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Erin

Erin’s been on a business trip to Arizona for nearly a week and I miss her terribly. She’s due home today, and I can’t wait to see her.

Mood music (This was the song we danced to at our wedding):

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BHBvksGdhxA&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

I’ve written a lot about her in this blog. The best place to catch up on that is a compilation post I did a few months ago called “How Marriage Saved Me.” To say she saved me is not an exaggeration. She gave me two beautiful sons who remind me every day that this life is not all about me. I still fail to remember that frequently, but this family has without a doubt brought me a lot closer to salvation than I ever could have hoped for without them. She has challenged me to be the best person I can be. She never lets it slide when I act like an ass, and she is THE reason I found God. An old priest friend once said a married couple’s job is to get each other into Heaven, and she’s done more for me on that score than I have in return.

But you’ve heard all that from me before. Right now my thoughts are of the much simpler sort. I’m thinking about some of the adventures we’ve had in our nearly 13 years of marriage.

There was the honeymoon to Ireland. We flew into Dublin, rented a car and traveled all over the country, staying at various bed-and-breakfast places along the way. I was 280 pounds and a ball of anxiety who was always worried about finding trouble around every foreign street corner. But the trip was still a dream, and my quirks didn’t drive her away. We enjoyed some romantic dinners out there, including the night in Wexford when, in a restaurant, a little girl sitting a couple tables over puked all over the floor. As the puddle expanded and the air grew foul, the wait staff just kept delivering food to various tables, stepping over the vomit instead of rushing to clean it up. It was like that sort of thing happened every day. Maybe it did.

We were more amused than horrified. I was, anyway. And the food quality improved by the time we reached the west coast of the country.

We lived in Chelmsford, Mass. for the first two and a half years of our marriage, and it was a blissful time for me. It was a lull period between emotional meltdowns. We both made shit for pay at our respective jobs, but it didn’t seem to matter at that point. She switched jobs during the Chelmsford years and worked at IDC, part of IDG, the company I work for today. I used to drive to her office in Framingham for lunch once a week, never expecting that I would work just a couple buildings away years later.

Parenthood was a huge wake-up for both of us, but she handled it a lot more gracefully than I did. She was not as panicky as I was, including on the first night Sean was home. He screamed that whole night, and I felt like the world around me was going to explode. It got better, and while Duncan’s arrival was stressful in other ways, we had a better idea of what to expect from newborns that time around. I was reminded of all this today when me and the kids went to the hospital to meet their new cousin and my new nephew, Owen. I told my brother-in-law to expect a wild first night at home with Owen, though my first impression is that he’s going to be a much quieter baby than my boys were.

We eventually learned to get away now and then. A favorite getaway spot for us has been in the Franconia Notch region of New Hampshire. Another favorite has been Newport, R.I., which is where we spent our anniversary in 2009. We went to the Newport Folk Festival, where we were introduced to the awesomeness of Gillian Welch, The Avett Brothers and The Decemberists. Not the metal I’m usually drawn to, but music I love all the same. 

For our 10th anniversary we traveled some eight hours north to New Brunswick, Canada. I wanted to see the summer cottage of the Roosevelts at Campobello Island, which is where FDR was in 1921 when he was stricken with polio. It poured the whole time we were there, but we were so happy to just be together, away from it all. A couple years before that, I dragged Erin to Hyde park, N.Y. in the upper Hudson Valley because I wanted to see Springwood, FDR’s home. I’d like to think my affinity for history has rubbed off on her. My love of metal? Not so much.

Last year we had a getaway of a different sort. We put the boys in the car and drove to Washington D.C. for a private tour of the White House West Wing. We returned to the area a couple months later, though that time I was there for work. Both times we got to spend time with Erin’s Cousin Charron and her family in southern Maryland.

All these moments are what makes my life blessed, and Erin is central to it all.

I’ve said before that marriage is work, and that’s true. There are times when we get on each others’ nerves or cross the line (me much more than her). But you know what? It’s worth every second, and I love her more and more each day.

I can’t wait for her to get home.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TvHrzQJ0NE&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

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To My Nephew…

The family has been blessed with a new addition: Owen Patrick Coughlin, born last night. His mom is my sister-in-law Robin and his dad is my brother-in-law Tim. This is a letter to my new nephew. He won’t be able to read or understand it for several years, but hopefully it’ll serve him well when he’s ready.

