Dear Dr. Ding
Dear Dr. Ding:
Help. I had a huge fight with someone in my family over the Christmas holiday, and I am supposed to go to a family lunch on New Year’s Day. My problem is that the person I had the fight with is my sister, and no one knows we’re not on speaking terms at the moment. My Mom has cancer, and I don’t want to go upsetting her by having to explain why we’re not talking (my sister and me, I mean). Mom is having chemotherapy and is pretty run down. She’s hosting the meal, she does it every year, cancer or not.
I guess I should mention the fact that the reason my sister and I had the fight is really stupid. She for some reason dislikes my boyfriend and made a crack about him being a “biker without the bike” type of guy while we were washing dishes after Christmas dinner. It was just the 2 of us in her kitchen. I blew it off and didn’t react but she kept going. She kept asking “where is this relationship of yours going, anyway? Can’t he afford a ring? Is he working at a real job now?” agggh!! I’m not describing it right because I know this sounds not that bad, but it was the way she said it. She also said she thought I was above him and that I would be better taken care of by pretty much anyone else.
I think I should add that my sister is 4 years older than I am and hasn’t had a serious relationship in like 7 years. I don’t think she’s had a date in the last 2 years either. She wouldn’t let it go, she kept on asking questions in this snippy “trying to be funny” tone, and I just blew my stack at her.
I tried, Dr. Ding. I tried to be zen about it, but nothing I had said to her seemed to have an effect - she just kept washing dishes and looking very happy with herself! I’m proud of myself that I didn’t try to explain or justify my boyfriend’s choice of clothes or work as a mechanic. He definitely looks the biker part, but who cares? When I first met him I couldn’t even see his tats, so WTF. But…I did say to her that I thought she was probably just jealous because she hadn’t gotten laid since we had a democrat in the White House, and that she might not be so tempted to pick on me if she had a social life. I know, not the best thing for me to say.
I’ll get to the point: my sister never apologized, despite me later apologizing for my low blow about her needing a good lay, and despite me confronting her about her catty critical statements. She stomped out of the kitchen and when I finished drying, she was out in the living room with the whole family, my boyfriend in included, laughing and acting like nothing was wrong. She wouldn’t even look at me. The next day I tried calling her lots of times, left a bunch of messages, no answer. Nothing. No email either.
So now we’ve got this big family traditional lunch thing coming, and I can’t stand the thought of being around my sister when she’s acting like this. I guess I should also mention that this kind of crap has happened before, but usually it’s not so mean-spirited. I think she’s jealous of me somehow, even though she’s the one with the nice house, stable job, lots of money in the bank. I’m an artist and teach at a community college. I know we’re different in lots of ways but our disagreements have never been so long lasting.
How do I handle New Year’s Day without freaking out Mom or having my brain explode?
Seething in Splendora
Dear Seething:
Okay, you’ve laid (no pun intended) this out very nicely, and I like how you tried to remain detached and calm whilst your sister was busy poking you with sharp verbal sticks; good job! That’s not easy. And okay, so you unloaded a few choice vulgarities in her general direction. But, again to your credit you immediately apologized. Here’s the shocker though: your sister’s reaction may have more to do with the timing of your argument than any other variable in this cozy little family equation.
It’s Christmas. Stressful. Mom has cancer. Stressful. Sister is probably feeling pretty damn lonely and hasn’t had her sinuses cleaned in a dog’s life. Stressful.
To wit: she’s older than you, of a different temperament, has a more conventional lifestyle, and probably is seen by the family as the more “responsible” one, I’d wager. She’s probably standing there in her immaculate suburban castle that inexplicably always smells like scented toilet paper, looking at your hip beatnik self washing dishes, your equally exotic and unpredictable boyfriend a mere door’s breadth away, and realizing that maybe she’s never walked on the wild side of life, never stepped more than one single sensible brown leather clog’s step away from her comfort zone.
Your sister, being older and more staid, may identify in some ways with your mother’s issues of mortality that may seem alien to you. Often, people with cancer take a kind of stock of their lives, an existential inventory. And often they find they haven’t taken enough risks in life, or that they’ve inhibited themselves emotionally to the detriment of their relationships with others. So, after the surgery/chemo/radiation tango, they decide to travel or actually say I Love You or write their memoirs or get a gigantic boob tattooed in the middle of their chest. Truth. Trust.
