Mental Health

By the Numbers

• Approximately 66% of drivers in the United States report experiencing some form of driving anxiety at least occasionally, making it one of the most common situational anxieties seen in clinical practice.
• Research published in the Journal of Anxiety Disorders found that driving phobia affects an estimated 22 million Americans, with women being nearly twice as likely as men to report severe driving-related fear.
• A 2021 survey by the American Psychological Association found that 35% of adults who experienced a car accident developed measurable anxiety symptoms related to driving within six months of the event.
• Despite its prevalence, fewer than 1 in 5 people who suffer from driving anxiety ever seek professional help, often dismissing their fear as a personal weakness rather than a treatable condition.

When the Road Feels Like a Threat

In my years as a therapist, I have sat across from engineers, teachers, parents, and executives — people who are confident and capable in nearly every other area of their lives — who grip their steering wheels like a lifeline and white-knuckle their way through what most of us consider a mundane daily task. Driving anxiety is, in my experience, one of the most misunderstood and underreported conditions I treat. People carry enormous shame about it. They reroute their commutes, decline invitations, and quietly reorganize their entire lives around the avoidance of something that the world expects them to simply do.

What I want to make clear — both to my clients and to anyone reading this — is that driving anxiety is not a character flaw. It is the nervous system doing exactly what it was designed to do: protect you from perceived danger. The problem is that the threat response has been misfired or amplified, and the brain has begun treating the act of driving as a genuine emergency. Understanding that distinction is often the first step toward healing. In this article, I want to share what driving anxiety really looks like in practice, through the lens of real clinical experiences, and offer a candid picture of both the recoveries and the ongoing struggles that define this work.

Renata's Story: From Frozen to Free

One of the most memorable cases of driving anxiety I have worked with involved a woman I will call Renata, a thirty-four-year-old marketing professional who came to me after a near-miss accident on the highway. No one was hurt — her car had simply drifted slightly before she corrected it — but in the weeks that followed, she found herself unable to merge onto freeways at all. Then city driving became difficult. Within two months, she was limiting herself to a three-mile radius from her home using only surface streets she had memorized, and even those trips left her shaking.

When Renata first came to see me, she described a racing heart, tunnel vision, and an overwhelming urge to pull over and abandon her car whenever traffic picked up. She was convinced she was going to cause an accident and hurt someone. The anxiety had taken on a life of its own, generating intrusive thoughts that replayed the near-miss over and over like a warning siren she could not shut off.

We worked together using a combination of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and gradual exposure techniques. I first helped her understand the physiological loop she was caught in — how avoidance was reinforcing her brain's belief that driving was dangerous, which in turn made each subsequent drive feel more threatening. We developed a hierarchy of driving situations ranked from least to most anxiety-provoking and began working through them systematically, always at her pace. I also taught her a grounding technique she could use at red lights: pressing her feet firmly into the floor, naming five things she could see through the windshield, and taking a slow, deliberate breath before the light changed.

After roughly four months of consistent work, Renata merged onto the highway again for the first time. She called me that afternoon, voice breaking with relief. Today she drives to work without a second thought. Her recovery was not linear — there were setbacks, cancelled sessions when she felt too defeated to try — but the trajectory was unmistakably forward. Renata is one of the cases that reminds me why this work matters.

Declan's Story: When Progress Moves in Inches 

Not every story has a triumphant ending, and I believe it is important to be honest about that. Declan is a fifty-one-year-old man who came to me not after a single traumatic event but after a lifetime of what he described as a deep, nameless dread behind the wheel. As a teenager, he had witnessed a fatal accident from the backseat of his family's car. No one in his family ever spoke about it. He went on to get his license, drive for decades, and function — but he never drove on highways, never drove at night, and for the past decade had largely stopped driving on rain-soaked roads as well. His world had been quietly shrinking for thirty years before he finally sought help.

Declan and I have been working together for over a year. We have made real progress in understanding the roots of his anxiety and in reprocessing the childhood trauma through EMDR therapy. He can now articulate what triggers him in ways he never could before. He has driven on a few rainy evenings and described it as manageable rather than catastrophic — a meaningful shift in language that tells me his nervous system is learning, slowly, to distinguish past from present.

But highway driving remains largely out of reach. We have attempted the exposure work several times, and each attempt has ended with Declan pulling off at the first exit, heart pounding, certain that something terrible is about to happen. He is not failing — I want to be clear about that. He is doing extraordinarily difficult work on a wound that was sealed over for decades. However, his case illustrates something I wish more people understood: recovery from deep-rooted anxiety is not always a clean climb. Sometimes it is a slow renegotiation with your own nervous system, and that process deserves patience, not judgment.

Tools I Use With Clients

Across every case I have worked with, certain therapeutic approaches have proven consistently valuable. The first is psychoeducation — helping clients understand the neurological underpinning of their anxiety removes the shame and gives them something concrete to work with. When someone understands that their amygdala is triggering a false alarm rather than detecting a real threat, they stop feeling broken and start feeling treatable.

Cognitive restructuring is another cornerstone of the work. Most clients with driving anxiety are running catastrophic narratives: I will lose control of the car; I will freeze on the bridge; something terrible will happen and it will be my fault. We work to identify these automatic thoughts, examine the evidence for and against them, and build more accurate, proportionate alternatives. This is painstaking work — the anxious brain resists revision — but it is often where the most lasting change takes root.

Gradual exposure remains the gold standard for anxiety disorders, including driving-specific phobias. The key is that exposure must be gradual enough to be tolerable but challenging enough to generate new learning. I work collaboratively with clients to build their exposure hierarchies, and I always emphasize that discomfort during exposure is not a sign that something is going wrong — it is a sign that the brain is being asked to update its threat assessment. That reframe alone can be the difference between a client who pushes through and one who quits.

What I Tell the People Who Love Someone With Driving Anxiety 

If you are reading this not because you struggle with driving anxiety but because someone you love does, please hear this: the single most counterproductive thing you can do is pressure them to simply push through it. I have had countless clients tell me that a partner's frustration or a parent's dismissal — "Just drive, there's nothing to be afraid of" — became woven into the anxiety itself, adding a layer of shame that made the whole condition heavier and harder to treat.

Equally, accommodating every avoidance request without encouraging growth can inadvertently reinforce the phobia. The healthiest role a loved one can play is that of a compassionate witness — someone who acknowledges that the fear is real and painful, while gently and consistently communicating belief that the person is capable of more than their anxiety tells them. Encourage professional help. Offer to drive with them during early exposure practices. And resist the urge to make their progress feel urgent. Healing rarely respects our timelines.

A Final Word: You Are Not Alone on This Road

Driving anxiety is common, treatable, and in no way a reflection of your intelligence, strength, or worth as a person. I have watched people reclaim miles of freedom they thought were permanently closed to them, and I have sat with others who are still in the middle of that reclamation — still fighting, still showing up, still counting it as a victory when they make it one exit farther than last time.

If any part of this resonates with you, I want to encourage you to reach out to a licensed mental health professional, preferably one with experience in anxiety disorders or trauma. You do not have to keep rerouting your life around roads you are afraid to take. The work is hard, sometimes slow, and occasionally humbling — but it is absolutely possible. And in my experience, the moment a client realizes that the road is not the enemy, that their own mind has simply been working overtime to protect them, something shifts. That shift is where healing begins.

Understanding a Common but Misunderstood Behavior

• Research estimates that up to 70% of individuals with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) engage in some form of self-stimulatory behavior that may include touching their genitals, often beginning in early childhood and continuing into adolescence or adulthood without intervention.
• A 2019 study published in the Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders found that fewer than 30% of parents of autistic children had received any formal guidance from a healthcare provider on how to address public or repetitive self-touching behaviors.
• Sensory processing differences are identified as the primary driver of genital touching in autistic individuals, with research noting that approximately 90% of people on the spectrum experience some form of sensory dysregulation that influences their physical behaviors.
• Early behavioral intervention, when introduced before age 8, has been shown to significantly improve a child's understanding of body privacy rules, with one meta-analysis reporting a 60% improvement in socially appropriate behavior outcomes when structured education was provided.

Four Real-Life Autism Cases Worth Understanding   

Touching private parts is one of the most misunderstood and underreported behavioral challenges families face when raising or caring for an autistic individual. It can stem from sensory-seeking behavior, lack of body awareness, difficulty understanding social boundaries, or even emotional self-regulation. Despite how common it is, many families suffer in silence, unsure whether what they are witnessing is normal, whether it warrants professional attention, or how to address it without shaming their loved one. To shed light on this deeply human issue, we are going to walk through four distinct cases — each representing a different family, a different life stage, and a very different outcome. These stories are illustrative composites meant to reflect the real experiences that families, educators, and clinicians encounter regularly.

Case 1: Marcus, Age 5 — The Preschool Classroom Incident 

Marcus was a bright-eyed five-year-old who had been diagnosed with autism at age three. He was largely nonverbal, communicated through a picture exchange system, and attended a mainstream preschool with a dedicated aide. His mother, Denise, a single parent working two jobs in a mid-sized Midwestern city, first noticed that Marcus would frequently reach into his pants during circle time, particularly when the classroom became loud or chaotic. Initially, she assumed it was just a phase — something kids grew out of. His teacher, however, sent home a note after the third incident in one week, expressing concern that other children had begun to notice.