Hi, Owen,

I’m you’re Uncle Bill, the one who’s going to show affection by teasing you a lot. I’ll do my best not to go too far. I listen to really loud and offensive music. I just can’t wait to expose you to that.

Your cousins have been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Sean, Duncan and Madison are going to love having you around. It won’t be long before the four of you are racing around my house, trashing the place. Your cousins Duncan and Madison are kind of like Godzilla and Tokyo when they’re together. Once I caught them trying to roll one of the living room side tables up the stairs. I usually put my coffee on that table, so I was not amused. At the same time, I loved their cleverness and went in the other room to laugh once I was done lecturing them on why rolling a table up a flight of stairs is a dumb idea.

Sean’s more reserved than that, but he’s already declared that you’re his boy. Expect to learn everything there is to learn about Legos and Star Wars.

You’re going to love your aunts. All three are amazing women who have been through a lot. They’re going to be a constant presence in your life, and you’re going to be better for it. Aunt Erin, my wife, literally saved your Uncle Bill’s life. Your uncle went through a lot of dark periods and she’s the one who brought him to a better place. She’s going to help you gain a love of books, and as you get older she’ll be the one who you’ll go to when you need school papers edited. Aunt Sara is going to be the one who cuts your hair and takes you on trips to the local farm with Madison and, many times, the boys, in tow. You’ll have a lot of fun sleep-overs in her house, too. Aunt Amanda is the youngest among us adults, and she’s very handy with the camera. She’s going to be your personal photographer. She’s also going to make you laugh a lot.

You have loving grandparents on both sides of the family, and Grandpa Bob is going to teach you a lot about cars, especially the older models. Grandma Sharon is a quiet, steady presence who brings peace and calm to wherever she is. That’s a quality you won’t often find in people, and trust me: You’re going to learn to appreciate it. Expect to go on many camping trips with them. Try to go easy on them. 😉

I’ve known your parents for a very long time, and I can tell you that you are one lucky kid. Both have gentle personalities and lots of love and patience. When your computer breaks, your dad will fix it easily. When you’re upset and in need of comfort, your mom will help you along. Both of them will. You’re in good hands. Your mom has a lot of your grandma in her personality. Did I mention that you’re one lucky little man?

Life won’t be easy. You’ll go through plenty of ups and downs. But let me share a little secret with you: The key to getting through the down periods with your overall happiness intact is to simply recognize up front that life is supposed to be hard. It’s what helps us grow. And there’s no such thing as never having a care in the world. Some folks still reach for that state of mind and they’re almost always crushed when reality fails to meet their expectations.

If you want, I can help you navigate through that stuff. I’ve developed some coping skills along the way. You’re going to screw up along the way. Don’t worry about it. We all do.

One more thing, my young friend: If you ever want to do something big in life and those around you tell you it can’t be done, ignore them. You can accomplish anything if you put your mind to it. That’s a cliche of a statement, but it’s the truth.

As I write this you’re only a few hours old. Sean and Duncan can’t contain their excitement and we’re all dying to meet you. I’m looking forward to that.

You’re going to be great, kid. Welcome home.

–Uncle Bill, March 18, 2011, 7:30 a.m.

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Nephew Is On His Way

Learned a bit ago that my sister-in-law Robin has gone into labor. Expect future installments of “Stuff My Kids and Niece Say” to include the nephew…once he learns to talk. In the meantime, the other kids will no doubt continue to run their mouths off enough for a few more sequels.

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What’s This Freakin’ Blog Really About, Anyway?

I’ve gained several new readers in the past month. They have a lot of questions for me, which I like and appreciate. The most common question goes something like this: “What exactly is the focus of this blog?”

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4eVul99m50&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

It’s a fair question. Here’s the explanation. In this case the embedded links are important to seeing the whole picture. But don’t try to read them all at once. That would be insanity.

I call it THE OCD DIARIES because it’s primarily about my struggle to manage the disorder. If I have an OCD moment, I write about it. Where I’ve had success in gaining the upper hand, I share what I’ve learned so other sufferers can try it for themselves. Where appropriate, I laugh at what it makes me do. Sometimes, the result of an OCD incident is humor. But this isn’t a blog that tosses the acronym around to loosely describe every hyper moment of my existence. A lot of people say they have OCD to describe their Type-A personalities. This blog is about the real thing and why it’s so insidious.

