Category Archives: pathologies of control

September 15, 2012

Feelings

By Steve Hauptman

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* * *

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20 years ago:

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“What are you feeling?”

 

“I feel upset”

 

“Upset? What does upset mean?”

 

“Upset! It means that I feel upset!”

 

“Upset isn’t a feeling. Are you sad? Or scared? Or angry? Or feeling loss? Or something else?”

 

“I’m not sure.”

 

Yes, I was so afraid of my emotions that I couldn’t even begin to identify my “negative” emotions.

 

That would have meant getting close enough to them to start to really feel them, which felt utterly overwhelming.

 

And I’m not only talking about feelings related to the abuse, I’m talking about the feelings related to every day life.

 

Thus began my education about emotions.

~ From I have to feel what? by catsmeow at Living While Healing.

5 Comments | posted in (3) law of emotion, addiction to control, adult children of alcoholics, control, control addiction, personal development, personal growth

August 12, 2012

Plan B

By Steve Hauptman

(Bert speaking:)

Last time I mentioned that Steve created me to get control of his emotional life.

I tried to do that by controlling everything and everyone around me. 

I call this my Plan A.

It included hiding his feelings, wearing masks to impress other people, and reading their  minds – i.e., guessing what they liked or wanted and trying to give it to them. 

It also included sending him to social work school.

Social work didn’t interest me.  I wanted Steve to be a therapist, and that seemed the fastest way.

Why did I want him to be a therapist?

Selfish reasons.

Therapists know stuff civilians don’t.  I saw them as special, something like priests,  possessed of secret knowledge and understanding.  I liked that idea.  I wanted in on that.  

I also thought a therapist’s position allowed him to get really close to other people without exposing too much of himself.  Since people scared me, I liked that idea too.  I liked it a lot.

Finally, I figured if anyone’s in control of their emotional lives and their relationships, it must be therapists. 

What did I know?  I’m a monkey.

So I sent Steve off to social work school.

And he graduated.

And got hired as a therapist.

And began to work.

And discovered (surprise) that he couldn’t follow Plan A and do his job.

At least, not competently.

Steve, explain why.

Because good therapy is all about healthy relationship.  And you can’t create that and seek control at the same time.

You can’t, for example, seek control and have real communication.  Real communication means surrendering control, being honest and real and, yes, vulnerable.  Therapists have to do all that within professional boundaries, of course.  But editing out all realness and  vulnerability leaves a relationship cold, unreal, and sterile.  Which solves nothing and helps nobody.

Nor, I found, can a therapist overcontrol his own feelings and do good work.  It’s feelings that connect us,  allow us to understand other people. When I overcontrolled mine I lost touch with my clients.  When I lost touch, I did bad therapy.

It quickly became apparent that what therapy demanded from Steve was essentially the reverse of our Plan A.  Instead of guarding against feelings, he had to trust them.  Instead of handling people, he had to connect with them instead.

This was disturbing.  I began to think I’d made a terrible mistake. 

Then around this time Steve, suddenly and unexpectedly, burped up a poem.

Steve, describe that.

It came out of nowhere.  I was lying in bed one night and heard the thing writing itself. 

It began, “The truth is like a bear in the house.”  

And it went on to describe how, if you’re trapped in a house with a bear, you have only two choices: run away and wait for the bear to find you, or turn around and hunt the bear.  

At first I had no clue what this was about.

It took weeks to realize that my personal bear is the idea of control.

And so you set out to hunt it.

Right.  I figured the poem was like a telegram from my unconscious.  Part of me sending a message to another part. 

And when I brought bear-hunting to my work, I got another surprise.

I discovered that control isn’t just my bear. 

It’s everyone’s.

I saw that controlling is addictive, its patterns predictable and universal, and that they cause nearly all of the problems people bring to a therapist.

I saw that anxiety, depression, addictions, bad relationships and lousy parenting all stem from someone trying to control something they can’t or shouldn’t control.

And eventually I learned that a day comes — if we’re lucky — when we realize that controlling simply doesn’t work as a life strategy.

That’s the day we shift to Plan B.

Describe that shift. 

We start to notice our own controlling, catch ourselves in the act, learn and practice healthy alternatives.  We stop trying to control life and find ways to accept and cooperate with it.

And a great relief follows. 

That feeling is hard to describe.  It’s like you suddenly find yourself  sanding with the grain, instead of against. 

Or like giving yourself permission to stop swimming against the tide of feelings and events, and letting it carry you along instead.

Friends, consider this an invitation:

Come join the hunt.

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* * *

“Love is how we ask for peace” 

 

Dear Friends,
 
Our young friends in Afghanistan, members of the Afghan Peace Volunteers, need our help.
 
Their requests for visas that would enable them to join the U.S.-Mexico Caravan for Peace that is touring the U.S. this summer were denied last Sunday after a less-than-10-minute interview at the U.S. Embassy in Kabul.
 
We are mounting a new campaign to try to convince Consular officials to take another look at their applications. We want them to understand that Abdulhai and Ali have many U.S. supporters, and that they are devoted to their work for peace and nonviolence in Kabul (and so would be eager to return to Afghanistan at the end of the Caravan tour).
 
Please help us by going to the following Roots Action page and adding your signature. If ever there was a time for us to encourage friendship between the youth of Afghanistan and the youth in this country, it is now.
 
And after you do that, would you please consider encouraging others in your network to do the same by forwarding this information?
 
Here is the link to the action page.
 
And here is a link to “Why Afghanistan can’t wait,” the Truthout article that Kathy Kelly and Hakim (mentor to the Afghan Peace Volunteers) recently wrote. 
 