When Denise brought it up at Marcus's next developmental pediatrician appointment, she was relieved to learn that this was not unusual. The doctor explained that for many nonverbal children on the spectrum, the genitals are an area of heightened sensory sensitivity, and touching can serve as a calming mechanism — essentially a form of stimming, similar to hand-flapping or rocking. The clinical team recommended a two-pronged approach: working with an occupational therapist to identify alternative sensory inputs, such as a weighted lap pad or a fidget tool Marcus could keep in his pocket, while also beginning a simplified body safety curriculum adapted for his communication level. Within about four months, the classroom incidents had become rare, though Denise was careful never to shame him at home when it happened privately.

Case 2: Priya, Age 14 — Navigating Puberty Without a Roadmap

Priya was fourteen when her parents, Raj and Sunita, began noticing the behavior had escalated significantly. She had always touched herself occasionally as a younger child, and her pediatrician at the time had categorized it as typical exploratory behavior. But now that Priya was moving through puberty, the frequency had increased, and she had done it twice at her cousin's birthday party — once in a corner of the living room while a group of extended family members was nearby. Raj and Sunita, who were deeply private people from a South Asian cultural background that rarely discussed bodies or sexuality openly, were mortified and uncertain how to respond. They had no language for the conversation they knew needed to happen.

Priya, who had a diagnosis of level 2 autism and could speak in full sentences but struggled significantly with abstract concepts and social inference, had no clear understanding that what she was doing was private. No one had ever explicitly taught her this. A school counselor eventually connected the family with an autism-specialized therapist who ran a group called "Growing Up and Staying Safe," designed specifically for autistic adolescents. Through social stories, visual supports, and repeated, nonjudgmental practice conversations, Priya gradually internalized the idea that certain behaviors belonged only in private spaces like her bedroom or bathroom. Her parents, with the therapist's support, also began to navigate their own discomfort — learning that talking about bodies openly and calmly was the single greatest protective factor for their daughter.

Case 3: Derek, Age 29 — When No One Ever Intervened

Derek's story is one that plays out more often than most people realize. Now twenty-nine and living in a group home facility in the Pacific Northwest, Derek had been touching himself in public — in the dining area, in the van on the way to his day program, occasionally in the common room — for most of his adult life. He had been diagnosed with severe autism at age two and had lived in several residential placements since his mid-teens after his elderly grandmother, who had raised him, could no longer manage his care. Somewhere along the way, through years of underfunded placements and inconsistent staffing, the issue had simply never been systematically addressed. Staff had tried verbal redirection, but without a consistent, evidence-based approach, the behavior had become deeply entrenched.

A new behavioral support specialist named Carla joined the facility and began reviewing Derek's case files. She noticed the documentation of the behavior stretched back over a decade with no formal behavior intervention plan ever written to address it. She advocated for a proper assessment, which revealed that the behavior most often occurred during periods of transition or unstructured time — moments of high anxiety for Derek. A structured intervention was put in place, including a visual schedule to reduce transition anxiety, a private designated space Derek could go to if he felt the urge, and consistent reinforcement from all staff. Progress was slow, given the years without structured support, but within six months, incidents during group activities had decreased by more than half. Derek's case is a sobering reminder of what happens when early intervention never comes.

Case 4: Lily, Age 8 — A School Disagreement That Almost Went Wrong  

Lily was eight years old, the middle child in a blended family with five children ranging from age four to sixteen. Her stepfather, Brendan, worked in construction, and her mother, Tasha, homeschooled four of the five kids. Lily had been diagnosed with level 1 autism at age six and was highly verbal, academically capable, and socially eager in a way that often masked her underlying difficulties. The behavior had started around age seven — touching herself while watching television in the living room, or while working on schoolwork at the kitchen table. Tasha initially minimized it, telling herself Lily just hadn't learned yet. But when Lily did the same thing at a church youth group meeting and an adult volunteer reported it to a group leader, the situation escalated quickly.

The group leader, without any background in autism, suggested the behavior might be indicative of something more alarming — implying possible abuse. Child protective services conducted a routine check-in, which was deeply distressing for the entire family. After a thorough assessment, investigators determined there was no concern for abuse and noted that the behavior was consistent with sensory-seeking in an autistic child who had not yet received body boundary education. The experience, however, left Tasha shaken and newly motivated. She sought out a developmental pediatrician and began working through an evidence-based curriculum called "Circles," which teaches autistic children about relationship boundaries and body privacy using a visual concentric circle model. Within weeks, Lily had not only grasped the private/public distinction but had begun reminding herself aloud — "this is a private thing" — which her mother found both heartbreaking and deeply encouraging.

What Every Family and Caregiver Should Know

These four cases are different in almost every way — age, gender, family background, severity of autism, access to resources — but they share a common thread: the behavior itself was never the true problem. The real challenge in each case was the absence of timely, informed, and compassionate guidance. Touching private parts is a behavior that, when it occurs in autistic individuals, is overwhelmingly rooted in sensory experience, developmental learning, or emotional regulation — not deviance, manipulation, or moral failing. Treating it as shameful or alarming without understanding the underlying cause can do lasting harm to a person's sense of self, their relationship to their own body, and their trust in the adults around them.

What the research and these cases collectively point to is the critical importance of proactive, structured body safety education tailored to the communication and cognitive level of the autistic individual — ideally beginning before puberty and revisited regularly as the person grows. Caregivers do not need to navigate this alone. Occupational therapists, behavioral analysts, autism-specialized counselors, and social skills curricula developed specifically for neurodivergent learners are all valuable resources. Shame has never taught anyone where the boundaries are. Clear, consistent, and kind instruction has. Every autistic person, regardless of age or ability level, deserves the dignity of understanding their own body — and the support to navigate the social world that surrounds it.

Bipolar Disorder and Relationships By the Numbers

• Studies show that up to 60% of people with bipolar disorder experience relationship conflicts during manic episodes.
• Research indicates that emotional withdrawal from a partner can trigger depressive spirals in bipolar individuals within 48-72 hours.
• Nearly 90% of people with untreated bipolar disorder report feeling abandoned when loved ones disengage during episodes.
• Couples where one partner has bipolar disorder face divorce rates nearly three times higher than the general population.

The Kitchen Floor Incident

I still remember the first session after Tom tried ignoring Sarah during one of her episodes. They'd been married for three years when they came to see me, and Tom thought he had developed a strategy for managing the chaos. He was about to learn otherwise.
He described how it started on a Tuesday morning—Sarah had been up since 3 AM reorganizing their entire kitchen, talking rapidly about starting five different business ventures, her eyes bright with that manic energy Tom had come to recognize. By noon, she was angry at him for not sharing her enthusiasm about converting their garage into a pottery studio, despite neither of them knowing anything about pottery.
"You never support me!" she'd shouted, and Tom felt that familiar exhaustion settle into his bones. He'd read online that you can't reason with mania, that sometimes the best thing is to not engage. So he didn't. He walked away, went to his office, closed the door, and put on his headphones.
That was his first mistake.
An hour later, he heard crashing sounds from the kitchen. Sarah had thrown every dish from the newly organized cabinets onto the floor. She was sitting in the middle of the broken ceramic, sobbing uncontrollably. The mania had flipped to despair in the span of sixty minutes, and Tom's silence had been gasoline on that fire.
"You don't care if I exist," she'd whispered when he rushed in. "You just walked away like I'm nothing."
As Tom recounted this to me, I could see the guilt written across his face. He'd realized that ignoring Sarah hadn't been the neutral act he thought it was. To Sarah, in that vulnerable, dysregulated state, his silence was abandonment. It was confirmation of every fear the bipolar disorder whispered to her during her darkest moments.

Learning the Difference Between Disengaging and Disappearing

Over the next several months of therapy, Tom and Sarah began to understand the complicated truth: sometimes a modified version of "ignoring" was exactly what Sarah needed, and sometimes it absolutely wasn't. The difference was in the details.
Tom described an incident about six months into our work together, during a hypomanic episode where Sarah decided at 10 PM that they needed to drive three hours to the beach immediately. When Tom said no, she became belligerent, accusing him of being controlling, boring, suffocating her spirit. This time, instead of walking away silently, Tom said, "I love you, but I'm not going to the beach tonight. I'm going to be in the living room if you need me." Then he left the room.
The key difference? He'd communicated clearly before disengaging. He'd set a boundary without disappearing.
Sarah raged for another twenty minutes. Tom could hear her on the phone trying to find friends to go with her, ranting about how terrible he was. Every instinct told him to march back in there and defend himself, but we'd been working on understanding that was futile. So he sat on the couch, fighting the urge to engage, and waited.
Eventually, Sarah came out, deflated, and curled up next to him. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I don't know why I get like this." In that moment, Tom's earlier "ignoring" had actually worked—but only because he'd first acknowledged her and set a clear boundary rather than simply vanishing.