It’s also about my upbringing in Revere, Mass., my childhood battle with Crohn’s Disease and how those things helped shape the manifestation of OCD within me. Every person’s struggle is shaped by where they’ve been in life. Historical perspective is important.

It’s also about the byproducts of my OCD, specifically addictive behavior and, even more specifically, my struggle with a binge-eating addiction. Part of that means telling you about how I brought it under control, which is why you see a lot about the 12 Steps of Recovery and Overeater’s Anonymous. I also tell you about all the stupid behaviors that goes with being an addict, including the secondary addictions that surface after you’ve put a lid on the main, most disruptive addiction.

It’s also about relationships, specifically with my wife and children, extended family members, colleagues, friends and the legions of nameless souls who have come and gone, helping me along the way. It’s about relationships that were destroyed along the way, and about broken relationships I’ve been able to repair in my recovery.

It’s about my Faith, which is all over the 12 Steps and is central to my ability to get honest with myself and get the help I needed. You’ll see a lot about my church community, the beauty as well as the warts, which we all have. 

It’s about daily learning experiences. Sometimes the mood of the writing is depressed and sometimes it’s joyful. It’s merely a reflection of all of us.

Finally, it’s a blog about metal music and why it’s so important in helping me with all of the above struggles. Most posts include musical selections that capture my emotions at the given moment.

Some posts will reassure you. Many will make you uncomfortable.

In the end, it’s just a collection of my experiences.

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Physical & Mental Health: Not Two Different Things

I got a note this morning from an old friend that brilliantly illustrates how tightly physical and mental health are intertwined.

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FLrxQ2Cdwho&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

I’ll share his note, but keep the name out:

Went to see a chiropractor yesterday (after the urging of my wife) to help with my anxiety. Went in very skeptical. After a thorough diagnosis, she discovered I have trouble with my cranial nerves and have an “over excited” nervrous system which contributes greatly to my anxiety and makes it worse when I start “freaking” out about things (trouble breathing, headaches, etc…) I guess the point is that I never would have attributed my anxiety to my nervous system.

I just thought it was due to me “not being strong enough” to handle things and was the cause for me becoming a nervous wreck when anxiety builds up. I just met with the chiropractor this week, so not sure exactly what the treatment will be, but she said it’s pretty intensive. The chiropractor compared it to a computer, I have all the information, my body is not processing things correctly.

Just thought I’d share that with you. All the time, I thought my anxiety was mental, but seems like it’s more of my body’s nervous system not working quite right.

The notion of back and nerve trouble fueling mental illness doesn’t surprise me at all. Though a lot of people would fail to see the connection, I have my own experiences to draw from.

I used to have brutal back trouble and at the time I was a ball of anxiety on fire, rolling off a cliff. It’s no accident that when I started getting the proper chiropractic treatment in 2006, a lot of that started going away. That’s also around the time I started taking Prozac, but it was a good trade-off. One bottle of that replaced various bottles of painkillers. I was hooked on the painkillers after a point, and that sucks. Especially when they no longer touch the pain and you’re taking them simply to keep from hurting more.

I think the biggest point is that mental and physical health are not separate things. One ALWAYS affects the other.

There’s no question whatsoever that depression can cause physical pain.

I’ve heard a lot of people argue over whether this person’s or that person’s aches and pains were “all in their head.” You know the types: Never any real underlying disease, but they’re always calling out of work with a headache or some intestinal discomfort.

It’s all in their head, you say?

Well, yeah.

It’s called psychosomatic illness, when mental anguish leads to physical sickness.

http://www.rodale.com/files/images/458870.jpgI’ve been there. Migraines. Brutal back pain. A stomach turned inside-out.

But it wasn’t always clear that what ailed me was in my head. Childhood illness confused matters. A huge chunk of my digestive track was in flames and spewing blood because of  Chron’s Disease.

I’m told by my parents that the doctors came close to removing the colon more than once, though I don’t remember that myself; probably because the doctors had that conversation with the parents instead of the patient.

