Stoned and Panicked on the Interstate

The memory was buried until yesterday, and frankly I’d have been happy had it stayed buried. Funny thing about suppressed memories — they spill out during the damndest moments, like a drive down I-95 in Maine.

We were returning from a family camping trip near Old Orchard Beach yesterday, and as I drove the camper south, my stare caught the north-bound lanes.

Sometime in the summer of 1991, Sean Marley, a couple others and I sped north into Maine around midnight. We were in my beat-up 1981 Mercury Marque, and Sean was driving. I was in the back, about to have a panic attack thanks to my decision to read a newspaper after smoking weed.

Mood music:

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I can’t remember if Sean was high, but I do remember him being in the midst of some fucked-up sleeping experiments. One phase of the experiment involved him sleeping in a different room of his house each night, the goal being to break himself of the comfort you get from going to the same familiar bed at the end of each day. Another part of the experiment involved not sleeping at all for multiple days.

He was pretty gone at that point and kept chanting “Jesuses penises” over and over. The more he did it, the more unhinged I became. My uneasiness was based on four things:

  • I was paranoid from the weed.
  • It was dark, lonely and scary on that highway — probably because I was stoned and paranoid.
  • Sean was driving my car like an asshole, which had already suffered a smash in the rear from a hit-and-run driver a month before.
  • There was a newspaper in the back seat.

News about scary world events used to trigger my anxiety back then, and this was just after the first Gulf War. A headline in the paper said something about Saddam Hussein having come closer to getting a nuclear bomb than anyone has previously thought. I spent the next week worrying that my corner of the world would go up in a mushroom cloud, courtesy of an evil dictator pissed off over all the bombs we dropped on his country a few months before.

It’s kind of amusing that the headline set me off, given that we would learn 12 years later there were no weapons of mass destruction.

But at that moment in the middle of the night, it seemed like an imminent threat. In reality, the more imminent threat was of the car sliding off the road and into a tree.

Three years later, the sleep and drug experiments caught up with Sean, and he had a breakdown. Two years after that, he died by his own hand, another victim of depression.

I would be done with marijuana within two years of that night, but I’d spend the following decade and a half living with a more muted but persistent depression and continuing bouts of anxiety and panic. I would occasionally lean on pills (prescribed for back pain) and alcohol to numb the fear. More often than not, I would simply shove a massive amount of food down my throat.

But I survived and eventually got well. Now I can travel at all hours and not freak out over it. I might get tired and annoyed, but I don’t get scared. In a way, you could say I’ve come full circle, traveling that same stretch of road clean and sober, hauling a camper with a Chevy Tahoe full of family.

But that old memory still bothers me a little, because it shows how unhinged two close friends were slowly becoming.

Bill and Sean

Screw You, Las Vegas — And Thanks To Good Friends

The author travels to Las Vegas on business, his addictive personality is put to the test and some good friends carry him through it mostly unscathed.

Mood music:

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As locations go, Las Vegas is the absolute worst for a guy like me. I have a binge-eating disorder and the place is one massive buffet, which is like laying piles of coke and heroin on the table and inviting me to dig in nose-first. I went sober a couple years ago but there’s free booze everywhere. I quit smoking almost a year ago except for my e-cigs, but you can smoke indoors in Vegas, which makes the temptation to light up overwhelming.

Being on business helps, because during the day I’m too busy interviewing people and writing to worry about the temptations around me. But when the last blog post of the day is written, I start to twitch.

All things considered, I fucking hate Las Vegas. It’s the devil personified, the little bastard who squats on my shoulder all day and encourages me to throw away everything I’ve worked for. I like the endless sunshine and dry air, but the desert temperatures rule out walking around outside. So you’re trapped indoors, with all the booze, food and smoke, like a cockroach stuffed into one of those Roach Motel traps.

I was sloppy for sure. Since I don’t weigh out my food on these trips like I do at home, I’m fairly sure my portions were either under or over where they should be. Since I came back feeling like a bloated slug, I figure it was more of the latter.

But even a shitty place like Las Vegas can’t destroy me when good friends are around. And on this trip, I had no shortage of friends.

There was the guy at Security B-Sides who made sure there was food in the venue that I could eat. There were the folks who didn’t pressure me to light up at the cigar shop because they knew I quit, save for the e-cig, which I leaned on like a motherfucker. There was the friend who invited me to a private gathering and made sure there was plenty of sugar-free Red Bull on hand since I couldn’t drink the alcohol. There was the old friend who went to breakfast with me one morning and chose a place without a buffet, to my everlasting relief. And there were those who kept the interesting conversation going, which kept me from getting bored and, by extension, tempted.