The Crisis That Changed Everything

The worst experience with the silent treatment happened during a depressive episode, and it brought them both back to my office in crisis. Sarah had been in bed for four days, barely eating, not showering. Tom was frustrated and scared. He'd tried everything—gentle encouragement, offering to do things together, bringing her favorite foods. Nothing worked. So, in his exhaustion, he just stopped trying. He stopped checking on her every few hours. He stopped bringing meals. He thought maybe if he gave her space, she'd snap out of it.
Instead, Sarah attempted suicide.
Tom found her in time, thank God, but as we processed this trauma in our sessions, he understood with brutal clarity that ignoring someone in a depressive episode isn't giving them space—it's confirming their belief that they're a burden, that they're unlovable, that the world would be better off without them.
I shared with them both something I tell many of my clients: "Bipolar disorder is the brain lying to someone about reality. When you go silent, you're not disproving those lies—you're letting them become the only voice your partner hears."
This was our turning point in therapy.

Building Supportive Boundaries

After that crisis, Tom and Sarah learned the critical distinction between disengaging and abandoning. Disengaging from an unproductive argument or refusing to participate in manic schemes isn't the same as ignoring the person. It's about setting boundaries while maintaining connection.
During Sarah's next manic episode, when she wanted to drain their savings to invest in cryptocurrency at 2 AM, Tom didn't just walk away. He said, "I can see you're really excited about this, and we can talk about investment strategies when we're both rested, but I'm not making any financial decisions tonight. I'm here if you want to watch TV together, but I'm done discussing money for now." He stayed present but firm.
Sarah was angry, but she knew Tom hadn't left her. He'd just left the argument.
The approach that worked best evolved into what I call "supportive boundaries." During hypomanic episodes, Tom would acknowledge Sarah's feelings and ideas without agreeing to participate in harmful behaviors. "I hear that you want to start a business. Let's write down all your ideas, and we can review them with your doctor next week." This validated her without enabling the mania.
During depressive episodes, Tom learned never to go silent, but also not to push too hard. He'd stick his head in the bedroom every couple of hours. "I made soup. It's here if you want it." "I'm doing laundry. Want me to change your sheets?" Small touches that said, "I'm here, you matter, you're not alone," without demanding she perform happiness for him.

The Middle Path Forward

What Tom wishes he'd known from the beginning is that ignoring someone with bipolar disorder—truly going silent and withdrawing—almost never helps. But that doesn't mean you have to engage with every irrational thought or dangerous impulse. The middle path is acknowledging the person while declining to participate in the disorder's demands.
Tom also learned to ignore certain things strategically. When Sarah was stable and made a comment about something she'd done during an episode, he didn't relitigate it. When she was slightly irritable but functional, he didn't treat every mood fluctuation like an incoming episode. There's a difference between helpful vigilance and exhausting hypervigilance.
The other crucial element we worked on was ensuring Sarah never faced episodes alone, but also not making Tom her only support. We built a team: her psychiatrist, her individual therapist, a few trusted friends who understood her condition, a crisis hotline number, and eventually a support group for people with bipolar disorder. When Tom needed to disengage from a difficult moment, Sarah had other people to reach out to. His stepping back didn't mean she was abandoned.

Lessons from the Therapy Room

Looking back over three years of working with Tom and Sarah now, I can say that the sessions following times when Tom "ignored" Sarah in the traditional sense—went silent, withdrew emotionally, stopped engaging entirely—those were our most difficult. The sessions following times when he set boundaries while staying present, those were when we all saw the most growth.
If you're loving someone with bipolar disorder and wondering whether ignoring them will help, my professional answer is this: ignore the disorder's demands, but never ignore the person. Ignore the 3 AM business plans, but not the person who needs to know you're still there. Ignore the irrational accusations, but not the underlying fear of abandonment. Ignore the impulse to fight about delusions, but not the human being who needs your steady presence.
The paradox is that sometimes the most loving thing you can do is walk away from an argument, but you have to walk toward something else—your own self-care, a calm space to regroup—not away from the relationship itself. And you have to make that distinction crystal clear to your partner.
Sarah's bipolar disorder is part of their marriage, but it's not their whole marriage. Tom and Sarah have learned to dance around it together rather than let it choreograph everything. And the most important step in that dance isn't ignoring each other—it's staying in rhythm even when the music gets chaotic.
As their therapist, I've watched them transform from a couple on the brink of divorce to partners who understand that love doesn't mean fixing everything—it means showing up, setting healthy boundaries, and never confusing silence with space. That's the lesson I hope every couple dealing with bipolar disorder can learn before the crisis hits.

OCD Flare-ups By The Numbers

67% - Percentage of people with OCD who report experiencing at least one major flare-up per year, often triggered by stress or life changes.

2-12 weeks - Average duration of an OCD flare-up when treated with evidence-based therapy like ERP (Exposure and Response Prevention).

40% - Increase in compulsion frequency during a typical flare-up compared to baseline symptoms.

3-6 months - How long untreated flare-ups can persist without professional intervention or proper coping strategies.

What Actually Happens During a Flare-up? 

I'll never forget the morning Davonte showed up to my office wearing the same shirt he'd worn to our previous three sessions. Not because he was particularly attached to it, but because he'd been trapped in a checking ritual for forty-seven minutes that morning and grabbed the first thing he could find just to make it out the door. He collapsed into the chair across from me, exhausted before his day had even begun, and asked the question I've heard countless times over my fifteen years as an OCD specialist: "How long is this going to last?"

If only I could give everyone a simple answer—a neat timeline with a beginning, middle, and end. But OCD flare-ups are about as predictable as my Aunt Rosa's stories at Thanksgiving dinner: you know they're going somewhere, you're just not sure when they'll get there or how many tangents they'll take along the way.

The truth is, OCD flare-ups can last anywhere from a few days to several months, and understanding why requires us to look at what's actually happening during these intensification periods.

Think of OCD as that one smoke alarm in your house that goes off every time you make toast. It's doing its job—alerting you to potential danger—but it's wildly miscalibrated. During a flare-up, that alarm doesn't just get louder; it starts going off when you think about making toast, when you walk past the toaster, when you see bread.

I remember Xiomara, a brilliant 28-year-old software engineer who came to see me during what she called her "hand-washing apocalypse." Her contamination fears had been manageable for years—present, but not debilitating. Then her roommate got the flu, and suddenly Xiomara was washing her hands sixty to eighty times a day. Her knuckles were cracked and bleeding. She'd started wearing gloves inside her own apartment.

"It's like my brain is screaming at me that everything is contaminated," she told me, tears streaming down her face. "And I know—I know—it's irrational, but the fear feels so real."

What could have helped Xiomara de-escalate earlier? Recognition and immediate intervention. The moment she noticed herself adding extra hand-washing sessions, that was the time to double down on her exposure exercises rather than accommodate the anxiety. We worked on having her intentionally touch "contaminated" surfaces and delay washing—starting with just thirty seconds and gradually building up. Her flare-up, which had already been going strong for six weeks when she came to see me, began to subside within two weeks of consistent exposure work.

The Variable Timeline: Why So Much Uncertainty? 

During my internship, my supervisor told me that asking "how long will this last?" is like asking "how long is a piece of string?" It annoyed me then—I wanted concrete answers to give my clients—but now I understand the wisdom in it.

Flare-ups vary wildly because they're influenced by a perfect storm of factors: stress levels, life transitions, how quickly someone seeks help, what treatment approaches they're using, and sometimes just the chaotic randomness of brain chemistry deciding to throw a party nobody wanted to attend.

Take Remy, a 45-year-old accountant and father of two, who experienced what he described as "the worst four months of my life" when his company announced layoffs. His checking compulsions, which had been relatively mild, exploded. He'd check the locks on his car seventeen times before leaving the parking lot. He'd return home three times during his morning commute to verify he'd turned off the stove—even on mornings when he hadn't cooked breakfast.

"I was spending an extra two hours a day just... checking things," Remy said, shaking his head. "I knew my house wasn't going to burn down. I knew my car was locked. But I couldn't stop."

What could have helped Remy? Stress management and maintaining his ERP (Exposure and Response Prevention) practice. When life gets stressful, that's actually when we need our OCD management tools most, but it's also when we're most likely to abandon them. If Remy had recognized the connection between his work stress and his OCD escalation, and immediately sought support or returned to his coping strategies, his four-month flare-up might have been four weeks instead.

The Sneaky Truth About Accommodation 

Here's something that might surprise you: one of the biggest predictors of how long a flare-up lasts isn't the severity of the obsessions—it's how much we accommodate them.

Priya, a 19-year-old college student, came to see me in the middle of her sophomore year. She'd developed an intense fear that she might accidentally say something offensive and not realize it. She started recording all her conversations on her phone, then spending hours each evening reviewing them, checking for any potential slips.

"My roommate thinks I'm studying when I'm wearing headphones," she told me with a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm actually listening to myself order a coffee from this morning, making sure I didn't accidentally say something racist to the barista."

Her flare-up had been building for three months and showed no signs of stopping. Why? Because every time she reviewed a recording, she was telling her brain that the threat was real and needed to be checked. She was, inadvertently, throwing gasoline on the fire.