To throw it into remission, they used the maximum dose of a drug called Prednisone, which caused another kind of body blow in the form of migraines. These headaches came daily; always making me sick to my stomach.

Later in life, I developed severe back pain, the kind that would knock me onto the couch and keep me there for weeks.

All legitimate physical problems. But at some point my brain lost the ability to differentiate a real Chron’s flare-up or back spasm from an imagined one.

In the end, though, it doesn’t matter. It may as well have been one of those things. Because when the mind thinks it is, it has a habit of BECOMING real.

It’s a little different for my friend.

He’s learning that a back and nerve problems are actually messing with his nervous system. The effect for him is what feels like anxiety. And in living with the knowledge that something is physically wrong, anxiety attack symptoms blossom into real anxiety attacks.

Funny how the body works.

I’m not telling anyone anything new. Everyone has an example of times when physical sickness left them in a depression, and vice-versa.

But it’s easy to forget the connections when we’re only dealing with one or the other.

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How Does He Work In Those Conditions?

A friend and reader wants to know how I’m able to focus at work, given the OCD person’s tendency to be consumed by worry. Here’s my answer.

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1QR8c0Ns2Y&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

Her specific question:

I know that at times, I have a hard time not letting one thought consume me. I pray, read etc. but sometimes that thought will be all consuming and (obsessive). Just curious how you plow through that moment.

I know where she’s coming from. Obsessive thinking used to paralyze me. Sometimes it still does. But oddly enough, it never got in the way of work. It got in the way of everything else.

Part of the reason is that my obsessive concerns were often about work. I used to be such a people-pleaser that I’d burn myself out over whatever job I had at the time. When I was away from the office, worries about work would consume me. I couldn’t just clear my head of it for the weekend and enjoy time off. My family suffered deeply because of that.

I’m much better now. When I’m not working, I’m not working. But sometimes, the OCD gets the better of me at work.

Last year, for example, I came into work itching to post two articles I wrote and did so even though my editor hadn’t had a chance to read them yet. In my head, it was safe to post them because I hadn’t heard back about any changes being necessary. Which meant I had the green light to push them live. So I did. Now, the editor was very cool-headed about it. He’s one of the nicest guys on the planet and doesn’t yell. But I could tell he wasn’t happy. Not realizing what I had done, he had started doing his own edits. I went back to my desk, feeling like a first-class asshole. I immediately sent him an e-mail apologizing profusely. He told me not to worry about it. But I worried about it anyway. I knew I had just allowed the OCD to run wild.

But the real question should be how I plow through the obsessive moment when I’m at home.

I’m not sure I have an answer. It’s complicated, because today I have years of therapy, coping skills and medication to draw from. But I still put up a wall from time to time.

One thing that’s pretty important is that somewhere along the way, I gained the ability to not let obsessive thinking paralyze me. Today I can still focus on other parts of my life even when something is on my mind. I can focus on my family and enjoy the moment. If I’m busy with an activity on the weekend, I don’t have work worries banging away at the back of my head like it used to be. Most of the time. Sometimes it does still happen. 

I honestly think the medication is responsible for easing that kind of obsessive thinking. It corrected the traffic flow in my brain.

That probably doesn’t answer my friend’s question. But I hope I came close.

The lesson being that years of working on the problem has made me better. But the things I obsessed over were different from what she probably obsesses over, and that makes a difference, just as different people need different kinds of therapy and medication for their unique issues.

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Sometimes, Un-Friending Is The Right Thing

A friend of mine is angry and hurt because another friend deleted him and me from his Facebook friends list. The hurt is understandable: We grew up in Revere with this guy, and we went through a lot together.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:3XGbYvyi3sW9L5fzWluoAv]

I sent our friend an e-mail asking why he un-friended us. His answer to me specifically was that this blog is dredging up too many painful memories from the past:

Bill your OCD diaries became to much for me. I felt the pain of the losses of Sean and Michael creeping back into the fabric of my life and some of the held secrets that still have not been spoken. Hence, I am not locking you out of my life, just out of Facebook. If I could filter THE OCD DIARIES out of Facebook and keep you I would do that in a minute. Please remember this is about me and my healing and is not meant to be offensive.

