Opinion: The Trap of Zero-Sum and All-or-Nothing Thinking—And How It Nearly Destroyed Me
What my divorce—and Trump’s politics—taught me about false choices.
This is a response to Damien Cave’s recent New York Times column, Welcome to the Zero Sum Era. Now How Do We Get Out?
For 26 years, I didn’t realize I was living a life of extremes.
I feared I was failing if I wasn’t the best partner, mother, daughter, and friend. I scheduled my world around others’ passions and obligations, convinced my family would fall apart if I didn’t. I deferred to others and ignored my desires—like becoming a writer—because I believed pursuing them meant neglecting everything else.
Absolutes had become my guiding principles. If I didn’t excel at something, I was worthless. If I slowed down, I’d fall behind. If I acknowledged my pain, I’d be consumed by it. Disappointing others by maintaining my boundaries proved I was selfish.
Without realizing it, I attached meaning to everything. I felt unloveable when I went all day without hearing “I love you” or being touched. I felt rejected and unseen if no one complimented the time and effort I spent preparing dinner. When someone labeled my early writing attempts a “hobby,” their assessment proved that I was a fraud. My fragile ego increasingly relied on others to feed it.
This is the dangerous logic of all-or-nothing thinking—the belief that if something isn’t perfect, it’s a failure. My mindset wasn’t just unhealthy; it was a trap that kept me from seeing life as it was: a messy, complicated, nuanced existence for all of us.
At the same time, I was also engaged in zero-sum thinking—the belief that everything’s a competition, with a winner and a loser. I believed my needs had to be sacrificed to ensure my family's happiness. When another writer succeeded, I thought my chance of success had diminished.
I lived within these two distorted frameworks for decades. I’d convince myself I was in control, but I was, in truth, paralyzed by a fear that nearly destroyed me.
The Illusion of Control
For years, I lived under this illusion that if I just worked harder and kept everything running smoothly, I could stave off disappointment and loss. But when my partner announced in couples therapy that he had one foot out the door, my carefully constructed world collapsed.
I wasn’t prepared. I couldn’t even allow myself to imagine divorce, let alone prepare for it. But our therapist saw the writing on the wall and advised me to seek intensive help—not to save the marriage, but to save myself.
At the time, I had every material comfort I could want: annual vacations, a second home, and financial stability. Still, I didn’t feel I had a say in my own life. When I asked to speak to our accountant to understand our finances, I was informed it would be too expensive — and that I should direct my questions to my partner (who managed the money).
I allowed my personal life to function around my family’s needs because that was the only model I knew. I convinced myself that sacrificing my aspirations and dreams was necessary for harmony. I told myself that if I pursued my writing too seriously, I’d neglect my obligations as a mother. When I attended occasional writing classes and residencies, I’d sometimes return home to a lukewarm reception, one time even hearing the phrase, “It was a lot easier around here when you were gone.”
As my children grew more independent and my partner became increasingly immersed in work, I quietly carved out more time for writing. I attended conferences and workshops, slowly building a career. By the time I started couples therapy, I’d become an award-winning freelance columnist. But, when my partner declared he no longer wanted to be married to me, I put everything on hold.
At the therapist’s suggestion, I enrolled in a partial hospitalization program (PHP) to help make sense of the unthinkable. I didn’t realize I’d also dive into the work of untangling my years of distorted thinking.
When “Playing the Victim” Is a Lie
During my marriage, I was told that I had a victim mentality. I wasn’t trying to play the victim, though. I was trying to understand why I felt so powerless. I didn’t wallow in misery; instead, I was bewildered, afraid, and unsure how to reclaim my sense of agency. This uncertainty and these insecurities were neither pleasant nor easy to tolerate, but they were my reality.
The more I began to notice and speak up about what I needed, the more I was told I was being dramatic, unreasonable, or (my fave) “too sensitive.” Over time, I internalized these messages: My feelings were inconvenient. My needs were too much. My confusion was my own fault.
But feeling powerless is not the same as embracing victimhood. Feeling powerless is a sign that something in your life is out of alignment.
If you’ve ever been accused of playing the victim, I ask this:
Are you dwelling in helplessness or struggling to be heard?
If you’ve been told your emotions are a problem, is it that they’ve just been inconvenient for someone else?