The intervention that helped Priya? Deleting the recordings without listening to them and sitting with the uncertainty of not knowing. It was brutal at first—her anxiety spiked significantly. But within three weeks of stopping the accommodation, her obsessive thoughts began to lose their grip. Within two months, the flare-up had resolved almost entirely.

When Flare-ups Become the New Normal

Sometimes I see people who don't even realize they're in a flare-up anymore because it's lasted so long it's become their baseline. That's what happened with Jamal, a 52-year-old high school teacher who'd been experiencing intrusive violent thoughts for over a year.

"I thought this was just... who I am now," he told me during our first session. He'd stopped watching the news, stopped attending his son's basketball games (too many people, too many opportunities for something terrible to happen), stopped living any semblance of the life he'd had before.

The hardest part of my job is telling someone like Jamal that they've been suffering unnecessarily for months—that with proper treatment, things could have improved much sooner. But the beautiful part? Showing them that even after a year-long flare-up, recovery is still absolutely possible.

With Jamal, we started slowly—exposure therapy combined with ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy) techniques. We worked on him accepting the presence of the thoughts without judging them or himself. Within three months, he was back at basketball games. Within six months, he was coaching a summer debate program.

So, What's the Actual Answer?  

If you're in the middle of a flare-up right now, reading this and desperately wanting me to just give you a number, here's what I can tell you: most flare-ups, when properly addressed with evidence-based treatment, begin to improve within two to six weeks and can resolve within two to three months.

But—and this is crucial—untreated flare-ups can last significantly longer. I've seen them persist for six months, a year, or even longer when people wait to seek help or when they cope by accommodating their compulsions.

The good news? You have more control over the duration than you might think. Seeking help early, maintaining your ERP practices (especially when you don't feel like it), managing stress, and resisting the urge to accommodate your OCD can all significantly shorten a flare-up's lifespan.

Think of it like a fire: a small flame is much easier to extinguish than a raging inferno. The moment you notice your OCD starting to ramp up—that's your moment to act, not to wait and see if it gets better on its own.

Every person I've mentioned in this article got through their flare-up. Davonte eventually made it out the door in under ten minutes most mornings. Xiomara's hands healed. Remy stopped driving home to check the stove. Priya deleted her recording app. Jamal went back to living his life.

And if you're struggling right now, you can get through this too. The flare-up won't last forever—even though it absolutely feels like it will—and there are proven ways to help it end sooner rather than later. Sometimes you just need someone in your corner who understands that your brain's smoke alarm is broken, and who can help you learn to make toast anyway.

Do you know someone who just can’t admit they’re wrong? Someone who refuses to take responsibility for errors, no matter the size? If you’re like me, you have at least one of these folks in your life. Maybe it is a friend, co-worker, or relative who seems incapable of uttering the words "I made a mistake." They may even double-down on an error and pick the most trivial, petty point to climb and die on. These personalities rarely pick their battles; when it comes to being right, they’ll argue about everything.

Of course, people who think they always right are sometimes wrong, like anyone else. It’s their relentless need to be seen as right that causes problems. Stubbornness is human nature, but the condition we’re talking about is more extreme than usual. When a person’s need to be right becomes part of their self-concept, trouble follows.

It's not just about facts, either. A person who believes they’re always right also views their actions as constantly correct.

Understanding what drives this behavior, how to navigate relationships with these individuals can be a big help for your mental health.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) 

I’m Right Because I’m Me and You’re Not

Not all people who have the need to be always 100 percent correct are diagnosable as having Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). NPD is a formally recognized condition with several aspects. Needing to be right all the time, every time, is one of the most prominent and distressing parts of NPD. It’s fair to say that every person with NPD I saw as a counselor believed they were always right, about facts, their actions, their beliefs, and was unable to admit to being wrong. 

It’s also accurate that most people who were incapable of admitting to error were not diagnosed with NPD. 
People with NPD construct an identity around superiority and infallibility. Admitting error threatens the flawless self-image they've carefully made up. If forced to admit error, they experience "narcissistic injury."

For someone with NPD, being wrong doesn't just mean making a mistake; it means confronting the possibility that they're not the special, superior person they believe themselves to be. 
This creates a mental crisis that their defense mechanisms won't allow. Instead, they'll engage in elaborate mental gymnastics: rewriting history, blaming others, moving goalposts, or outright denying reality.

The typical signs of

Inability to apologize genuinely

Lack of personal accountability

Turning their failures into someone else's fault

Becoming hostile or vengeful if contradicted

Gaslighting others who remember events differently

Requiring constant admiration

Requiring constant or near constant validation, compliments, praise

Viewing disagreement as personal attack

What makes NPD particularly difficult is that the person often lacks insight into their behavior. Their certainty feels justified to them because their entire mindset and self-concept depend on maintaining it.

The Difference Between Confidence and Pathological Certainty 

It's essential to distinguish between healthy confidence and pathological need for correctness. Confident people believe in their abilities and judgment, but they remain open to evidence, feedback, and new facts.

They can say "I was wrong about that" without their sense of self being affected at all. 
Pathological certainty, by contrast, is rigid and defensive. It's not born from genuine self-assurance but from deep insecurity that can't tolerate being exposed. Where confidence says "I believe I'm right, but I'm willing to listen," pathological certainty says, "I'm right, and any suggestion otherwise is an attack I must defeat."
Confident individuals welcome challenging conversations because they're secure enough to risk being wrong. They see mistakes as learning opportunities. Those with pathological certainty avoid genuine dialogue, preferring monologues where they can control the narrative. They see mistakes as existential threats.

The difference often becomes apparent in how people handle being proven wrong. Confident people may feel momentarily embarrassed but recover quickly, integrating new information. Those with pathological certainty escalate: they become angry, blame others, claim they were misunderstood, or insist the new evidence is flawed. The emotional reaction is out of proportion because what's at stake isn't just being right. For people who have to always be right, that ‘correctness’ is their whole identify.

The Psychological Roots of Needing to Be Right 

Understanding why some people develop this pattern requires looking at developmental psychology and early attachment experiences. The pathological need to be right typically emerges from childhood environments where:

Conditional love and approval were tied to performance and perfection. Children who learned that mistakes meant withdrawal of parental affection often develop adult personalities that can't tolerate being wrong.

Shame-based parenting taught that errors reflected fundamental personal deficiency rather than normal learning experiences. Being wrong became associated with being worthless.

Traumatic experiences of humiliation or powerlessness created adult compensatory mechanisms. Being infallibly right becomes a way to ensure they're never vulnerable or humiliated again.

Role modeling from parents who never admitted mistakes taught that admitting error is weakness rather than integrity.

Is It Always Narcissism? Other Personality Types That Struggle With Being Wrong

While NPD is the most recognized personality pattern associated with needing to be right, several other personality types display similar behaviors, often for different underlying reasons.

• Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD) Unlike NPD's grandiosity, OCPD-driven certainty stems from anxiety about disorder and incorrectness. These folks believe there's one right way to do things. Failing to do something the ‘right’ way feels deeply wrong and dangerous to them.
• Authoritarian personalities need to be right because they structure their world around hierarchies and clear rules. Admitting error feels like destabilizing the social order they depend on for psychological security. They often appeal to authority, tradition, or "how things have always been done" to avoid acknowledging mistakes.
• High-conflict personalities, a broader category that overlaps with but isn't limited to personality disorders, are characterized by persistent patterns of blame, all-or-nothing thinking, unmanaged emotions, and extreme behaviors. For these people, being wrong gets tangled up with their tendency to see situations in black and white and their difficulty managing their emotional responses to perceived criticism.
• Paranoid traits can also spawn certainty. People with significant paranoid tendencies may resist admitting error because they fear it will be exploited as weakness or because they genuinely believe others are trying to deceive or manipulate them.

Strategies for Dealing with People Who Always Need to Be Right 

Whether it's a boss, coworker, family member, or romantic partner, dealing with someone who can never be wrong requires specific strategies to protect your wellbeing while maintaining necessary relationships.

The Gray Rock Method is really effective with narcissistic people, whether they have full-blown NPD or not. This technique involves making yourself as boring and unreactive as possible, like a gray rock in a field. You provide no emotional engagement, keep responses brief and factual, and avoid sharing any personal information that could be used against you. 

The goal is to become so uninteresting that the person loses interest in you.

Choose your battles. Not every incorrect statement requires correction. Ask yourself: Does this actually matter? Will correcting this improve anything or just trigger conflict? Sometimes letting someone "win" an inconsequential point preserves your energy for issues that truly matter.

Use the "agree and redirect" technique. Instead of direct contradiction, acknowledge their perspective and gently introduce alternatives: "I can see why you'd think that. Another angle might be..." This reduces defensiveness while still offering different viewpoints.

Don't JADE (Justify, Argue, Defend, Explain). People who need to be right will use your explanations as ammunition. State your position or boundary once clearly, then stop engaging with challenges. "I've made my decision" or "That doesn't work for me" without elaboration.

While reading this, I wonder—has part of you already been tempted to pick up your phone, even just for a second? Maybe you glanced at it, thought about checking a notification, or felt that familiar itch to scroll. If so, you’re not alone.

