Posted on

The Rudolph Conspiracy

I just got done watching a pretty warped video on YouTube that merges “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer” with “Full Metal Jacket.” It got me thinking about what that kid’s Christmas special says about society.

I always get a kick out of how Santa is portrayed in this one. He’s the typical asshole authority figure, shaming someone because they’re different. He’s cranky. He’s feeling the pressure. I’ve always related to this guy.

Then there’s the lead elf, really busting down Herbie because he doesn’t like to make toys. Whenever someone gives my son crap for liking the color pink, I think of Herbie the elf. The head elf actually reminds me of a guy I used to work with in my newspapering days.

I relate to the misfit toys as well. They’re sitting on that cold wasteland of an island, dejected and alone. I’ve felt dejected and alone in my day, but I never had a cool Hoth-like island to hide on.

Then there’s the snow monster. Everyone hates him, but he’s the most misunderstood guy in the room.

The cool thing about this Christmas special is that all the assholes learn their lesson and the misunderstood become understood.

It’s another reminder that there’s hope for all of us.

Posted on

Help Her Out

A few days ago I wrote a post about a movie called Machine Man, which deals with a man struggling with OCD. I received a note this evening from the film maker, Kellie Madison. Allow me to share:

“I am the filmmaker working on Machine Man and I wanted to thank you so much for taking the initiative to write this post. It really means a lot to me to be appreciated for the work that I am trying to do. I want to make a film that will impact everyone struggling with OCD and I can’t do it without everyone who cares about this disorder’s help. So, please continue to spread the word and encourage people to go on the site to donate so we can get this movie made!! Thanks again so much!”

No, Kellie: Thank you. As someone who has waged the OCD battle, I’m grateful to people like you for doing something to break the stigma.

Folks: Kellie is funding this film in a grassroots manner to keep the content free of the typical Hollywood bullshit treatment. The more she can raise from people like us, the sooner the film will come out.

So if you can, help her out. We’re all financially strapped, including me. It’s a bad time to ask people to give to a cause. But I ask anyway, because I want to do my part.

Here’s a press release describing the film and Kellie’s approach:

Veteran Female filmmaker Kellie Madison tackles obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) with narrative feature film; Kicks off never-been-done-before grassroots campaign to raise awareness and funding

For Immediate Release

FEMALE FILMMAKER TACKLES OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER (OCD) WITH NARRATIVE FEATURE FILM

Writer / Producer / Director Kellie Madison Kicks Off Never-Been-Done-Before Grassroots Campaign to Raise Awareness and Funding

(HOLLYWOOD, CA)- Donald Trump. Howie Mandel. Howard Stern. Each of these men is among the most influential public figures of the world. Yet, most wouldn’t imagine that these powerful people all share a common mental disorder. They, along with millions of others around the globe, suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), a neurobiological anxiety disorder characterized by intrusive thoughts (obsessions) and a need to perform repetitive and ritualistic behaviors (compulsions). One in 50 adults currently battle with obsessive and compulsive behavior. One in 25 has dealt with the disorder at some point in their lives.

Just as “Rain Main” brought worldwide awareness to autism and “Children of a Lesser God” eloquently dramatized the trials and tribulations of the hearing impaired, Kellie Madison brings us a narrative film that illuminates the debilitating struggle that millions of people who suffer from OCD go through on a daily basis. “Machine Man,” chronicles the spirited tale of an average man, who struggles with an extraordinary problem, facing his most debilitating fear in order to save the woman he loves.

Far too often, people with OCD suffer in silence because of the shame and stigma associated with this disorder.  Some don’t even recognize what they’re suffering from and are terrified to leave their homes.

To date, a film that addresses the daily debilitating fears associated with OCD has yet to be produced. Film is one of themost powerful mediums for conveying messages to audiences around the world. A feature like “Machine Man” can and will create empathy and awareness for those suffering with OCD. This will ultimately affect change by helping people recognize their disorder and subsequently seek proper treatment.