I got through this trip mostly unscathed, thanks to them. And despite my distaste for Vegas, I have to say I enjoyed the hell out of being there. The work was fun. The friends were even more fun.

I was blessed out there. Thanks, guys and gals.

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I’m Back, Biatches

I’m back from Las Vegas and have stories to tell. But first, a reunion with the family at Old Orchard Beach in Maine. Until Monday…

Headed To The Land Of Sin. Be Back Soon

Upon telling a friend yesterday that I was headed to “the land of sin” for a security conference, he said, “Oh, so it’s in Lynn, then?”  It’s actually Las Vegas I was referring to, and I’m on my way.

I’ll be doing a ton of writing for the security site I work for and I want to stay focused. So for the next few days, I’m taking a break from blogging here. I’ll still run older posts in the social networking realm as needed.

Be back soon. Meantime, I hope you’re all having an outstanding summer.

Playing Politics with the Colorado Massacre Doesn’t Help

It’s inevitable. It happens every time we see something horrible like yesterday’s movie theater massacre in Aurora, Colo. People take the tragedy and twist it to fit their political tirades.

Mood music:

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Some people ranted on Facebook that the killer was a registered Democrat and an Obama supporter. Others posted about how right-wingers caused this by suggesting liberals were behind naming the villain in the new Batman movie Bane, to remind moviegoers of all that nastiness that’s been bandied about regarding Mitt Romney and Bain Capital (never mind the difference in spelling).

Beneath all that was the more relevant debate about guns in American society — a discussion full of old slogans like “guns don’t kill, people do.”

Most of the time I don’t mind when people get political; I cherish freedom of speech and expression. But the political talk seems out of place to me in this case. After a tragedy like this, prayers and acts of kindness would be more useful.

According to CNN, the alleged shooter, James Holmes, had colored his hair red and was dressed head to toe in black tactical gear. He told police he was The Joker after he was arrested. Aurora police chief Dan Oates told reporters that Holmes had purchased four guns at local shops and more than 6,000 rounds of ammunition on the Internet in the past 60 days. He’s been described as an honors student and Ph.D. candidate at a nearby college with no prior arrest record. Those familiar with him described him as a loner.

It’s too early for us to know if the guy is a cold, calculating killer or an emotionally disturbed man. Maybe he had political motives. If he did, they likely weren’t based on sanity. We’ll find out soon enough.

Making Holmes the poster boy for everything that’s wrong with liberals or conservatives is not only off the mark but so soon after the event is disrespectful to all those involved.

Most people I know would never shoot up a movie theater over political beliefs, and I know plenty of people who get hot under the collar over politics. Most people will get into political arguments and get thoroughly pissed with each other and eventually put it aside. Many of us like to hate certain celebrities who represent politics we disagree with. Yet we’re not about to rig our homes with explosives and kill a bunch of innocents over it.

Holmes doesn’t seem to represent a political movement. He seems like just one of the many lost souls of history who got a twisted thought that drove him to murder. Whatever his motives, the justice system will deal with him accordingly.

Meantime, we’re better off spending our emotional energy on ways to honor the victims and help the families.

Booking photograph of James Eagan Holmes, accused of killing 12 in Aurora, Colorado Theater Shooting.

New Section: Resources for Readers

Today we launch a new section with links to resources specializing in mental health issues, including children’s issues, faith, eating and relationships.

We’ll be building the section over time, adding new topics as we go. Today, we’re starting with resources for parents and children dealing with mental health issues.

Check out the new section here.

Since this blog was launched in December 2009, the full focus has been on the author’s personal experiences with mental illness and all the related adversity that goes with it. In May we relaunched the blog with a wider focus in mind. The Resources section is a huge part of that.

The perspective of one person is certainly useful, but the more online resources we can give you, the more helpful we will be.

We hope you find it helpful.

—Bill Brenner

Prayers for Those Killed During “Dark Night Rises” Premier

I awoke to a terrible story breaking in Colorado: at least 12 people killed and 50 wounded when some sick soul opened fire on them during an early Friday morning screening of the new Batman movie at an Aurora, Colo. movie theater.

News reports are coming in quickly with new details, but I wanted to take a moment and express my condolences to family and friends of the victims. I’ll pray for them, and I hope you will, too.

Dark Night Poster

Nine Things to Consider When Life Starts to Suck

On my worst days, when depression takes over and common sense goes out the window, I try to remember the following to put my life back into perspective.

