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In It for Attention and Fame

Since a big ego is often part of the OCD persona, the author has decided to see where Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter fit in.

People with big egos often think of themselves as beautiful, even when they’re not. And as I’ve told you before, we OCD cases have big egos. [See The Ego OCD Built]

As part of my recovery — and my larger Faith journey — I’ve had to deal with this issue head on. It’s the most unsettling of truths: For someone like me, mental disorder comes with a hole in the soul. Like anyone with that problem, I’ve tried to fill the hole over the years with addictive behavior.

I’ve kicked the binge eating and alcohol but still have the caffeine and, on occasion, cigars. And I have social networking.

There. I’ve said it.

Facefook/LinkedIn/Twitter etc. — all tools someone like me can use to fill that hole.

Look down the ride side of this blog. I made damn sure you had a way to connect to me in all these places.

A lot of this is for professional purposes. When you write for a living, you need to use these platforms to proliferate your articles. If nobody reads ’em, it doesn’t matter how much effort you put in.

But there’s a personal side as well.

I NEED to be part of whatever discussion everyone’s having online. I need to show off my work and family so those who thought I was careening down a dead-end street  back in the day will know I made something of my life.

If you feel uncomfortable reading this, it’s probably because it’s the same way with you.

Remember a couple months ago when all the ladies were putting bra colors in their status updates? It was technically to promote breast cancer awareness, but let’s be honest. All anyone really thought of were the bra colors and the cup sizes. One female writer who did a column on it admitted she participated because she was looking for a little attention.

Some show off more than others on Facebook, but let’s face it: Everyone’s on there looking for friendship; someone who cares. There’s not really anything wrong with that.

But when you have something like OCD and addictive behavior, that impulse is amplified times 10. So I need to be careful. I know when I send out a lot of tweets I risk pissing someone off, especially since all my tweets go straight to Facebook. I know I’ve been dropped by people on Facebook and Twitter for that reason. And that’s fine. If someone can care less about information security articles, do they really want to be staring down the firehose I use to blast out content? I think not.

Since I’m aware that my presence on Facebook and Twitter can be a bit much, I’m trying to work on it. I’ll keep shooting out the work content, because it’s my job. If someone unfollows me for that, so be it.

On the personal side, though, I’m trying to be more measured, limiting my posts to amusing things my kids say and do and, when I really can’t help myself, the music I’m listening to or the amount of coffee I’m consuming.

I try to avoid putting people down or whining about my drama of the day. I also try not to make the posts all about me, though that gets tricky when you write and promote a personal blog. But I try not to shove my political and spiritual beliefs down your throat or get all high and mighty when somebody slips and falls on their own hubris.

If you see me failing on that score, call me on it.

Just in case I am screwing this one up, it’s always the first thing I bring up in the Confession booth. As I like to say, never leave the trash piling up in your soul. Nobody wants to be around a soul that’s rotting and stinking.

I leave you with a diagram I’ve used before, from Despair.com. For a little fun, have a study and see where you fit in:

http://www.oberholtzer-creative.com/visualculture/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/socialmediavenndiagram.jpg

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The Final Addiction

The author on why he will shamelessly revel in his last addiction until he can’t anymore.

Mood music for this post: “Dr. Feelgood” by Motley Crue:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OU1zliOPCHo&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Addiction has led to many shameful moments in my life:

Binging on a $35 bag of McDonald’s junk between work and home and walking through the door in a zombie-like state, feeling like the lowest of the low.

Realizing that I HAD to have a glass of wine at the end of the day or, better yet, all afternoon on a Sunday, the glass filled to the brim.

Dreaming up all kinds of ways to hide the money I was spending on both. In other words, lying to everyone about what I was up to — including myself. [More on that in The Liar’s Disease]

That was the real self-destructive stuff. I kicked the first habit by cutting all flour and sugar from my diet and putting all my food on a little scale. The second one was easier to kick, because even at its worst, that addiction was far less damaging than the flour-sugar kind.