It takes more than a great script and great talent to get a film off the ground.  It takes funding.  Madison is using her passion for the project to attempt a filming feat no Producer has yet to achieve: raising the entire $2,000,000 budget of the film through philanthropic support from the local community. We need YOUR help in spreading the word.  This grassroots campaign is a unique, ambitious and worthwhile endeavor.  Depending on the level of support, all participants will be rewarded, including the opportunity for a role in the film.  Additionally, partial proceeds will go to the International OCD Foundation.

Kellie Madison, as well as experts from around the country are on board and available for interviews. We would appreciate your help and the opportunity to spread the word about this amazing project.

A four minute video introduction about the project is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtPgZOpw14E.
You can find “Machine Man” art here: http://mjkpr.com/Machine_Man/.
For more information about the film, please visit HYPERLINK “http://www.machinemanthemovie.com“ www.machinemanthemovie.com.

Posted on

Christmas Doesn’t Suck Like It Used To

The Christmas season remains an uncomfortable time of year for me. I’m used to going into a deep depression the second December starts. But something’s different this year. For the first time in a long time, I’m not dreading it.

Mood music:

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

Life isn’t perfect. It never will be. Not supposed to be. But I’m finally starting to move past the idea that Christmas is supposed to always be perfect, sparkling and free of pain and strife. Given my tendency to think in absolutes, it used to be that if I had an argument with someone or work was stressful that it was all the fault of the season.

Not helping was the chemical imbalance that set in when the days got shorter. A dark sky for me is usually a dark mood.

What’s different is that I’m looking at a lot of painful, hard work in the rear-view mirror. Years of intense therapy, the decision to bring my addictions to heel, letting God in and going on medication. In the last couple of years, all that toil has been starting to pay off and I’ve felt joys I could never feel before.

In the last year, I’ve also fought back hard against the daylight problem. I went up 20 MG on the Prozac last winter, dropped back to the old dosage for summer and moved back up Aug. 1, when the days become noticeably shorter. I also started using a special lamp — sunshine in a box, as I call it — and that has diminished the extreme moods.

They still come and go, but they’re not nearly as intense as they used to be.

I think the biggest reason I’m not dreading Christmas this time is that my perspective has changed. I’m not craving a “Pleasantville” atmosphere where everyone kicks back and smiles all jolly. I’m not expecting things to be idyllic. I guess you can say I’ve lowered my expectations.

People are still going to fight. Cars will still break down. Loved ones will still die. That no longer means Christmas is destroyed.

A lot of this is based on my deepening Faith.  

This time of year is about celebrating the birth of Christ. I love the glow of a lit Christmas tree as much as the next person. But I don’t care so much about all the gifting back and forth. It feels good to give, but I’ve realized the best thing I can give is my time for a friend in need or a family that’s always there for me.

If not for the sacrifice Jesus made for us sinners, I’d be in a world of shit. For all I know I still am. Purging evil behavior is a complicated task and I very much doubt I’ve mastered it.

Celebrating His birthday is wholly appropriate, regardless of the twists and turns life will inevitably take. Because that birth was our second chance — my second chance.

If you’re a skeptic and think I’m getting into crazy talk, I don’t care. I know I’m no better or worse than you, though in my delusional moments I like to think I am.

This is where my road has taken me, and I’m grateful for it.

And so, I think I can get up the courage to say these two words:

Merry Christmas.

Posted on

One Year Later

A year ago today, I was feeling down. It was nothing unusual, because the onset of the Christmas season has a way of messing with me. But this time, I felt a special compulsion to do something about it. The result was this blog.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yp8sDwwRokY&fs=1&hl=en_US]

About a year into my recovery from serious mental illness and addiction — the most uncool, unglamorous addiction at that — I started thinking about sharing where I’ve been. My reasoning was simple: I’d listened to a lot of people toss around the OCD acronym to describe everything from being a type A personality to just being stressed. I also saw a lot of people who were traveling the road I’d been down and were hiding their true nature from the world for fear of a backlash at work and in social circles.

At some point, that bullshit became unacceptable to me.

I started getting sick of hiding. I decided the only way to beat my demons at their sick little game was to push them out into the light, so everyone could see how ugly they were and how bad they smelled. That would make them weaker, and me stronger. And so that’s how this started out, as a stigma-busting exercise.

What I didn’t expect was that it would become so much more than that.