Your sister may be looking at your mother’s struggle and thinking “Aw Christ, I knew I should have howled at the Midsummer moon/taken that trip I couldn’t afford/never decided that beige was my color.” And kicking herself. And then you come waltzing in like some fabu Riot Grrl, spreading pixie dust and farting butterflies, being all artsy and shoot-from-the-hip, and she can’t quite handle her anger at herself, so she takes it out on you, you biker-boning betty, you. How dare you follow what makes you happy whether in love or work, when you could be polishing your chromed-out BreadMaker and working for some gigantic conglomerate where everyone wears that same goddamn navy sweater on Casual Friday?
In other words, try not to worry too much about this. Your sister has problems with her own life that she’s playing out with you.
Consider not trying to hide stuff from Mom: she probably knows something ain’t right. And further, just because she has cancer doesn’t mean she’s made of glass. When folks have serious illnesses, one of the most insulting things we can do to them is act like they’ve suddenly lost their ability to function or problem-solve or just simply deal with life’s little shitstorms. It effectively creates this weird cloud of faux pleasantry and unwitting condescension around the sick person and eventually they get this idea that because everyone’s tiptoeing and hush-hushing and pasting on pained smiles when they’re nearby, that Oh Mah Lord, I’m Gonna Die Any Fucking Minute Here, Take Me In Your Arms Sweet Lil Baby Jesus.
Ideas for you to consider:
Even more blaspheming from Dr. Ding
Dear Dr. Ding:
I have a major catastrophe. I haven’t attended Church in years, but my parents don’t know this. Yet. We’re all going to be involved in my cousin’s wedding in a couple of months and my mother signed me up to do a reading. I know this probably sounds stupid, but I don’t know how to tell my parents that I just am not involved in Church activities. I could care less about doing the reading; I dread the loads guilt that’s sure to come. Religion is a major thing in my family and I think my parents, especially my Mom, are going to have a huge problem with this.
Oh — and the worst part? I’m 42 years old. I feel positively silly writing you. One would think I would have my life better sorted than all this.
Give me a bracing shot of cold advice, straight. I need it desperately.
No Longer Yours in Christ,
A loyal reader
Dearest Loyal Reader Who is Likely to Soon Perish in the Bowels of Hottest Hell:
Ah, Holy Mother Church. I have, in my highly Sherlockian and nerdish way, cleverly ascertained that you are most definitely Catholic and probably Irish Catholic to boot. In any case, you called it right; you definitely need a psycho/scata/theological kick in the head. And I, me puer auld Gaelic Guilt Tripper, am happy to provide said kick.
First off, this is neither a catastrophe nor a desperate situation. A problem, yes. But it’s hardly one of such epic proportions. Someone more famous than Dr. Ding (!) once remarked that life is either magnified or shrunk in proportion to one’s courage, and I can tell you’re courageous simply for writing me. So clearly there’s some distortion in your thinking at work here. This wing-ding is 2 months off, and no one is in immediate danger of dying from brain cancer or from shooting smack on a daily basis, so relax, Dinky Hocker. You’ve withstood 42 years of guilt already. You’re fecking bulletproof!
I know the Church Thing is a far bigger deal to our parents’ generation than to ours, but still…it’s not like you’re going to be telling them you’re out there robbing banks using weaponry fashioned from the bones of dolphins caught in fishing nets or that the reason you’ve been kinda distant lately is because you’ve taken to digging up dead bodies on the weekends so you can drive in the HOV lane on your morning commute.
Second: what makes you think your parents don’t already know you’re not a holy roller? Assuming that you’re 42 and not making up elaborate summaries of all the touching homilies you’ve witnessed in the last 20+ years, what clues are you giving them that you are still a member in good standing of ye olde HRC? Chances are none. Chances are that your parents, like most parents who cling to antique illusions simply because that’s what feels normal to them, deep down know that you’re not exactly playing the ‘cordeen at the 8:00 a.m. Polka Mass and ironing altar cloths. I don’t know if you’re male or female, but I can certainly vouch for the fact that Catholic families often tolerate the males “lapsing” in the practice of the Faith far far better than if the females happen to wander from the fold. If you’re a male, hey, you got it made. If you’re a female, well….best of luck to you. You’re going to need to read the next paragraph.