Our new friend in the office saw them first.  “Here come your friends,” she said.  “Rejected,” she added, as we looked at their faces.  She and another Afghan guard listened sympathetically as Ali and Abdulhai described their absurdly brief interviews – they too had spent all but ten minutes of the three hours merely waiting. During those ten minutes, the interviewer had never touched the documents they submitted in their packets.
 
Please take a few moments to read this piece, which captures the true spirit of the work that Abdulhai and Ali and the other Afghan Peace Volunteers are involved in.  
 
As our friends in Kabul say, “Love is how we’ll ask for peace.”
 
We can do this.
 
Thank you,
Susan Perretti
 
PS:  If you want more information about our movement or how you can help, you can email me directly at oceanofjoy129@aol.com.
 

* * *

Steve here:

Afghanistan seems so far away.  Here’s a video (1:34) that brings it closer:

Be one of two million friends

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Leave a comment | posted in control, control addiction

August 1, 2012

Monkeytraps, and how to spot them

By Steve Hauptman

(Steve and Bert wrote this one together:)

Steve:  One reader writes,

I like your blog, but it’s a little scary, since before this I had no idea how controlling I am and how many problems it causes me.

What I want now is to learn to be more aware of my controlling, to keep the idea of control at the surface of my mind and to understand how wanting to control things drives how I react and what I do and say.

Got any tips on that?

Bert:  Good question.

Steve:  She wants to learn how to spot monkeytraps.

Bert:  Yeah.  You should remind everyone what a monkeytrap is.

Steve:  In the East they trap monkeys by placing fruit in a weighted jar or bottle with a narrow neck.  The monkey smells the fruit, reaches in to grab it, and traps himself by refusing to let go.

A psychological monkeytrap is any situation that triggers you into compulsive controlling — i.e., into holding on when you really should be letting go.

Bert: And yes, we have tips on how to spot them.

Steve: Here’s the first:

Notice where

you’re uncomfortable.

We’re controlling whenever we need or want to change some piece of reality (instead of accepting it as it is).  And we’re most likely to want to change realities that make us uncomfortable.  So it makes sense that our discomfort zones are where we’re most likely to get monkeytrapped.

Bert:  I, for example, can’t stand rejection.  So it’s with people I think might reject me that I tend to be most controlling.

I do it in all sorts of ways: hide feelings I think might upset them, pretend to agree when I really don’t, laugh at their stupid jokes, avoid confronting behavior I dislike, try to read their minds, and so on.

Steve:  Tip #2:

Notice where

you’re stuck.

Stuck as in not learning, or healing, or growing — struggling with the same damn problem over and over again.

Bert:  Same example.  Working hard at controlling people’s reactions to me is a monkeytrap because it

(a) stops me from being myself, which

(b) prevents me from ever getting accepted as myself, which

(c) keeps me chronically scared of rejection.

In short, a dysfunctional merry-go-round.

Steve:  Right.  You know you’re monkeytrapped whenever you find yourself doing, over and over and over again, what doesn’t work.

And why do you?

That brings us to Tip #3:

Notice where

you’re scared.

Unhealthy controlling is driven by anxiety.  We stay monkeytrapped because we’re scared to do anything else.  Often even the thought of giving up control in such situations is enough to scare us silly.

Bert:  Like me telling my mother-in-law her breath stinks.

Steve:  Uh, yeah.  Great example.

So if you want to spot where you’re compulsively controlling, look for the three clues: discomfort, stuckness, and fear.

* * *

2 Comments | posted in codependency, control, control addiction

July 25, 2012

Addict

By Steve Hauptman

(Bert speaking.)

I’ve been addicted to control for as long as I can remember.

That is, for as long as I can remember I’ve been trying to force reality — people, places, things, even myself — to match the pictures in my head of how I want reality to be.

I do this constantly.

I do it unconsciously.  Which means I usually don’t know when I’m doing it.

And I do it compulsively.  Which means I get really really anxious when I can’t get control.

I expect to stay an addict until I die.

Yes, I’m in recovery.  But that just means I’m less controlled by my need for control than I used to be, just as recovering alcoholics are less controlled by their need to drink.  They’ll always be alcoholics, though, and I’ll always be a control addict.

I’ll always feel this urge to control stuff.  Even when I know it’s crazy to try.

It’s crazy, I’ve learned, because control is largely an illusion.

Sure,  it’s not always an illusion.  If I pour sugar in my coffee the coffee gets sweeter.  If I pull the steering wheel to the right my car will reliably turn right.

But the world is larger than sugar and steering wheels.  And the truth is that, beyond these concrete ways of changing my immediate circumstances, much of my controlling operates more on the level of wishful thinking.

Why?  Because most of my controlling is an attempt to control feelings and relationships.

And feelings have no steering wheel.  And in relationships sugar doesn’t always work.

Let me explain.

Say I have a feeling I don’t want.  Say I feel inadequate.  But it’s uncomfortable to feel that, and I also worry that if you see that I feel inadequate you may agree with me, which would make me feel worse.  So I hide my feeling, from you and from myself.  I work hard at presenting myself as adequate, even superior. (For an example, see “Bert’s mask.”)  And let’s say it works: I convince you I’m superior.  I have successfully controlled your perception of me.

Do I feel better?

Not so much.

At least, not for long.  Why?  Because I know it’s an act, a pretense.  I’ve basically fooled you about me, and I can’t forget that.  So whatever approval I get from you is essentially meaningless.  And I end up feeling both inadequate and phony.

See how that works?

Another example:

Say I’m mad at you, but afraid to show it.  I’m scared you might get mad back at me, which would make me unhappy.

So I hide my anger from you.  I bury it.