  • I’ve had my share of bad health, but family and friends have always helped me through. Some friends and family dealing with cancer right now know what I’m talking about.
  • I hate the snow, cold and darkness of winter. But winter always gives way to spring and summer.
  • I may not like the excessive heat and humidity we’ve had around here lately, but the weather will turn colder soon enough. Since I hate cold weather, that thought makes me appreciate the dog days of summer.
  • I have an addictive personality, but today’s slip-ups are nothing compared to when I was spending $40 a day on binge eating, passing out on the couch from the pain meds I was taking for a bad back and getting buzzed to keep from eating.
  • I may get frustrated with work issues sometimes, but a bad day in my current job is still much better than the better days I had in past jobs. It also beats being jobless and homeless.
  • I hate getting stuck in traffic, but being stuck in it sure beats being the driver who caused it with an accident.
  • It’s hard to put up with the annoying behavior of others. Then I remember that people put up with my annoying behavior all the time, and I suddenly feel a lot more patient.
  • My children tire me out and give me little time to hear myself think on a daily basis. But the richness and joy they add to my life far outweighs the irritating things they do sometimes. And the irritating stuff sometimes translates into comedy gold.
  • I may screw up every day, but no matter how bad I am, God never gives up on me.

Chicken Miserable

Impostor Syndrome

A friend of mine, announcing on Twitter that he had landed a new, prestigious position, noted that he was feeling a bit of “Impostor Syndrome,” the fear that someday people will discover you’re really not as smart and talented as they currently think you are. It’s a feeling I’m very familiar with.

I’ve had a lot of good luck in my career. I’ve survived the rough patches, such as when I was floundering as night editor of The Eagle-Tribune. Working nights was taking this morning person and wringing out the editing skills that once seemed easy and instinctive. I moved on to a job writing about cybersecurity and haven’t looked back. I’ve been on the board of directors for a security user group. I’ve been invited to give a lot of presentations. I’ve had a few promotions. People read my security blog and this blog and actually like what I do.

Along the way, I have moments of cold fear when I think about how far I’ve come, and I wonder when people are going to wake up and realize that I’m not even close to being as good as they say I am. True, I have my critics and they’re always happy to take me down a few pegs. I’m grateful for them, because they keep me honest. But those people who think my skills are so sharp that they invite me to speak and write and to share my work on the social networks? Surely they’ll wake up one morning to find that I’m just a fake.

That’s a thought that goes through my head every day.

It’s good, I suppose. If I believed all the good stuff people said about me, I’d become another person — the kind you don’t want to meet. Even with Impostor Syndrome, my ego sometimes gets the better of me.

But I’ve also gotten comfortable with the idea that I wouldn’t have gotten the breaks without some level of ability. I’ve seen people with sparkling resumés get hired to write and edit and arrive on a cloud of praise, only to flounder and choke within a few short weeks. When the skills aren’t really there, you get found out pretty quickly.

Surely, then, if you last a while in a position and people keep honoring you with prestigious titles, there has to be something there, right?

Whatever the case, I choose to enjoy the ride as long as people keep letting me take the wheel.

I’m sure my friend is doing the same.

Girl Behind the Mask

Lessons From Facebook Unfriend Finder

I recently re-activated the Facebook Unfriend Finder that I wrote about last winter, after discovering my wife was using a similar plug-in. Given my past paranoia over why certain people unfriended me, she thought it was a bad idea for me to use it. But I figured if she could use it, so could I. A few weeks in, here’s what I’ve learned.

When your friend count goes down, it’s usually not because you offended someone. It’s more likely because they deactivated their profile or because they never really knew you to begin with. When the Unfriend Finder alerts me to someone leaving my network, most of the time it’s because they de-activated their profile. I have gotten unfriended outright, but it’s usually someone who was only a remote connection who I never really talked to.

When you work in the media, it’s not uncommon to accept a lot of strangers into your network and vice versa. I’ll accept friend requests from strangers because I figure they’re looking for easy access to my security articles or this blog. Some will accept a friend request to see if they’re interested in the content you’re pushing and defriend when they decide they don’t want it. Fair enough.

Some of the strangers I’ve connected with have become good friends over time. That makes it all worth it to me because, as the saying goes, no man is a failure who has friends. Some folks have annoyed me with their political diatribes and mean-spirited jabs at others, so I’ve cut them loose. I excised someone yesterday, in fact.

For the most part, though, my core network has stuck around. That tells me all the worrying I did was for nothing.

In the final analysis, you can only be yourself in the social networking world. You can’t change for the sake of pleasing everyone. It’s better to take the occasional stand and be disagreed with than go along to get along. Maybe you are someone who should change because you tend to be a jerk online and off-. If you are, this post won’t inspire you to change.

A little something to consider when you see your connection count go down.