I can’t stand my mother, yet she has a hold over me, even though I put as much distance between us as possible. She sees herself as a guru of free thought, but if she doesn’t get her own way, she makes problems or pretends she’s ill. She’s a terrific snob, and I was bullied at school because she would never let me fit in. I hardly know my father. For years, she told me men were useless, and I grew up believing it. I married because my mother said I should propose. We divorced and I fell in love with a wonderful girl, but my mother said we were wrong for each other because of our different backgrounds. Although I loved this girl very much, I was always wondering if my mother was right, and I broke her heart. I still don’t fully understand my actions. I like women, but find it hard to accept or give love. I have my idea of the “ideal” and can’t settle for less. I’m a complete mess. I take drugs to forget myself and I’m very depressed. I don’t know who I am. Please help.

The worry is not so much your mother, but how scarily resigned you are. If you can’t stand her, I wonder why you choose to allow her to inhabit you so completely. And it is a choice. Nobody holds more power over your life than you do. To some people that may seem obvious, but to you it isn’t. Even if you know it is true intellectually, emotionally your mother has all the power. The thing to remember is that you gave it to her. Nobody can take away our power unless we let them.

You have to take back your power (and by power, I mean your essential self). It can be done, but it is hard, slow work. You need constantly to challenge what, in cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), are called core beliefs. That means being less interested in what your mother did to you as a kid and more interested in the legacy — or your thinking in the here and now. As you begin to examine your thinking, you can start to own your own behaviour. As you do that, you will begin to see that you are responsible for your own actions, not your mother. She may be a snob and a bully, but she didn’t marry someone she didn’t love. You did. She didn’t break a wonderful girl’s heart. You did.

I know I sound like the bully now, but I’m simply trying to impress upon you that you can’t do anything about your depression and addiction until you face up to yourself. That’s where the power lies — not with your mother. Here’s a simple idea to try: wear an elastic band around your wrist and every time you have a negative thought, snap the band against your wrist. Immediately replace that voice with a positive response.

No doubt your immediate reaction is to think it’s impossible, because (as you say) you don’t know who you are. And if so, how do you know what you think? You only know what your mother thinks. I don’t believe that’s true. What I think may be true is that you’ve given up trying.

It is what Professor Martin Seligman of the University of Pennsylvania defined as learnt helplessness. Sufferers are markedly more likely also to suffer from depression and addiction. Learnt helplessness is essentially a response to frustration. We learn that, no matter how hard we try, our actions have no effect. We come to believe we are powerless or helpless, so we give up trying. There is a solution, also proposed by Seligman. It is to challenge or unlearn our responses, and put healthier ones in their place. He calls this learnt optimism.

In order to change behaviour, we need to change our thinking, but we can only do that if we face up to our essential self. You are powerful, important and capable of love. The only question is whether you’re willing to accept that power and the responsibilities that go with it. The spiritual thinker and author Marianne Williamson said: “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”

Playing devil’s advocate, perhaps you load responsibility for your life onto your mother because if you took sole responsibility, you might have to face up to the mess it is in. And if you face up to it, you might have to do something about it. So, here’s how. It will be tough, but take one step at a time, using CBT (ask your GP) and a 12-step programme such as Narcotics Anonymous. As for your mother, leave her where she belongs — trapped in the prison of her own prejudices. It is an unpleasant place to be. You sound like a nice man. You don’t have to stay there.

I recommend you read The Mother Factor by Stephan B Poulter (Prometheus Books £12.99) and Learned Optimism: How to Change Your Mind and Your Life by Martin E Seligman (Vintage Books USA £14.99), and contact Narcotics Anonymous (ukna.org).

If you have a relationship question for Sally, e-mail sally.brampton@ sunday-times.co.uk. In case of publication, names will be withheld. We’re sorry, but Sally cannot answer letters personally

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