So Duncan is in quite a mood this afternoon. He’s easily set off, keeps rubbing his eyes and alternates between fits of laughter and just plain fits. No mystery here. The boy is suffering from way too much sugar in the form of Halloween candy.
He’s also wiped out from going to bed too late and getting up too early.
It’s no big deal. As parents we expect this from kids who have had too much candy. We’ll put him to bed early, and his eating will return to the healthy sort we’re always vigilant about.
But seeing him like this reminds me of how I used to be before I found the 12 Steps of Recovery for a binge-eating addiction. I looked at him and had a “this reminds me of a little joke” moment.
We’ve all had our tough roads to travel. Some roads are harder than others. Is that any excuse to kill your own child because your fake FarmVille universe was intruded upon?
This story makes me want to slam my head through a closed window:
JACKSONVILLE, Fla. (AP)Alexandra Tobias, a Florida mother accused of shaking her 3-month-old son to death after he interrupted her FarmVille game on Facebook, has pleaded guilty to second-degree murder. The 22-year-old was charged in the January death of her baby, Dylan Lee Edmondson. She entered her plea on Wednesday. Tobias told investigators she became angry after the baby cried while she was playing the computer farm simulation game, and she shook him. She also said she smoked a cigarette to compose herself and then shook the baby again, at which time he may have hit his head, the station reported. State guidelines call for 25 to 50 years in prison, but a prosecutor said Tobias’ sentence could be shorter than that.
This story hits me not just because a mother killed her own child. It’s a story of addiction. My impression is that this woman has an online gaming addiction, which can be just as insidious a disease as alcoholism, drug dependency and, in my case, binge eating.
That’s where my sympathy ends. In fact, I can’t say I have any sympathy. My friend Lori MacVittie sounded off on this case in language I wholeheartedly agree with. On her Facebook page she said:
“There’s an excuse for everything, even killing a 3-month old child over a stupid game. I’m addicted, I’m depressed, I was deprived as a child, wha, wha, wha. Grow up. It’s called choice. Everyone has them. She made the wrong one.”
I can speak from experience on this. As readers know by now, I’ve been around the block a few times. At any point along the way I could have used my troubles as an excuse to go into a life of crime and maybe kill a few people along the way. I certainly had my moments where, if you interrupted my binge or gave me shit about my OCD quirks, I would fill with rage.
I’ve thought about punching people many times. But I never did.
Because I had a choice. I chose not to step over the line.
Now, to say we all have choices and we all have the power to do right or wrong is to oversimplify things. When a person suffers from an addiction or a mental struggle, they are not always in their right mind. When that happens, you’re capable of all kinds of evil, no matter how hard you try to hold back.
I strongly believe there are suicide cases where the person is so far gone into the world of depression and despair that they no longer have the capacity to make sane decisions.
My childhood friend, Mark Hedgecock, became a thrice-convicted pedophile because of his baggage. The baggage was only part of it. He had a choice and made the wrong one three times.
He acknowledged as much over the phone a few months ago. He knows he’s a monster and that he probably shouldn’t be on the street. Bottom line: He did what he did and has to pay for it for the rest of his life. It’s sad, though. It’s a waste. But he was trolling for teenage girls on Facebook over the summer, showing he can’t help but repeat his mistakes.
He had a choice. He made the wrong one.
This FarmVille-addicted mom had a choice. She made the wrong one. Now she’s gotta pay.
That doesn’t mean we have to like it. She killed her kid in a moment of insanity. It’s a tragedy. period.
I used to hate Halloween with a passion. It’s one of the worst days for someone with a compulsive binge eating addiction. Now that I’ve broken the binging cycle, I find myself in the odd position of looking forward to the holiday.
I used to dread it because I knew there would be candy everywhere. I would stuff it in my pockets, in the car and every other hiding space. Then I’d spend the next week binging on sugar. That would trigger the urge to go deeper down the rabbit hole, so a vicious, almost crippling cycle of binging would take hold from Halloween straight through the rest of the holidays.
