We all want to be connected to others in some way. If we look beneath layers of complex defenses, we find we are in need of being recognized, praised, comforted, reassured, and loved. We try to avoid feeling separate, isolated or alone. We go to great lengths to get the love and approval that we want. All you have to do is listen carefully to your thoughts, and you’ll notice the incessant streaming and worry about how we look to others, what image we’re projecting, and whether we appear to be confident and worthwhile. We’re exquisitely sensitive to others’ reactions to us. “Did he see me? Did that sound stupid or confused? I’m not sure she likes me. She’s looking away. I thought my comment was funny, but he didn’t laugh.”

When we wish for love, empathy and support, we want to be connected and be a part of another’s life, but we can often forget or disregard the boundary that separates us from each other. Our desire for another person’s love and approval causes us to focus our attention on them and away from our self-experience. Our thoughts become littered with fears and doubts about the other person’s desire and commitment to us. These fears and doubts are assumptions we make regarding other people and why they are not treating us with the love and approval we need and want. These assumptions signify that our attention is with the other, and we are not connected with ourselves. That is, we are not consciously aware of the love we feel for ourselves and if we feel authentic.

People spend a great deal of time trying to convince themselves and others that a person in their life needs to change. They should not think, feel or behave the way they do. And they go to great lengths “proving” why this person is wrong. They should be another way. “He should never have turned out this way. He had so much promise, was so gifted, so accomplished! He knew better. What was he thinking? If only listened to me.” To some their arguments seem so compelling: “He victimized me by having an affair; She knew unprotected sex would lead to this; Spending so much time at work made me feel so worthless and empty; My father makes me feel like such a failure; I was so stupid to think she would help me; I can’t just let her have the last word and let her think she’s right;” and on and on.

A patient said, “I always wanted her to love me. I literally prayed for this. I waited and waited for her love to come, and it never did. I thought, how could she not love me? I am so good to her, so generous, so loyal. I’ve kept us together almost single-handedly! But after you and I began talking, and I started to look closely at my thoughts and feelings, it suddenly dawned on me that I really don’t want or wish her to love me. If she does, she does because that’s how she feels. That’s her reality. If she doesn’t truly feel that way, that’s her reality. I don’t want to make someone love me, to show them all the reasons why they should. It’s simple. If they don’t, they don’t.”

The work of the psychotherapist is to remove peoples’ self-created obstacles such as making assumptions and insisting that things are true or real when they are not. These thoughts about others prevent us from connecting with ourselves. The work of therapy does not involve changing people by pointing out what is wrong with them, correcting their perspectives and beliefs, or telling them what to feel or how to live their lives. My aim is to remove obstacles which cause patients to live by assumptions and stories that have not proven to be real. Then they can return to the path of self-exploration, discovery, and actualization.

Many parents believe their child’s anger toward them is a sign of disrespect. The parents say they would never have spoken to their parents in an angry or defiant way, and they will not tolerate any such tone or opposition that appears disrespectful. It is not unusual to hear that corporal punishment or strong consequences often follow their child’s angry outbursts toward them.

It is clear that parents often take these angry words very personally, and their frustrated and then angry responses often lead to displays of power and control. Regardless of whether this is the third or thirtieth time this power struggle has occurred, most often the outcome is the same. The child resists the parent’s urgings to do something, and the parent applies some form of force. But does this application of force lead to the child’s long-term change?

When a child is angry, we want him to understand his anger and other feelings associated with it, and we want this understanding to help him behave more appropriately and consistently in the future. But when parents get angry and punitive, the child’s focus turns away from himself and onto the disciplining parent. The child becomes anxious, increasingly angry, and then retaliatory. He might accuse the parent of yelling, being mean, unfair and wrong. And by taking the offensive in this way, he has essentially lost the opportunity to slow himself down, regroup (self-observe) and see that he is responsible for part of this conflict. He is not learning about problem solving and changing his behavior.

The child is also not learning about looking behind his anger. When parents help to escalate a conflict this way, they are not modeling good self-observing behavior for their child. Parents typically “win” the battle with the child being sent to his room along with further punishment. The child, however, is only thinking about how mean and horrible the parent is, and his anger and resentment grow. His memory of the incident will likely cause him to harbor increased anger and emotional distance with his parents.

Looking behind the child’s anger is only accomplished when parents have dealt with their own anger and recognize the untreated fear that lies behind it. David Kessler writes, “Untreated fear turns into anger. We’re not in touch with our fears–or when we don’t even know we’re afraid–that fear grows into anger. If we don’t deal with the anger, it will turn into rage.” When parents directly explore their fears, themes of abandonment, failure, betrayal and death may appear enabling them to develop further insight regarding their own emotions. And with these insights they can encourage their children to look behind their anger and explore their own fears.