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Take Your ‘War On Christmas’ Talk And Shove It

I’ve written a lot about how my mental ticks give me the holiday blues. But let’s face it: Sometimes the mood is sparked by the hypocrisy I see in capitalism, religion and government.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/4Y5GtaTrPHM

Every year in church I hear someone talking about the so-called war on Christmas, where Godless people apparently do everything possible to tear the Christ out of Christmas, from the public schools banning Christmas decorations to people saying “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.”

Then I turn on the radio or TV and see suggestions from retailers that everything would be just fine if we would all walk into Best Buy and max out our credit cards on gifts for all the special people in our lives.

I’m a devout Catholic and I agree with those who say we need to keep the “Christ” in Christmas. But to me that means celebrating the birth of Christ and what his arrival meant for humanity. It does not mean putting stupid bumper stickers on my car and sticking my nose in the air to anyone whose holiday customs don’t fit the strict teachings of the Catholic Church.

It means repaying the favor Jesus did for all of us by being as good as we can be. It means helping out family even when it’s inconvenient as hell. It means being the best parent and spouse we can be.

It also means respecting the broader array of beliefs people have and how they observe it this time of year. I think it’s ridiculous to get offended when someone says “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” It’s not about people being Godless. It’s about people realizing that there are a lot of cultural AND religious observances this time of year: Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Boxing Day, New Year’s Day. If someone wants to wish you happiness during all these holidays, including Christmas, you should pay it forward instead of getting all high and mighty about your own beliefs.

That’s how I see it anyway.

Of course, there’s the other side of the extreme: school systems and government offices banning Christmas decorations because it might offend people of other religions and cultures. Here’s a thought so simple it stings my tired brain: Why not festoon the schools and government buildings with decorations observing every December holiday? Teach the Christian kids about Hanukkah and Kwanza? Make December about embracing spirituality in all its forms?

I guess that would be too much work.

Happy Holidays indeed.

christmas_tree_fire

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The Ego OCD Built

The author has an ego that sometimes swells beyond acceptable levels. OCD fuels the fire. Written in December, 2009 and just as real now as it was then.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/Mw0vrH9SPzU

Last night I got on here to explain that sometimes OCD is good for me, in the sense that it provides fuel for my professional ambitions. Some might look at the post and think I was letting vanity take over.

Truth is, I was. And I do it often.

I’m the first to admit that humility isn’t one of my strong suits. I’m working on it, because as a Christian that’s what I need to do. I’ve always been a better talker than listener. I’m going to work on that or die trying.

Before I get too serious about it, it’s worth noting that a lot of OCD types have big egos. Achieving big things is one of the ways we try to fill in that hole that’s always dogging us.  In my profession, getting access to the major power players of information security is a rush. I feel like I am somebody as a result. When I don’t make it to a big security conference, the wheels in my head start spinning. I start to worry that by not being there, I become irrelevant.

When I make it someplace and score, like the time I was able to corner Bob Woodward of Washington Post/Watergate fame at a conference in Florida four years ago, I can be insufferable for months. In that encounter, Woodward was there to deliver a keynote on the state of security. His forte was the larger war on terror and how the Bush White House was waging it. He needed to bone up on the IT aspect and started asking me about antivirus and firewalls, and whether those things really work. Later, during the Q&A part of his keynote, when someone asked him a cybersecurity question, he mentioned that he had talked to a fellow earlier (me) who mentioned that the emerging trend was toward a quiet, sneaky brand of attack. My ego boiled and rose. I was sure to tell EVERYBODY about it.

Today, when I write what I think is a good article, I promote it nonstop. That’s part of my job, of course. If you don’t promote it no one will read it. But I do it with an uber-sized dose of zeal.

Work has always been an OCD trigger for me. The good news is that a lot of my hyperactivity today is driven by joy than fear. A decade ago it was all about fear of not being the golden boy. With the fear gone, I find that sometimes it’s impossible to slow down. Ego is always a presence. The more prolific I am, the more attention I get.

I’m not particularly proud of it, but I do think it’s fair game to laugh at me over it. It’s dangerous for anyone to take themselves too seriously. I don’t in a lot of ways, but I always have to keep an eye out for moments when I do. When others see me taking myself to seriously, I want them to take me down a few pegs.