But overcontrolling feelings tends to be bad for me.  Feelings are meant to be expressed, not contained.  Released, not stored up.  So burying my anger makes me uncomfortable.  Constipated.  Pressured.  Uneasy.  Anxious.  And when I do it long and habitually enough, I get depressed.  I.e., chronically unhappy.

How’s that for irony?

Why doesn’t control work better in the realms of feeling and relationships?

Because at the heart of this addiction lies an annoying but inescapable paradox:

The more control I need, the less in control I feel.

* * *

 

1 Comment | posted in (1) law of addiction, anxiety and control, codependency, control, control addiction, depression and control, parenting problems and control, personal development, personal growth, recovery

June 3, 2012

Good dog

By Steve Hauptman

Alone in the kitchen, running late.  I’m nuking coffee for my travel mug when it occurs to me that my car’s out of gas and I haven’t left myself enough time to buy more. 

I get angry.

“Shit, ” I say to myself.  “Stupid.  Stupid.”

“No, no,”  another voice answers.

“You thought about this,” it says.  “Last night 0n the drive home.  You weighed the pros and cons and decided you were too tired to stop.  Remember?” 

I remember.  My anger at myself fades.

End of story.

Why tell you this? 

Because I found it remarkable.

Last year I published a post here which began,

I’d like to introduce you to my dog.

Please look down.

You’ll find him attached to my ankle.

Titled “Bert’s dog” (and accompanied by the disturbing  illustration below), it went on to describe that part of me a Gestaltist would call my Top Dog, and other shrinky types might label my Inner Critic or Punitive Superego.  

You know the part I mean.  You’ve got one yourself. 

It’s that inner voice that knows each of your faults and weaknesses and never lets you forget them. 

The part which pretends it’s protecting you or moving your forward when actually it’s just making you hate yourself.

The part that behaves as if relentless self-criticism somehow gives you more control of your life instead of making you feel more and more helpless.

That part.

Anyway, I wrote about how I call mine Dog for short, how he’s scared and tortured me my whole life, and how I learned to live with him over the past six decades.

The post ended,

So.  What to do with a dog like this?

Well, it helps me a lot to remember what I’ve learned about him.  That Dog isn’t me, just the scared worried part.  That he’s unappeasable, and that he lies, and that he’ll say or do anything to survive.

All this gives me some distance from his voice.  It means when he starts growling I can say “Oh, you again.  Shut up,” instead of taking him too seriously.

Which is just what I did in the kitchen this morning.

I found it remarkable because for so long — despite everything I tell clients and everything I tell myself — I was never entirely sure it would happen: that I’d actually outgrow the abusive voice that’s dogged me since childhood and replace it with a kinder, gentler inner parent. 

Realizing that I had, standing there by the microwave, felt like a cool breeze on a hot day. 

And the microwave’s bing sounded like music.

You, too, can train your Dog.

 

   * * *

 

Self–talk refers to the dialogue that goes on inside your head when faced with conflict or life challenges or even simple day-to-day concerns. 

This aspect of yourself has a running commentary about everything you do.  It never lets anything go by with out some comment, remark or evaluation.

 

Becoming aware of this process is the first step in taking charge of this part of yourself that can create a lot of unnecessary stress.

The automatic reactions you have to this constant barrage of negative thoughts, judgments and evaluations can keep you feeling stressed and less able to meet life’s challenges.

~ From Self-talk and stress at lifematters.com

 

 

   * * * 

I never dreamed that there’s a possibility of stopping until my teacher told me that I could stop.

I thought something would have to descend on me.  Or there would have to be a level of purification.  Or there would have to be some alignment of the planets….

But he said, “Forget all that — that’s part of the conversation.

“Just stop right now.  Just be still.”

~ From Silencing the mind by Gangaji (1:54).

 

* * *

You have brains in your head.

You have feet in your shoes.

You can steer yourself any direction you choose.

You’re on your own.

And you know what you know.

And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…

― Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

 

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postscript:

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4 Comments | posted in control, control addiction, pathologies of control, self-abuse and control, self-acceptance, self-care

May 30, 2012

Hang a left

By Steve Hauptman

It’s her first appointment, and she’s crying. 

“I feel so stuck,” she says.

I pass the tissues.   “How so?” I ask.

She tells me. 

Her husband bowls every Wednesday, golfs weekends, watches tv each night until bed.  Never talks to her, never compliments her, hasn’t taken her out to dinner in years.  Expects sex regardless. 

“Regardless of what?” I ask. 

“How I feel about it,” she says.

She has two teenagers, whom she serves as cook, laundress, chambermaid, tutor, therapist, referee and chauffeur.  On Mother’s Day they gave her a World’s Greatest Mom card from Wal-Mart, then spent the day with friends.

Her parents are in from Florida.  They visit frequently without asking, stay a week at a time, and criticize everything from her haircut to her parenting.  (I jot critical parents on a mental note card, file it away for a later session.) 

Her best friend is recently divorced, and calls her nightly either to exult or to mourn her new freedom, depending on how her last date went.  (“And do you ever call her?”  “What for?” she asks, without irony.)

Her mood’s been sliding downhill for years.   She sleeps badly.  Feels tired.  Feels alone.  Feels sad.  Cries.

“Ever take a day off?” I ask.

“No.”

“Ever take a nap?”

“No.”

“Have any hobbies?”

“No.”

“Have any friends or family who aren’t totally self-involved?”

She half-smiles.  “No.”

“Ever tried therapy?”

“I didn’t see how it could help,” she says.  “Can it?”

“Yes,” I say.

“How?” she asks.

“By teaching you to drive,” I say.

She looks puzzled. 

“Imagine someone who learned to drive a car without ever being  taught how to make a left turn.  So whenever they go out all they can do is turn right.  What would happen to them?”