That didn’t happen in 2008. It didn’t happen last year. It’s not going to happen this time, either.
There’s a thing we do on Twitter called Follow Friday, where we list people we follow and suggest others do the same. I’m starting a new tradition: Facebook Follow Friday. Here’s why:
I use it as a place to share this blog and the security articles I write for CSOonline.com. I also like to share the crazy talk that comes from my kids’ mouthes, and whatever music I have blaring at any given moment. Some appreciate it and follow me for those things. Others don’t like it and have unfriended me. I’m fine with that. If you don’t like what I’m pushing, why would you follow me? OK — maybe it bothers me a little. But I’m no different than anyone else in this regard.
Erin Brenner: She’s my muse, my love and I’d be nowhere without her.
Ken White: A newcomer on Facebook but a dear friend.
Linda White: The other half of Team White, her posts are loaded with razor-sharp humor and observations about people around her.
Amanda Corthell: I don’t think I could live without her traffic reports from the mess that is I-93. It always makes me grateful that she’s sitting in it instead of me.
Mike Greco: The man knows his guitars inside and out, and he knows how to rock.
Christian Campagna: His posts will take you to a bizarre world you didn’t know existed. It’s a place where you will laugh hard and appreciate some excellent music.
Lauren Karpenko: Her posts are always uplifting and inspiring. You can tell she’s in love with life, and it rubs off on those who are connected to her.
Lori MacVittie: So smart it’s scary. Humor with lots of snark built in, which suits me. And her updates on The Toddler are priceless.
Randi Defilippo Dockery: I enjoy her sometimes racy humor, because it beats the hell out of reading a bunch of whiney posts.
Faith Morrill: A Corthell cousin who is going to take the world by storm with her writing. She just doesn’t realize it yet.
Maureen Wilder Cefalu: She might be surprised to find her name on here, since we only recently connected on Facebook and in high school we really didn’t talk much. She was with one group of kids and I was with another. But here’s the thing: In junior high she was one of the few kids who treated me with kindness. We bonded over Def Leppard at the time. It helped make those two years a little more bearable. Thanks for that.
Don’t fret if you didn’t make the list. I got a lot of friends, and I’ll mention you all eventually.
I used to have this dumb, ego-driven idea that I was better than people who did things for work that were “beneath me.” Here’s how I learned to stop being stupid.
The lesson came from an obvious place that wasn’t so obvious once upon a time: God. I expected a lightening flash or something like that, not realizing God works through other people instead.
I’ve needed these graces, because as a thick-skulled punk in my 20s and some of my 30s, I always had the idea that I was better than other people if I had a big career. If you worked in the grocery store, the laundromat or the docks, you were beneath me. Truth is, I WAS beneath a lot of the folks who do the jobs I don’t have the skill or patience for. My attitude was all based on my personal insecurities.
This morning’s lesson came in the form of a Toronto cab driver.
I got in the taxi at 3:30 a.m. for the trip to the airport and, ultimately, home. I haven’t had the best opinion of cab drivers in the past. It’s nothing personal. I just couldn’t relate. More my problem than theirs. The fellow who got me to the airport was extremely cool, though.
He asked me all about the upcoming midterm elections in the U.S. and what I thought of it all.
He asked if I had any kids. When I said I have two, he wanted to know about them. Then, he told me all about his family.
He smiled for the entire drive.
As I get older, I realize there are a multitude of motivations that drive us toward what we do for work. The most important thing every time is providing for our families. Getting to do so is a gift, even if the work isn’t always pleasant.
I’m lucky because I love my job. Getting into journalism and then focusing that on Internet security was the right path for me. But I wouldn’t be able to pull it off without a lot of people doing those “lesser” jobs.
Most days, I’m only as good as the local Starbucks barista, the guy who keeps my car running (because I suck at the handy stuff, including auto mechanics) and the priests that help me get the spiritual medicine I need.
And the cab driver who gets me around the places away from home.
Judging other people and pondering whether I’m better than them or vice versa got old somewhere along the way.
