Please Don't Leave Me

He's Just Not That Into You--It's not a new movie, and a lot of people said they were Just Not Into It.

But the topic had me at hello.

The cast is stunning, for one.  I watch chick flicks for many reasons (they're sedating, primarily), but a pleasant looking cast is at the top of the list. You can't talk about deep subjects all the time and not have a really shallow side somewhere deep down inside.

FD didn't bother with it for 30 seconds. He went to bed. But he was tired, is the truth.

Gigi Haim, (Ginnifer Goodwin, above, bottom right below) desperately seeks a boyfriend. It's the desperate part we don't like.  A woman (or a man, this movie could easily have been about a desperate man) should strive for a little more pride, more independence. Hanging on for dear life when someone is pushing you away, stalking restaurants and bars to catch the prey unannounced, feels like high school.  I know it's hard not to do it, and that for many of us, it's hard to have the kind of self-control necessary to go it alone.  But we've got to try.  That said, we can work on this for years in therapy, and we do.

Gigi anxiously waits for telephone calls, checks voicemail a hundred times a day, even when her first dates don't go well, which is always. What she wants, what she needs, is beyond her social intelligence. The social IQ should tell her that a little mystery, a little challenge, is attractive in relationships. And if the attraction isn't mutual, let it go.  But we're made up of much more than social intelligence.  Our emotional lives tend to rule.

She's rejected often, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. And Gigi's obsessive thinking, her compulsive man-chasing, doesn't hurt anyone. She's obsessed, but she would not be diagnosed with OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. She doesn't want to be alone, and although we might suggest she feels empty, she doesn't have Borderline Personality Disorder, either.  That's the one we think of when we associate fears of abandonment with mental illness.

She's just not getting it, can't read the signs when it's so obvious that it's never going to happen. Men read the neediness in her face instantly. They politely suggest, “Call me," a nice way of saying, "I’m not interested enough to call you, so I won't be calling you, but knock yourself out."

The film is full of examples of these types of metacommunications, communications about communications. It is worth seeing for that alone. But remember, the epiphanies of a chick flick aren't usually rocket science.

Gigi's social disconnect, her persistence in knocking when the doors are all closed, is a remez (rhymes with them-pez, Hebrew for hint, but hint just doesn't quite say it as well) to the drive that makes some people successful in this world. They know what they want and get it, don't take no for an answer.

When it comes to relationships and love, unfortunately, that kind of persistence and drive doesn't usually pay off. Forcing ourselves upon others only makes us less attractive, less likable. Gigi's manhunt turns out to be the exception to the rule. It's romantic comedy, after all.

Contrast this to Pink, and her violent music video, Please Don't Leave Me. I can't even link to it for you, it's so violent. Pink bloodies her boyfriend, beats him senseless so that he can't get out of the apartment. She's a sociopath, clearly, a violent, antisocial individual. I mean, rock star.  Not that rock stars are violent.

When I first heard the song, the lyrics isolated from the video screamed Borderline Personality Disorder. So I checked out the video at YouTube to see if it would work as a teaching tool for high school kids learning about abandonment anxiety. (They teach kids about that, right, in your high schools?)

Here are the lyrics:

Da da da da, da da da da
Da da da, da da
Da da da, da da

I don't know if I can yell any louder
How many time I've kicked you outta here?
Or said something insulting?
Da da da, da da

I can be so mean when I wanna be
I am capable of really anything
I can cut you into pieces
But my heart is broken
Da da da, da da

Please don't leave me
Please don't leave me
I always say how I don't need you
But it's always gonna come right back to this
Please, don't leave me

How did I become so obnoxious?
What is it with you that makes me act like this?
I've never been this nasty
Da da da, da da

Can't you tell that this is all just a contest?
The one that wins will be the one that hits the hardest
But baby I don't mean it
I mean it, I promise
Da da da, da da

Please don't leave me
Oh please don't leave me
I always say how I don't need you
But it's always gonna come right back to this
Please, don't leave me

I forgot to say out loud how beautiful you really are to me
I cannot be without, you're my perfect little punching bag
And I need you, I'm sorry
Da da da, da da

You say I don't need you
But it's always gonna come right back
It's gonna come right back to this
Please, don't leave me

Please don't leave me, oh no no no.

What's interesting to me is that both women, Gigi and Pink, are desperately in need of a relationship, both concentrate all of their energy to keep a relationship, even go to extreme measures. But they are such different women.

Engaging Gigi in therapy would be a snap. Teaching her rubberband theory, exploring her insecurities about being alone, she'd grow leaps and bounds in a single visit. Well, not a single visit, but a few for sure.  It's hard to let go, and managing neediness in relationships can take a lot of therapy, it's true.  Yet Gigi's not that dysfunctional. She hurts only herself.

Whereas someone like Pink would be self-mutilating in my office and throwing rocks at home.  I'd call in a team to work with her.

The differences in the two women, both so needy, underscores the importance of not diagnosing based upon a single symptom, not even an extreme symptom, although the no sleep thing in Bi-polar Disorder, and the hallucinations or delusions in Schizophrenia are fairly robust indicators of disease.  But even then, there are things to rule out before making a diagnosis. Like speed, acid, other physical disease, brain tumors. Things.