She frowns.  “They’d go in a circle.”

“Exactly.  That’s what you’re doing now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Think of all the choices you make in a day.  Now think of each choice as a fork in the road.  When you put others first, you turn right.  When you put yourself first, you turn left. 

“When was the last time you made a left turn?”

Her eyes widen.  She thinks.

“I don’t make those,” she says finally.

“Right,” I say.  “You’re driving in circles.  It’s why you feel stuck.”

“And therapy can teach me to turn left?”

I nod.  I’m expecting the next question. 

“But isn’t that selfish?”

“Yes,” I said.  “What’s your objection to selfishness?”

I’ve asked that question hundreds of times.  No one has a good answer. 

“It’s just…bad.”

“That’s what everyone says,” I say.  “I suppose some believe it.  But most people use it to convince others to put them first.  The most selfish people I know tend to be the first to condemn selfishness in others. 

“Me, I think of it as a survival skill.   Selfishness is essential, at least some of the time.  If you don’t take care of yourself, who will?”

“Well, this isn’t working.”  She blows her nose.   “I guess I should hang a left once in a while.  But my family won’t like it.”

“Probably not.  You’ll have to train them.”

“How?”

“We’ll talk details later.  But it amounts to putting yourself first and letting them adapt to it.” 

“And that works?”

“Sure,” I said.  “Look how well it’s worked for your husband, your kids and your parents.”

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Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting.

~ Shakespeare, Henry V

 

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Some of us give because we can’t not give.  It’s our way of getting by in the world. 

At least if I give, the thinking goes, others will like me.  Better yet, they may even come to need me.  Then I won’t be so alone in the world.

Giving becomes a kind of barter to belong — a bid for love, rather than an expression of it.

~ From “Healthy selfishness” at daily.om.

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I think it unhealthy to not know the things you like and the things you want.

I think if you do not allow yourself to know them and to exercise adequate levels of self-care by satisfying those wants and needs in ways that make you feel good you will find unhealthy and unsatisfying behaviors that you do in order to be safe.

The relationship will become toxic and cycle through predictable patterns of acting out, failure and disappointment.

Selfish behaviors that take advantage of or hurt someone else are not what I am describing.  Behaviors that are done in service of the health of the self are self-ish.

~ From “The concept of healthy selfishness in therapy” by Brett Newcomb.

* * *

4 Comments | posted in codependency, communication problems, control, control - detachment vs, control addiction, enmeshment stage, parenting problems and control, personal development, personal growth, self-care

May 20, 2012

The Uncomfort Zone

By Steve Hauptman

There’s a place in your life that’s neither light nor dark, warm nor cold, where things don’t quite work but where you stay because it’s familiar.

You stay because you know this place like the back of your hand, every dark corner, every lump in the carpet, every draft. 

You stay because you can find your away around it with your eyes closed. Which, in fact, is just what you do.

There’s pain here, but it’s the dull, tolerable kind.  The kind you know well.  The kind you’ve known forever.  The kind you cling to rather than risk something worse.  

That’s the signpost up ahead.

Next stop: the Uncomfort Zone.

* * *

Albert, 58, has been married three times.  His first two marriages ended in acrimonious divorce.  His third marriage is two years old, and his wife recently ended their couples counseling in tearful frustration.   Albert continues in therapy without her.  He reports their life has deteriorated into a series of hurtful arguments alternating with long silences.  Last week she told him she’d leave if she had someplace to go.  I ask how he thinks our work together is going.  “Really well,” he says.  “It’s very interesting.  I feel like I’m learning a lot.”

* * *

Barry, 38, sits on my sofa with his wife Beth.  They are new clients.  I ask why they’ve come.  Beth tells me Barry’s individual therapist thinks couples work is necessary.  “What led you to individual therapy?” I ask Barry.  He frowns.  “I have issues,” he says.  “You drink, and you play video games, and that’s all you do,” the wife says.   Barry frowns harder.  “Do you have a problem with alcohol?” I ask Barry.  “I have issues,” he repeats.  The wall appears impenetrable.  After twenty minutes I suggest Barry wait outside while I talk to Beth alone.  He brightens, stands and walks quickly to the door.  Then he turns back to his wife.  “Can I borrow your iPad?” he asks.

* * *

Carly, 43 and a social worker, is more depressed this week than last.  Last week she was more depressed than the week before.  This slide began last year, with her transfer out of the counseling job she loved into an administrative job she hates, under a supervisor she considers an idiot.  Now she visits her doctor monthly to request tweaks of her medication.  Asked what’s depressing her, she shrugs: “No idea.”   I tell her that I think what she needs is work — real, meaningful work she enjoys, that brings out the best in her and makes her feel valuable.  I suggest she network, go on interviews, or consider private practice.  I also suggest she pursue the hobbies — cooking, dancing, yoga — she once used to feed and express herself.  She shakes her head.  “I’m too tired for any of that now,” she sighs.  “I need to save my energy for the stupid job.”   

* * *

Debbie, 23, is crying.  “You don’t love me,” she tells her boyfriend David, who’s sitting beside her on my sofa looking miserable.  After three months of Debbie complaining of his silence and begging him to be more open with her, David has finally risked telling her about something he dislikes in their relationship.  “I’m not good with words,” he said.   “We never talked in my family.  So when I try I get nervous.  I’m scared to hurt your feelings.  And the more you push me to talk, the scareder I get.”  “Good for you, David,” I say.  “I know how hard that was.”  Debbie wipes her nose with a tissue.  “So you don’t really love me,” she repeats.