Some interesting conversation with friends in Toronto this evening about addictive behavior. At one point, the focus turned to another truth about people like me: Moderation doesn’t exist.
People like to say it all the time: “Why do you have to give certain things up? Can’t you just have everything in moderation?”
Well, my friends, that’s the problem. Moderation is an alien concept to me. When someone leaves half the food on their plate or a half-glass of wine on the table, I just don’t get it. Period.
There is no middle speed for me.
I either abstain from all flour and sugar or I eat it all. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the form of something old and stale. It can’t be left on the table when I’m in binge mode.
I either abstain from all the wine or I drink all the wine.
When the latter happens and I binge, everything important in my life suffers. So I either give the stuff up entirely, or I ruin everything for the sake of the fix.
If you can have things in moderation, I say good for you. In fact, I envy you. Unfortunately, I can’t be you.
I’ve gotten to the point where I’m OK with that now. It helps that life has gotten so much richer and sweeter for me without THE STUFF.
I stood around this evening’s event with my hands in my pocket while most of the folks around me had alcoholic beverages. I’m fine with that.
I didn’t have a beer or dessert when the friend I had dinner with tonight did. I’m fine with that, too.
Last night, another friend — worried that his drinking was getting to me — offered to just drink water for the rest of the night so I’d feel more comfortable. I appreciate the thought more than words can say. But you don’t have to do that.
It’s my responsibility to stay sober and abstinent at all times. It’s nobody’s problem but mine, and that’s as it should be.
Still, I’m blessed to have friends around me who care.
Observation: There are a lot of homeless people on the streets of Toronto. It’s a lot like San Francisco, except these guys have a stunning cleverness about them.
You’re asking what this has to do with addiction, recovery and mental health, and here’s the answer: Whenever I travel and see someone living on the street, I’m reminded of just how easily I could have ended up the same way, and how my demons could have taken me there.
Had I not gotten a grip on the OCD and related addictions, who knows what would have happened?
I’ve always been lucky, and perhaps I’m being a bit over-dramatic. Of course, that’s what people like me do. But I look at people down on their luck and think it could happen to any of us, no matter how much money we may come from. We’re always just one step away from the one bad decision that causes us to lose everything.
Fortunately for me, I’ve always been surrounded by people who won’t let me fail.
Anyway, the people on the street around here are interesting. They are surprisingly happy. They take turns sitting on milk crates outside the prime panhandling spots with cap in hand. I walked past one guy and dropped a pocket full of change into his cup. Five minutes later, another guy was on the same crate.
It’s almost like they have a little business going, where they coordinate activity and practice their lines. I can picture them getting together each night under a bridge to take inventory on the daily haul.
Call me something unkind, but I’ve enjoyed talking to some of them. I like their humor. Should they be busy getting themselves off the street and getting their lives in order? Perhaps. But I’m clueless as to the circumstances that brought them to their current realities, so I’m not in a position to judge them.
In a really sick sort of way, I’m glad they’re around to remind me of how lucky I am. No matter how shitty my day is going, it can always be worse. Much worse.
Of course, I’ll bet some of these street walkers look at passers by with some sympathy, because everyone’s imprisoned in a world of corporate pressure and worry about material things.
I wonder if there’s a certain comfort and even happiness to having nothing.
Of course, this whole entry is a case of judging people and wondering who is better than who. I can’t tell if I’m being compassionate or stupid.
But I’m pretty sure that one of these days God will sort it all out for me.
The #SecTorCa security conference finds me surrounded by more booze than I confronted at the RSA conference back in March. But I think I’m learning how to be sober at these events.
A little history: A little over two years ago I gave up flower and sugar and started weighing almost all of my food as part of my 12-Step program of recovery from a binge-eating addiction. But I clung to the alcohol for awhile after that. I used booze as a crutch to keep away from the food, and by late last year I decided it was getting out of control.
Most of the time I’m comfortable with it. But once in awhile I find myself getting thirsty for something hard. Especially when I go to security conferences.