I’m both sober (from alcohol) and abstinent (from compulsive overeating) and I work the 12 Steps of Recovery.

I still enjoy the occasional cigar, though I’m off them for the duration of Lent.

But there is still one hefty addiction on my shoulders. And you know what? I have no desire to kick it.

Caffeine.

I drink it all day, mostly in coffee form. I like it strong and bitter, and if there are grounds spinning in a circle at the surface, I’m fine with that. Even when I put cream in, it still looks black to the naked eye. I love it so.

My favorite routine is to get up at 4 a.m., brew a cup and let it seep into my bloodstream as I look out the living room window, sitting in my favorite chair, watching the sun come up. By 9 a.m., I’m on the second cup.

I prefer Starbucks, though Peets and Panera brew some good stuff as well.

On some of my work-at-home days, I can be found in the Starbucks up the street, using the place as my own caffeinated office.

When traveling, one of the first things I do is find where the coffee is at. By the way, there are a lot of great coffee shops in Washington D.C.

Why the obsession with coffee? Well, the easy answer is that I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder and chances are I’m always going to latch onto something. The trick is to latch onto the things that are most harmless to me, my family and everyone else. Caffeine is one of those things.  Sure, there’s the risk that I’ll overdo it and end up in an emergency room with my heart trying to rip its way out of my chest.

When I was around 20, I thought a great way to lose weight was to drink as many cups of black coffee as I could squeeze into a day. It was good for weight loss, but that kind of weight loss is only temporary. And breathing into a paper bag to calm down at the end of the day got old fast.

What works for me now is to sip slowly. Guzzling is the path to heart palpitations, so I avoid that.

Sometimes, when I’m on the road, I switch over to Red Bull in the afternoon. I’m not as big a fan of the stuff, but it helps to dull the edge I get from seeing all the free booze and food flowing around me.

Yes, I’m letting something control me. Yes, I’ll probably have to stop someday. But not today.

Of all the addictions I have, it remains the least harmful. And if it keeps me away from the stuff that really pushes my life into a downward spiral, so be it.

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Waiting for the Sun

The author on how longer days mean less depression — for him, anyway.

Mood music for this post: “Waiting for the Sun,” by The Doors:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A0kypyGSKsE&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

I’m starting to feel it. The mental release that comes with longer periods of daylight.

Sure, everyone loves the longer days and everything else that marks the coming of spring. But in my case, longer days means a reduction in my Prozac intake. And that’s pretty freakin’ cool.

As I’ve written before, the cold grayness of winter and its shorter periods of daylight have a serious impact on my mental health. [More on that in Prozac Winter and The Mood Swing]

Ah, but the sunshine. It fires up every remaining cell in my brain.

It’s odd that I turned out this way. As a child, I used to prefer the winter and its shorter days. It was almost like a security blanket for me. It made me feel cozy as I hunkered down in my room.

Now it’s the opposite. I thrive on days where the sun starts rising around 4:30 a.m. and doesn’t set until close to 9 p.m.

Go figure.

The good news is that I didn’t wait until winter got the better of me. This time, in early December, I was waiting for it. I knew the Christmas season usually threw me into deep periods of depression, and when it hit this time I took action. I started this blog. And, I opened up about it with my therapist, who suggested an extra 20 MG of medication for the duration of winter.

It was a shaky start. One weekend I experienced wild mood swings where I was up one minute, down and angry the next. That was the brain readjusting to the dosage change.

It carried me through winter — still is — better than what I’ve lived through in previous years. [More on that in The Engine]

The goal now is to roll back the extra 20 MG I’ve been on later this month and go back to the previous level.

I think that’s going to work out just fine.

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Portable Recovery

Though addiction will follow the junkie anywhere in the world, the author has discovered that recovery is just as portable.

Mood Music for this post: “Turn the Page” — the Metallica version:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dOibtqWo6z4&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

I’ve seen interview after interview where musicians describe their drug habits and how being on the road made them so much worse.