I’ve covered the Facebook un-friending subject before — specifically how my OCD had latched onto my Facebook friend count. Ridiculous, you say? Of course. But having OCD is all about worrying about ridiculous things. When I wrote the first post on it back in August, my friend count was 1,169. At last check this morning it was 1,451. Go figure.

Every time someone has un-friended me, I’ve worried about what I did to offend them. I keep my language mostly clean and I don’t whine about everything on my wall. But I push out a lot of my writing on Facebook, and for those with smaller friend counts, all my stuff can overwhelm their feed. But I also know some people un-friend me because this blog is just too much for them. One former colleague sent me this note a few weeks ago:

“Bill, I’ve grown to find your OCD posts too painful and am going to unfriend you. You realize you are an obsessive poster, I hope? I wish you luck, but I think you need help and compassion, not exposure. I have a daughter who’s mentally ill, so I am particularly sensitive to watching people flay themselves alive. I wish you all the best, really.”

It’s funny how attached we’ve all become to our Facebook friend lists. To be un-friended is to be slapped in the face and told to go away. That hurts.

But my thinking is starting to shift on this issue.

I still don’t like it when someone un-friends me because it still feels like a rejection. But I’m starting to see that sometimes it’s the right thing for a person to do.

For example, this blog covers a lot of heavy stuff. A lot of people have become daily readers and tell me my openness has inspired them to deal with their own issues. But for others, especially those with a lot of pain in their lives, every post is going to feel like a baseball bat to the head. And so it was with my old friend.

Facebook is still fairly new for a lot of people. We’re still learning how to deal with each other in this world of social networking. I doubt we’ll ever figure it out.

I’ll just have to  keep being me and hope for the best.

I suggest you all do the same.

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Mister Rogers’ Mother Was Right

Say what you will about Mister Rogers. His speech and mannerisms may stop being cool after you hit puberty, but the lessons he taught are timeless and ageless.

My friend Olivia Gatti shared this quote from Mr. Rogers on Facebook awhile back:

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers–so many caring people in this world.

The man was so right.

I suspect Olivia had the earthquake and tsunamis in Japan on her mind when she decided to share, and it certainly fits. There’s been so much tragedy in the last decade, from 9-11 to the tsunamis of late 2004 to this latest event, and for many children — especially those with emotional disorders — it can be enough to terrorize to the core, no matter how far away they are from the given disaster.

I used to have an acute fear of current events that started early in childhood and lasted almost into my mid-30s.

As I’ve written before, fear and anxiety were byproducts of my particular brand of OCD, just like my addictions were a byproduct.

The fear meant a lot of things. Working myself into a stupor over the safety of my wife and children. An obsession with cleanliness, which was interesting since depression always meant my personal hygiene took a dive. It also meant a fear of world events. When that Nostradamus movie “The Man Who Saw Tomorrow” came out on HBO in the early 1980s, I was terrified by the “future” scenes.

Later, when Iraq invaded Kuwait, I thought the scene from above was playing out and it left me in a huge depression, one where I stayed in my basement with the lights off.

Similar emotions took hold on Sept. 11, 2001. Of course, those emotions took hold on everyone that day.

It fed a lot of my addictive behavior in adulthood and blackened parts of my childhood that might have otherwise been happy — even with the bad things that happened. Bad things happen to everyone. That’s life. But some people can maintain a certain level of happiness despite it.

Mr. Rogers learned a powerful lesson from his mother. I wish I had it in my head to focus on the helpers growing up. In hindsight, they were always there:

–The doctors and nurses who saved me from brutal bouts of Crohn’s Disease.

–The therapists who guided me through a diagnosis of OCD and showed me how to manage it.

–My family, especially my wife, and also my father and my mother, who tried to do their best for me. The help Erin has been to me is way too big to be measured here.

–My friends, who have always helped me make sense of things, made me laugh and done all the other things a person needs to get through the day.

–Many of the people in my faith community, who showed me how to accept God’s Grace, even if I still suck at returning the favor.

With the bigger events like what happened in Japan, it’s so easy to see only the calamity, death and sadness. It’s easy to get fixated on whether such a thing could happen where we live.

But when you look at it the way Mr. Roger’s mother suggested, it becomes a different picture altogether. The bad stuff is still there, but you also see that no matter what happens, there will always be enough kind souls to help the rest of us through to the other side.