The booze flows freely at these events, and at the RSA show in March I really struggled with that. I drank club soda and Red Bull as everyone around me enjoyed their alcoholic beverage of choice. I found myself unsure of how to act around people.
Fortunately, I have a lot of great friends in the security industry. Many of them read this blog, and they watch out for me. That was the case in San Francisco, and it’s the case here in Toronto. Friends like Dave Lewis, Zach Lanier and Rob Westervelt put me at ease.
The flowing booze tonight tested me more than at any time since the San Fransisco trip. There were moments where I couldn’t help but think of how sobriety can really suck. Part of the problem was that we were in a small and very crowded bar space. Walking from point A to B without human contact was almost impossible. When I get claustrophobic I want comfort. It could be food or alcohol — or cigar smoke.
But in a happy turn of events, I felt a lot more comfortable around my friends than before.
As far as I’m concerned, that’s real progress.
I’m getting better at just enjoying the company of people. I don’t need the glass in my hand.
Sean and Duncan continue to give me a fresh perspective on a world that can be full of trouble. Life getting you down? Feel like shutting out the world? Read this instead.
–Duncan, watching a rack of CDs fall on a girl in the bookstore (the kid was freaked out): “I hope those CDs don’t get a scratch in them.”
–Duncan: “Sean, I’m younger and smaller than you, but I’m also stronger than you.” He failed to lift the Lego draw at the heart of his boast.
–Overheard: Sean: “Pee and Poo are not swear words and are ok to use.” Duncan: “Then why can’t we say crap?” Sean: “Because it’s not appropriate.”
–Sean tells Duncan a joke that uses the words poop and fart. Duncan responds: “That’s absolutely disgusting and innapropriate. But I like it.”
–Duncan: “The people who created lightsabers are morons. This thing (a Tinker-Toy contraption he made) is much better.” Seconds later, the Tinker-Toy weapon falls apart.
–I have a ZZTop concert streaming on the laptop while I work. Sean takes a look and asks if the guitar player is “that @jack_Daniel guy.” (Jack is a heavyweight in the security industry who looks a lot like Billy Gibbons from ZZTop)
–Duncan’s calling Sean H1N1. Sean’s taking it better than Duncan did when Sean was calling him Cupcake.
–Duncan’s calling Sean H1N1. Sean’s taking it better than Duncan did when Sean was calling him Cupcake.
–Sean to Duncan: “Liar liar pants on fire.” Duncan: “That’s stupid Sean. My pants are not on fire.”
–I threaten to smack Duncan in the butt (I’d never follow through). His response: “You don’t want to. You don’t know where this butt’s been.”
–Sean’s Lament: “My workbook project calls for a mural about compassion. Much to my dismay, it makes me want to barf.”
–Duncan kicked Sean for making up a “stupid” song about him. Sean threatened to sue him, forgetting that Duncan just blew all his money on Legos.
–Duncan, in full tattle mode: “Sean threatened to punch me out if I talk during the car ride. Now go punish him.”
–Discovered the password Duncan uses for his online “Poptropica” game is “Farts of Doom.”
–Sean just proclaimed that my iced coffee looks like cow manure with ice cubes on top.
–Said Sean, matter-of-fact-like: “If you don’t want your butt to get burned, don’t live in a frying pan.”
–Sean: “One of the things I really love about Gramma and Grandpa is that they’re so disorganized.”
–Sean just kicked my ass at 3 games of checkers. Now he’s trash-talking me. My revenge will come later, and it will be spectacular.
–Duncan: “I’m always thinking about something, Dad.” With a grin, he adds, “or … should I say … someone.” The boy has a crush. Again.
–Words spotted on Sean and Duncan’s Scrabble board: “smelly” “butt” “fart” “bigbelly” “vomit” “puke” …
–Sean-Duncan playing Greek gods with costumes they made from paper /tinkertoys. They made me a tinker-toy crown that puts dents in my scalp.
–Duncan, realizing he’s going to bed earlier than Sean: “Being younger is crap.”