Navigating Sensory Overload in a Constantly Connected World

We live in a world of sensory overload. The TV is on in the background, you’ve read the news on your phone 14 times today, and by the time you’ve taken your first sip of coffee, you’ve already checked Instagram at least eight times. Sound familiar?

This isn’t about shaming anyone—this is simply how most people function in today’s fast-paced, hyper-connected world. But what does this constant mental stimulation do to us in the long run?

The Cost of Constant Stimulation

It’s no surprise that studies keep showing how we are more anxious than ever. Our brains are in overdrive, constantly processing new information without a break. Every notification, every quick dopamine hit from social media, wires our brains to crave more stimulation. We’re always plugged in, always consuming, always “on.”
None of this is shocking, I’m sure. But here’s the real question: Have you ever actively tried to combat this? We prioritize learning, growth, and productivity, but what happened to simply being? When was the last time you sat in silence, without a screen, without background noise, without feeling the need to “do” something?
The Power of Boredom

I get it—you’re busy. You have responsibilities, deadlines, and goals. The idea of doing nothing might feel lazy, impractical, or even anxiety-inducing. But here’s the reality:
Our brains need boredom.

Allowing ourselves to be bored—even just for a little while—has powerful benefits:
• Boosts creativity – Ever notice how your best ideas come when you’re in the shower or on a walk? That’s boredom at work.
• Reduces overwhelm – Constant stimulation keeps our stress levels high. Quiet moments allow us to reset.
• Increases self-awareness – When we stop distracting ourselves, we create space for reflection and deeper connection with our thoughts and emotions.

Reclaiming Mental Space

We’ve become so used to constant stimulation that silence can feel uncomfortable—even unsettling. But in reality, boredom isn’t the enemy; it’s an opportunity. Think of our ancestors, for example.
Back in the caveman days, survival was the priority—finding food, securing shelter, and ensuring safety. But once those basic needs were met, they likely rested, sat by the fire, or simply existed. Sure, they had their own worries, but they weren’t caught in an endless cycle of doing.
Compare that to today: we eat one meal while already thinking about the next, scrolling through three different recipes we might never make. We’re always planning, consuming, and moving onto the next thing, rarely allowing ourselves a moment to just be.

Instead of filling every free moment with screens, noise, or distractions, try creating space for stillness:
•Leave your phone behind on a short walk and let your mind wander.
•Sit in silence for a few minutes without music, TV, or podcasts playing in the background.
•Resist the urge to check your phone the next time you’re waiting in line or have a quiet moment.

At first, it might feel strange. But over time, you’ll notice a shift—more clarity, more creativity, and a sense of calm that comes from simply being. Boredom isn’t a void to fill; it’s a space for our minds to breathe—just as they’re meant to. Maybe it’s time we give ourselves that gift back and let go of that urge to constantly be doing.

Listen to Podcast on this article here
https://therapistpoint.com/podcast/my-therapy-day-30

In this episode of Therapist Point, I reflect on my ongoing journey of reconnecting with my daughter. As a parent who’s gone through a complicated divorce and years of separation from my child, I want to offer a window into what that process has been like. If you’re a single parent struggling with your relationship with your child, especially after a prolonged period of distance, this episode might resonate with you.

A Rocky Start: Divorce and Separation

Like many, my marriage was difficult and ultimately ended in divorce. I was married for seven years, separated for three, and after a failed attempt to reconcile, the divorce was finalized. As a result of the circumstances surrounding our separation, I lost contact with my daughter for six years. These were incredibly challenging years, and the pain of not being involved in her life weighed heavily on me.

After six years apart, we reconciled. It’s been about four and a half years since that reunion, and though things have gotten better with each passing year, the scars of the past are still present. The resentment I feel on occasion is a reminder of how much time was lost, but I also recognize that things are improving. That’s the thing about rebuilding a relationship—it’s slow, messy, and, at times, a little awkward.

Losing Authority: The Shifting Parental Dynamics

One theme that has consistently come up in my therapy sessions is my perceived lack of authority as a father. This issue didn’t start when we reconciled, but rather when my ex-wife took on the primary caregiving role during our marriage. As the breadwinner, I focused on running the business, and my wife took on the responsibility of caring for our daughter. Naturally, this resulted in my daughter bonding more with her mom, and over time, I lost the authority that comes with being a present, engaged parent.

I remember a moment when my daughter, around the age of 12, casually told me she needed to check with her mom before going horseback riding with me. This moment hit me hard. In that split second, it became painfully clear that she saw her mother as the primary authority figure. It’s an experience I still think about—one that highlighted how my absence and the imbalance of authority affected our relationship.

The Divorce System: A Complicated Landscape

This personal struggle was brought into sharper focus after watching the documentary Divorce Corp, which critiques the U.S. divorce system. The film sheds light on how children often become pawns in the battle between parents, and how the system itself profits from prolonged, expensive legal battles. In some countries, divorce is a simple process, and the focus is on the well-being of the children. Unfortunately, in the U.S., the legal system and the courts often create unnecessary complications, with the mother typically gaining more authority over the children. While I understand that there are always exceptions, the documentary made me realize how complex and unfair the system can be.

As a father, I believe both parents should have equal rights and authority in raising their children. After all, we both contributed equally to their lives, and the idea that one parent should have more control simply doesn’t seem fair.

A New Chapter: Supporting My Daughter’s College Journey

When my daughter turned 18, we began to talk more seriously about her future. She mentioned wanting to go to college, and while she jokingly suggested that I "owed" her that, I understood the sentiment. As a parent, I had always wanted the best for her, and that meant supporting her as she pursued higher education.

The financial side of things wasn’t easy. I committed to paying for her tuition, living expenses, and all the associated costs for her four years of college. I’m happy to report that she graduated without any student loans, which is something many students today can’t claim. While college isn’t the surefire path it once was, I believe in the value of education, not just in terms of the degree but also in terms of the discipline it teaches.

However, as much as I’ve been proud to support her, I also know that part of growing up is learning to stand on your own. As a parent, it’s tough to strike that balance between providing for your child and encouraging them to build independence.

Communication: A Struggle with Connection

Even though things have gotten better between my daughter and me over the years, communication is still an area of challenge. Like many in her generation, she prefers texting over talking on the phone, which can make meaningful conversation difficult. As a parent, I crave deeper, more personal communication, but I’m trying to be understanding of her age and priorities. At 22, she’s focused on her friends, work, and figuring out her life, and I remember what that was like at her age.

That being said, I do wish for more regular communication. I’ve noticed that she communicates more frequently with her mom, which sometimes brings up feelings of frustration. I recently spoke with my therapist about how I’m always the one to initiate contact, and interestingly, the same week we discussed this, my daughter called me unexpectedly. It was a pleasant surprise, and I appreciated that she reached out.

In that conversation, she opened up about her struggles—post-graduation depression, anxieties, and financial stress. Even though I can only do so much to help her, I want to be there for her in every way I can.

The Financial Dilemma: Setting Boundaries

The ongoing struggle of wanting to support my daughter financially, while also knowing that she needs to learn to stand on her own, has been a point of internal conflict. As a father, I never want to say no to her, especially when she’s going through tough times. But as I get older and plan for my own future, it’s becoming clear that I can’t keep offering the level of financial support I once did.

I’ve started to set boundaries with her, which hasn’t been easy. My therapist encouraged me to set clear expectations for when I will reduce my financial support, and while I agree, it’s still difficult. Like any parent, I want to help, but I also know that sometimes, the best thing I can do for her is to let go a little and allow her to figure things out.

The Importance of Boundaries and Patience

Through all of this, one lesson has become clear: patience. Rebuilding a relationship with my daughter after years of separation takes time. I’m not looking for anything in return, other than her love and respect. I want to be more than just a provider; I want to be a real part of her life and our family dynamic.

If you’re a parent going through a similar journey of reconciliation, I want you to know that you’re not alone. It’s hard, but it’s worth it. Boundaries are important—not as a way of cutting off your child, but as a way to help them grow into the independent adults they need to be. And while money certainly plays a role in the world we live in, the true value lies in the emotional connection and support you provide.

As a parent, my hope is simple: that my daughter knows I’m here for her, that I’ve always been here, and that I will continue to support her as she grows into the person she’s meant to be.

So, to all the parents out there trying to rebuild relationships with their children, be patient, set boundaries when needed, and continue showing up. Your love and effort will make a difference. Thanks for joining me on this part of my journey, and I’ll catch you next time here at Therapist Point.

If you're navigating your own challenges, don’t hesitate to reach out or visit our website for more resources. You’re not alone in this.

Listen to Podcast on this article here
https://therapistpoint.com/podcast/my-therapy-day-15

Welcome to Therapist Point! I'm your host, Jake, and today we'll continue discussing my personal journey with therapy as I reflect on my second session.

Being Stuck in the Past

So, I'm in my 40s, and one of the main things we discussed in the 2^nd session of therapy is how I've often find myself stuck in the past. On one hand, I know this is something many people experience as they get older. But on the other hand, I can't help but feel it's not just about aging—it's also that the world around me has changed so drastically when comparing decades in the past century, and I no longer feel as connected to it as I once did, and that's where the struggle begins.

