For the second time this year, I’m quoted in a Forbes article. Cheryl Snapp Conner and Tom Lowery have been too kind. 🙂
The earlier story was about how mental illness can actually make people stronger in their jobs.
The latest is an article called “Fifty Shades of Effort: The Writer’s Life, and Why We Choose It.” In it, I talk about why I started writing the OCD Diaries, and what, in general, continues to fuel my passion for writing.
Lately I’ve been doing profiles on people who inspire me. Last week, it was Trey Ford. This week, it’s Microsoft senior security strategist Katie Moussouris. I’m doing so because they deserve the honors. But it’s all part of a bigger strategy.
Mood music:
As I’ve noted before, my emotions this time of year tend to tilt toward the negative, and I’m definitely feeling depressed and prickly lately.
Though I’ve overcome a lot, I still get a huge shot of inspiration when I see others getting through their own adversity and doing great things. Focusing on them instead of my own crummy mood makes me feel better. The people I write about remind me that there’s still plenty of hope for humanity.
It also does you more good to hear about them than to read my annual grumbling about the Christmas dispirit.
A lot of people have told me that this blog has been helpful to them because it has made them feel less isolated and alien — and because I’ve focused on sharing what I’ve learned about living a better life and getting out of the hole. I’m glad for that. But if I don’t point you toward the many others setting powerful examples, I’m only doing half the job.
And so I’ll continue to pay it forward.
Who knows? You may soon find a post about you on here.
Friends in the information security community continue to inspire me. Last week, it was Trey Ford. This week, it’s Microsoft senior security strategist Katie Moussouris.
Mood music:
Katie has had a huge year at Microsoft and in the wider security industry. After a seemingly eternal push, she succeeded in getting a bug bounty program off the ground, ensuring that the software giant will find and patch many more security holes than it has before. She traveled the globe nonstop, speaking, teaching and organizing for a multitude of security events.
And she did it despite adversity that would have crushed many good people.
She endured a divorce and continued to grieve from losses she suffered two years ago — both parents and a best friend from childhood died that year. There was a parent’s estate to settle, a high-pressure matter no matter how agreeable people try to be.
She continued to be a dedicated mom to her two children, even while circling the globe.
In short, she pressed on, refusing to let personal calamities derail her work.
She touched on this in a June 30 Facebook post, noting how she was having the weirdest, saddest, happiest, yet oddly most productive past couple years of her life. Years spent growing, grieving, gestating, breastfeeding, estate settling, celebrating births, and honoring lives cut short. And working to turn the heresy of a Microsoft bounty into gospel in the midst of it all swirling around and through her.
What she’s been through isn’t unique, and as I’ve noted many times before, we all suffer: We go through career challenges. We lose loved ones. Marriages crumble.
But when people do it with exceptional grace and fortitude, I like to celebrate them.
Here’s to your continued success, friend.
In recent days I’ve watched an interesting online discussion about depression and bipolar disorder. One one side is author and speaker Natasha Tracy, whose writing pulls no punches about the dark side of such maladies. On the other side is a blogger named Sarah Ryan. She believes the approach to addressing the subject should be uplifting and sunny.
The truth is somewhere in between, in my opinion. But I must say that the sunshine part is useless if we don’t pick apart the darkness first.
Mood music:
Taking a shot at Tracy and her work, Sarah suggests a new voice is needed. Her beef: Tracy’s articles are dark to the point of ridiculous. She writes:
I am struck by the negativity that many major health-care websites are perpetuating, such as healthyplace.com, healthline.com, and answers.com. They are advertising Ms. Tracy as an expert on those sites, so if that is the case, I’m sure the vast majority of her readers will assume they can trust her message and treat it as fact-based. Here’s the rub: I find her message to be wrought with negativity, misinformation, and deeply internalized social stigma.
Sarah hopes to be a “much needed counter balance to this sort of negativity.” Sarah’s blogging is part of a larger project called “Find More Out There,” designed to explore the realities of bipolar disorder via film and other media.
As a long-time sufferer of depression and OCD, I appreciate what she’s doing. Sufferers do need hope, and in my own blogging I try to outline all the light I’ve found at the other side of the darkness.
But I also respect Tracy’s work. Sure she leans more toward the dark side. The titles she uses demonstrate that:
Sarah uses those titles as proof Tracy is too negative.
But here’s the thing: Depression and all the mental disorders that feed it are a nightmare. When you’re in the thick of it, all seems lost. It sucks. People need to say it sucks. My healing — an ongoing process with plenty of setbacks and advances — couldn’t begin until I peeled back every layer of my fear, anxiety and depression. That took years.