* * * 

Eddie, 42, is angry at his son Evan.  “Everything scares him,” he tells me.  “He’s scared to go to school.  Scared he’ll fail Math.  Scared to try out for teams.  Scared to ask a girl out.  What the fuck?”  He shakes his head.  I ask what happens when he tries to talk to Evan, who’s 15.  “What do you think?” Eddie snorts.  “He acts scared of me.”  I ask what Evan’s fear looks like.  “He sort of shrinks into himself.  Gets quiet.  Avoids eye contact.  I can tell he just wants me to shut up and leave him alone.”  “How’s that make you feel?” I ask.  “Furious,” Eddie says.  “I’m his father.  I’m trying to help him.”  “And what do you say?” I ask.  “I say, ‘I’m your father.  I’m trying to help you.  What the fuck?'”

* * * 

We read the world wrong and say that it deceives us.           ~ Rabindrath Tagore

I’ve heard someone say that our problems aren’t the problem; it’s our solutions that are the problem.  ~ Anne Lamott  

When the only tool you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. ~ Abraham Maslow

Only a concerted effort to sort out the specific nature of our personal programming can offer hope of change, of new choices. ~ James Hollis

The significant problems we face cannot be solved at the same level of thinking we were at when we created them. ~ Albert Einstein

 

* * *

 

Overheard at the House:

 

I’m probably addicted to control too.  The way I’ve attempted to control things is to pull further and further within myself and my own world.  I got hurt at work.  Now I don’t work.  I got hurt by friends.  Now I don’t have friends. I’m hurt by family.  So, I’m very careful when I’m with them.  But, I don’t feel safer.  I can’t control myself.  Now, I’m with myself more than ever before!  I don’t think I thought that through…

 

Monkey House. 

Click here ^

and join the conversation.

 

* * *

 

Coming soon:

From the monkeys who brought you 

Bert’s Therapy, The Tribe and Monkey House,

a new cartoon strip about secret thoughts:

 

The Dark

   

Leave a comment | posted in addiction to control, anxiety and control, codependency, communication problems, control, depression and control, narcissism and control, parenting problems and control

May 15, 2012

The tribe: Expectations

By Steve Hauptman

 

Most people feel anxious in group without really understanding why.

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member 1

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Personally I think it’s because, on some deep level, the group reminds us of our family of origin.

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And we expect it to treat us just as our family did.

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member 3

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So tell me.  If this group were your family, what would you be expecting now?

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therapist 5

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To get hit.

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To get humiliated.

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therapist 7

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To be told to shut up.

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therapist 8

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To be ignored.

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Pink?  What would you expect?

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member 9

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1=

2=

therapist 10

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All of the above.

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Jeez.

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member 11

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1=

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So you all have good reason to feel anxious in this room.

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member 12

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1=

 

2=

But I have to ask Pink:

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member 13

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1=

2=a

 

How’d you work up the courage to even come here?

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member 14

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1=

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therapist 15

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Two beers, half a pizza, and a Vicodin.

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7

* * *

  

Group therapy. 

In Hebrew. 

“Hello, this is Fear Management. 

“My name is Moni, and I too have a phobia. 

“I have a fear of shouting. 

“You know, a, h, h, h, exclamantion mark, ‘ahhh’!

“At this point I suggest we all tell about ourselves…” 

 

Excerpt from the Israeli TV show “Ktzarim”:  Five troubled people (that description includes the group leader) meet for group therapy.  In Hebrew with English subtitles (2:22).

 

* * *

 

Overheard at the House:

Eventually, and every time, I used to drive my current partner insane with my hang ups and he broke off the relationship….

So I decided only I could change and needed to put my – sorry to be blunt – infantile behaviour aside and choose blind trust, no matter the outcome….

Result: I came to accept that my life is my life and not dependent on anyone else for survival or safety – and in a way I was going to be alone, with or without a partner: it’s part of the human condition….

 

Come. 

Join the conversation. 

Monkey House.

Because we’re all monkeys on this bus.

 

 

 

 

 


Leave a comment | posted in alcoholic family, anger, anxiety, anxiety and control, codependency, codependency, control, control addiction, depression, depression and control, group therapy dynamics, narcissism and control, parenting problems and control, personal development, personal growth, vulnerability

May 13, 2012

The Tribe: Validation

By Steve Hauptman

 

You all know me, but not each other.  So let’s find out what you’re doing here. 

Why did each of you join this group?

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2

 

3therapist 3

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2

member 3

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4

1=

2=

Come on, be honest.  Why are you here?

1

member 4

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4

 

2=herapist 5

a

It was your idea.

It was your idea.

It was your idea.

It was your idea.

It was your idea.

1=

2 

My idea?  That’s the reason?

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2

member 6

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4

1=

1= 

a

Pretty much.

Pretty much.

Pretty much.

Pretty much.

Pretty much.

1=

 

2=

Hm.

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member 8

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4

1=

2=

Well, needing to please your therapist isn’t very therapeutic.  Maybe we should rethink this.

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member 9

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3

1=

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What if we cancel group?  How would you feel?

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member 10

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therapist 11

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member 11

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Come on, be brave.  How would you feel about stopping right now?

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member 12

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2=

th

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Yippee.

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1=

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t1herapist 14

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Yes.  Yippee.

14

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th2

Yippee also.

 

 

 

Me too.

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1=

th

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Ditto.

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th

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mem

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Huh.  Now you’re all smiling.  

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member 15

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You better be careful.

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member 16

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1=

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Someone might mistake you for a group.