Fortunately, I have people in my life who do just that. My wife, for example.

My faith is making me more humble, as is my recovery program for the binge eating. But it’s a slow process.

My kids are helping me. They don’t care about the big career milestones. They just want my attention. They want me to read to them and give them a snuggle before bed. They want me to listen to their own milestones. Nothing beats parenthood in forcing me to understand that it’s not all about me.

I’m trying to improve in other ways. I go to Confession regularly because I feel the need to put my ego before the priest and seek forgiveness, which I always receive.

I try more and more to put my ego-driven energy into serving others, whether it’s through my recovery program or other acts of basic decency. It helps. A lot.

This is a journey and I always try to remember that.

All that said, I’ll still admit that getting that story last night felt pretty damn good. Try not to hate me for it. I’ll try not to hate myself.

Do feel free to laugh at me, though. Ego-laden people are amusing to watch.

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Find Yourself a Real Doctor

Written in June, 2010.

Here’s the thing: Asking me for medical advice is like asking Charles Manson how to be a pacifist.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:79DVDD46pdqwjYucn91fny]

In the months since I started this blog, I’ve noticed something expected but weird nonetheless:

People are coming to me for medical advice.

Several people who saw my post on living with Crohn’s Disease sent me their phone numbers and asked me to call them. I always do, and the person at the other end will start listing a bunch of issues they’re having and asking me what I think.

In one of my posts about the binge eating addiction I mentioned that at the deepest depths of the addiction I would get chest pains and wake up in the middle of the night puking up stomach acid. Someone wanted to talk about how that’s been happening to them.

Then there’s the OCD itself. People will approach me in droves about their issues and how they think they might have OCD or some other mental disorder.

To be clear, I’m not putting down those who have come to me with this stuff. I respect them all and am glad they feel they can talk to me. Sometimes talking about your problems in and of itself is a huge step on the road to dealing with it. I’m more than happy to help. Heck, that’s one of the reasons I started this blog.

But before we go any further, I just want everyone to remember that I’m not a doctor and no two sufferers are the same.

I’m the last person you want to go to for a medical advice. That would be like going to Charles Manson for a better understanding of law and order.

It’s natural to ask someone who has been through something you think you might have for advice before seeking out a doctor. I’ve done it many times myself. The thought of seeing a doctor and going for a bunch of tests is scary.

But it’s necessary.

Had I not found the right doctors along the way, I’d be in bad shape today, maybe even dead (mentally dead, anyway).

All I have to offer is my personal experiences. I can tell you where I’ve been, what I’ve learned from the experience and how I got to the generally good health I enjoy today. But none of what I tell you will be rooted in medical certainty. There are people out there who have been through very similar experiences as mine. But everyone’s outcome is a bit different, especially when it comes to the treatment methods that work for the individual.

My solution to the binge-eating disorder was Overeaters Anonymous, a rigid food plan devoid of flour and sugar and a 12-step program. The combination has been a life saver for me, but probably wouldn’t work for a lot of other people.

One of my many tools for managing OCD is the drug Prozac. But the same drug will do nothing for the next guy and might even make matters worse.

This is tricky stuff.

And for that, you need a real doctor.

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Not Broken, Just Breaking

When a few days go by without a new post from me, I frequently get emails from readers asking if I’m OK.

That’s the thing about writing a blog about one’s struggle against the demons. Go away for a while and people start worrying that you’re in the throes of depression or any number of physical illnesses.

Mood music:

Truth be told, the concern makes me grateful. But the well-being checks aren’t necessary.

When I started this blog four years ago, I wrote obsessively. I published at least one new post a day. Sometimes I did as many as four. In the last year, though, I’ve dropped it to four posts on a normal week, with week-long breaks during vacations and business travel. Pacing myself made sense, especially after digging into older posts one day and discovering that in my craze to post daily material I was writing a lot of sub-standard stuff.

I also decided that if I’m on vacation, I should be on vacation. If I’m on a business trip, I should just focus on that. It makes all the more sense since Erin took on the role of editing my posts. She has her own business to run, and sending her a gazillion posts a week to edit would make me a bad husband.