When you can see the good in people even during the darkest of hours, it restores your faith in humanity.

I’m grateful for the reminder.

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Have I Found What I’m Looking For?

Yesterday’s trip to the Cathedral of the Holy Cross in Boston has me reflecting on where my head was at five years ago and where it is now.

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JVdZ0Rdm8zI&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

This latest journey to the cathedral was as a helper and not as someone in the middle of a conversion. That’s what I thought at first, anyway.

Five years ago I was there for the ceremony known as the Rite of Election, where people going through the R.C.I.A. program (Right of Christian Initiation for Adults) stand before Cardinal Sean O’Malley and declare their wish to enter into the Catholic Church. In many ways I’m not the same man I was back then. In some ways, I’d like to think I’m a better person. In other ways, I know I have a very long way to go.

I’ve found a lot of what I was looking for, but not everything.

I’ve found my Faith. But I haven’t found a way to truly live it yet. 

I’m a true believer and I’m immersed in my church community. I read at Mass, take the Sacraments seriously and Erin and I are doing everything to pass our faith on to the boys.

I also know full well how Blessed I am. God’s Grace is everywhere around me. I know it the second I see it, which is pretty much throughout the day, whether I’m winning or struggling.

Working the 12 Steps of Recovery to keep my binge-eating addiction in check has also put my faith into sharper focus. The coping tools I’ve developed to manage the OCD has done the same.

With all that said, I’ve found a lot.

But still not everything.

As I said a few paragraphs ago, I have my faith, but I don’t even come close to living it as fully as I should.

I still use all the curse words I learned growing up in Revere, and lately it’s getting harder to muzzle myself around the kids. Since becoming a dad in 2001 I’ve made it a point to keep my mouth clean around children. But lately, in moments of frustration, the occasional curse word slips out. Most of the time they don’t hear it because it’s under my breath. But once in awhile they do. Being smart as they are, they always call me on the carpet when they hear it.

I go to Confession regularly. But I seem to commit the same old sins all over again within minutes of being forgiven. Confession isn’t about dumping your dark side out on the priest’s lap so you have room in the tank to fill up on the same poison. You’re supposed to be truly sorry and change your ways. I’m always sorry but the next step eludes me.

I’m nothing special in that regard. We keep going to confess because none of us fully succeeds at burying the old habits. But when I take my own inventory I see trouble all over the place.

The most insidious parts of my addictive behavior are still under control thanks to my program, but like any good addict I still latch onto other comforts like cigars and the Internet.

I have much to work on.

For now, though, I’m at least grateful for the progress I have managed to make. I don’t live in fear and anxiety like I used to and that’s huge. I’ve made amends with several of the people I hurt over the years.

Some of you have suggested I’m too hard on myself in this blog, and a post like this is bound to reinforce that view. But as I keep saying, I don’t do it for want of pity. I do it because taking an full assessment of my good and bad parts is what I need to evolve. It’s also important if I’m to help others traveling the road I’ve been on. 

Yesterday was a great day. I missed being with my wife and children, but returning to the cathedral was an important thing to do. I’m there to assist the R.C.I.A. program, but in doing so I’m forced to keep looking in the mirror.

I don’t always like how I look in that mirror, and sometimes I’m afraid to step in front of it. But afterward, I’m always glad I did.

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The Catholic In The Room

The author writes an open letter to the RCIA Class of 2011 about Faith as a journey, not a destination. He warns that addiction, rage and other bad behavior don’t disappear the moment you’re Baptized.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:2yWOMbhPN2XJAiVy46Bhvz]

I’ve been spending my Tuesday nights helping out with this year’s group of RCIA (The Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults) students in Haverhill. I’m doing it partly as extra service for Lent, but also because I’m very attached to these groups each year because of my own Conversion in 2006. [More on that in “The Better Angels of My Nature“]

I help the group leader by sharing my experiences when called upon and when he needs me to stand in and go over Mass readings with them. I’ll be spending a lot of time with them today as we all head to the Cathedral of The Holy Cross in Boston for a ceremony called the Rite of Election.

