Okay, you convinced me.

Of what?

That control addiction is my

biggest problem.

What did it?

Our last session. Afterwards I

realized that I really do feel

like I’m trying to walk

seven dogs at once.

So what do we do now?

Controlapy.

What’s controlapy?

Control therapy. My nickname

for it.

That’s a stupid nickname.

I think it’s catchy.

And I suppose that makes

you a…

Controlapist.

(Sigh.)

And what does controlapy

involve?

Three lessons, basically.

First, what control addiction

is and how it affects us.

We’ve already begun that.

Second, where you personally

are addicted to controlling.

And third, what you can do

instead.

Do?

Yes. There are healthier ways

to cope with feelings than

controlling.

What ways?

There are three of them too:

(1) Surrender, or not trying to

control what you can’t control

anyway.

(2) Responsibility, or focusing

on your feelings and how

to manage them.

And (3) intimacy, or learning

how to be yourself with another

person and allow them to do

the same with you.

And what does controlapy

look like?

You bring in your daily

experiences and your feelings

and I decide which learning

we need to focus on.

Isn’t that controlling of you?

I suppose so.

But also contralapeutic.

There’s still something I don’t

understand about control

addiction.

What’s that?

You say everyone is addicted

to control.

Right.

Does that mean control addiction

is part of human nature?

Well, I’m not sure what “human

nature” means. So I’d put

it differently.

It’s perfectly normal for human

beings to be addicted to control.

It just isn’t healthy.

“Normal” isn’t healthy?

God no. How many normal

people do you know?

Lots.

And how many healthy

people do you know?

I see what you mean.

But I still don’t see what’s

normal about trying to control

everything.

Do you ever worry about the

future?

Sure.

You’re addicted.

Do you ever obsess over

the past?

Of course.

You’re addicted.

Ever hide your feelings for

fear of how others might

react?

All the time.

You’re addicted. Ever worry

about whether people will

like or love or accept you?

Constantly.

You’re addicted. Ever lie or

manipulate or distort the

truth to get what you want?

Okay, I get it.

Ever avoid annoying or

uncomfortable situations?

I said, I get it.

Ever plan? Strategize?

Analyze? Fantasize?

Agonize? Dream?

Ruminate? Obsess?

You can stop now.

Just making my point.

Controlling is so ordinary

that most of the time we

barely notice we’re doing it.

But life comes to feel like

we’re trying to walk seven

dogs at once.

Or like they’re walking us.

I’m starting to notice that.

I have a question.

Shoot.

What’s my biggest single problem?

Addiction to control.

Not my depression?

Well, that’s related to the addiction.

Not anxiety?

Related to the addiction.

My overeating?

Related.

Overworking? Fear of other

people? Fear of my wife?

Related, related, related.

All my problems are related to

control addiction?

That’s how I see it.

I sound pretty screwed up.

Actually you’re pretty ordinary.

We’re all addicted to control, and

it causes most emotional problems.

Explain.

There’s a part of each of us that

craves control. It’s always awake,

usually scared, and constantly

trying to control stuff.

What stuff?

Everything. External stuff,

like people, places and things.

And internal stuff, like our

own feelings, thoughts and

behavior.

We even try to control the future

by anticipating it and by solving

problems that haven’t even

happened yet.

Because this part hates pain and

discomfort, it’s always trying to

make reality painless or more

comfortable.

Which means it spends all its time

fighting reality.

I call this part the Inner Monkey.

And we all have one of these?

Yes.

And it basically runs our lives?

Yes.

Well, I don’t buy it. It doesn’t

sound like me at all.

Have you looked in a mirror lately?

“If I know I’m crazy, does that

mean I’m not?”

Interesting question. Why do

you ask?

I’m not asking, I’m quoting. I just

read that in a book.

What kind of book?

A mystery, actually. It’s about this

Thai cop trying to solve a murder

and practice Buddhism at the

same time.*

And does your Buddhist cop

answer the question?

No. Can you?

Yes: No.

No, as in knowing I’m crazy

doesn’t mean I’m not crazy?

Right.

Why doesn’t it?

Does finding a hole in your tooth

make the cavity vanish?

No.

Same thing. Noticing something

doesn’t make it go away.

Self-awareness can take you just

so far. I’ve had plenty of clients

who like to say they’re working

on their problems when they’re

really just thinking about them.

But real recovery takes work.

What kind of work?

The uncomfortable kind.

Why uncomfortable?

