So, Bert.

How are you feeling?

Hard to say.

Why?

I’m very emotional lately.

Kind of all over the place.

I see that.

So can you tell me…

How long…

you’ve been experiencing…

mood swings?

What’s a mood swing?

You look upset.

Bad day at work.

What happened?

Boss yelled at me.

Sounds uncomfortable.

How are you feeling?

Guilty.

Why did the boss yell?

I’m not really sure. Having

a bad day, I guess.

He’s like that.

But why do you feel guilty?

I don’t know. I just do.

Did they yell at you when

you were a kid?

They did.

And how did you feel

when that happened?

Guilty.

Like now.

I guess.

Well, I’m not sure that’s

guilt you’re feeling.

What else could it be?

Anger. Internalized anger

feels like guilt.

It does?

Yes. Swallowing anger is like

swallowing poison.

It doesn’t just go away. It stays

inside and eats holes in you,

and the holes feel like guilt.

And some people spend their

whole lives feeling guilty

without understanding why..

Well, I’ve always been

a pretty guilty person.

I see. Tell me, what kind of

a person is your boss?

He’s an asshole.

What makes him an asshole?

He’s a bully. He likes to make fun

of people and make them feel small.

And how do you feel

when he does that?

Angry.

How angry?

Very angry. Sick-to-my-stomach angry.

To where I can’t stand looking at him.

I really hate that guy.

What did you say?

I hate him.

Say that again.

I hate him.

Say it louder.

I hate him.

Louder.

I HATE HIM.

HATE HATE HATE

HATE HATE HATE

HATE HATE HATE.

Good.

Breathe.

How do you feel now?

Better.

Still guilty?

Not at all.

Good.

Does that always work?

Pretty much, when the guilt

comes from suppressed anger.

Speaking of which…

How do you feel about your parents?

Can I tell you a secret?

Of course.

I have low self-esteem.

I want high self-esteem.

Can you help me with that?

Nope.

You can’t?

No. I don’t believe in self-esteem.

You don’t?

Yeah. I think it’s a myth.

People think they’re supposed to

have high self-esteem.

And they feel inadequate

when they don’t.

The truth is, I don’t have self-esteem,

and I’ve never met anyone who does.

Really?

Really.

It’s one of those impossible goals

we set for ourselves.

Some people say they have it.

I know. I don’t believe them.

I assume either that they’re lying…

or engaged in wishful thinking…

or they’re narcissists, hiding

a secret emptiness…

or they just lack self-awareness.

What kind of self-awareness?

Anyone with self-awareness knows

how screwed up they are.

How often they act out of fear,

or ignorance, or selfishness,

or childhood conditioning…

and how regularly they fall

short of being the person

they want to be.

And they can provide you

with a long list of their mistakes,

failures and disappointments.

And if they can’t, or won’t,

they’re just in denial.

Because, my friend, we’re all broken.

Broken is the human condition.

So “high self-esteem” is just an

unrealistic goal.

You want a goal,

there’s a better one.

What?

Self-acceptance.

What’s the difference?

Self-esteem says, “I’m wonderful,

I’m special.” Self-acceptance says,

“Maybe I’m not wonderful or

special, but I can live with it.”

(Silence.)

Sorry to disappoint you.

No. it’s okay.

I can live with it.

So you’re married.

I am.

And your wife’s name is Felicia.

Correct. But I don’t call her that.

I call her Babe.

Bert and Babe. Cute.

And you have kids?

Yes, a son and daughter.

What’s your son’s name?

Barry.

And your daughter’s?

Bunny.

Hmm.

I’m sensing a pattern here.

We also have a dog.

Named…

Bonzo.

Of course.

Excuse me?

Just curious.

What’s your favorite color?

Burgandy.

Favorite sport?

Bowling.

Favorite music?

The blues.

Composer?

Bach.

Holiday?

My birthday.

Favorite meal?

Burgers.

Favorite movie?

Ben-Hur.

Favorite singer?

Barry Manilow.

Also Bette Midler.

Actor?

Ben Kingsley.