Is your pain a self-imposed identity, or is it a signal that something needs to change?
Feeling disempowered isn’t a weakness. It’s a sign you need a shift. The way forward isn’t silencing yourself or proving your strength by enduring more suffering. The way forward is to trust yourself, validate your own experiences, and surround yourself with people who see you—not as a burden, but as a person worthy of support.
The Political Consequences of Zero-Sum and All-or-Nothing Thinking
I now see my old patterns of thinking reflected today in the highest offices of American politics.
For as long as he’s been in the spotlight, Donald Trump has displayed zero-sum thinking (the belief that, for him to win, others must lose) and all-or-nothing thinking (also known as black-and-white thinking). In his worldview of absolutes, people are loyal or traitors; elections are fair or rigged; and foreign leaders are strong or worthless.
Let’s talk about about Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Trump reportedly said that Zelenskyy wasn’t welcome at the negotiating table unless he apologized. So, hang on a sec. This suggests that diplomacy operates on personal grudges rather than global strategy? Is this not all-or-nothing thinking at its worst? Is reconciliation only possible when we get complete capitulation from the other party?
Meanwhile, Trump’s zero-sum mentality has shaped how the U.S. engages with the world. If America isn’t “winning,” we must be “losing,” right? If another country strengthens its economy, it must be at America’s expense, you know? If the media holds Trump accountable, it must mean they’re conspiring against him, natch.
This is dangerous thinking—not just for leaders but also for citizens. Think about it. The longer we accept these cognitive distortions, the more reactionary and divided we become.
A Call to Action: Seeing the Patterns in Ourselves
We can’t change the way our political leaders think overnight, but we can change how we react to them and interact with each other. Awareness is the first step. When we recognize the zero-sum and all-or-nothing patterns in our thinking, we’re better equipped to resist them in the world around us.
The next time you believe something is either good or bad, a win or a loss, consider: Is there another way to see this?
When you hear a politician declare that an opponent is either a patriot or a traitor…a leader or a failure…ask yourself: Who created this false choice, and who benefits most from it?
And the next time you feel trapped between two extremes, remember: There’s always more space in the middle than we think.
For years, I believed that if my marriage ended, I’d be shattered beyond repair. And for a while, I was. But what felt like destruction was, in fact, transformation. Losing my marriage forced me to find myself and learn new skills — skills that I now write about and teach. What I once feared would break me instead cleared the way for the life I was meant to build.
…what felt like destruction was, in fact, transformation.
These days, I have a much better ear to hear myself — and others — engage in zero-sum and all-or-nothing thinking. My dander raises when I hear words like always, never, everyone, nobody, no one, whole, and entire:
“It’s always been this way…”
“No one’s listening to me…”
“Everyone’s gone crazy…”
“Nobody has the answers…”
“No one likes me…”
“The whole thing is ruined…”
“The entire room laughed at me when I tripped…”
Recognizing these patterns is the first step toward breaking them. And breaking them may be the key to saving ourselves—and our democracy.
What about you? Do you catch yourself thinking in absolutes? Have you ever believed someone else’s success meant your failure? Have you ever viewed compromise as a weakness? Can you spot someone operating in the extremes?
Christine Wolf is a developmental editor, memoir coach, and the founder of Writers’ Haven, a co-working space for writers featured in Condé Nast Traveler. A dedicated student of expressive writing, linguistic psychology, and personal narrative, she specializes in the intersection of storytelling, identity, and healing.
Wolf teaches writing at Northwestern University’s Norris Center and leads Write to Heal Workshops and Retreats. A former board member of the Chicago chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists, she was also a former freelance columnist with the Chicago Sun-Times and Chicago Tribune.
She is the co-author (with Jay Pridmore) of Politics, Partnerships, & Power: The Lives of Ralph E. and Marguerite Stitt Church, a biography of one of the first 50 women elected to the U.S. Congress.
Her writing has been recognized for excellence by the Chicago Tribune, the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, and The Moth.
Learn more at www.christinewolf.com/contact.
Very well explained. Thank you.
Great piece. I've been there and am still there from time to time as I try to shape a new life that will allow my body to heal from all it has been through. It's easy to fall into black-and-white thinking when things don't go "exactly right." And these days, it seems absolutely nothing is going exactly right, so it really is time for a new awareness and a fresh approach. Thank you :)