How Social Media Changed the Way We Connect

One example of this shift is how people socialize. We all know that social media has changed the way we communicate over the past decade or so, but it feels like it’s getting worse with each passing year. If we look back even a century, socializing was mostly face-to-face, not glued to a device. This is where I start to think it’s not just me getting older; the world has really shifted. I’m pretty sure I’m not crazy and many feel the same way.

Now, to expand on that, one thing that bothers me a lot is how it's all about recording the moment instead of actually experiencing it. We see this at concerts, festivals, clubs, and so on. The irony is that back in my partying days (yes, I’m sounding like the old man now, haha), when we went clubbing, it was rare for anyone to record anything. If we saw someone recording us having fun at the after-party, and doing what we do, we’d probably think they were a narc and tell them to stop or leave—this was our moment, not for the world, some Goodfellas kind of vibe, some R-Kelly keep it on DL kind of vibe. But now, all you see are people holding up their phones to the DJ or artist on stage, and honestly, it just looks kind of sad to me.

I get it, though. Some of you listening might be those people, and I'm not trying to put you down. I understand that if everyone else is doing it, and this the thing, you might feel the need to do it too. Don’t get me wrong—I myself, did it when it first became a thing. But after a while, it just lost its appeal, and I started to miss how we used to have fun, without the constant need to capture everything. So, yeah, it's a struggle, and it often makes me not want to go out, knowing I’ll just be surrounded by people standing there with their phones. And in some ways, kind of waiting to see what’s the next trend, but I’m not that optimistic about it getting any better, probably even worse.

Now, here’s the other side of the coin, where it might sound a bit hypocritical: yeah, when I’m home, not doing much, I’ll hop on Instagram or Facebook and scroll through posts to pass the time. In some ways, that’s just what we’re being fed now, so it’s hard to completely ignore it, unless you go just go live off-grid which is not a reality for most. So kind of like, if you can’t beat them, you join them, but I’m a born leader so I’m hoping some of y’all can join me and lets have events where people need to check in their phones before entering, kind of like a coat check, but for you phone.  I know, wishful thinking, but you just never know.

Why I Miss the 80s, 90s, and 2000s Era

Now besides this whole record the moment business, another aspect that I miss when going out to clubs or parties is how we used to dance and the music that goes with it. For example, now if you go to a hip hop club, the ladies pretty much have their one move which is twerking. Don’t get more wrong, I enjoy a little twerk here and there, but I don’t want your ass sticking in my crotch all night, it gets old and impersonal. What happened to those days where we used to dance hand in hand, chest to chest, and face to face? Call me old school romantic, but I do also miss them slow dances where it felt intimate, romantic, love in the air. Yup.. Another example are raves/festivals. It seems as their only move today is doing the shuffle dance the entire time. Yeah, it’s a cool dance at first, but also gets old and impersonal. What to do, what to do lol.  

Ok, lets shift gears. So there’s other areas of being stuck in the past such as Movies for example. Personally I’m a movie buff, I do miss movies from the 80’s, 90’s, even 2000’s in comparison to most movies today. Not saying that there aren’t any as I will come across a movie here and there that I enjoy, but the part I’m not a big fan of movies today is it’s either all about CGI and not the story line lacks originality, or everything is a remake which I personally feel maybe 1 out of 20 is good and the rest not my cup of tea. And other areas as well such as Superhero Fatigue, Poor Character Development, Political Correctness, etc.. So, I do find myself recycling back to watching old movies when nothing else new to watch that is interesting, but that’s also getting old, how many times can you really watch old movies. Ok, so there watching documentaries or other educational/informational shows can be a good spin off solution. I limit the news I watch or read to just enough to being informed what’s out there, but I think if you get stuck in that world too much, that probably cause some anxieties and stress. Bottom line, that industry has also shifted and need to adjust to it.

Another example is Standup Comedy. Personally, I’m not that sensitive or easily offended as I can handle any type of joke, but today there’s more Political Correctness and Cancel Culture based on certain jokes that have to do with race, gender, sex, whatever.  I’m not alone on this one as even the comedians themselves have expressed that it’s harder for them to do jokes freely, but I also do see some comedians fighting back for the right to be funny, and those are the comedians I prefer watching.  My personal take on it is, if it’s meant to be a joke, then let’s just enjoy the entertainment, and it’s ok to laugh at ourselves & our flaws which usually are the best jokes anyways.

I also miss how dating used to be. It feels like things have changed so much in recent years, with dating now revolving around apps and online profiles. While things weren’t perfect back then, dating was more about genuine connections—meeting people in person, having real conversations, and letting chemistry develop naturally, rather than swiping left or right based on a picture or quick bio. I remember when online dating first emerged, it felt exciting, like a faster, more convenient way to meet someone, so not totally knocking it, but now, after years of it, it feels like everyone’s jaded. The pressure to present a perfect image online has replaced the excitement of getting to know someone face-to-face. It also feels like dating has become more transactional, not saying it was never in the past, but just feel a lot more on the average now a days. Now being a bit old school myself, I have no problem as a man paying for the first date, however, I don’t want it to be about that or the expectations that I will always pay for everything. Times have changed, and many women today are financially independent and some even doing better then men, which has shifted the dynamics of dating. But other then that part, there’s are areas that I miss, like the days when I could just pull up next to someone while driving and start a conversation, but now, people are often distracted by their phones, and even if you do get attention, you're sometimes labeled a creep. It's not always the case, but it’s harder to approach someone now. With all these challenges, dating just feels more complicated and less rewarding. And it’s not just one-sided—many men have lost their way too, especially those who only seek hookups or forgot how to be gentlemen. It seems like negative energies are bouncing off each other, making it harder for anyone to find meaningful connections. So as a man, that is my personal struggle, and for you women, I know you have yours. It’s brutal out there all around.

I could probably go on further into this topic in other areas, but I think I’ve depressed enough people for one day, including myself lol. 

Essentially, my therapist told me some things that I already knew and other tips to cope with this struggle.

For starters- there's no going back in time, there’s no delorean, and I just need to accept things as they are, which is definitely a tough pill to swallow. But, you need that medicine.

Another tip is to start small by taking gradual steps towards adapting to new technologies or trends. You don’t have to dive into everything at once—start with one thing that interests you.

Next tip is to focus on what you can control. So trying to change the world is nearly impossible but you can control how you respond to it by finding ways to engage in ways that feel authentic to you while respecting the changes around you.

Next, it's important to celebrate the present instead of mourning the past. While there are things I miss about the past, there are also many positives in today's world. For instance, I'm glad that weed is more widely legalized now and no longer carries the same negative stigma. Another positive is the progress in medical treatments, such as advancements in stem cell therapy. Technology like Google Earth and GPS has made it much harder to get lost, which is incredibly helpful. And despite some downsides to the internet, one major benefit is the increased work flexibility, allowing many people to work from anywhere in the world—depending on their profession, of course.

The bottom line, is as I move forward on this journey, I need to recognize that acceptance is crucial, even though it’s not always easy. It’s tough not to long for the past, but I know I need to keep learning that true growth comes from embracing the present.

I’m hopeful that through these therapy sessions, I’ll be able to navigate these emotions and find a balance between honoring the past and fully living in the moment.

Thanks for joining me on this part of my journey, and I’ll catch you next time here at Therapist Point.

Also, don’t forget to follow us, rate us, drop me a question if you want, and visit our website Therapistpoint.com for more articles and resources to getting help.  Good bye everyone!

Victimhood mentality, often referred to as "victim complex" or "victim syndrome," is a mindset that involves perceiving oneself as a victim in most situations despite evidence to the contrary. 

This mentality can contribute to various psychological issues, including learned helplessness, depression, and anxiety. It can also form part of specific personality disorders, such as Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), where individuals might experience intense emotional responses and a tendency to externalize blame.  

Diagnosis and Characteristics of Victimhood Mentality

Victimhood mentality is not a standalone diagnosis in the DSM-5, but it can be a symptom or behavior pattern associated with other mental health disorders. It often involves a pervasive belief that one is powerless or oppressed, reluctance to take responsibility for personal actions, blaming external factors or others for personal misfortunes, and a tendency to focus on past traumatic events. Since victimhood mentality is not a medical condition but a pattern of thinking and behavior, it cannot be "cured" in the traditional medical sense.

Client Example: 

Consider a client named Jane, who is regularly convinced that her coworkers are out to sabotage her at work. Despite evidence suggesting otherwise, Jane struggles to accept positive feedback and often feels that her contributions are undervalued due to a perceived bias against her. This belief fuels her anxiety and contributes to a cycle of self-doubt and ineffective workplace interactions. 

The Issue(s) for Clients like Jane: A victimhood mentality can lead to significant personal and professional challenges for individuals like Jane. These might include strained relationships, career stagnation, and emotional distress. This mindset can hinder personal and professional growth, which is detrimental to Jane, preventing Jane and others who experience a victimhood mentality from evolving. This would be unfortunate for Jane as she would never recognize agency nor be able to fully take responsibility due to a lack of agency to support growth.

In Session - Therapeutic Approaches & Strategies: Therapeutic interventions can significantly change or manage the victimhood mentality of patients like Jane. Specifically, when I work with clients who struggle with a victimhood mentality, I incorporate therapeutic approaches of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT). Additionally, I include supportive strategies so individuals like Jane can learn to challenge and alter their negative thought patterns and behaviors that enable a victimhood mentality.