Third: I’m genuinely glad you’re going to do the reading at your cousin’s wedding. Obviously said cousin cares about you and wants you to be a visible part of his/her wedding ceremony, and you are certainly honoring this choice by agreeing to participate. Lack of “churchiness” doesn’t mean a lack of faith or a lack of spiritual practice, after all, and you shouldn’t have to defend your lack of attendance at Mass or adherence to dogma in order to make some sort of ecclesiastical “cut” or pass your mother’s muster in order to be a part of this important day. You, as you know, are an adult, and as such you get to make your own decisions about your spiritual life. You also get to decide if this is even a topic that’s open for discussion. Yeah, that’s right, you heard me. I’ll say it again.
You get to decide what topics you will discuss and with whom. Yup, it’s true. This is part of what makes up an interpersonal boundary within the context of a relationship. In unhealthy or skewed relationships, one person feels it’s ok to intrude into another person’s belief system and to question, challenge, and criticise it. This dynamic invariably occurrs from time to time within the context of parent-child interactions, but this doesn’t mean it should! After all, you don’t get all up in your mother’s face about her lack of exercise and rather appalling ceramic figurine collection do you? See? So she should extend the same courtesy.
In conclusion: your soul = your bidness.
Pax Vobiscum,
Dr. Ding
Burnout Questionnaire Regarding Being Burned-Out
Burnout Questionnaire About Burnout: Are You Burned-Out?
By Dr. Ding
aka Dr. Dementa
Please answer the following items “yes”, “no”, or using whatever series of expletives seems to best fit. Sample repsonse is indicated below. It should be noted that this inventory was compiled of non -face-valid items that are empirically derived. Certain questions may strike you as odd, or quite possibly even distressing. Ok, demented even. But remember, your responses to these items are completely confidential, and will only be released to your personal therapist, his/her supervisor, the consulting psychiatrist, your insurance reviewer, who no doubt is some mulleted wankster who knows half your neighbors, friends, relatives and coworkers and isn’t bound by the same confidentiality guidelines as even yourself. So, take your time and respond to each item as quickly as possible. Please write your answers legibly on a separate sheet of paper, and for God’s sake, please try not to drool. This contaminates the interpretability of the test. Have a nice day.
EXAMPLES:
Item:“I frequently find myself taking on additional tasks at work, just to challenge myself”
Sample response: “Fuck no!”
Item: “I feel often that life holds very little hope for me if I continue in this line of work”
Sample response: “Hell yes. What kind of dumbass do you think I am?”
Let’s begin, shall we?
1. I find my work as interesting as ever.
2. I would enjoy doing what I am doing for the rest of my life.
3. I have no desire to quit my current job.
4. After reading the above three items, I broke down and sobbed uncontrollably from the painful irony.
5. I like cheese.
6. Maybe you would like some cheese too.
7. Oftentimes I talk when no one is around.
8. Diagnosing patients is pretty much a crapshoot, on a good day.
9. When in session, I try to look directly at the client as little as possible.
10. I have difficulty getting out of bed in the morning.
11. I have difficulty locating my office.
12. I am troubled by thoughts of wanting to choke the living shit out of the consulting psychiatrist.
13. People can read my thoughts.
14. Between sessions I wear a little foil hat to prevent thought transmissions from, you know, them.
15. There is a conspiracy.
16. I am aware of my strengths although they include public nudity and eating coffee grinds.
17. Every day, my flatulence troubles me just a bit more.
18. I would enjoy a career as a florist.
19. I would enjoy a career away from this God-forsaken hellhole.
20. As a child, I never dreamed my life would consist of listening to people drone on about their so-called “problems”. As if panic disorder and coprophagia are “problems”. Yeah, right. Whatever.
21. Evil spirits possess me at times.
22. The spirit of Jerry Springer lives in my pants at times.
23. Most people just want to get laid and tell me about it.
24. My father wore a hat made of herring.
25. I could make a lot more money if I would show up for work.
26. During staff meetings I prefer to make miniature drawings of Elvis.
27. The phrases “That bothers you?” “Let’s talk about you” “I can see you’re hurting” and “What you feel is the most important” seem to come out of my mouth when I am trying to get an estimate on my car repair.
