Natalie and Monk

You probably know that care-takers get a bad rap. It's bad to be one, you tend to focus on others, put yourself last, burn out, lose self. You deny other people the joy of taking care of you. I could go on and on.

If you're familiar with the show then you know that Monk is a famous detective with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Natalie is his assistant. Monk's disorder is so severe that much of Natalie's job is watching out for him, making sure he is safe. His concentration on cleanliness (germ phobic) and order (symmetry) make Monk something of an absent-minded professor. He bumps into things. He gets hurt because he's more worried about the order of nature than his own safety.

But Natalie saves him, usually, from things like walking in front of a bus.

I tape the show and always have to hear the song, It's a Jungle Out There, will sing along with Randy Newman. What can I tell you.

Anyway, because I tape much more than I watch as a rule, I have a huge assortment of shows to choose from. One night I choose Monk and the Magician. I try to get FD to watch it with me, but as soon as he realizes who the murderer is (first ten minutes) he sees no point in watching anymore. Guys are like this unless they're watching recaps of sports.

So he goes out to do some guy thing or another and I have the remote to myself. I buzz through to where I've left off, and it becomes very obvious that the magician is a very, very bad guy. Monk figures it out right away, not as fast as FD but fast.

FD returns as it's just about to end and I rewind, make him join me. "Watch this!" I command. This is a good part so he can't complain. Monk is in very serious danger, I'm getting very worried. Pazowie! Abracadabra! Natalie shows up with the police and saves him. She throws her arms around him and gives him an emotional hug. I would have, too. This was a really close call.

My pulse eventually returns to normal and FD says to me, "She seems to really have feelings for him. That's not exactly appropriate for an assistant, is it?"

"She's his care-taker," I say. "Her job is making sure he's okay."

"He really needs that much care-taking? It's just OCD."

Just OCD.

"Honey, it's never just OCD. And no matter what the disabling disorder, we tell people to find someone, if at all possible, to check in on them, maybe even coach or take care of them, pay for it if necessary.

Some people really need shadows. In tribal societies this has always been understood. In our industrialized, independence-is-valued-to-a-fault society, too few of us have people to watch out for us, to make sure we' don't kill ourselves, don't drink or stick needles in our arms, who will brush the crumbs off our chins, tuck in or cut off our tags, make sure we've eaten, know where we've dropped our keys. It would be nice if we could always have it together, but most of us can't. And is it all that necessary, anyway? Always having it together?"

I can't help it, I'm on a roll.

"And this doesn't apply just to people who are a little less than functional due to some disorder or another. A person can be perfectly independent and still need a little help now and then. It's ridiculous that we blow off our parents so early, now that I think about it, so dramatically, find it necessary to bark things at people who are just trying to help, like that woman on a television commercial from the seventies, the one who said, Mother please, I'd rather do it myself."

This is the end of the rant.

And you know it's true, we can't help but do this when we're teenagers, even as children or young adults. It is very normal and very good to blow off the caretakers, to glory in our independent choices, our autonomy, at any age, really. Then, we're not sure when it happens, all of sudden it's not so bad to let someone else lend us a hand.

I tell FD, "You'll take care of me, I imagine, one day. When I get old and can't find my glasses."

"Uh, why would I do that?"

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On Those Seven Things No One Tells You About Marriage

I go to log onto my Yahoo account this morning to see if any of my patients have any horror stories to tell me about New Years (such a lovely holiday).

And there it is, the pulp journalism article of the week, Dating 101: Seven Things No One Tells You About Marriage, by Ylonda Gault Caviness who writes for Redbook. The story is about the surprising, enlightening, and sometimes hard truths married folks all face -- and how they can teach us what love really means.

This makes me angry, and it makes no sense that I'm angry, and I don't like to be angry, although I'll go with the flow, see where it takes me, that feeling. But I'm not a ranter by nature, never about your writing, friends, or even Ylanda's, and won't rant, particularly, even if the toilet seat is left up, which it never is. It never is because some of us have mastered the traditional art of guilting family members. It might have been in mother's milk, so to speak.