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* * *

 

 

About validation

One of the most important emotional skills is the skill of validation.
It is a skill because it can be learned.
Whether it is or ever will be part of the academic or corporate measures of emotional intelligence, I really don’t know.
But I do know that if you want to have better relationships with people, the skill of emotional validation is extremely useful.
The relationship will be better because with more validation you are going to have less debating, less conflicts, and less disagreement.  You will also find that validation opens people up and helps them feel free to communicate with you.
In fact, if there is a communication breakdown, if there is a wall between you and someone else, it probably has been built with the bricks of invalidation.  
Validation is the means of chipping away at the wall and opening the free flow of communication.

~ From “Emotional validation: Introduction” at EQI.org.

1

* * *

1

Visited

Monkey House

yet?

 

  

No?

What are you waiting for?

 

What’s Monkey House?  Read this.

Then click here to join the conversation.  (Go to “Do you need to register a new member?” at the top.)

We’re asking, “What’s the most difficult control issue you’re facing now?“

A recent exchange:

Hi Bert and Members, 
       Cutting through the fear barrier of speaking out.  Here goes: 

       My control issue:  wanting validation as a person, in an individual sense.
       Always, no matter what the situation, I’m pushed to the outer, disregarded, invalidated and not included, the invisible factor engulfs.  As much as I try, 30+ years of trying, same result.  I can do my job, very well if I may say so myself, and yet everything/everyone stays out of arm’s reach to the point of utter loneliness. Smiley

        Thanks Bert And Steve.  After reading your blog for nearly 6 months, I’ve become aware of how the issue of control infiltrates so many aspect of our lives while recognizing both the healthy and unhealthy aspects of control. Smiley

 

Hey, David.  Thanks for cutting through. Smiley

Odd you should mention validation.  That just happens to be the title of our next Monkeytraps post (due Sunday 5/13.)  It’s also a subject on which we both have thoughts.

Steve:  The need for validation is legitimate, inescapable, and the biggest damn monkeytrap I know, since it forces us to try — endlessly and in countless ways, not always conscious or healthy — to get what we need from other people.  And as with most forms of control, the more of it you need, the less you seem to get.  It’s also why having at least one reasonably healthy relationship is more or less essential to happiness.

Bert:  God, I hate needing validation.  I grew up hungry for it, so hungry that I used to avoid relationships just to avoid being disappointed.  That didn’t work, of course, since it was like starving myself in order to avoid food poisoning.  Eventually I had to take the risk again with people.  A pain in the ass, people, but also the only game in town.

 

4 Comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in control, group therapy dynamics, pathologies of control, validation

April 27, 2012

Session 45: Feeding Felicia

By Steve Hauptman

So.  I gave Felicia the cookie.

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Ah.  Left it on her pillow?

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3

And flew away, as you suggested.

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And? 

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And she came and asked why I did it.

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What did you say?

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“I wanted to.”

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Good answer.

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Apparently.  She hugged me.

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Good job.

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It was just a cookie.

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No, it was a course correction.  You feel you two moving in a new direction now?

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Yeah.  How do I keep it going?

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Keep feeding her. 

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Cookies?

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No, no.  Emotional feeding.

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With what?

1

Well, there are four foods we need from our important relationships.

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bert10

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Attention, acceptance, appreciation and affection.

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And if we don’t get that stuff regularly…

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We starve.

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Okay.  I fed her attention with the cookie.  How can I show acceptance?

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Name something she does that she knows annoys you.

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Watches reality tv.

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Huh.  That’s a tough one.

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Why?  What are you suggesting?

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Sit and watch with her.

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Holy mother of God.

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Not for long.  Ten minutes.

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You’re kidding, right?  “The Kardashians”?

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(Shivers.) 

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bert16

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Neverthless.  Do it for the marriage.

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I’m not sure any marriage is worth it.

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Now, now.  Just once.  Treat it like an experiment.

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Okay.  (Gulps.)  I’ll try.

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Good man.  Be brave.  Be  curious.   

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Can I be drunk?

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6

 

* * *

7 Comments | posted in control, mutuality, parenting problems and control, personal development, personal growth

April 11, 2012

Session 41: Gorilla warfare

By Steve Hauptman

Felicia’s pissed at me.

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What about?

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I’m not really sure.

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therapist-2

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Monday she said I don’t make enough money.

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th

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Tuesday she complained I’m not home enough.

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therapist-4

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Wednesday she called me an “uninvolved father.”

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therapist-5

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Thursday she called me a slob.

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Sounds confusing.

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Bet your ass.

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How did you respond?

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Well, let’s see. Tuesday I went in and asked my boss for a raise.

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therapist-8

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Wednesday I came home early with flowers.

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therapist-9

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Thursday I helped Junior with his science project.

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therapist-10

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And Friday I did two loads of laundry and cleaned the bathroom.

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Did it work?

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No.  Now she tells me I’m fat.  What’s going on here?

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23

Gorilla warfare.

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Don’t you mean “guerilla” warfare?

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No, gorilla.  It’s a control thing.  Your two inner monkeys are battling it out. 

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bert-14

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Happens all the time in split-level relationships.*

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2*What’s this?  Click here.

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bert-14

1

One partner seeks satisfaction by complaining or making endless demands on the other.

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bert-15

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The other seeks relief by trying to appease the first.  But it never works.

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Why not?

Because they’re ignoring the real problem, whatever that is.  Pretty common in couples who haven’t learned to talk to each other.

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Well, I hate feeling beat up.  What can I do?

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Less.

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Meaning…

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Give up control.  Stop appeasing her. 

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She’ll get angry.

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She’s already angry.  Same result, less work. 

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Okay.  Anything else?

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Give up control in another way.  Ask what she’s really angry about. 

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1

She may not know at first. That’s fine. Be patient.  Be curious.  Be brave.  Keep asking.

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That I can’t do.

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Why not?

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She might actually tell me.

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Oh.  Well, in that case…

1

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1

2

There’s always Weight Watchers.