–According to Sean there are two worlds: Duncan’s world and the real world. According to Duncan, “Sean’s talking stupid again.”
–Wow. It only took Sean till 7:30 to bellow his daily lament of “This wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t have a brother.”
–Duncan-ism of the day: “Saying ‘please’ before ‘shut up’ just sounds weird.”
–The kids are very proud that they got their granddad to spent 12 bucks on refreshments at the movie theater. They asked me to tell y’all.
–Sean and Duncan saw “Marmaduke” with their granddad. Duncan loved it. Sean’s verdict: “I’m more of a PG kinda guy.”
–Sean-ism of the day: “Thank God for Dunkin Donuts. There’s always one along the road when you really need to use the bathroom.”
–Duncan, on why he was peeing in the dark: “I kept the light off so I wouldn’t wake Mom.” Note: His Mom is upstairs and he is downstairs.
–As Duncan IDs presidents on his coins, I ask: “Isn’t it great you saw THE Oval Office?” Duncan: “Yeah. It’s also cool I have 19 cents.”
–Bad Sean joke #452 … Sean:”Why did the cop wrap the crook in tinfoil?” Me: “I dunno. Why?” Sean: “Because he wanted to foil the crime.”
–Heard in the other room: Duncan singing, “I am the ice cream man, I keep Twinkies in my pants, when I ring the bell, all the fat guys run and yell…”
–Duncan says he’s the smartest kid in his class because he knows what 8X8 is. Asked to give the answer, he said confidently: 24
–Duncan’s first words to me as I arrive home from NYC: “I missed you, Dad. But I didn’t miss you making my lunches for school.”
–Sean: “I’m looking forward to seeing the White House tonight. Good food there.” Me: “We’re there for a tour, not dinner.” Sean: “Oh well.”
–Sez Sean, because I didn’t look at his computer game fast enough: “C’mon Dad, what’s more important, your son or your Blackberry?”
–Just caught Duncan singing these lyrics: “Hey, you, my name is Bob. I’ll eat all your corn on the cob…”
–Sean, fighting with Duncan: “My life was pretty good till you came along.”
–Sean to Duncan: “You’re really cute for a pest.” Duncan: “Pests are never cute, dummy.”
–Saturday morning: I’m on one laptop, Sean’s on another and Duncan has his DS. It used to be the 3 of us watched PBS kids Sat. mornings.
–Sean scolded me for killing an ant cause “They’re God’s creatures.” Then he found one on his Lego sets, and now he wants all ants dead.
–Sean’s description of Duncan’s breath: “Like a cat climbed in your mouth, peed, pooped and died.” His breath was just as bad.
–Sean: “When someone says ‘you shouldn’t have’ it’s another way to say thank you.” Duncan: “I thought it meant ‘what were you thinking?'”
–Duncan: “Zeus is evil.” Sean: “Nah, he aint evil. He’s just in a bad mood all the time.”
–Sean hasn’t stopped laughing since I told him Bun Bun — the Whites’ dwarf hamster — got caught in Sam’s closet and crapped everywhere.
–After I told Duncan he was a goof: “Of course I am. I’m Duncan!”
–Proof Duncan’s my kid: He grabbed the pepper shaker and poured pepper on his toungue. Proof Sean’s my kid: Buries face in book at the table.
–Overheard from the LR: Sean telling Duncan: “I thinks it’s funny because it’s a little inappropriate.” Better see what he’s talking about…
–Turns out that “inappropriate” thing Sean said makes him laugh is anything with the word “crap” in it.
–Duncan is making Sean furious by constantly calling him Shawny-Sean. Dad is doing nothing to stop it.
–Quote from Duncan, who is holding up a Lego Darth Vader: “Luke — I am your father. Now go wipe the table and sweep the floor.”
–Duncan, to an elderly man sitting in his van smoking a cigarette in the parking lot of Toys R Us: “Smoking’s dumb, you know. It puts holes in your lungs. Also, you forgot to close the back door of your van.”
Duncan and Sean knock a friend on his ass with their razor-sharp toungues