Because emotional problems

tend to come from avoiding

discomfort. So facing discomfort

is part of recovery.

Discomfort as in…

Owning mistakes, facing

our limitations, accepting

responsibility, becoming

vulnerable, taking risks.

That sort of thing.

I’d rather skip all that.

That’s how most people feel.

Look around you. How many

healthy people do you know?

Not many.

But when does it end?

Recovery work?

Yes.

If you’re doing it right, never.

Never? There’s no graduation?

No Nirvana to attain? No Emerald

City you reach?

Nope. Just the Yellow Brick Road.

Hmm. So what do I do?

You choose. You can keep trying

to dodge life’s discomfort,

or you can…

hit the road.

*The Godfather of Katmandu by John Burdett.

Okay, so I’m emotionally

constipated.

How do I get unconstipated?

You’ve already begun.

I have? When?

Remember when we talked

 about how you felt

towards your boss?

And you let yourself

express your anger at him?*

*Session 18

Yes. That felt great.

That was you

unconstipating yourself.

But I can’t go around

expressing anger all

the time.

Or crying whenever

I’m sad. Or running

out of scary movies.

No, but you don’t need to,

any more than you need

to spend your life on the toilet.

You just need to

become regular.

Regular?

Practice getting feelings

out on a regular basis…

in a safe place at first.

Like here?

Like here.

That’s enough?

 To start. Then over time it

gets easier to do elsewhere

and in other relationships.

And eventually you stop being

scared of feelings and learn

to see them as friends.

This will take a while,

won’t it?

It takes as long as it takes.

Why? You have something

more important to do?

Apparently not.

Constipated? What do you mean,

constipated?

Have you ever been

physically constipated?

Had to go, but couldn’t?

Sure.

Remember how the longer it

lasted the more uncomfortable

you got? Until it was all

you could think of?

Of course.

Well, feelings are like shit.

They’re meant to be

expelled, not stored up

in the body. 

And when we don’t express

them they don’t just go away.

They go into storage and

build up pressure.

And we experience that

pressure as symptoms.

What symptoms?

Anxiety and depression

usually come first.

Then there are physical

symptoms like fatigue,

headache…

stomachache, backache…

frequent colds, high blood

pressure, ulcers…

irritable bowel, cancer…

Yikes.

Take you, for example.

What do you feel

when you’re depressed?

Tired, mainly.

And?

And my heart hurts.

And?

My brain won’t shut off.

And?

I kind of hate myself.

I just feel shitty in general.

Shitty. Exactly.

So you’re saying I’m depressed

because…

I’m full of shit.

Stop with the hammer already.

Self-abuse is just another

symptom.

You’re not bad, you’re constipated.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

You say I need to get

interested in feelings?

Correct.

How?

You start paying

attention to them.

And I do that by…

Start listening to your body.

That’s where the feelings live.

Explain.

We have physical reactions

to what we experience.

All animals do.

That’s unavoidable.

But, unlike animals,

humans must decide

what to do with them.

Decide?

Yes. Whether to express

 or bury them.

Can I cry if I’m with

other people?

If I get angry at my

boss can I yell at him?

If the movie scares me

can I run out of

the theater?

I get it.

We’re all taught there

are times we need

to bury our feelings

Unfortunately some of

us are trained to do it

all of the time.

Some of us?

Like kids raised in

alcoholic or abusive

or narcissistic families…

where expressing feelings

can be dangerous.

And what happens

to them?

They grow up…

constipated.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

How are you today?

Not happy.

How come?

I don’t have what I want.

And what is it you want?

A less angry wife.

And a job that pays better.

And a son who can pass Math.

And to be twenty pounds thinner.

And a reason to smile occasionally.

To feel happier, you mean.

Yeah.

Any suggestions?

Just one.

Redefine happiness.

Redefine?

Yes. Stop thinking of happiness

as about getting what

you want.

Try thinking of it as about

having what you need.

What difference would that make?

Let’s see.

Would you rather be underpaid

or unemployed?

Underpaid.

Would you rather have an

angry wife or be divorced?

Have an angry wife.

Would you rather have a Math

dunce for a son or no son at all?

I’d rather have the dunce.

Would you rather be overweight

or have a terminal illness?

Overweight.

Congratulations. Sounds like

you already have at least some

of what you need.

Plus maybe even…

a reason to smile.

I feel like crap.

How come?

So many reasons.

My wife says I’m insensitive,

so I feel like a bad husband.

I don’t make enough money,

so I feel like a financial failure.

