The OCD Diaries

January 18, 2014

The Friends Joe “Zippo” Kelley Left Behind

The fourth annual Joe “Zippo” Kelley Memorial show is tonight. Sadly, I can’t be there this year because of business travel. But I hope many of you will make it out to pay homage to a golden soul.

Mood music:

Joe died in August 2010. At the time, it had been years since I had last seen him, and I didn’t know people like Anne Genovese, Audrey Clark, James Melanson, Harry Zarkades and Gretchen Shae. Since then, I’ve met them at shows and through Facebook, where friends of Joe gathered to remember him in the months after his death. Along the way, old friendships have been rekindled and new ones forged. I’m a richer man for it. I’ve also gotten to know and grow fond of Joe’s parents.

My musical tastes have widened to include The 360s and a lot of punk. I’ve also gotten to know the other guys from Pop Gun (I’d already known the drummer, Greg Walsh, for years) and have a renewed appreciation for The Neighborhoods, who headlined the first benefit show.

This is how it happens: You go do something to honor a guy who is no longer with us. Then, from his perch in Heaven, he leads you to a bunch of people who become friends. It gives new meaning to the idea that someone lives on after death.

Details for tonight:

January 15, 2014

New Doctors, New Pressures

Late last year, as I was looking for a new therapist to replace the one who retired, I decided to clean the slate and get a new primary care physician, too.

Choosing a new doctor can be a difficult process. We can get comfortable with the doctors we have, even if they’re not doing us any good. We might not like doctors at all, making us resistant to seeking one out.

But if we all need help maintaining our mental and physical health. When we have mental or physical issues that need frequent monitoring, doing nothing is a perilous proposition.

So I cleaned the slate and it’s been good. But it hasn’t been without pressure.

Mood music:

I found a therapist I believe is a perfect fit. We’ve been working specifically on reshaping my daily routine so that I remember to spend time on the mindfulness techniques I learned a year ago. The only problem is that it’s an hour-drive to reach her. That can be a pressure in itself. But the work of maintaining all the progress I’ve made in recent years compels me to suck it up. Better to drive far for a good therapist than drive down the street for a shitty one.

The new medical doctor has caused me more stress. Or, more accurately, it’s what he found.

Despite a diet devoid of flour and sugar, where most meals are carefully measured, I managed to gain close to 20 pounds last year. The problem was that I made adjustments to the diet but didn’t up my exercise to compensate. I also got a bit sloppy with my food during business travel, and I travel a lot.

My cholesterol went up with my weight, and so did my blood pressure, to the point where the doctor put me on medication.

I spent the better part of December angry with him. I didn’t like that he was trying to tell me how to eat or which piece of exercise equipment to buy. But my anger was misdirected. I was really pissed with myself for not being more careful.

My new therapist helped me to see that — proof that she’s worth the long drive.

So I’ve doubled down: I tightened my food plan and increased my exercise. I found an elliptical in our price range and turned a corner of the garage into a mini-gym where Erin and I plan to exercise together once the rest of her equipment arrives.

I’ve used the machine almost daily, and I’m down 9 pounds. The blood pressure is down, too.

I’m much happier since I decided to own up to things and accept the new course set by new doctors.

As it is when dealing with addiction, the first step is to admit you even have a problem. Once you take that step, the rest becomes more manageable.

Elliptical machine

My new machine.

January 14, 2014December 3, 2015

Fear of Déjà Vu

Déjà vu, literally “already seen,” is the strong sensation that a current event has been experienced in the past, whether it has actually happened or not.

When my OCD, anxiety and depression were at their worst, I used to constantly have bad thoughts. It usually involved people close to me dying. I forgot about it until it started happening again recently.

Mood music:

My mind used to spin so fast with worry that I would barely recognize the wonderful things in front of me, including my kids.

In fact, I was often looking at the miracle in front of me and, instead of enjoying it, would work myself into an anxiety attack. Because there was always the chance I could lose it all.

As the dark thoughts whirled around, I’d start to worry about the possibility that something bad would happen and that when it did, it would come at me as a déjà vu. My mind would start flashing images of accidents and disease involving my kids, and I would repeatedly beg God to not let it become a déjà vu.

The absurd thing about fear and anxiety is that you get thoughts that have no basis in reality. Yet when the images come, it feels as real as the ground beneath you. For the victim of OCD, it becomes a living beast of flesh, bone, teeth and overall terror.

Last week, after several nights of poor sleep and a particularly stressful afternoon, I had one of those moments — the first in several years. I saw it for what it was this time, and the fear dissipated pretty quickly.

But it served as an important reminder: You can learn to manage your demons, but you’re never fully free of them. You always have to be on guard.

That’s not a terrible thing. It’s a simple fact of life really, and I’m grateful that today I can put those moments in the proper perspective.