I looked already. Nothing's on tonight.

therapydoc

Earthquakes

Today:

FD says to me, “Maybe I’ll go to Haiti. They need doctors there. Some of the guys at the hospital are talking about it.”

I nod. I want to make a joke, “What would you eat?”*
But I don't.

The New York Times delivers meta-messages, news about news, The World News Media Enters Port-Au-Prince and on the radio, from Port-Au-Prince, Carry Kahn reports:

Buildings of cement and steel are still standing, masses on the move, huge buildings fall over on cars and other buildings, people sleeping on the streets, the sounds of shovels, screams, cries, Help me. Help me. Pillows, cushions, make-shift beds, and then an aftershock, another jolt, more chaos as if this weren't enough.

Oy vey.

Yesterday:

I drop off FD at work, head over to Jewel for groceries, flick on the radio. That intro to Viva La Vida, I Used to Rule the World by ColdPlay wakes me up, makes me happy. This is refreshing, for all morning long I've listened while making lunches, straightening up, getting dressed, the numbers are impossible, they make 9-11 a minor-league player, nature is the real terrorist and there's nothing, no scanner that can stop her. Thousands upon thousands.

A home now a hovel, children stand on rooftops, the ones that remain, looking around, dazed, people push wheelbarrows full of other people, the smells of death, dust, destruction. This is the largest earthquake to hit Haiti in 200 years, a 7.2 on the Richter.

The Richter is a logarithmic scale, FD tells me in the car, and my almost 21-year old physics-major son reiterates this as we bring in the groceries.

A text to my youngest son:

Am in the car. Can u help w/ groceries?

The night before:

One of my doctoral students works in Haiti, on hiatus in New York for her doctorate. She calls me as I walk in the front door, but I don't recognize the caller ID and she is babbling incoherently. Must slow her down. "Who is this again?"

Ah.

"Did you hear?” she cries, breathlessly.
“Everyone I work with! The entire agency!"
(This is a social service agency.) "No one has heard from them. I won’t be able to concentrate in class if I make it to class at all.”

Class is online. We'll pray, I tell her. We understand.

They’re sorting through the rubble. I lecture for almost 2 hours about research questions and hypotheses, finding meaning in inquiry, being clear about change, how to measure it.

Now:

Reality check. Viva la vida means Long live life. For the first time, on my way to the store, I catch some of the words of the song!

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own

I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemies' eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing
Now the old king is dead, long live the king

One minute I held the key
Next the walls are closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

It's a pretty sad song, self-deprecating if not abnegating, spouts the wisdom of having lived beyond I live for me, why wouldn't I, the cocky confidence of youth and omnipotence, having the world by the tail. Ruling rocks, for sure, like rock stars do.

So what, cuz I'm a rockstar, go the lyrics to another song, I'm a rock star. Pink is one of these people, so what, who cares, in your face. My five-year old grandson introduced me to that video, identifying with the chutzah, the so what, the how should I know?. But you don't have to be a rock star is the truth, to have that omnipotence, a high that some people, certainly not all of us, feel as adolescents, or rock stars, the young, the strong. It's a feeling that is punctuated with acting out and careless, risk-taking behavior, cuz hell, you rule.

Depletion precipitates a low, the very normal depressive drop of serotonin, so much bopping around. Until it is gone. You think you rule the world, and then you don't, nothing to do with earthquakes.

Quick story, a composite of many, with a happy ending:

Guy in his forties by now.

Had strength, good looks, intelligence, even as a little boy, surely as an adolescent. More than a little wild in his youth, takes nothing from no one, no criticism, no orders. Doesn't care about school, drinks and parties, women come easy. He continues to rule into his twenties.

Bad health takes him down several notches, but he beats it, eventually. Even so, in the years of fighting biology loses his mojo, never quite lives pain free. Seeks out illicit drugs for the pain and these are easy to find. His doctors won't prescribe the narcotics he wants, they know his history.

Years of self-medicating with whatever people give other people on the streets, alone, homeless, wakes up one day in rehab, the family is trying to help. You want to save your kid, believe he is worth saving.

He takes a job, can't cut it, too much pain. Finds his way to me, depressed and for all intents and purposes, catatonic.

I tell the story because this is how it is for so many. Most of us can't rule the world forever. A biological, if not sociological, ecological reality, there will be a drop. What goes up, must come down. Then we work do the brush ourselves off, pick ourselves up, start all over again thing.

But there's a post script to the story! Although it's been years, I get cards on occasion, he keeps up with me, and wouldn't you know, is married, has a doting spouse and a kid he adores. He's doing well, despite the chronic pain, sits at a desk job, sells something, maybe magazines, and although his partner makes more than he does, she apparently couldn't care less, loves him for who he is, a person he's still finding.

Of course he goes to meetings, has found serenity, always a good thing, whatever it is called, peace, equilibrium, his way, is working a program like many people at TSR one of your better recovery websites.

And you have to wonder, you know, if he sings that song, viva la vida.

therapydoc

*This is a reference to kosher food. People from my tribe have to figure out how we'll eat when we go on vacation.

I liked this one better than the band's original video.