CBT Strategies: Within the session, cognitive restructuring is exceptionally beneficial in addition to identifying and challenging negative thought patterns. I would utilize role-playing for Jane, which can be highly effective in practicing new responses to perceived threats. I would encourage Jane to write in a journal for the CBT homework to reflect on daily experiences and recognize maladaptive thoughts and behavioral patterns that are related to her victimhood mentality so that we can review in our session and role-play the more positive responses for future instances to help condition and make Jane more comfortable when experiencing similar work, social conflicts. 

DBT Strategies: Incorporate mindfulness exercises into the session to increase self-awareness and practice emotion regulation techniques. Interpersonal effectiveness training will also help Jane reduce impulsive reactions and improve communication and relationship skills. I have found that clients who incorporate these DBT strategies within our session and their daily routine are better able to manage, e.g., less reactive to triggers that enable victimhood response(s) and can move towards a healthier well-being of being able to take constructive criticism as well as be able to take accountability. 

TO CONSIDER: Victimhood Mentality can stem from past trauma and be a way for the individual to survive within an environment that is not healthy, positive, or conducive.

Victim Mentality as a Trauma Response

Research indicates that victimhood mentality can be a trauma response. Traumatic experiences may reinforce feelings of helplessness and powerlessness, perpetuating the victim's identity. Studies have shown that individuals with a history of trauma often exhibit a stronger external locus of control, which is a core component of the victimhood mentality (Cramer, 2016). 

To Summarize: These therapeutic approaches and modalities can help clients develop healthier perspectives and healthy coping strategies, ultimately reducing the hold on a victimhood mentality. The key is consistent effort and willingness to self-reflect and grow. As a therapist, employing Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) can be effective in addressing victimhood mentality. CBT helps patients identify and challenge the distorted thoughts contributing to their victimhood mindset. It encourages the development of healthier thinking patterns and behaviors. DBT, on the other hand, focuses on emotional regulation and distress tolerance, helping clients like Jane to manage intense feelings and develop healthier coping mechanisms. It is crucial to take into consideration when working with a client who exhibits a victimhood mentality if this is a trauma response and, therefore, utilize therapeutic approaches, modalities, and resources to help support your client. 

Why is there such a misunderstanding of victimhood mentality?

1.  Complexity of Trauma Responses: As discussed earlier in the article, victimhood mentality is sometimes a coping mechanism developed in response to past trauma. It can manifest as a way to process feelings of helplessness and loss of control. Society might misinterpret these behaviors as attention-seeking or an unwillingness to change, rather than recognizing the underlying trauma (Cramer, 2016). 
2.  The Role of Culture: Cultural narratives often value self-reliance and resilience, which can create a bias against those perceived as victims. This cultural misunderstanding overlooks the genuine psychological distress and the need for support and empathy (Schmitt et al., 2014). 
3.  Impact on Relationships: Individuals with a victimhood mentality might struggle with relationships due to misinterpretations of their behavior. Others might view them as difficult or negative, without understanding the depth of their emotional struggles (Thomas & Sharp, 2019).
4. Cultural Emphasis on Strength and Independence: Many cultures value self-reliance and resilience, which can stigmatize those who express vulnerability or distress. For example, in workplaces that prioritize competitiveness and assertiveness, individuals expressing feelings of victimhood may be seen as lacking the necessary drive or toughness. 
5. Misinterpretation of Intent: People with a victimhood mentality might express their struggles in ways perceived as blaming or complaining. This can lead others to view them as manipulative or unwilling to take responsibility. For instance, a person frequently discussing their challenges might be seen as seeking attention rather than genuinely needing support.

These societal perceptions overlook the complexity of psychological responses and the genuine need for empathy and support. Recognizing the societal misconceptions around victimhood mentality can foster a more empathetic understanding and support those who struggle with this mindset. Victimhood mentality is often misunderstood in society and frequently seen as a sign of weakness or manipulation rather than a complex psychological response. This misunderstanding can lead to stigma and isolation for those affected.  Society often lacks a nuanced understanding of how trauma can affect behavior. Without recognizing that a victimhood mentality can be a response to trauma, people may dismiss these individuals as negative or weak. For example, someone repeatedly expressing feelings of helplessness may be reacting to unresolved trauma, not simply choosing to remain passive. Promoting awareness and understanding can reduce the stigma and better support those experiencing a victimhood mentality.

Now, how does one differentiate between genuine victimhood and a victimhood mentality? This involves understanding the context and the individual's response to their circumstances. Here are some ways to make this distinction: 

1.  Objective Assessment of Situations: Real victimhood often involves clear, identifiable instances of harm or injustice, such as abuse, discrimination, or trauma. It requires assessing the facts of the situation to determine if the individual's experiences align with these criteria. 
2.  Emotional and Behavioral Responses: Genuine victims may exhibit a range of emotions like fear, anger, or sadness, and their behaviors often aim towards seeking justice or healing. In contrast, a victimhood mentality may involve persistent feelings of helplessness and a focus on blaming others without seeking resolution or change. 
3.  Willingness to Seek Solutions: Real victims often strive to overcome their circumstances by seeking help, support, or justice. They may engage in therapy, legal action, or advocacy. Those with a victimhood mentality might resist solutions and remain focused on the perceived injustice without taking steps toward improvement. 
4.  Consistency Across Situations: Genuine victimhood is typically situation-specific, whereas a victimhood mentality might persist across various unrelated situations, showing a pattern of perceiving oneself as a victim in numerous aspects of life. Understanding these distinctions requires careful listening and empathy, recognizing that both real victims and those with a victimhood mentality need support but may require different approaches to healing and empowerment. 
   
   

Victimhood Mentality In Literature

Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman

I am going to share an example of a well-known character that exemplifies victimhood mentality as sometimes we do not realize that even in famous books, plays, movies, etc., the main character(s) exhibiting victimhood mentality is Willy Loman's character in Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman." Willy is a poignant example of how a victimhood mentality can lead to personal and familial destruction. His demise is a culmination of his inability to escape this mindset.  

1.  Entrapment in Illusions: Willy is trapped in his illusions of the American Dream, believing success is purely a matter of being well-liked. This unrealistic expectation blinds him to his shortcomings and the need for adaptation. As noted by Miller (1949), Willy's adherence to these illusions prevents him from accepting reality, leading to his mental decline. 
2.  Projection of Blame: Willy consistently projects blame onto others, including his boss and sons, for his failures. This deflection prevents self-reflection or improvement, deepening his sense of victimhood. According to Bigsby (2005), this projection is a defense mechanism that shields Willy from confronting his own failures, further isolating him. 
3.  Mental Deterioration and Demise: Willy's continuous denial and externalization of blame contribute to his mental deterioration. His ultimate demise, through suicide, is seen as his final attempt to reclaim control and provide for his family through insurance money. Miller (1949) depicts this tragic end as a result of Willy's unyielding adherence to a flawed belief system, illustrating the destructive potential of a victim mentality. 
   
   

Willy often perceives himself as a victim of societal expectations and economic pressures. He frequently blames external circumstances for his lack of success and personal dissatisfaction rather than recognizing his role in his situation. Willy's inability to confront his shortcomings or adapt to change leads to a persistent state of helplessness and frustration. This character can resonate with readers as it highlights the internal struggle of dealing with perceived failures and the consequences of not taking personal responsibility. Willy Loman's story underscores the dangers of a victimhood mentality, showing how it can lead to tragic outcomes when individuals fail to adapt, reflect, and accept responsibility for their actions.

Victimhood in Social Media, Cancel Culture, Hollywood: 

Social media, cancel culture, and Hollywood have significantly influenced societal dynamics, promoting a victimhood mentality, particularly among younger generations such as Gen Z and Gen Alpha. This influence manifests in several ways: 

1.  Amplification of Victim Narratives: Social media platforms often amplify stories of perceived victimization, creating an environment where being a victim can garner attention and sympathy. This can lead individuals to adopt a victim mindset to gain validation or support online (Ng, 2020).
2.  Cancel Culture Dynamics: Cancel culture involves publicly calling out individuals or entities for perceived wrongdoings, often resulting in social ostracism. This environment can perpetuate a sense of victimhood, both for those who are "canceled" and those who engage in canceling, as it can foster an us-versus-them mentality (Williams, 2021). 
3.  Influence on Younger Generations: Gen Z and Gen Alpha are particularly vulnerable to these dynamics due to their high engagement with digital media and the developmental stage of forming identity. The pressure to align with popular narratives online can lead to adopting victimhood as a part of identity (Twenge, 2017). 
4. Shows and Movies: Media like "13 Reasons Why" dramatizes victimization and its impacts, potentially normalizing these narratives for impressionable audiences. 
5. Music: Certain music genres often emphasize themes of personal struggle and victimhood, which can resonate with and reinforce these feelings among listeners. 
6. Books: Works like "The Hate U Give" address social injustices, important for awareness but also capable of reinforcing a victim narrative if not balanced with empowerment themes. 
   
