A question of faith
Dear Wilhemina My partner is Catholic and I’m Jewish. Neither of us are “believers” in any real sense, and our separate backgrounds have never been a problem. Yet now that our children are old enough to participate more fully, we seem to be taking things more to heart—especially at this time of year. It’s started to put quite a strain on our relationship: I want my children to know and celebrate Hanukkah, she wants the Christmases of her childhood complete with tree and midnight Mass. How do we square the circle? RB
Dear RB You want a tree? Get a tree. Since neither of you—allegedly—have much truck for any of the faith-based shenanigans, I can’t see why you’re getting your Christmas stockings in a twist.
Perhaps you’re more religiously indoctrinated than you think. It’s easy to feel emancipated from a host of beliefs until a rival set comes along. This doesn’t mean that you suddenly “believe” in the dogma and attendant fairytales, but rather that you realise their connection to memories, childhood, family and friends—the whole community that held you as a child. It’s only natural that you want to pass these on to your own children.
But as long as you can leave aside the belief in pixies at the end of the garden, I can’t see the problem. This isn’t about either of your “religious traditions” but family ones—so why not create your own? Sit down and draw up a map of your family’s ideal holiday, and horse-trade the various rituals. What comes out will be memorable; that’s all that matters.
Wilhemina
Should I marry him? (he’s rich)
Dear Wilhemina A year ago I met a lovely man at a high-level international summit. He was brilliant, unattached, handsome, wealthy (we’re talking private jets) and kind. We began a long-distance relationship—he’s based in San Francisco—which has been intense, but involves seeing each other mainly when business schedules permit. Neither of us has rearranged their life: we haven’t been spending our holidays together and we don’t know the other’s extended family. But now he’s asked me to marry him. It came as a shock; not unwelcome, just unexpected. I fear that he just feels it’s “time to settle down” and hasn’t genuinely thought about spending his life with me. Should that stop me? S
Dear S Does it matter why he’s doing it? (I assume he’s American, and the fetishisation of marriage in even the most liberal US circles never ceases to amaze me.) The real question is: why would you do it? On the one hand, you’ve not once used the word “love” (in fact your letter is a model of dispassion), and you suggest that you weren’t entirely satisfied with the level of engagement. On the other hand, you don’t seem to have fought very hard to make the relationship other than what it is and it does seem to suit you. He has some obvious qualities that would make for a comfortable life together: brains, money and kindness. Some couples start with much less. You don’t wake up next to a private jet in the morning—(though the possibility of waking up in one isn’t so bad). More seriously, though, you don’t know each other well at all, so the risks of being incompatible are very high. Why not take it one step at a time? Plan some holidays, introduce each other to your families, share a home. What’s the rush? I’d advise a very long engagement. Wilhemina
Is seeing a shrink too self-indulgent?
Dear Wilhemina I have suffered from depression on and off for years and have, as a result, made some disastrous personal and professional choices. My friends have long advised me to get therapy. I’m now in another bout of depression, which I sense will get worse (it always does) and I’m seriously considering seeing a therapist. Yet it seems so self-indulgent. I’m not suicidal, nor am I a danger to others. And I can’t quite get my head around the idea of paying for what most people get on tap from friends. It makes me feel even more pathetic. What cast-iron case can I make to overcome my doubts? Sceptical Will
Dear Sceptical Will Let me assure you, most people feel this way about therapy. Woody Allen did therapists no favours by taking off with his stepdaughter after 40 years’ worth of analysis. But statistics show that a combination of therapy and anti-depressants is the most effective way to combat depression. Frustratingly, it often takes several tries to find the therapist with whom you’re comfortable. And that’s a difficult hurdle to surmount when you’re depressed.
Yet there are limits to what family and friends can do. Often they (especially family) can be part of the problem. Most friends expect reciprocity, but what often characterises depression is precisely an absence of this. And your friends can’t relentlessly tell you the truth or tease it out of you; this would endanger your friendship.