Depression 1

January 13, 2014

RIP Gary Cioffi

Last week a treasured friend and brother to many in the Revere, Mass., music scene passed away after fighting cancer for several years. I didn’t know Gary Cioffi nearly as well as many of you, but he touched my life all the same.

Mood music:

Gary and I were connected on Facebook, where I enjoyed the jokes he posted almost every morning. I also followed his cancer battle, which he waged with grace and humor. I’ll miss those posts.

Shortly after he connected with me, he sent me a private message asking if I remembered him. I had to admit that I hadn’t. He reminded me that his mom used to babysit my siblings and me in the 1970s. My memory kicked in when he mentioned how he used to play the piano we had in the living room. I was barely beyond toddlerhood at that point, and the memories are fuzzy. But I remember images and sounds.

I connected with him online because he was part of my hometown music scene. A lot of Boston’s best bands have their origins in Revere, most famously MASS. I wanted to see who was doing what, and I quickly discovered that Gary was a central player in the scene, drumming for the band That’s That.

He played the places I remembered as a kid, including Bill Ash’s Lounge.

His helping me to reconnect with my hometown musical roots is the thing I’m most grateful for.

To those who were close to him, I offer you my sincere condolences.

Peace be with you.

And thanks again, Gary, for giving me a glimpse into your world and reminding me where I came from.

Gary Cioffi

January 9, 2014

So You Wanna Boycott RSA Conference 2014

Disclaimer: This is my opinion. I do not speak on behalf of my employer.

Folks in the information security industry are debating whether to boycott RSA Conference 2014 to protest RSA’s reported misdeeds concerning the National Security Agency (NSA). Boycotts can be powerful tools. But they can also lead to trolling or a loss of your own voice.

Mood music:

One of this blog’s missions is to promote more reasonable discussion. I’ve seen how people hurt each other with words in the security industry and elsewhere, and this latest issue is no exception.

It’s a waste of energy.

Some Background

At last count, eight well-known security practitioners announced that they were skipping the upcoming RSA Conference in San Francisco because the conference’s sponsor, security vendor RSA, allegedly pocketed money from the NSA to put a faulty encryption algorithm into one of its products.

The revelation is part of the ongoing fallout of former NSA technical contractor Edward Snowden leaking details of top-secret mass-surveillance programs to the press.

In this debate on whether RSA, and by extension the NSA, did wrong, you’re either a PR-obsessed grandstander or a coward who refuses to take a stand. It just depends on which side of the discussion you fall under. Those who are boycotting the RSA conference have been accused of the former, while those who are still attending are accused of being the latter.

My Two Cents

I’m going to RSA Conference 2014.

Based on all the information out there — and I’ve read quite a bit of it — I’m inclined to believe RSA took money from NSA to allow a flaw into its technology.

I agree that this shouldn’t come as a surprise because the NSA was, after all, created for those sorts of activities. That doesn’t mean there’s no cause for anger.

RSA customers rely on the company’s products to keep proprietary information safe from sinister hands. Taking money from a government agency to make spying easier is not OK. The argument that spying on American citizens is necessary to uncover terrorist plots is rubbish. It’s the same fear-based thinking after 9-11 that led to the PATRIOT Act. That’s my opinion. To those who disagree, I mean no disrespect. Good people can disagree.

Having said all that, you would think I’d be among the boycotters. I share their anger and respect their right to protest as they see fit, as long as no one is harmed in the process. But I’m not boycotting for a few reasons:

I’ve never gone to RSA Conference to support RSA the company. I go to network with peers and get a better sense of what the latest security trends are.
I can’t do my job from the sidelines. I have to be where the action is.
If you’re angry with RSA, isn’t it better to attend the conference and speak your mind? It’s a more powerful approach than staying home.

I don’t claim to have all the answers. I don’t claim moral superiority. That’s simply where I stand.

On Twitter the other night, Akamai CSO Andy Ellis — my friend and boss — said, “Whether or not one agrees with the RSAC boycott, we can celebrate [the boycotters’] freedom to express anger and disappointment. We need more of that.”

Furthermore, he said, we should be able to be angry without feeling the need to ostracize those who aren’t expressing anger, and vice versa.

He’s right.

It’s OK to rage, and it’s OK to boycott. Troll if you must. That’s your right, my friends. I’m going to follow my conscience and strive for civility.

RSA SecurID

January 9, 2014

My Brother Lives on in the Nephew He Never Met

Thirty-one years ago this week, my older brother Michael died at age 17. I felt the need to write something to mark the anniversary. But to be honest, I didn’t know what to say.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/hEXpmYNgdBM?list=PLLFxufQM_PMu0EJn7shfH34GFPkEBXE_f

Part of that is because I wrote the whole “how his death affected me” post three years ago in “Death of a Sibling.” I also delved into the lighter memories — the outrageous and hilarious shit he used to pull — in “Celebrating a Lost Sibling.”