   

The pervasive nature of social media cancel culture, and Hollywood can encourage a victimhood mentality by amplifying negative experiences and promoting divisive narratives. It is crucial for individuals, especially younger generations, to develop critical thinking and resilience to navigate these influences in a healthy, more positive, and productive way.

Gen Z and Gen Alpha - Victimhood Prevalence

The prevalence of victimhood mentality among Gen Z and Gen Alpha compared to past generations can be attributed to several key factors, and a better understanding of the factors below can help address the root causes of victimhood mentality and provide insights into fostering resilience and agency among younger generations: 

 1. Digital Connectivity and Social Media: These generations have grown up with unprecedented access to digital technology and social media, which amplifies personal narratives and societal issues. The constant exposure to curated content and public discourse can heighten sensitivity to perceived injustices and foster a victim mindset (Twenge, 2017).

 2. Heightened Awareness of Social Issues: Gen Z and Gen Alpha are more aware of social justice issues due to widespread information sharing online. While this awareness is crucial, it can also lead to a heightened sense of victimhood as they navigate complex societal challenges (Pew Research Center, 2019). 

 3. Cultural Shifts in Parenting and Education: These generations have often been raised in environments that emphasize self-esteem and validation. While positive in many respects, this focus can sometimes lead to difficulties in coping with adversity, contributing to a victimhood mentality when faced with challenges (Twenge, 2017). 

 4. Economic and Environmental Uncertainty: Growing up during times of economic instability and environmental crises can also contribute to feelings of helplessness and victimhood. These concerns are more immediate for younger generations than for many in the past (Williams, 2020). 

The emergence of a victimhood mentality among Gen Z and Gen Alpha can be attributed to digital connectivity, heightened social awareness, cultural shifts, and global uncertainties. Social media, cancel culture, and Hollywood significantly amplify personal narratives and societal divisions, often encouraging younger generations to perceive themselves as victims within complex social landscapes. Unlike their predecessors, these generations face unique challenges, such as constant digital exposure and economic and environmental instability, which can exacerbate feelings of helplessness. However, understanding these dynamics offers a pathway to addressing the root causes of victimhood mentality. By fostering critical thinking, resilience, and adaptive coping strategies, society can empower individuals to navigate adversities constructively. Encouraging open communication, balanced perspectives in media, and supportive environments can mitigate the negative impacts of these pervasive influences, ultimately guiding these generations toward a more empowered and proactive future. Through collective effort and empathy, we can transform the narrative from victimhood to strength and agency.

In conclusion, the victimhood mentality presents a complex challenge that intertwines psychological, cultural, and societal dynamics. It is often stigmatized and seen as a sign of weakness or manipulation rather than recognized as a potential trauma response requiring understanding and empathy. This mentality is frequently perpetuated through narratives in books, movies, music, and broader cultural influences, which can subtly reinforce feelings of helplessness and externalization of blame. Therapists play a crucial role in assisting clients with a victimhood mentality. By employing best practices such as Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT), therapists help clients identify and restructure negative thought patterns, promoting personal responsibility and empowerment. Additionally, addressing underlying trauma is essential, as victimhood mentality can often be a manifestation of unresolved emotional wounds. The stigmatization of victimhood mentality can lead to isolation and hinder individuals from seeking necessary help. It's vital to shift societal perceptions towards a more compassionate understanding, recognizing that individuals need support and practical tools for change. Future generations are at risk of inheriting this mentality if cultural narratives continue to emphasize victimhood over resilience. The consequences may include reduced personal agency, strained relationships, and an inability to cope with life's challenges effectively. Being proactive involves fostering resilience, encouraging accountability, and promoting positive narratives that empower rather than victimize. We can mitigate the negative impacts of victimhood mentality by cultivating environments that support growth and adaptability and engaging constructively with cultural narratives. This proactive approach benefits individuals and contributes to a society where empowerment and resilience are the norms.

References:

• Bigsby, C. W. E. (2005). *Arthur Miller: A Critical Study*. Cambridge University Press. Miller, A. (1949). *Death of a Salesman*. Viking Press. 
  
  
• Cramer, P. (2016). Understanding and Changing the Victim Mentality: A Guide for Professionals Working with Trauma Survivors. Journal of Trauma & Dissociation, 17(3), 267-283. 
  
  
• Dissociation, 17*(3), 267-283. 
  
  
• Ng, E. (2020). *No Grand Pronouncements Here...: Reflections on Cancel Culture and Digital Media Participation*. Television & New Media, 21(6), 1-23. 
  
  
• Pew Research Center. (2019). *Generation Z Looks a Lot Like Millennials on Key Social and Political Issues*. Retrieved from https://www.pewresearch.org 
  
  
• Schmitt, M. T., Branscombe, N. R., & Postmes, T. (2014). The Consequences of Perceived Victimhood: Effects on Interpersonal Relationships and the Self. *Social Psychology Quarterly, 77*(4), 343-363. 
  
  
• Studies and References Williams, R. (2021). Cancel Culture: Understanding the Phenomenon and Its Impact on Society*. Journal of Media Ethics, 36(2), 1-8. 
  
  
• Thomas, J., & Sharp, G. J. (2019). Understanding Victimhood: The Role of Cultural Context in Interpreting Psychological and Behavioral Patterns. *International Journal of Psychological Studies, 11*(4), 29-40. 
  
  
• Twenge, J. M. (2017). *iGen: Why Today’s Super-Connected Kids Are Growing Up Less Rebellious, More Tolerant, Less Happy—and Completely Unprepared for Adulthood*. Atria Books. Williams, R. (2020). *The Impact of Economic and Environmental Factors on Generational Perspectives*. Journal of Youth Studies, 23(5), 1-15. 

Listen to Podcast on this article here
https://therapistpoint.com/podcast/my-therapy-day-1 

Today, I want to share a deeply personal experience: my first day in therapy. It's a topic that can feel vulnerable for many to discuss, but I believe it’s important to bring it to light and have an open conversation about it. So here we go!

Decision to Start Therapy

The decision to actually begin therapy, rather than just talking about it, wasn’t an easy one. Like many people, I had reservations about opening up to a stranger about my problems, and I wasn’t sure if it would actually help or if I was just wasting my time and money. On the other hand, it’s important to invest in yourself—whether it's by improving your physical health through proper nutrition and exercise or investing in your education and business to grow your income. So why not also invest in your mental well-being to complete the whole package?

Therapist Research

I took the first step, which meant doing some research. The first part of the process was finding a therapist I thought might be the right fit—someone who specialized in the areas I needed help with. It’s not just about picking someone who will listen; it’s about finding someone who understands the nuances of what I’m dealing with, who can offer real tools for growth, and who makes me feel safe and heard from the very first interaction. Of course, there are also practical considerations, like checking whether they accept your insurance or what out-of-pocket expenses you might incur.

After spending some time looking through numerous profiles, I reached the point where I just wanted to make a choice already. On paper, several therapists seemed like they could help, so it was hard to decide. Eventually, I narrowed it down to a few top choices, flipped a coin, and picked one. I figured I’d give it a try, and if it didn’t feel like a good fit, I could move on until I found the right one.

So, I reached out to a therapist, and we had our initial consultation. She started by asking a few basic questions, like what I was hoping to get out of therapy and what my goals were. After I shared my thoughts, she explained the type of therapy she practices and what the process involves. She then asked if I thought it sounded like a good fit for me. Honestly, I had no idea how to answer. I told her this was my first time seeking therapy as an adult (other than some childhood therapy and a brief stint with couples counseling during my marriage, which didn’t last long). I explained that, without any prior experience to compare it to, it was hard to know if this approach was the right one, which she agreed was a fair assessment. But I told her I was open to giving it a try and seeing how things went.

In-Person Therapy vs Online Therapy

We scheduled our first appointment, which took place virtually. Beforehand, I asked if there was any difference between virtual and in-person sessions. She explained that for some people, in-person feels more comfortable and personal, while for others, there’s no real difference. Personally, since I’m used to attending virtual meetings for work, I was open to starting that way. Plus, it saved me gas and commute time, which was definitely a bonus! Lol Why not save a few emissions, right?

In our first session, she asked if there were any specific areas I wanted to focus on. I found it hard to narrow it down because there are several aspects of my life I want to work on, and I wasn’t sure where to start. So instead, she asked me some background questions—things like where I’m from, details about my family, and my work. Surprisingly, these simple questions led me to open up more than I expected. As I answered them, I found myself naturally talking about the challenges I’m facing in different areas of my life. Before I knew it, the session was over.

It felt a bit like stepping into a pool. At first, the water feels cold and you’re hesitant, but once you dive in and take a few laps, your body adjusts, and the coldness fades. Before you know it, you’re on fire!

To sum it up, the first session was really about her getting to know me better. There wasn’t any major feedback or solutions, which I expected. After all, how can someone help you if they don’t know anything about you? I understand this is going to be a process. Although I’m not always that patient and love instant results—like the instant gratification world we live in today—I guess this is one area where I’ll have to work on that.

I plan to continue with weekly sessions, and after a few more, I’ll record another podcast to share updates on my progress and what I’m learning along the way. For those who are hesitant about getting help, I hope this will give you the courage you need to take that step.