28. Secretly I would like to bathe in pudding.
29. I would be a psychopath if I were paid more money.
30. Drinking hard liquor until falling into a stupor makes me happy.
31. I have taken up golf.
32. Listening is just waiting your turn to talk.
33. My mother hosted parties where angry dwarves would play canasta and sing German opera.
34. I think that deep down, I am a very shallow person.
35. Most of my patients would say that I have a definite booger problem.
36. My house is overrun with small, perfectly-formed turds that answer to the name of Harry.
37. I would change careers, but I am Catholic and haven’t suffered enough.
38. One’s capacity to withstand pain is directly related to foot odor.
39. Lemmings seem to have the right idea.
40. Plaid pants are appealing.
41. I think that adult diapers, with the right accessories, can really enhance one’s chances for promotion.
42. My supervisees call me Hoss behind my back.
43. Constipation is a way of life for some people.
44. When I am uncertain about what to do with a patient, I just pretend I am a large green ottoman until they leave.
45. This profession was made for people who like tight underwear.
46. I was able to laugh, once upon a time.
47. Empathy is for the birds.
48. My written reports, although brief, contain many illustrations and diagrams of the interpretive dances I do in session.
49. I would do my own billing, but I only work with even or prime numbers.
50. Lighting fires would be an enjoyable hobby.
51. Sometimes I daydream about admitting myself to an inpatient unit so I wouldn’t have to worry about all this crap.
52. I never bargained for this.
53. Would you like to see my scar?
54. My bowels sometimes leave my body.
55. Other people, especially my colleagues, just don’t seem to understand my unique method of salting my patients.
56. You would smear shit on the wall if you had my office décor, too.
57. I think that 5 hours of sleep per night and 12-hour workdays build character.
58. I would kill myself if I weren’t looking.
59. I am about as mystified by the vagaries of hand lotion as I ever was.
60. My nose has a secret compartment.
61. Most people, given the chance, would change their identity and take up smelting.
62. When I reflect upon my most successful cases I am at times troubled by a shattering sense of failure.
63. I once dropped trou at a party hosted by Henry Kissinger.
64. I know the real meaning of the phrase “I’m a hootchee cootchee man” as sung by Bo Diddley.
65. The MMPI-2 is for sissies.
66. Lately my sweat smells like someone’s stanky drawers.
67. I regret most of the decisions I have made, especially the ones involving hand puppets in treating dementia.
68. I believe I have a special purpose, although I tend to confuse it with my laundry.
69. When a patient is relating a matter of great emotional impact that touches on some of my own personal issues, my preferred manner of coping is to stick my fingers in my ears and sing “lalalalalalala” until they are done.
70. My training consists solely of cognitive-behavioral approaches to existential crises.
71. Hamsters are intriguing and have inspired me throughout my career.
72. I always refer to support staff by the name of “Slappy”.
73. My first supervisor told me I was doing it all wrong, but I was really doing that on purpose, anyway.
74. Most people have a keen interest in figuring out ways to tell people to fuck-off, without using the word “fuck” or “off”.
75. I play air guitar only when I think I am going to get caught.
76. Sensitivity, schmensitivity.
77. I have taken to wearing several strategically-placed Kleenex in lieu of clothing on “casual day”.
78. I would enjoy telling people that I admire my own ass, but I am too shy.
79. At conferences, I try to look as opaque and disgruntled as possible.
80. It was twenty years ago today, Sergeant Pepper’s band came to play.
81. I am on a personal quest to bring parataxic distortions back into vogue.
82. When I speak to managed care representatives, I often pretend I too have no formal training or clinical experience, just for the fun of it.