One of the best examples was Motley Crue on the Girls Girls Girls tour, where the four band members’ addictions were well past the point of manageability — not that an addiction is ever really manageable. That was the tour where Nikki Sixx kept a diary chronicling his increasing heroin use.

In fact, sit in front of the TV and watch a “Behind the Music” marathon and you’ll see most bands tell a similar story.

It’s a similar tale for any businessman who nurses an addiction while doing a lot of travel. Every city is flowing with whatever material feeds one’s vice, whether it’s drugs, alcohol or, in my case, binge eating.

I can tell you from experience that it’s true. During my travels to San Francisco, Washington DC, Chicago, Las Vegas and points in between, the opportunity to binge on free junk and alcohol is limitless.

But here’s what I’ve also learned: You can take your recovery everywhere, too.

In all of the cities I mentioned above, I’ve been able to hold firmly to my 12-Step program and related plan of eating. I know what I can eat, how much, and which ingredients are essentially my cocaine (flour and sugar).

There are 12-Step meetings in every city and town, whether it’s OA or AA, and there are phone meetings available around the clock.

And, if you’re like me, you’ve told enough people about your challenges that they’ll watch out for you. That was definitely the case for me in San Francisco last week.

It really comes down to what you want. If you want your junk, you’ll always be resourceful enough to find it.

If you want recovery, same deal.

I’ve found it also helps to read blogs from others in recovery when I’m on the road. One of my recent discoveries is a great blog called “Conquering Crazy” by Greg Dungan. Like my OCD Diaries, Greg’s blog is a recent start-up. He focuses like a laser beam on the core craziness as he experiences it. It reads more like an actual day-by-day diary, whereas mine is more a collection of longer narratives with a lot of focus on the byproducts of my affliction.

Like me, music is important to him, and he is also a seeker who is trying to find the core of his spirituality. I especially love his first entry, “OK, So I’m Crazy.” Here’s an excerpt:

“I have exhibited symptoms of OCD for as long as I can remember. Recently, these symptoms have intensified. What used to be the “things that make me unique” have become the “things that make me crazy”. This blog is about my struggle with this demon. This is where I will record my day to day thoughts and struggles – my defeats and my victories. I have two choices at this point in my life – roll over and die or fight my way out. I’ve never been one for rolling over and I’m not about to start now.

“You’re welcome to walk this valley with me. If you are living with OCD or if someone you love is, take heart. There are brighter days somewhere, and we will find them together.”

Brighter days ahead? You bet your ass there are.

I’ve experienced it. I’ve been to the valley and the mountaintop.

I started blogging about it after I had been on the journey for a few years. Greg is blogging his journey from the start. That’s courage.

And like addiction, depression, Faith and recovery, courage is portable, too.

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The Tire and the Footlocker

The author opens up an old footlocker under the stairs and finds himself back in that old Revere basement.

As I dumped some trash into the garage bucket this morning, my eye caught a couple memories under the stairs.

An old tire Peter Sugarman gave me a week before he died because he was worried that a tire on my car had worn down to the treads, and a green footlocker my grandfather used when he was in the military.

I didn’t forget they were there. But for some reason, I decided to pull all the junk off the footlocker and open it up.

Next thing I knew, my brain was back in the old basement of the house I grew up in on the Lynnway in Revere.

So let’s see what I found in there, shall we?

Mostly, the box was full of comic books. Not one of them newer than 20 years old, several dating back to the 1960s. I read a lot of comics when I was a kid. The real world was not an ideal place at the time, so comic books were where I did my hiding.

Superman. Spider-Man. Lobo. X-Men. Just a few of the flavors I found.

There were the Time and Newsweek magazines I collected in the late 1980s and early 1990s, when I was obsessed with current events. I followed the lead-up to the first Gulf War closely, terrified that I was going to be drafted.

In hindsight, I was an idiot for worrying about that. Not because a draft was never really in the cards, but because it was another example of me worrying about me. Ironic, since the magazines were in a box once owned by a man who parachuted into danger despite whatever fears he had, in the early-morning hours leading up to the D-Day invasion of Nazi-occupied France.