Then yesterday, during my 45-minute drive to the office, I was chuckling over a crack my oldest son made at my expense a few days ago.

“You know, Dad,” he said, staring at the Superman S on the T-shirt I was wearing, “you look like Superman, 20 years after saving the Earth, with more gray hair and more than a few extra pounds.”

I have the same, serrated brand of snark. I’ll scold him to teach him manners and respect, but I’m usually laughing inside. More often than not, I laugh aloud, which admittedly defeats the purpose of scolding him in the first place.

Truth is, I also enjoy it because it reminds me of my brother.

It’s funny how life works. Sean is named for a best friend and surrogate brother who died some years ago. But he’s sounding and looking more like my real brother all the time.

Like Michael, Sean has a unibrow and the start of some whiskers above his upper lip. He’s tall and lanky, the way Michael was before he started weight lifting in his early teens. His hair grows wild, the way Michael’s did, though the latter tried to control it with frequent hair cuts. Sean prefers a shaggy head.

There are some distinct differences between Sean and the uncle he never met, however. Michael was studying to be a plumber at the time of his death. He enjoyed the art of putting pipes together in just the right formation, allowing water to flow. Sean prefers putting LEGOs and robotic machinery together.

Sean is a Boy Scout, a choice his uncle — and dad, for that matter — would never have made. Sean is also more cautious and refined than Michael was. Sean hates his braces but hasn’t pulled them off with a pair of pliers like his uncle did the same day his mouth metal was installed. Years later, my brother’s act of rebellion is the stuff of treasured family lore. But Sean knows better than to try such a thing.

Differences aside, the similarities are hard to miss.

That makes me happy.

January 7, 2014

The Year That Will Be: 15 Goals

It turns out I have a lot of goals for 2014. Here’s a list.

Wring all the sloppiness from my eating program.
Find a cheap elliptical machine and use it for at least 30 minutes a day.
Earn my way off the blood pressure pills.
Get the first-ever security section of Akamai.com up and running.
Learn how to play one new song a week on guitar.
Start recording the original music I’ve been working on.
Figure out a plan to make a book version of The OCD Diaries. Or, more accurately, a series of books.
Spend less time looking at my phone and more time reading old-fashioned books.
Maybe make another attempt at reconciling with estranged family members.
Stop using the e-cigs that have been a crutch since I stopped smoking.
Be more patient with people, especially my children.
Get to more security conferences (it’s a job requirement, anyway) and find a way to sneak Erin to some of them. [I won’t fit in your suitcase! -Ed.]
Drink less coffee and more green tea.
Get closer to God (I drifted a bit in 2013).
Walk Revere Beach at least once a month.

I seriously doubt I’ll end 2014 will all of these goals achieved. But if I make serious progress on some of them, I’ll declare victory.

January 6, 2014

The Year That Was

A lot of folks have made comments about what a shitty year 2013 was. There were deaths, divorces, miserable jobs, layoffs, etc. I didn’t end the year feeling bitter, though. Many good things happened.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/JvoG36nUcSU

In 2013 I started an excellent job, made a lot of new friends, got in lots of quality time with my wife and kids, and learned to play guitar chords written by my musical heroes.

We made more progress sorting through Duncan’s ADHD and other challenges than the two previous years combined. Erin’s business continued to flourish. Out of nowhere, it seems, Sean started to become a man. His wit and sense of humor were sharpened at my expense much of the time, but I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t enjoy it.

Both kids got serious about writing, which makes their writer-editor parents proud.

The year was crammed with blessings, for sure.

But it wasn’t all roses, either.

I had to come to terms with the fact that I’m getting too old to keep my weight in check with diet alone. The no-flour, no-sugar program didn’t keep away the weight gain. It turns out I have to exercise a lot more than I have in recent years. I had to start wearing a CPAP mask to bed for sleep apnea, and my new doctor put me on blood pressure medicine.

I’m not blind. I know the health issues are my own fault. I never should have slackened the exercise regime. I admittedly let my eating to get sloppy in spots, especially during vacations and business travel.

Given all the work I’ve put into my health in recent years, these developments were a bitch to swallow.

We put the kids in a new school so Duncan could get the attention he deserves. It’s a great school, but it’s been a hard transition with a longer commute and a different culture to adjust to.

As awesome as my new job is, there are still cultural adjustments to make. I’m writing as much as ever, but my work writing has to be more nuanced and careful. It’s what I signed up for, but it’s taking some getting used to.

The year has been one of peaks and valleys. Like the year before it, and the year before that.

For most people, there’s a certain relief that comes with the end of the old year. The end of the year brings the ability to exhale; we need that so we can keep moving forward and growing. The new year provides the hope we need to get through the daily trials.

It’s all good.

The key, as always, is to make the most of the clean slate and not let it go to waste.

I think we’re up to the challenge.

merry new year!