So when you don’t see something new for a few days or a week, no need to worry.

Besides, I don’t completely disappear. When I don’t write something new, I still share older posts on Facebook on a daily basis. I look at these posts as songs to be replayed when they fit the mood I’m experiencing at any given time.

You won’t see new posts this week because I’m going to put all my energy into wrapping up work projects ahead of Thanksgiving. Then I’ll take the holiday weekend off, and be back Dec. 2.

Have a fantabulous holiday, and thanks for your continued support and readership. I am thankful for all of you.

Keep calm i'll be back soon

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To the Asshole Who Wrote “5 Reasons to Date a Girl with an Eating Disorder”

The Internet has made it possible for all sorts of assholes to have a forum. Although this is common knowledge, some people still manage to shock me.

The latest example is an article someone calling himself Tuthmosis wrote called “5 Reasons to Date a Girl with an Eating Disorder.”

Mood music:

I always try to see the best in humanity. For all the bad seeds out there, I do believe we’ve come a long way in how we treat people based on such things as race, sexual orientation and religion.

Then there are people like Tuthmosis. In his article, he claims women with eating disorders make for good dating because, among other things:

  • They are fragile and easily controlled.
  • They are crazy, and crazy women are fantastic in bed.
  • Their obsession with appearance will improve their overall looks.
  • They cost less money because they won’t eat much.

That publications happily run this shit makes me sick to the bones.

If you see this, Tuthmosis, I just want to say one thing, on behalf of everyone — men and women — who has suffered at the savage hands of eating disorders and other mental illnesses:

Fuck you.

The publisher, Roosh, claims there is nothing wrong with this article. Fuck him too.

assholes

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Mental Disorders on Sesame Street

The image below is a brilliant exercise in humor, an important coping tool for getting through all life’s difficulties. I’ve always believed the folks behind Sesame Street should be doing more to educate children on mental health, starting with some hard but necessary lessons in disorder. I share this meme for their benefit. Class is in session.

Sesame Street Disorders

Source: fodrizzle

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Is the Point of Pines of My Generation Cursed?

A friend from my old neighborhood opined a couple years ago that our generation of Revere kids lived under a curse. “The more time moves on, I think we may be lucky for just getting out of the city,” he told me in an email. “Revere was just eating people up back then. It’s like we lost a generation.”

Mood music:

The death tally boggles the mind:

  • Stefanie Santarpio died last week at age 36 from pneumonia complications. Her mom died a couple days later.
  • TJ Leduc died in early October in an apparent suicide. His father died a few hours later.
  • Jay Nickerson died from cancer in 2006.
  • Sean Marley ended his life in 1996.
  • Zane Mead was the first of the three people on this list to die of suicide, in 1988.
  • Michael Brenner, my brother, died in 1984 from a severe asthma attack.
  • Michael McDonald was a name I remember from the neighborhood, though I didn’t really know him. He died several years ago.
  • Kenny Page was also a name I remember but someone I didn’t know, who died several years ago.
  • Scott James also died several years ago. He’s the one I know the least about.

A sad legacy, for sure. A curse? You be the judge.

I keep all these people in my prayers, and I’m thankful for those I was blessed to know.

Point of Pines

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Another Point of Pines Tragedy

For the second time since October 1, something terrible has happened to people that were part of my childhood orbit.

Last month, my old friend TJ committed suicide, hours before his father died of leukemia. This past week, the sister and mother of another childhood friend both died within a couple days of each other: The sister died from complications with pneumonia. and then the mother suffered a fatal aneurysm.

Mood music:

The latter case is particularly sad. Mark Hedgecock, my friend and classmate from grades 1 through 12, is a registered sex offender. There’s no glossing over it. His records are all over the Internet. I talked to him a few years ago but broke off communications shortly after that. Earlier this week, I got word that his sister, Stefanie Santarpio, had passed away, leaving behind a young son.

Then a couple days later I heard about his mother Betty’s death.

As a kid, I was in their home constantly, from first grade straight through high school. His parents treated me like part of the family. I never knew Stefanie in adulthood, but I remember her as the baby sister. My most recent memory of their father, Victor, is from around 1986, when he scolded me for speeding around our Point of Pines neighborhood in my father’s 1985 Lincoln. I deserved the scolding. I was a 16 year old with a new driver’s license and an attitude.