For the sufferer to find tools to get better, they have to know they’re not alone. The old cliché that misery loves company is true. When you realize you’re in good company, it becomes easier to stand up and do something about it.
But once the sufferer has that epiphany, they need guidance to start building the tools of recovery. Sarah’s project holds promise there.
I’d love to see these two voices collaborate on something. The fruits of such an effort could be powerful.
I write a lot about my own episodes of depression and that of others. But I’ve never written about a web server suffering from it. That is, until the student chapter of the Association for Computing Machinery (ACM) at the University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign) gave me reason to do so.
The students got creative with a 404 File Not Found page.
Instead of the usual 404, you get a depressed web server going on and on about how dismal it is to be a server that can’t deliver a simple web page. It then goes on to suggest that we users ask for too much. After all, it’s not like the server knows us.
A sample of what it says:
Variations of this message have been kicking around for at least three years. It just so happens that I’m only now getting around to seeing it, thanks to a Facebook share from my friend Alex Howard.
As I was researching the background of the ACM’s work, I came across plenty more creative 404 pages. I’m finding them at the right time, as I’m in a bit of a snit today. The clever lightheartedness is just what the doctor ordered.
Mashable.com has an epic slideshow of “35 Entertaining 404 Messages.” A few of my favorites:
I dislike most rock ‘n roll Christmas songs. The Kinks asking Father Christmas for money? Not a fan. Billy Squier singing that Christmas is a time to say I love you? Hate it.
I love those artists, just not those songs. Though I’m a heavy metal fan, I have to admit Christmas songs of that genre aren’t much better.
But occasionally, rock and metal musicians manage to pull off something special — songs done so magically that I play them repeatedly this time of year. Allow me to share some favorites.
First, a classic from Ronnie James Dio and Tony Iommi that makes the neck hair rise.
John Sykes, who has been in Whitesnake and Thin Lizzy, among others, does a great instrumental version of the same song.
Rob Halford, legendary vocalist for Judas Priest, put out a whole album themed for the season, including this gem.
One of my favorite guitarists, Zakk Wylde (Ozzy Osbourne band, Black Label Society), does a searing acoustic version of “The First Noel.”
http://youtu.be/EtvVP1u9RfE
Finally, here’s a great rendition of “Silent Night” played by Brian May during a 1979 Queen concert.
Merry Christmas!
As most of my friends in the information security community know, one of our own — Trey Ford — got left out in the cold last week when Black Hat’s powers that be decided they no longer needed a general manager to handle their annual summer conference. He’s following the proven path of seeking new job leads on the social networks.
But he’s doing something else that makes him worthy of mention here.
Mood music:
Most people would single-mindedly push forward on their own job hunt, and that’s not a criticism. When you have bills to pay and mouths to feed, you have to do what’s necessary to get re-employed as quickly as possible.
But knowing that a lot of other people in the industry are looking for new jobs, Trey is offering to use his vast network to help them as he tries to help himself. In a message on Facebook, he said:
There are a number of folks looking for work, and I have fresh perspective on opportunities out there. Drop me an email and I will do what I can to help assist you in your hunt.
During times of global trauma, I like to refer people to a post I wrote two years ago about words of wisdom from Mister Rogers’s mother. She’d say that in tough times, the helpers always arrive.
While it’s certainly true during huge tragedies like the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School last year and the Boston Marathon bombings this year, it also applies to the seemingly smaller events, like someone losing a job and needing help to find a new one. In such cases, the hardship involves individuals rather than big segments of the population, but if you’re the individual who has lost income, it’s a pretty grave deal.
It warms the heart to know that there are people out there hell-bent on helping those individuals.
That someone like Trey would offer help when he needs to find work himself is damn inspiring.
Thanks for being you and Merry Christmas, friend.
Sunday, I settled in with Erin and the kids for our annual viewing of A Christmas Story. Like everyone else, I have my 10-15 favorite lines:
“It was… soap poisoning!”
“Notafinga!”
“You used up all the glue … on purpose!”
But those lines, as much as I enjoy them, are not why I consider this movie so special. The main reason is that the movie made it OK to have strange thoughts.
Mood video:
http://youtu.be/Ktzt096mlxs
When I was a kid, I always thought something was wrong with me because I’d dream up all these crazy thoughts and scenarios. If I got punished, I’d dream up all manner of revenge scenarios. If I wanted a certain toy, I’d dream up hundreds of scenarios of me playing with said toy.
All kids do that. For that matter, adults do it to. But it took seeing A Christmas Story for me to get that. Before that, I thought I was just a bizarre kid doomed to a future of sinister thinking that would make me an alien among more “normal” people.