Actress?

Bette Davis.

English prime minister?

Benjamin Disraeli.

Favorite type of coal?

Bituminous.

(Sigh.)

You sighed. Why did you sigh?

Control addicts find comfort in

the familiar and the predictable.

It reduces their anxiety around

having to make choices or decisions.

It also makes them rigid. They get

trapped in their comfort zone.

So?

Has anyone ever described

you as predictable?

(Pause).

Bite me.

So let me get this straight:

When you talk about “control addiction”

you’re talking about fighting reality…

in an attempt to avoid discomfort

and pain…

but which instead becomes this

endless battle I can never win…

but which exhausts me in the process…

by creating a life of continuous

effort and frustration and

disappointment.

Right.

Which is the problem

with any addiction.

You spend your life chasing

the wrong thing.

Hmph.

I always felt my life was

missing something.

I just thought that something

was more control.

Think again.

Okay. What could the right

something be?

Gee, I don’t know.

How about peace of mind?

Or self-acceptance?

Intimacy with another person?

Spontaneity?

Creativity?

Freedom?

Joy?

Those all sound wonderful.

But why mention them in particular?

Because they’re all things you

can’t experience while you’re

addicted to control.

Really?

Really.

Well shit.

Have I been shopping at the

wrong Wal-Mart.

So what do you want out of this therapy?

To get out of this therapy.

To not have to come.

Right.

I get that. .

But since you’re here today…

…answer me this:

If I could help you with one thing,

what would that be?

(pause)

Two things, actually.

To feel less lonely…

… and to be more in control.

(Therapist smiles.)

Why are you smiling?

That second one is actually

a line from a movie.

What movie?

Ordinary People, 1980. Depressed

kid says it to his therapist.

What does the therapist say?

“Control is a tough nut,” he says, and

that the kid better come twice a week..

Is it? A tough nut?

No. It’s an impossible nut.

Why impossible?

Because we can’t have it,

and we can’t stop wanting it.

Like an itch you can’t help scratching

when the scratching only makes it worse.

(Silence).

Yeah, I know.

You know?

I always want more control than I have.

I always have. I guess I always will.

What’s wrong with me?

You’re a control addict.

In other words, a normal human being.

An ordinary people?

Exactly.

Which, in a way, solves your

first problem.

Feeling lonely?

Correct.

Since you’re not so alone after all.

Welcome to the ordinary majority.

.

.

How are you feeling?

Fine. Why?

You look depressed.

Really? I feel normal.

Really?

Yes, this is my normal.

Hmm. How’s your energy?

Pretty low. I’m tired all the time.

How’s your sleep?

I don’t sleep well.

Appetite?

Not much appetite.

Anxiety?

Can’t relax. Worry all the time.

Irritable?

I guess. My stupid wife says so.

How’s your self-esteem?

In the toilet.

How do you feel around people?

Can’t stand them.

And inside, how do you feel?

Like crying.

Jesus, Bert.

That sounds awful.

And you say this is your normal?

Yes.

Well, if this is how your normal looks…

I have to wonder what it looks

like when you’re depressed.

Oh.

I see life as one big chess game.

How so?

It’s all about getting control.

Explain.

Well, it’s about learning to be careful…

and planning ahead…

and anticipating threats…

and defending what’s yours…

and exploiting the other guy’s weaknesses…

so you can make all the right moves…

and get control of the board.

Which is the whole point of the game.

Control of the board.

Exactly.

And that’s the goal of life.

Controlling the board.

Of course.

I see. And then what?

What do you mean?

When you get control of the board,

what then?

Well, you win the game.

And then what?

The game’s over.

And then?

Then nothing. Game over.

Oh.

Why? What are you thinking?

Just that the goal of all that controlling

is…nothing.

What do you mean?

Getting control doesn’t really leave you

with anything. In the end, I mean.

I don’t follow.

No matter how skillfully you play,

whether you control the board or not,

whether you “win” or “lose,”

the game ends. For both players.

Well, yeah. I guess so.

So then I guess I agree with you.

