This will sound borderline offensive to Dan (and perhaps to you), but I’m not trying to draw any parallels here – but rather, draw on your wellspring of knowledge as a mother-of-an-anxious-son/psychotherapist…

I just ended a long-term relationship with a born and bred New Yorker, who (in retrospect more than I realized) is a pretty anxious, self-centered person. But he’s also lovely, generous and very smart. He’s just self-centered in that ‘I’ve been in therapy since I was 6; was schooled at one of those “we massage your unique brilliance!” Brooklyn private schools; and was raised by a seriously anxious, overindulgent psychoanalyst mother’ kind of way. I suppose I don’t really have a question here, since things are over and liable to stay that way. But part of me just wants to scream at my ex, his mother, and his therapist: “what the &$%$#! is wrong with you!?” Therapy is supposed to help people, in some way, not offer a permanent, self-fulfilling outlet for neuroses. Mothers, especially ones trained to be therapists (!!), are supposed to nurture, but also launch and CHALLENGE their offspring. And my ex, in an ideal world, should be able to accept (if not welcome) change, most importantly within himself. It’s just so unbelievable to me that with so many advantages, and so many mental health resources, someone like my ex could still fundamentally view the world as a series of events and moods that are supposed to conform to his wants and needs. My parents weren’t perfect, but at least they didn’t lead me to believe that the most important thing in life was whether I felt like I was being perfectly emotionally fulfilled at all times, regardless of my posture toward the world and other people.

So yep, no question; just disgust, disappointment and anger at feeling the very personal pain of what, at least in New York City, seems like a fairly cliche problem! Eat your heart out, Woody Allen.