Then there were the odder finds, including a “High Times” encyclopedia of recreational drugs.

Next to it was a cigarette butt that had to be more than 20 years old. I have no idea if it was one of mine or if it belonged to someone else.

Since I used to smoke in the concrete bunker beneath the patio, it was probably mine.

Now for the weirdest find. A poem written by Joy Affannato, before she married my best friend, Sean Marley:

“Blessed and Black Clad, Dedicated to Bill Brenner”

Clad in black

with a black-lined heart

like the charred edges

of our burnt society

Gathering the ash

to sift through and find

some satiating solution.

…A poet

with a doctrite of humanity

But, no one really has the answers:

Every question is relevant

And using words of metaphor

he transforms the WRITTEN WORD

My first reaction was a feeling of loss.

Joy dropped out of my world after Sean died. I think she was angry, along with Sean’s mother and sister, because I wrote a column about his suicide that revealed too much detail. I don’t blame them one bit for blackballing me.

In hindsight, I think my need to help her cope with the grief made me a particularly suffocating presence. Possibly, she also disappeared because she didn’t want to be around anyone who reminded her too much of Sean.

There’s also the inescapable fact that I was wrapped up in my own little world, worried about me and me alone, at a time when Sean was sinking into depression and needed the love of ALL his friends.

I could be wrong about these things. But it’s my best guess. Either way, I felt a wave of sadness that this person dropped out of my life.

Once I got over that, I started to examine the poem for some sense of meaning.

I did wear a lot of black back then. Still do. You could say I wore my dark side on my sleeve.

My poems at the time were full of bleakness, so I can see where the ash description comes from. I was definitely a seeker. Still am. Fortunately, in the years since, I’ve found my Faith.

The funny thing is, the poem reminds me more of Sean than of me. But it makes sense, because back in the day Sean was the man I most tried to be like.

At the bottom of the page was something that made me smile: The logo for my old band, Skeptic Slang, and a cartoon with the caption: “The mind is mightier when you’ve scored.”

I’m back from the basement now, and, to be honest, I’m a lot happier where I am now.

But it’s nice to know someone was thinking about me back when I was only just beginning to descend into madness.

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10 Songs

The author shares 10 songs he’s listening to today.

No introduction necessary, folks. By now, you know that music — particularly metal — is one of my main tools of recovery.

So rather than blather on about why every song inspires me, I’m just going to give you a playlist. Just listen one at a time and, if you don’t care to watch the videos, just leave the music on for the appropriate Saturday background noise.

The Decemberists: “Leslie Anne Levine”

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ml0VI8VZO2U&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

The Avett Brothers, “Murdered in the City”

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aE7rkSELM3I&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Sixx A.M.: “Pray for Me”

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmhv8Q-mDr4&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Marilyn Manson, “Man That You Fear”

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rthl_O4_G2o&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Motley Crue, “If I Die Tomorrow”

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bg2knMSq9sQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Henry Rollins Band, “Shine”

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAXL4R_keTY&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Thin Lizzy, “The Rocker”

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1EjMLfa-13w&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Zakk Wylde and Jason Newsted jamming session

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VfxO3kxrL8g&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Metallica, “Loverman”

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4Tl18T38P4&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Ozzy, “No More Tears”

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HdAXPWvy4E8&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

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Post-Travel Blues (A.K.A. Pretty Vacant)

The author reflects on the zombie-like state he tends to be in after a whirlwind trip, and the not-so-smart way he used to handle it.

Mood music for this post: “Pretty Vacant” by the Sex Pistols:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zmHhB9zV_rQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

So here I sit in my favorite chair by the living room window. The sun shines through. A thick cup of coffee is on the table beside me. I’ve gotten some rest.

But there’s still a lot of white noise going off in my head, kind of like a TV that’s turned all the way up when the cable goes out and the sound of static fills the room. And if you stare me in the eye, all you’ll see are a couple of vacant holes.