About what?

When it comes to chasing control…

…life’s exactly like chess.

My parents didn’t like me.

Why do you say that?

They ignored me most of the time.

Then again, they were busy people.

Busy how?

Dad was busy drinking.

Mom was busy being depressed.

Oh. Right.

How do you think that affected you?

Well, I got used to being alone.

And it left me scared of certain people.

What people?

Teachers. Coaches.

Cops. Bosses.

Doctors. Dentists.

And therapists.

Yes. How did you know?

They’re all authority figures.

People who can make

you feel unimportant.

And judged.

And rejected.

And powerless.

Like the kid you used to be.

Right.

Want to hear a secret?

Okay.

I have the same problem.

You?

Yes. It’s why I became a therapist.

Don’t tell anyone, okay?

Okay.

So tell me about your family.

Do I have to?

Please.

Oh, okay.

Dad, alcoholic.

Mom, depressed.

Me, only child.

And I still am.

What do you mean?

What do you mean, what do I mean?

You’re still an only child?

Or you’re still only a child?

What a shrinkey question.

But since you ask…

Both.

You’re telling me that, inside,

you still feel like a kid.

Correct.

Well, cheer up. You’re not alone.

How so?

A wise person once said, “There’s no

such thing as a grownup human being.”

Really?

Really.

And you believe that?

Absolutely.

Thank god.

*

You know, I’m still uncomfortable

with all this.

I’m aware.

Any more ideas?

Well, there’s a Gestalt thing we could try.

What Gestalt thing?

A sort of experiment.

You move your seat back

away from me.

And you keep moving until the

distance between us feels safe

Sounds good. Let’s try that.

Okay, move back two feet.

That’s actually better.

Good. Move back two more feet.

Even better.

Good. Keep moving.

(Murmur.)

Excuse me?

(Inaudible.)

Bert, I can’t hear you.

(Even more inaudible.)

Are you still moving?

(Silence.)

Yeah, you’re still moving.

Hellooooooooo?

(Sigh.)

Oh well.

At least now we know…

…how much intimacy you can tolerate.

*

I’m still uncomfortable.

With therapy?

Yes. Is there anything else we

can try to make this easier?

Well, Freud had his patients

lie on a couch.

To relax them?

Yes, but not just that.

He wanted them to ignore him

and turn their attention inward.

Help them listen to themselves

in a deeper way.

Would you like to try that?

Worth trying, I guess.

Okay, go ahead.

How’s that feel?

Better or worse?

Worse.

Oh yes. Definitely worse.

Why?

Because now I can’t see you.

But I also can’t ignore you.

In fact now you’re all I can think of.

So it’s impossible to relax.

Much less listen to myself.

Because…

Because I’m too busy trying

to read your damned mind.

*

I don’t like therapy.

Why not?

It’s embarrassing.

How so?

Well, I sit here and talk

about my feelings and stuff…

…and you sit there and look at me.

I’m not used to that.

I don’t like, you know, being seen.

Perfectly understandable.

So let’s try an experiment.

What experiment?

Turn around so I can’t see you.

Really?

Really. See if that feels better.

Okay.

m(Silence.)

(Silence.)

(Still more silence.)

So how’s that?

I said, how is that?

Does it feel safer?

Bert? Can you hear me?

(Sniffle.)

Yes.

Why, Bert.

you hear me?

s that? unusual.Of course. That’s understandable.So let’s try an experiment.

*

(Silence.)

*****

*

“Pick your poison,” you said.

What does that mean?

*

Just that you face a choice of symptoms.

*

What choice?

*

Between the anxiety of having relationships

and the loneliness of avoiding them.

*

It’s a choice everyone has to face.

Oh. Great.

*

Is there a third choice?

*

Some people think so.

*

They think it’s possible to avoid

both anxiety and loneliness.

*

What people?

*

They’re called addicts.

*

Oh. And what what happens to them?

*

They end up both anxious and lonely.

*

Shit.

*

*

And there’s no fourth choice?

*

There is, actually.

*

Really? What is it?

*

This.