But I think the most important thing I can do for the newest converts is share some of what I’ve learned since becoming a Catholic. So here it is, my open letter to the RCIA Class of 2011:

You might be wondering what’s going to become of your lives after you’re welcomed into the Church at the Easter Vigil Mass. There’s no cookie-cutter approach to this, but here are just a few of the things I’ve learned:

1. Don’t Succumb to “Happily-Ever-After” Syndrome.

Even though I knew deep down that it wouldn’t be the case, I approached the days leading up to my conversion in a high of sorts; feeling like it would be happy forever more once I was Baptized. In some ways that is how it turned out. But for me, things got a whole lot worse before they got better.

The sins I had accumulated up to that point were forgiven that night, but the demons remained a few steps behind me, ready to trip me into another garbage can.

I continued to suffer from the paralysis of OCD. I continued to give in to my self-destructive impulses [More on that in “The Most Uncool Addiction“].

I continued to indulge my over-sized ego and stay absorbed in all things me.

Some of my most self-destructive, addictive behavior took place AFTER my Baptism.

2. Peace IS NOT The Absence of Chaos. It’s a State of Mind (or, if you really want to get technical, a state of being in God’s Grace).

My own world used to be pure chaos. Self-loathing dripped from my pores and I had a craving for peace. I wanted all the violence and worry to go away. It didn’t.

But that’s OK.

I’ve learned that peace is a state of mind, not the absence of chaos. It’s a feeling and mental clarity that comes over you as your Faith deepens. It didn’t just smack me in the back of the head one morning. It’s a state of mind that slowly grew over time.

3. What You Get is Only As Good As What You Put In

Here is what you might call an open secret:  spiritual well-being isn’t just handed to you like an entitlement or a birthday present. You have to work hard at it everyday. Working it takes many forms.

Service is a big one. Getting to Mass every week is important.

But you have to do more. You have to go on retreats like Cursillo, which will be as life-changing an event for you as the Baptism was. I’ve been on two retreats since my conversion: Cursillo and an ACTS retreat the year before that. The soul searching and sharing you do on these weekends is priceless.

Then there are programs like Lenten Longings, where you keep studying Scripture and discussing it in a group, in context with your daily life struggles.

I’ve gotten a lot from lectoring as well. By getting up in front of everyone and doing the readings, I’m better able to actually understand what the readings mean. And when you actively participate in the Mass, you’re less likely to fall asleep.

And go to Confession often. You won’t believe how good it feels to get rid of the mental trash until you do it.

4. Don’t Let Politics Get in the Way

An active Parish community is like any other community: There are a lot of folks with strong ideas who will butt heads, especially in a Parish like ours where there’s a school attached.

You also might not like everything the priest tells you every week.

People always use these things as excuses not to practice their Faith. Don’t let it happen to you.

All that matters is your own relationship with God. You have to move beyond the politics of human nature and remember the big picture.

I like to compare it to American government. We may not like the President or the Senator in office at any given time, but most of us stay devoted to our country and way of life. So maybe you have a problem with the priest. The priest is human like the rest of us, open to making mistakes. But most of the ones I’ve known do their best and get it right more than they get it wrong.

And there will always be bad seeds out there who twist religion to fit their own sinister goals, taking a lot of people down the hellhole along the way. The Manson Family is a perfect example.

Just remember: It comes down to you and your relationship with God.

If you invest too much of your Faith in the organizational/political/administrative structure, you’re looking in the wrong place and will almost certainly be dissapointed.

5. Plan to Fight the Good Fight to Your Dying Breath

I’ve come a long way in my spiritual growth. With God’s help I’ve overcome crippling addiction and depression and I know more peace today than I ever have.

But boy, I can still screw up with the best of ‘em.

My most destructive addictive behaviors are under control, but I’m always tap dancing from one habit to another. [More on that in “Addicted to Feeling Good: A Love-Hate Story“].

There are still days where I come to church with a crappy attitude. My mind will be on everything else but God. A perfect example is in the post “Rat in the Church Pew.”

I still let my ego get the best of me, especially in my career as a Journalist. I’m easily distracted by shiny objects.

They are all things I need to work on. I can do so much better than this. But I used to be a lot worse.

In summary, it’s a life-long journey. You’ll keep making mistakes.

But keep your heart and head in the right place and everything will be fine.