1

2

* * *

Leave a comment | posted in addiction to control, codependency, communication problems, control, control - detachment vs, control addiction, enmeshment stage, parenting problems and control, personal development, personal growth

April 4, 2012

Session 39: Leashed

By Steve Hauptman

There’s something I don’t understand about control addiction.

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What’s that?

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You say everyone is addicted to control?

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Right.

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Doesn’t that mean this “addiction” is really just human nature?

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Well, I’m not sure what “human nature” means.  So I’d put it differently.

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bert

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It’s perfectly normal for human beings to be addicted to control.  It just isn’t healthy. 

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“Normal” and “healthy” aren’t the same thing?

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Oh no.  How many normal people do you know?

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Lots.

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And how many healthy people do you know?

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Hm.  I take your point.

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therapist-7

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But I still don’t see what’s “normal” about being a control addict.

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Do you ever worry about the future?

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Of course.

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You’re addicted.  Do you ever fret over the past? 

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Sure.

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You’re addicted.  Ever hide your feelings for fear of how others might react? 

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All the time.

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You’re addicted.  Ever worry about whether people will like or love or accept you?

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Constantly.

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You’re addicted.  Ever lie, or manipulate, or distort the truth to get what you want? 

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Okay, I get it.

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Ever avoid annoying people or uncomfortable situations? 

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I said, I get it.

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Ever plan?  Strategize?  Analyze?  Fantasize?  Agonize?  Dream?  Ruminate?  Obsess? 

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You can stop now.

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Just making my point.  Controlling is so utterly ordinary that most of the time we barely notice we’re doing it. 

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bert-16

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Until it traps us, that is. 

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And how does it trap us?

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Have you ever walked six dogs at the same time?

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No.

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You set out thinking that you’re walking them.  But before long you realize the dogs are walking you.

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Meaning…

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Whatever we try to control controls us.  And the more controlling you are, the more out of control you feel.

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35

* * *

2 Comments | posted in codependency, control, control addiction, personal development, personal growth

March 11, 2012

Session 35: Stuck

By Steve Hauptman

I’m stuck.

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How so?

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I don’t like myself.  I really want to change.

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therapist 2

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But as hard as I try, I can’t seem to.

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Change yourself?

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Right.  Any advice on that?

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Yes.  But you won’t like it.

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How do you know?

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Nobody likes it.  Nobody listens.

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Why not?

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It’s counterintuitive.  Contradicts what they want to believe. 

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Well, I’m desperate.   Try me.

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If you insist.

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Bert 8

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The way to change yourself is:

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Bert 9

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Stop trying.

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Stop trying what?

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Stop trying to change.  That’s how you change.

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You’re confusing me.

1

It’s called the Paradoxical Theory of Change.  “The more you try to change yourself,” it says, “the more stuck you become.”

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Bert 12

1

“But the moment you accept yourself as you are, change happens by itself.”

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That makes no sense.

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Didn’t you just say that pushing yourself to change has gotten you nowhere?  

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Yeah.

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There’s a reason for that. 

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bert

Force yourself to change, and another part of you rises up in resistance.  An internal war starts.  Neither part wins.  You end up still stuck, just more tired.

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That does sound familiar.

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On the other hand, accepting yourself frees up all sorts of energy.  You feel stronger. Braver.  Hopeful.  Creative.  Growth follows.

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That makes sense, I guess.

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therapist

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But I like believing in will power.

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therapist.

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I like thinking I can chart my own course.

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therapist

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That I’m the master of my fate.

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therapist

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That I’m the captain of my…

1

1

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See? Nobody listens.

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2

………………. * * *

 2

 

6 Comments | posted in control, control addiction

February 12, 2012

Bert on surrender

By Steve Hauptman

(If you’re new to Monkeytraps, Steve is a therapist who specializes in control issues, and Bert is his control-addicted inner monkey.

For this post,  Steve interviewed Bert.)

Steve:  So I’ve been writing about peace of mind and how control addiction makes it impossible, and how practicing alternatives to control make it easier to find.  And I wanted to ask you about surrender.

Bert:  What about surrender?

Steve:  How you practice it, mainly.

Bert:  Oh.  Sure this is a good idea?

Steve:  Why not?

Bert:   People will know how lousy I am at it.

Steve:  That’s okay.  They know it isn’t easy.

Bert:  I never use that word, by the way.

Steve:  No?

Bert:  No, that’s one of your writer’s words.

Steve:  You don’t like it.

Bert:  Not really.  Sounds too much like helplessness.

Steve:  That’s not what it means.  It….

Bert:  I know, I know.  Surrender means winning, not losing.  Letting go of what you can’t control represents the victory of awareness over denial, growth over habit, and faith over fear.  Right?

Steve:  Something like that.  What word do you prefer?

Bert:   Depends.  Sometimes I think of surrender as detaching.  

Steve:  Meaning?

Bert:  Taking a step back emotionally.  Like when that client cursed at us in session yesterday.

Steve:  And I told you to not take it personally. 

Bert:  Right.  That it was just transference.  And then other times I think of surrender as accepting. 

Steve:  “It is what it is.”

Bert:  Yes.  Though I hate that expression.

Steve:  Why?

Bert:  It’s like Have a nice day.  Everyone says it, then go right back to being raging control freaks. 

Steve:  Any other words for surrender?

Bert:  Let’s see.  Sometimes I do it by consciously reframing a situation instead of trying to control it.  Remember how mad I used to get at little old lady drivers?

Steve:  Anyone driving at the speed limit, you mean.   

Bert:  Right.  Well, now when I find myself behind one I just tell myself This is God reminding you to slow the fuck down.  And I slow down, and I’m okay with it.