Thanks, Ma.

You never need to get angry if you do this, guilt nicely, by the way, especially if you add a twist of assertiveness. Facts, the things you include in assertions, are scary and informative. Just the facts work! (Would you like to fall into the toilet in the middle of the night? I don't think so.)

It's all good stuff in this article, The Seven Things No One Tells You About Marriage, and most of it is true.

But only the other day, we were talking about a book that maybe I should write (everyone has their own opinion about the book I should write) and FD said, "Whatever you do, just make sure you have a number in the title. Like, The Five Intimacies. Or Three Tricks to a Better Life. Without the number, you can't sell a self-help book."

"News flash, darling. Issues are without number. And I don't write self-help books."

There's even a book somewhere out there about self-help books, and how bad they are for you. But I disagree. I like to think of them as conversation starters, like these articles can be, for these are really the conversations that matter. These are the conversations that turn men into women.

This piece at Yahoo is beautiful, if only because it is succinct, informative, right, and well-written (if a little too sweet for my coffee). Here are your Seven Things No One Tells You About Marriage.

1. You will look at the person lying next to you and wonder, Is this it? Forever?

2. You'll work harder than you ever imagined.

3. You will sometimes go to bed mad (and maybe even wake up madder).

4. Getting your way is usually not as important as finding a way to work together.

5. A great marriage doesn't mean no conflict; it simply means a couple keeps trying to get it right.

6. You'll realize that you can only change yourself.

7. As you face your fears and insecurities, you will find out what you're really made of.

You can use this list as a tool, something to use to talk about intimacy with friends and lovers. You want to know, truthfully, before you marry (if that is your intention), you want to know if at all possible, and sometimes it isn't, how the two of you will manage intimacy.

And we're not talking about sex here, for if you have intimacy, sex will follow. You want to know how you're going to keep it all alive once you've entered the black commitment hole. Face it, the only thing stopping people from commitment is fear itself, to quote FDR.

So talk about the Seven Things on dates, or even make it pillow talk. This is what you do on dates especially, right? Talk. Sure, you go to museums, too. I know, I know. And after awhile, talking about The Dark Knight (one day, we'll get to it) or whatever movie you think is fabulous or terrible, won't be enough.

You're dating, for example, thinking, Wow I LIKE this guy (girl), and think, Why not talk about The Seven Things? The conversation goes something like this.

Alvin: I can't wait to sleep with you.
Sylvia: Wait. I need to know something.
Alvin: What baby? Anything.
Sylvia: Are we ever going to have really, really bad arguments?
Alvin: Never, darling.
Sylvia: Are you sure? Because I sure don't ever want to go to bed with the guy I marry, angry.
Alvin: You won't. Not with me. You might be angry with your job, or your mother, but never will you be angry with me. (Pause) Wait. Did you say, marry?

Or it could go like this:

Alvin: I can't wait to sleep with you.
Sylvia: Wait. I need to know something.
Alvin: What baby? Anything.
Sylvia: Are we ever going to have really, really bad arguments?
Alvin: Never, darling.
Sylvia: Are you sure? Because I sure don't ever want to go to bed with the guy I marry, angry.
Alvin: You won't. Not with me. You might be angry with your job, or your mother, but never will you go to bed angry with me.

In which case, of course, marry the guy.

Okay, okay. You're correct in thinking that marry the guy based on just that is too simplistic, facetious, even tongue-in-cheek, and doesn't even address the point of the article. Ms. Gault Caviness is saying,essentially,

It's okay, this is the reality of the situation. Go ahead and marry the love of your life. Just know what you're getting into.

If you listened in on our previous discussions on premarital assessment, you know that you have to find out whose parents went to bed angry. That's the transgenerational stuff, and is a covert family precedent, permission, a rule.

And you have to know how the parents of your intended resolved problems, too, and how your future lover has learned to solve problems over time. And you want to know the history of mental illness in the family, and how the tribe managed that, and how many kids this person wants, if any, and what schools the kids are going to go to, and if they watch Monk, even like Monk, oh, the list goes on and on.

It's too long for a self-help book.

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