It also taught me that mine wasn’t the only family that failed to fit all the Brady Bunch parameters.
I’m not a special case. The movie was an eye-opener for a lot of people.
The reason those scenes cause us to laugh so vigorously is because there’s a release — or, more to the point, a relief. Relief in knowing we’re not alone in our weird families and weirder thinking.
That’s what I call a Christmas gift.
This year’s seasonal depression comes with a twist. It’s not necessarily something new, but it’s something I’m more aware of these days: The calendar is filled with too many appointments.
Mood music:
When you have kids and a busy job, a lot of running around is expected. Lately, though, it seems like running around is all I do. Last week was a pretty good example: A medical appointment for me, two for Duncan (his therapist and new a new psychiatrist), a Scout meeting for each son and the school drop-offs and pick-ups.
It’s all normal, necessary stuff. I have to take care of my health, and we have to take care of our children. The school commute is the result of our choice to put the boys in a new school, and every parent these days is a taxi driver, running kids from one activity to the next. I don’t regret any of it. All the appointments for Duncan have especially been worth it, because we’ve gotten a clearer fix on his challenges and the best remedies.
But with the darkness of the coming winter and the rushing and running that come with the holiday season, each appointment feels like a hot pin prick to the eye.
I long for a week where I can just exist at home once the work day is done. It’s not going to happen, so I have to fall back on my coping tools.
It’s a funny thing about this time of year: I have a huge box of mental tools and know how to use them, but I’m so mentally tired that I have trouble finding the discipline to open the box.
I can’t let that continue, so I’m making a big effort to jolt myself out of the funk.
Last week I started increasing the breathing exercises I’ve learned. When commuting, my habit has been to use the tool of music therapy exclusively, cranking the metal to 11. But I have to add some variety, so I’m trying to do the music for part of the ride and the breathing exercises for the other part.
I’m making a point to play guitar for at least 30 minutes a day.
I’m re-introducing exercise into my regimen. In recent years I haven’t exercised much beyond walking because my food plan kept the weight in check without it. But I changed my eating plan earlier this year because I was getting bored. I didn’t up the exercise to match the increased portions, and as a result I’ve gained 15 pounds. I’ve started jogging laps around the garage, but Erin and I are looking to either buy an elliptical machine or get a gym membership. My new doctor is pushing me toward exercise, too; he isn’t happy with my borderline blood pressure and cholesterol.
Finally, I have a new therapist who is determined to help me build a fresh regimen for using all the tools. Appointments to see her involve 45-minute commutes back and forth, which adds to the overall stress. But she’s good, and I’m betting that the coaching she gives me balances things out.
It’s going to be a long winter. But with some luck, prayer and effort, it’ll be a healing one.
This weekend marks four years since I woke up in a funk and started this blog on a whim, figuring I’d at least feel better if I spilled my guts. It did the trick. But in the years since that day, it has become something far bigger than I could have imagined at the time.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/zQzNBTukO0w
I didn’t expect so many people to connect with the writing. I figured it would be no big deal to people, because we all have our stories — filled with happiness, sadness, love, heartbreak and other forms of adversity. I would just be one in a chorus of online voices sharing my emotions and experiences.
But people did connect, especially work colleagues and others in my profession. I thought my soul venting might raise eyebrows at work, but I got nothing but support. The reaction from the information security crowd was particularly stunning to me. People who intimidated me with their outward toughness started sharing back. They became more than just people I did business with. The friendships I’ve gained through the sharing is a huge gift this blog has given me.
The reaction from family and friends was shock, because I had succeeded in carrying on with a stoic, easy-going exterior. I couldn’t believe people saw me as easygoing. Apparently I could have found success as an actor.
The sharing has allowed me to repair some relationships that were broken. In other cases, it made matters worse. But there was no turning back.
My wife was often bewildered by what I wrote, because I was sharing past experiences I hadn’t shared with her up to that point. That led to us doing a lot of work on our relationship, and that’s the absolute greatest gift this blog has given me. As part of that, the blog has become one of the things we do together as a couple: I do the writing, Erin does the editing and bullshit detecting. When something I write doesn’t ring true, she pushes me in the proper direction.
Admittedly, I’ve expanded the subject matter a lot in the last year and a half. I didn’t originally plan to opine about current events here, but I realized a couple things after a while:
In finding the path through adversity, there are many lessons to be had by exploring how we all talk to each other.
I’ve also focused more on the lighter side of life, because few things get us through the fog like humor. That has made this experiment a lot more fun for me. I hope it has worked for all of you, too.
Here’s to many more years of staring adversity in the face and making it blink — becoming better on our own and together.