Last time I was sick from Crohn’s Disease was that same year. Mark came over to check on me almost daily. As angry as I was — and still am — to learn the nature of his criminal record, that’s an act of friendship I can’t forget. I also know what it’s like to lose a sibling, and I remember how Mark was there for me when my brother died in 1984.

I sometimes wonder if Mark’s life would have turned out differently had I been a better friend after high school. I tend to doubt it, because I was damaged and couldn’t get out of my own way back then.

I feel terribly for the family and hold them in my prayers.

Roosevelt School's 1983 Grade 6
The 1983 grade 6 class picture from the Roosevelt School in the Point of Pines, Revere, Massachusetts. Mark Hedgecock is at the top left. I’m below him at the bottom left.

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Attention Lovers and Narcissists Are Not the Same

My post about narcissism the other day was meant to be lighthearted, poking fun at myself and others who tend to have big egos. But some readers took it very seriously. I’m glad they did, because the resulting discussion pointed to another truth:

There’s a big difference between those who enjoy attention and true narcissists.

Mood music:

Fellow writer Laurel Hermanson noted the difference quite clearly:

I think there is an important distinction between occasional or even frequent self-absorption and narcissism. We throw the n-word around too often to describe people who aren’t true narcissists. There are traits other than ego and attention seeking that define narcissism, and they’re much uglier and more firmly entrenched.

Reader C.Z. gave more details:

I think the big difference between you, your friends, hopefully myself (cough!) on the one hand — and then the CLINICAL Narcissist on the other — is that of empathy. The real way to know this sort of thing is “bad news” is not so much the degree to which someone seems self-involved (and we shouldn’t be this way, of course — though, in another sense, life does happen “in the first-person singular,” and we all have our faults too );  rather, I’d say the serious warning-signs start when someone *fails* to care for other people.

As I said the other day, the best thing we can do is work every day to be better people. Just about everyone I know already does that.

You know my story, because I write about myself a lot. Now, feel free to talk among — and about — yourselves.

Skull and Victorian Woman

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My Heart Breaks for the Newtown Officer, But …

It’s hard not to get where Newtown, Conn., police officer Thomas Bean is coming from. He responded to last December’s massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School, where 20 children were among the brutally slain. He now has post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and can’t work. He says he feels dead inside.

Mood music:

CNN reports that Bean might be fired because Newtown says it can’t keep paying someone who is permanently disabled. A letter CNN obtained from the police department said that “he could be fired because Newtown could only afford to pay two years of long-term disability. He has a dozen years left on the job before being able to retire.”

The union that represents Newton police officers may sue. Joe Aresimowicz, House majority leader in the state General Assembly, said the state covers mental healthcare only if the diagnosis comes with physical injuries for long-term disability claims. That mental illness can’t be covered without physical injury tells me there’s stigma busting to be done. It demonstrates a lack of understanding of how mental illness works.

But that — and the heartbreak I feel for this officer — isn’t enough. There’s a bigger issue at play.

When Bean joined the police force, surely he understood, just as those who join the military do, that violence comes with the job. He knew the chances were better than average that he would someday have to go to a murder scene. To his credit, he responded to Sandy Hook on his day off. And obviously, this was not your typical murder scene. Twenty dead children. Even now, almost a year later, the thought of it brings me close to tears. So I can imagine his state of mind after seeing what he saw.

Many officers responded to the scene that day. Surely they remain haunted by what they saw, as well, yet they remain on the job.

That’s no knock against Bean. It’s unrealistic and unfair to assume everyone who experiences trauma should be able to bounce back in the same short period. But functioning in the face of trauma is something we rightfully expect from our public safety professionals. Otherwise, public safety would break down.

If Bean is permanently disabled and can’t do his job any longer, Newtown has to let him go. It sucks, but he should make way for a replacement officer who can do the job.

If it comes to that — and I believe it will — my hope is that Newtown supports Bean and others like him in other ways. A good start would be to get him the help he needs to put his life back together, including a good psychiatrist and career counseling.

There are no bad guys here, only victims. But as a whole, we have to move on.

Newtown tragedy