This is typically what happens when I return from a security conference. I sink into a depression of sorts. I come home on a mental high after a successful trip, then the day after, as I come down from that feeling, the mood sinks downward. Call it a coming-down-from-the-mountain feeling.

But I handle this sort of thing in a much healthier manner than I used to, though. Let’s take a look at the before and after…

2005:

This is a good place to rewind to because it was my first trip to the RSA security conference. I was edgy as hell, having been warned a hundred times that this was a grueling conference, with vendor briefings from dawn to dusk, and the need for lightening-quick keynote write-ups.

I had only recently started treatment for OCD . My mind was raw and bloodied as the therapist led me back into my past to figure out how I got to be such a freak.

My boss and office mom, Ann Saita, did her best to make me feel at ease but I was in Hell anyway.

At the time, I was terrified of flying. I walked into the hotel and started to assess the sturdiness of the building in the event of an earthquake. I woke up the first morning of the show — the busiest day at that — with a 102 fever. This was a classic case of mental illness causing physical sickness.

I wrote about seven stories that week: The quick, crappy kind. At night I went hopping to the various parties, sucking down all the free wine and gorging on whatever food was there. I got home and spent the next week sick in the  body and soul.

Before we fast-forward to the present, it’s important to note that at the time one of my problems was that I was a people pleaser. Specifically, this meant pleasing the bosses and showing them that I was indeed the golden boy they had been hearing about. The thought of coming up short was simply too much to take. But somehow I got through it, and each trip back to San Francisco has been better than the last.

2010

So it’s five years later and I’ve gone through years of mental rehabilitation. I wrote seven stories this time, just like I did five years ago, plus two podcasts.

I still woke up today with the post-travel blues.

But the comparisons end there.

Here’s what’s changed:

— Part of recovery for me has been accepting that you can’t let your life hinge on pleasing others, whether it’s your boss or your mother. Free of that burden, a conference like this becomes a lot more fun.

— I wrote as much as I did simply because I was interested in the content and thought the readers would be interested, too. In fact, I had a blast doing it.

— I kept my eating strict and stayed sober at the evening events, though, truth be told, I’m still trying to figure out how to talk to people without a glass of wine in my hand. I’m pretty sure I did fine.

— Like last year, I enjoyed the company of others like I never used to before. I ran into a lot of people I collaborate with online, and it sure was great to see their faces.

— Instead of dreading the airplanes, I enjoy flying. I love looking out the window with the blue sky above and the clouds below. When the clouds go away on a cross-country flight, you can see the snow-covered Rocky Mountains and the desert canyons, and you realize just how vast, varied and spectacular this country is.

— When I come home I embrace Erin, Sean and Duncan with more zeal than I used to. I loved them just as much back then, but the mental haze kept me from showing it very well.

Come to think of it, I was like that without the travel. Now I allow myself to feel the joy of being back under the same roof as them.

I got the kids to school this morning, got my snuggles in with them and got some time with just me and Erin.

Life is grand.

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Back to Boston

It’s 12:45 a.m. west coast time as I write this, and I’ve just packed for the morning flight home after a week of pounding the pavement of San Francisco during the RSA security conference and the nearby Security B-Sides event.

I was in OCD overdrive the whole time in terms of writing, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Seven articles, two podcasts and scheduled a high-profile interview for next week.

I kept the OCD in check in all other respects and enjoyed the company of old workmates like Rob Westervelt, Mike Mimoso, Eric Parizo and Dennis Fisher tonight. I spent the week getting better acquainted with folks in the security industry. It was great seeing Jennifer Jabbusch, Dave Lewis, Jack Daniel, Todd Kimball, Martin McKeay, Erin Jacobs, Chris Hoff, and many, many others.

The security industry is full of fascinating characters who are all trying to make their own corner of cyberspace a little safer. It’s a joy to cover their work.

I started the trip obsessing about a busted VPN that cut me off from the programs I use to post articles as well as Microsoft Outlook, though I can’t say losing the latter bothered me much.