Steve:  Very spiritual of you.

Bert:  I think so.  I use slogans too.

Steve:  Which slogans?

Bert:  Well, there’s the one you wrote on a Post-it and taped to your PC monitor:

99% of what we worry about never happens. 

That got us through some rough times.

Steve:  It did.

Bert:  And the one you kept in the little plastic frame in your office.  The one that made clients think you’re a little nuts: 

Everything’s perfect.

Steve:  I can’t count the times I tried to explain that.

Bert:  Anyone ever buy it?

Steve:  No.  Easier to sell Everything happens for a reason.

But back to you.  It sounds like you do a lot of surrendering, in one way or another.  Why do you say you’re lousy at it?

Bert:  Because of all the times I can’t.

Steve:  Explain.

Bert:  You know how we live.  Rushing from chore to chore, worry to worry.  Working down the To Do list with no end in sight.  Feeling like everything is urgent.  Lying in bed at night and trying to decide if you got enough stuff done to feel okay about yourself.

Then there’s the problem of people.  All the times I just can’t be myself. 

Steve:  Can’t tell the truth, you mean?

Bert:  Yes, but more than that.  All the times I can’t just relax and stop worrying about how someone’s going to react to me.   

But it’s more than that, too. 

It’s all the times I can’t just relax.  Can’t take, even, a really deep breath.  

You know?

Steve:  I know.  Can’t relax if you can’t surrender.  It’s a stubborn addiction. 

Bert:  Sometimes I’m sorry you told me I’m addicted.

Steve:  Do you mean that?

Bert:  No.  No, I guess not.

Steve:  What’s good about knowing?

Bert:  Well, it does clarify things.  When I feel angry or frustrated or crazy it’s usually because I’m trying to control something I shouldn’t.  Calms me down, just seeing that. 

Steve:  Another surrender?

Bert:  I suppose it is.  And then, remembering I’m addicted gives me more choices than I used to have. 

Steve:  More choices?

Bert:  Sure.  Before I knew, I never even thought of surrender as an option.  Now I know, even when I can’t do it.  It’s something to work towards.  Something to practice and get better at.  And that gives me hope.    

Steve:  Hope’s good.

Bert:  It is.  It even lets you breathe a little bit deeper.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

3 Comments | posted in control, control addiction, practice, surrender

February 5, 2012

What we mean when we talk about control, part 4: The illusion of control

By Steve Hauptman

 

 

 

 

If you’re new to Monkeytraps, Steve is a therapist who specializes in control issues, and Bert is his control-addicted inner monkey.

Steve and Bert wrote this one together:)

 

 

Steve:  Our last post (How to spot monkeytraps) explained where we got this blog’s title:

In the East they trap monkeys by placing fruit in a weighted jar or bottle with a narrow neck. The monkey smells the fruit, reaches in to grab it, and traps himself by refusing to let go.

A psychological monkeytrap is any situation that triggers you into compulsive controlling — i.e., into holding on when you really should be letting go.

One reader replied,

Why didn’t the monkeys just break the jar or bottle? I get that it was weighted down, but monkeys use tools. Were there no rocks laying around?  

Bert:  Shit.  Why didn’t I think of that?

Steve:  Just the comment I’d expect from a control addict.

 

4. The illusion of control

Bert:  Why?  What’s wrong with what I said?

Steve:  You misread the problem.

Bert:  How?

Steve:  You think the jar is what traps the monkey.   

Bert:  Of course. 

Steve:  But he could escape that just by opening his paw.   

Bert:  Oh.  Yeah.

Steve:  But he won’t.  He wants the banana.  More than anything. 

Bert:  And that’s what traps him. 

Steve:  Exactly.  Just as control addicts get trapped by their need for control.

Bert:  Why’d I miss that?

Steve:  Because you’re addicted.  Control addicts usually respond to loss of control by thinking, But I want control.  I need control.  There must be some way to get it.  Their craving distorts their thinking.

Bert:  So instead of letting go we try breaking the jar.

Steve:  Right.  Breaking the jar is a metaphor for imagining life as something we can control if we try hard enough.  And that’s a dangerous illusion.

Bert:  Tell me again.  It’s an illusion because…

Steve:  Because there are some bananas we’re not meant to have.

Bert:  Such as?

Steve:  Well, immortality, for example.  Much as we want to live forever, we can’t.

Control of emotions is another.  As determined as we are to feel only happy, safe and contented, life forces us to feel sad, scared and needy.

And then, of course, relationships.  Relationships never go as planned. 

Bert:  I noticed.  Why is that?

Steve:  Because relationships involve people.  And people tend to be uncontrollable. 

Bert:  So there’s no breaking the jar.   

Steve:  Right.  Life is what it is.  Messy, and unpredictable, and painful, and inconvenient, and unless we want to suffer endlessly we have to find some way of making peace with all that.

Bert:  To accept life on life’s terms.

Steve:  And let go of the banana.

Bert:  Okay.  Fine.  I get it.   Actual control’s an illusion. 

Now what?

Steve:  What do you mean?

Bert:  At the start of this series you told that story about seniors and house plants, and said having a sense of control is essential to both mental and physical health.  Right?

Steve:  Right.

Bert:  Well, if actual control is an illusion, how do I get a sense of control?

Steve:  Feel okay inside, you mean.

Bert:  Exactly.

Steve:  There are three ways.  I’ll explain them next time.

Bert:  Explain them now.

Steve:  I can’t.  It would take too long. 

Bert:  But I want it now.  I need it now.  There must be some way to get it now.

Steve:  Very funny. 

 

Art by Brian Bartley, of bartsartny.com, the only artist Bert ever posed for.

 

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