83. My own therapist tells me that the voices are right.
84. When giving formal presentations, I enjoy livening things up with a little jig.
85. I see dead people.
86. I see dumb people. And the scariest part is, they don’t know they’re dumb.
87. The biggest influence on my supervision style was Benito Mussolini.
88. I think people are overrated.
89. I am severely troubled by my lack of black, tarry stools.
90. My relationships seem to end with one or more of the following: a) the sudden appearance of flannel pajamas, b) massive pyrotechnic explosions, c) a long car chase culminating in a 16-car pileup, d) an audible “pop!” and suddenly finding myself in the middle of the string section of the Berlin Philharmonic, or e) seemingly endless reenactments of Monty Python dialogue.
91. I am utterly amazed during the majority of my waking hours.
92. As a child, I enjoyed disemboweling my elders.
93. Secretly, I am thrilled to listen to the exploits of CPAs.
94. The last time I wrote a progress note, you were still in short pants.
95. Of all the things I’ve done, I regret having that therapy group for borderlines over to my home for dinner and drinks the most.
96. When in doubt, just yell “Hey! Snap out of it!!”.
97. If the above doesn’t work, try “Take it easy, cha cha”.
98. I feel sad that there are so few people in the bathroom when I sit there and make various witty remarks.
99. When I have trouble focusing, I just put on a jaunty French beret.
100. It looks like I dropped a television set down the back of my pants, thanks to years of back-to-back sessions.
.
The Delicate Art of Self-Stifling
I’ve known my younger brother is gay for about the last year. I had suspected it since we were teenagers. We’re both in our mid-twenties now. My problem is that our parents don’t know because he doesn’t want to tell them. They are both really good people but I’m not sure they could handle this news if they heard it from anyone but my brother. Please advise me on how to get my brother to tell my parents.
Do you own an impressive arsenal of lethal weapons? Well, outside of using some type of physical force, you can’t get your brother to tell your parents. This whole thing issue is actually between your brother and your parents. You are obviously entitled to your feelings of botheration on this, but my dear, you have to stay out of this. It’s between your brother and them and that’s that.
That’s the short answer.
Your impulse to somehow shield or protect your parents is noble, but I think it’s misplaced. After all, you’ve suspected your brother is gay since your teen years. If you suspected, don’t you think it’s reasonable that your parents might harbor the same suspicions? You’re assuming that this will come as a total surprise to them. It might, if their level of denial about such things is pretty intact, but then again it might not be.
It sounds as if your brother has some sort of reason right now for not telling them, and it’s very important for the sake of your relationship with your brother that you respect his wishes on this. If you try to force the issue, you may drive a wedge between you that will prove really tough to later dislodge. He obviously trusts you, or else he wouldn’t have come out to you before other folks-don’t mess that up! If you break that trust, getting it back may prove impossible at worst, or extremely awkward and painful for both of you at best.
Now, in the meantime, please know that coming out is for many people a gradual thing, not something to be taken lightly, and timing is often of the essence. Your brother may be in fact be biding his time until your mother’s prize roses are all planted or your father’s sciatica is settled down before he tells them his news. It may well be best for him to not so much jump out of the closet but inch along comfortably. Put yourself in his position for a moment—it’s one thing to risk a siblings approval, but parental approval is pretty monumental for a lot of folks, especially during their early or mid-twenties when they are just beginning to get a grasp on who they are in the world.
To assist you in keeping your perspective: it’s not like he’s telling them that he’s something truly scary like a conservative fundamentalist Republican senator or a devotee of your local easy listening radio station. He simply thinks boys are neat. Unfortunately in our society this for some reason often necessitates a lifetime of discrimination and ostracization, not to mention victimization.
Something else to consider is that if indeed your parents respond negatively or hysterically to news of his sexual orientation, your brother is going to need a lot of support. If you snitch on him, you are probably going to remove his only familial support. My hope is that the two of you can discuss this stuff and be open and honest about your hopes, fears, and expectations, and also that you will effectively, in the immortal words of Archie Bunker, stifle yourself.
Grief the Healer
I can’t seem to shake this idea that I’m really messed-up inside. When I was growing up, both my parents were alcoholics. My father used to hit me, and my mother would just yell. I joined the military right out of high school, put myself through college, and now own my own business. I’m really proud that I’ve made a success out of my life. I’m married to a wonderful woman and we have two beautiful children. I thank God every day that I was able to not repeat the mistakes my parents made.