My son’s flunking Math, so I

feel like I’m doing something

wrong as a father.

I don’t have the time or energy

to clean my garage or fix what

needs fixing at my house…

so I feel lazy or irresponsible

or something.

And I’m twenty pounds overweight.

And you tell me I’m out of touch

with my feelings. So I feel like I’m

flunking therapy.

So I feel like crap.

A big, fat, smelly piece of…

Do you do this often?

Do what?

Beat yourself up in this way.

Yeah, lately.

Thought so.

Well, if you’re going to do it, you

might as well do it right.

See that drawer next to you?

Open it and take out what you find.

This?

Yes.

What is it?

It’s a gift. You can take it with you.

Thanks. What’s it for?

I’ll show you.

Place your hand on the desk…

and give it a good whack with

the hammer.

Are you crazy? That would destroy

my hand.

Temporarily.

But eventually the pain would go

away. And the hand would heal

in about six weeks.

But what you’re doing now — beating

yourself up, labeling yourself a

failure — is self-abuse, and that’s

even more self-destructive.

It doesn’t make you stronger or smarter

or braver or productive. It just

drains your energy and causes pain.

Huh.

That’s some gift.

You’re welcome.

You might at least put a bow on it.

“Bull in a china shop”? What does

that mean?

Just that you don’t know what

you’re doing.

Emotionally speaking, I mean.

I get it. Because I’m numb to

my own feelings.

Right.

Which leaves me numb to my wife’s

feelings.

Right.

And to my kids’ feelings, and

everyone else’s.

Yes, unfortunately.

So what can I do about it?

You get interested.

In feelings.

Right.

I really don’t want to.

I don’t blame you.

You don’t?

Nope. Moving from numbness into

feelings is no walk in the park.

It takes guts to face all that

stuff you’ve been burying.

Do I have a choice?

Of course you do. There are always

choices.

What choices?

Choice 1, do nothing. Hope your marriage

survives and your kids don’t grow up

emotionally deprived.

Choice 2, shift from bull to bully. Demand

that your family accept your numbness,

blame them if they complain about it.

Some guys try that.

Anything else?

Choice 3, develop symptoms. Become

anxious or depressed or chronically

angry.

I think I may have started on that one.

Choice 4, develop an addiction.

I don’t drink or drug.

No problem.There’s always food.

Or work, that’s a popular male option.

Or you could spend your life in

front of screens. Tv, internet, games,

Facebook, chat rooms, porn.

You know.

I know.

Or you could get interested.

In feelings.

In feelings.

So. What’s your preference?

(Silence.)

(More silence.)

Good choice.

How are things at home?

My wife’s still mad at me.

Are you still snoring?

Nope. Now I wear a snore strip.

So she’s mad at something else?

Yes.

What’s she mad at?

She says I’m insensitive to her feelings.

Why does she say that?

Shit, I don’t know.

I think I’m a sensitive guy.

Sensitive how?

Every birthday I buy her a card.

Every anniversary I buy her flowers.

On Valentine’s Day I buy her

a big box of chocolates.

And, you know, now I’m wearing

the snore strip.

Which really itches.

I even remember to put the toilet

seat down, most of the time.

What else does she want from me?

That’s a good question. Have you

asked her?

No.

Do you two talk very much?

Sure, we talk plenty.

When was the last time?

Just before I came here.

What did you talk about?

I said, “Okay, I’m leaving for therapy now.”

And she said, “Thank you, Jesus.”

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

So how’s your marriage going?

Not well.

Why not?

I’m married to an angry woman.

Why is she angry?

Lots of reasons.

Name one.

She says I lack empathy.

What does that mean?

Damned if I know.

I go to work, I pay the bills,

I mow the lawn.

I do what I’m supposed to do.

What’s so important about empathy?

Do you know what “empathy” means?

Not really. Something to do with feelings.

Let’s come back to that.

Why else might she be angry?

She says I snore.

How bad?

Really bad, she says.

Have you ever slept with a snorer?

No.

Okay. Let’s try an experiment.

I’ll be you. You be your wife.

Okay.

Close your eyes and pretend

you’re trying to sleep.

Okay.

Ready?

Ready.

Ugg.

Ugggg.

Ugggggggg.

UGGGGGG.

UGGGGG.

UGGGGGGGGGGG.

UGGGGGGGGGG

GGGGGGGGGGG.

Holy mother of God.

I can’t believe she hasn’t divorced me.

Congratulations.

What you’re feeling is called “empathy.”