The worry was a waste of time. Derek Slater and Joan Goodchild got my stuff on our site faster than I would have. It illustrates the value of letting the little things go.

Most importantly, I kept the eating in check and stayed sober.

All little gifts that amount to one huge Blessing.

Tomorrow will be the greatest gift of all — returning to Erin, Sean and Duncan. I always miss them terribly on these trips and have to figure out how to take them with me on future journeys.

I’m ready to be home.

It’s 1:13 a.m. now, an hour I haven’t been awake for in a very long time. I’m going to put on some Avett Brothers and go to sleep for three and a half hours. That not much, but I can sleep on the plane.

Thanks again to everyone who watched out for me this trip.

Sleep time. Here’s my bedtime music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDYq8-3wta0&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

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Sober in San Francisco (Aint Easy)

The author has been sober and on a rigid eating plan to control his addictions for some time. But nothing puts him to the test quite like time on the road.

Mood music for this post: “Saints of Los Angeles” by Motley Crue —

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XFMVHRZztM&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Here’s the thing with security conferences (and conferences in general): a ton of food is lying around and booze seems to ooze from every building.

That used to suit me just fine when I was a binge eater and wine guzzler. It offered a welcome respite from the pressure I was always putting on myself to succeed at these events. But then that’s what addicts do — pollute themselves to kill the pressure or the pain.

Luckily, I don’t feel that kind of pressure anymore. But the temptations can run hot when I’m on the road.

So here I am in San Francisco for the RSA conference and Security B-Sides events. I’m at a lot of events that involve drinking and instead of wine I’m sucking down club sodas and Red Bull. And, truth be told, I still have trouble feeling at ease in the crowd without the wine buzzing beneath the skin of my forehead.

But here’s the good news, kids: When you’re open about your recovery, people look out for you.

This morning, at the B-Sides event, one of my newer security friends warned me that the taco truck on the street below might not have food I can eat, and suggested a place around the corner that would be a better option. He knew about my limits from reading this blog.

Later, at the evening parties, people pointed me toward the non-alcoholic beverages.

I’ve been reminded again and again on this trip that there are some kind souls out there. Because I’ve opened up to them, they’ve accepted me for who I am without reservation.

It’s true that anonymity is a critical tool for those of us in recovery. Everything said at an OA or AA meeting stays there. One must never out another person.

But I chose to out myself, partly because it’s easier for me to stick with recovery when I don’t have to make up strange excuses for why I can’t eat at a certain place or have a glass of alcohol.

A lot of addicts worry about being scorned and seen as a freak by those around them if they reveal too much. To a certain extent, it’s a valid concern. To be sure, there are plenty of shitheads out there.

But my experience is that those people are a very small minority.  Since just about everyone has a few skeletons in the closet, they can identify. And that seems to make everything better.

As a dear friend of mine likes to say, if you can’t get rid of the skeletons in your closet, might as well make them dance.

So to those of you looking out for me while I’m here, I thank you.

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Early Morning

I slept in this morning, which means I didn’t roll out of bed until 6 a.m. San Francisco time. Back home it was 9 a.m. It feels like I slept half the day away.

That might not sound right to those of you who sleep more normal hours.

But the truth is, I prefer getting up at 4 a.m.

The house is quiet. I can write as the coffee seeps into my bloodstream. It’s peaceful. When I reach the office before 6 a.m., I feel like I own the place for a couple hours. I blare metal from the iTunes library and get to work, and nobody’s there at that hour to be bothered by it.

So sleeping late, while a pleasure for some, is an annoyance to me.

No matter. I’m covering a lot of ground out here, so the body was pretty depleted at bedtime. I feel good now and I’m ready to take on this city again.

Security B-Sides is this morning. I can’t wait for the talks and the article or two I’ll get out of it. Back to the RSA conference around lunchtime to interview some folks from Microsoft for a podcast I’ll put together tomorrow morning.

Later.