the main reason we’re

such neurotic monkeys.

Can I do anything about it?

You can. For starters, practice

catching yourself doing it.

Okay.

Then change channels. Intentionally

put your attention on something else.

Like something or someone you love.

Okay.

You can also train your mind.

That’s what meditation for.

Also resonant breathing and

yoga nidra.

But remember two things.

What two things?

First: Your mind has a mind of its

own. If you don’t manage it, it

will manage you.

And?

Second: Where you put your

attention is what grows.

So chew gum if you want.

But not garbage.

1 Comment | posted in control

May 12, 2026

Bert’s therapy/Session 37: Bert’s rowboat

By Steve Hauptman

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.

Leave a comment | posted in control

May 11, 2026

Bert’s therapy/Session 36: Selfish

By Steve Hauptman

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.

Leave a comment | posted in control

May 10, 2026

By Steve Hauptman

1 Comment | posted in control

May 9, 2026

Bert’s therapy/Session 35: Balls

By Steve Hauptman

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.

2 Comments | posted in control

May 8, 2026

Bert’s therapy/Session 34: Controlapy

By Steve Hauptman

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.

1 Comment | posted in control

May 7, 2026

Bert’s therapy/Session 33: Leashed

By Steve Hauptman

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.

4 Comments | posted in control

May 6, 2026

Bert’s therapy/Session 32: Monkey business

By Steve Hauptman

So I have an Inner Monkey

inside me.

Yes. Everyone does.

Where does he come from?

He’s built in. He was there when

you were born.

I was addicted to control at birth?

No, Monkey starts out just as

a potential. He gets activated later,

when you begin to experience

discomfort and pain.

What happens then?

He goes to work, distinguishing.

Distinguishing what from what?

Distinguishing stuff he can tolerate

from the uncomfortable stuff

he needs to control.

So he’s trying to defend me

against discomfort.

Exactly. Defense is his business.

But isn’t that a good thing?

Sure, to a point. But Monkey’s

an addict.

Which means?

Which means he can’t handle

feelings. So he doesn’t know

when to stop.

Stop controlling.

Right. He tries to control stuff

he either can’t or shouldn’t

control.

Such as?

Other people, mainly. But

everything that happens in

your emotional life.

See, that’s where you lose me.

How so?

I get that controlling other

people causes problems. But

how can anyone not try

to control his emotional life?

I agree. We all need some sense of

control over our feelings. We’d

go insane otherwise.

That’s what I thought.

But if some controlling is

essential, too much is dangerous.

And Monkey tries to control

everything. Which causes more

pain that it prevents.

Pain, as in…

Anxiety, for one thing. Monkey-

driven people almost never feel

safe.

Because…

Because Monkey can always

find something to be scared of.

If it’s not real, he’ll imagine it.

And the imagining itself feeds

his anxiety.

So he has the right goal,

but the wrong method.

Let’s say he’s limited.

Controlling is the only way

he knows to regulate how

he feels. So he’s controlled

by his need to control.

Have you ever heard the saying

“When the only tool you have

is a hammer, everything looks

like a nail”?

That’s Monkey all over.

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May 5, 2026

Bert’s therapy/Session 31: Bert’s Monkey

By Steve Hauptman

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?

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