Good therapy is both emotionally and intellectually rewarding. It’s interesting to get to know yourself. That’s not self-indulgent, but realistic. And your definition of whether or not you are dangerous to yourself seems a little narrow—of all the disastrous choices you refer to, how many of them only affected you? Wilhemina
Dear Wilhemina My partner is Catholic and I’m Jewish. Neither of us are “believers” in any real sense, and our separate backgrounds have never been a problem. Yet now that our children are old enough to participate more fully, we seem to be taking things more to heart—especially at this time of year. It’s started to put quite a strain on our relationship: I want my children to know and celebrate Hanukkah, she wants the Christmases of her childhood complete with tree and midnight Mass. How do we square the circle? RB
Dear RB You want a tree? Get a tree. Since neither of you—allegedly—have much truck for any of the faith-based shenanigans, I can’t see why you’re getting your Christmas stockings in a twist.
Perhaps you’re more religiously indoctrinated than you think. It’s easy to feel emancipated from a host of beliefs until a rival set comes along. This doesn’t mean that you suddenly “believe” in the dogma and attendant fairytales, but rather that you realise their connection to memories, childhood, family and friends—the whole community that held you as a child. It’s only natural that you want to pass these on to your own children.
But as long as you can leave aside the belief in pixies at the end of the garden, I can’t see the problem. This isn’t about either of your “religious traditions” but family ones—so why not create your own? Sit down and draw up a map of your family’s ideal holiday, and horse-trade the various rituals. What comes out will be memorable; that’s all that matters.
Wilhemina
Should I marry him? (he’s rich)
Dear Wilhemina A year ago I met a lovely man at a high-level international summit. He was brilliant, unattached, handsome, wealthy (we’re talking private jets) and kind. We began a long-distance relationship—he’s based in San Francisco—which has been intense, but involves seeing each other mainly when business schedules permit. Neither of us has rearranged their life: we haven’t been spending our holidays together and we don’t know the other’s extended family. But now he’s asked me to marry him. It came as a shock; not unwelcome, just unexpected. I fear that he just feels it’s “time to settle down” and hasn’t genuinely thought about spending his life with me. Should that stop me? S
Dear S Does it matter why he’s doing it? (I assume he’s American, and the fetishisation of marriage in even the most liberal US circles never ceases to amaze me.) The real question is: why would you do it? On the one hand, you’ve not once used the word “love” (in fact your letter is a model of dispassion), and you suggest that you weren’t entirely satisfied with the level of engagement. On the other hand, you don’t seem to have fought very hard to make the relationship other than what it is and it does seem to suit you. He has some obvious qualities that would make for a comfortable life together: brains, money and kindness. Some couples start with much less. You don’t wake up next to a private jet in the morning—(though the possibility of waking up in one isn’t so bad). More seriously, though, you don’t know each other well at all, so the risks of being incompatible are very high. Why not take it one step at a time? Plan some holidays, introduce each other to your families, share a home. What’s the rush? I’d advise a very long engagement. Wilhemina
Is seeing a shrink too self-indulgent?
Dear Wilhemina I have suffered from depression on and off for years and have, as a result, made some disastrous personal and professional choices. My friends have long advised me to get therapy. I’m now in another bout of depression, which I sense will get worse (it always does) and I’m seriously considering seeing a therapist. Yet it seems so self-indulgent. I’m not suicidal, nor am I a danger to others. And I can’t quite get my head around the idea of paying for what most people get on tap from friends. It makes me feel even more pathetic. What cast-iron case can I make to overcome my doubts? Sceptical Will
Dear Sceptical Will Let me assure you, most people feel this way about therapy. Woody Allen did therapists no favours by taking off with his stepdaughter after 40 years’ worth of analysis. But statistics show that a combination of therapy and anti-depressants is the most effective way to combat depression. Frustratingly, it often takes several tries to find the therapist with whom you’re comfortable. And that’s a difficult hurdle to surmount when you’re depressed.
Yet there are limits to what family and friends can do. Often they (especially family) can be part of the problem. Most friends expect reciprocity, but what often characterises depression is precisely an absence of this. And your friends can’t relentlessly tell you the truth or tease it out of you; this would endanger your friendship.
Good therapy is both emotionally and intellectually rewarding. It’s interesting to get to know yourself. That’s not self-indulgent, but realistic. And your definition of whether or not you are dangerous to yourself seems a little narrow—of all the disastrous choices you refer to, how many of them only affected you? Wilhemina