Here’s my problem. My parents both sobered up through rehab and then AA about 5 years ago, but for my father, the damage had been done, and he died last year. I’m glad they decided to stop poisoning themselves through alcohol, and it’s a relief to see my mother so clear-headed. But sometimes when I see her around my kids I get this surge of emotion that’s so strong I have to leave the room. I can’t figure out if I’m jealous or mad or what. I just feel really messed-up and I can’t get a handle on it. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not depressed or anything, and most days I feel great. I’ve found that when that big swell of emotion gets to me that if I go to church or read my Bible it helps a lot. My wife pointed out that this means I’m using religion as a crutch. I don’t know what to think. What do you think about all this?
You’re not messed-up, you’re grieving a childhood you never had. Grief is possibly the most misunderstood human experience, and tidal in its intensity. You describe sudden swells of strong negative feelings that seem to recede for awhile, only to eventually return just as powerful as before. This is how grief often operates, and it can be confusing. It sounds as if you’re linking these upwellings of nameless emotion with visits from your mother (who was emotionally and verbally abusive to you, and who stood idly by while your father physically abused you) which is very insightful.
Seeing your mother interacting happily while sober with your children in the present is driving your grief because it’s the childhood experience you never got to have. The things we didn’t get while growing up—adequate attention, nurturance, support, love, care, affection, etc— are the most difficult to grieve. You thought I was going to say they’re the most difficult to “get over” didn’t you? People often tell themselves that the past is in the past, so they should just get over it/let it be/let go/etc. But because of the way we are biologically and psychologically wired as the complicated and fascinating human creatures that we are, it just ain’t that easy.
Please understand that grieving the past that you didn’t have isn’t a single event; it’s a process, and a healing process at that. On Death and Dying by Elizabeth Kubler Ross is an excellent explanation of the stages of grief and how to move through them without getting stuck. Grief, you see, isn’t bad or abnormal or wrong. It just is. It happens, and it’s supposed to happen, because life is ever-changing and sometimes very difficult and it’s a wonderful built-in mechanism for us to be able to say goodbye to people, things, and experiences of all sorts, both positive and negative.
Giving yourself permission to allow your feelings to flow through you is powerful medicine as you make your way through the process of grieving your childhood, the one you were denied. Grieving with support, however, will let you heal more rapidly. I think your turning to your church or your Bible represents your attempt to do this, and my view is hey—if it works, keep doing it. It’s not a crutch. It sounds as if you’re looking for some meaning and understanding in all of this pain you’re experiencing, and that’s a healthy, functional thing.
One caveat: don’t rush to forgiveness. This prematurely can short-circuit your progress. Think of grief as a wound that must be cleaned out gently but completely, washed clean entirely before it can be sutured and allowed to heal up. If you pray to forgive your parents right now you may be leaving some “dirt” inside the wound that could cause problems, i.e. an incomplete healing experience. Let yourself feel mad, sad, hurt, scared. It’s ok. You’re a human being who gets to have feelings now, and all of these emotions are a part of grief. Back then it wasn’t safe to feel your own emotions—you were too busy surviving. Although life is different now, those feelings you didn’t get to experience back then are still there, needing to be expressed.
I’m not sure if you’ve ever discussed your feelings about your childhood with your mother, and I don’t know if it would be helpful; this is a decision only you can make. I think what would be helpful would be for you do share some of this with a person you trust, whether that’s a therapist, a church leader or simply a valued friend. Groups like Adult Children of Alcoholics or AlAnon are sometimes helpful as well. Please be assured that you’re not messed-up-your childhood certainly was, and you survived it and not only that, you have managed to help create a healthy family of your own without repeating the abusive behaviors of your parents. Doesn’t sound like you’ve been using any crutches to me! You are a resilient, courageous person who happens to be suffering.
One thing to consider: your wife sees your religious activities as problematic. Do you suppose that you are turning away from her even as you turn towards religion? Something to be aware of. You may want to share this article with her to help her understand where you’re coming from.
Since I don’t believe in luck, I wish you success on your journey. Your instincts, miraculously, seem fairly undamaged by such a difficult childhood, and my hope is that you learn to trust them. So begin it today. Be bold! To paraprhase otherwise rather angsty ole Goethe, boldness has genius and daring and magic in it.
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