Life with THE OCD DIARIES hasn’t been what I’d call pure bliss. There are many mornings where I’d rather be doing other things, but the blog calls to me. A new thought pops into my head and has to come out. It can also be tough on my wife, because sometimes she only learns about what’s going on in my head from what’s in the blog. I don’t mean to do that. It’s just that I often can’t form my thoughts clearly in discussion. I come here to do it, and when I’m done the whole world sees it.

More than once I’ve asked Erin if I should kill this blog. Despite the discomfort it can cause her at times, she always argues against shutting it down. It’s too important to my own recovery process, and others stand to learn from it or at least relate to it.

And so I push forward.

This is my 404th entry. In a year, the blog has gotten nearly 38,000 views. It started out at 25 visits a day, then grew to 50. Now the normal traffic is between 120 and 300 visits a day. As of yesterday, 2,164 of you have left comments to various posts.

That tells me the need is still there.

But let me get back to why this has become so much more than a stigma-busting thing:

People I hadn’t seen or heard from in many years found the blog and started to read through the earliest posts, seeing a side of me they didn’t necessarily know about back when they were in my life.

I purged a lot of demons on this site, including my unresolved feelings about my childhood, the death of my best friend and the estrangement from his family. Along the way, I learned that people I thought had hated my guts all these years had not in fact hated me. The best example is my friend’s widow, Joy. Reconciling with her was a critical part of my ability to move on. I don’t think she’ll ever truly grasp how important it has been to me. I also don’t think we’ll be hanging out like the old days. Too much life has happened since 1996.

That’s OK, though.  Knowing she doesn’t hate me and that she’s happy these days is good enough.

This blog has allowed me to express my love for Erin and our children in ways I never could in the spoken word. I’m grateful for that. 

I’ve been able to shine a spotlight on friends and family who mean everything to me. Hopefully, that added a few extra rays of sunshine to their lives.

I’ve been able to share everything I’ve learned about OCD and a binge-eating addiction. I’ve been told by readers that it helped them a lot. I’m glad.

So what have I learned in the last year about myself? That’s easy:

I’m still a work in progress, better in many ways than I used to be, but still deeply flawed and saddled with a lot of issues I still need to work on.

But then we ALL have issues we need to work on, don’t we?

I’m not going to write in here tomorrow. I have a busy week of work projects and Christmas stuff to do.

And, for my newest readers, I’m going to rerun the first 5-10 posts I ever wrote. I’ll do that via Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn as always.

For now, thanks for sharing this journey with me. I hope it’s been as worth it for you as it’s been for me.

Posted on

Thinking in Absolutes: A Bad Idea

One of the problems with a mind laden with OCD is that you think a lot in absolutes. It’s one of the first things you need to stop doing when you finally decide to get help. But six years in, I still haven’t conquered that beast.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1CpRCc4Jre8&fs=1&hl=en_US]

Thinking in absolutes when your in a good mood is dangerous because you tend to think you’re so much better than you really are. Example:

Someone tells me I’m a good writer.

Translation in absolute: I’m the best writer in the business.

That’s rubbish, of course. But it’s the way someone like me thinks when I’m wearing my stupid hat. Another example:

Someone tells me they really admire how I am with my children.

Translation in absolute: I’m such an awesome dad.

I try to be. But trust me: I’m not.

Someone tells me I’m a great husband.

Translation in absolute: I’m the PERFECT husband.

Sadly, I am far from it.

Most of the time, when I’m thinking in absolutes, it’s on the negative side. Examples:

You missed the mark a bit with that headline you wrote.

Translation in absolute: 16 years into this career, I still suck at writing.

You shouldn’t have let the kids watch so much TV.

Translation in absolute: I’m a horrible father.

That’s what thinking in absolutes is to me. I either think about something in the best possible terms or the worst. The truth is always somewhere in the middle.

When I think in absolutes, I’m thinking outside the box of reality. It makes for some manic mood swings. Lately, I’m realizing that I’m as far away from getting a handle on this as I was the day I realized something was seriously wrong inside my head and that I needed to get help. 

With that in mind, I go thinking in absolutes again: I’m no better a person than I was all those years ago.

That’s not true, of course. I’ve made tons and tons of progress.

But I have a long way to go.

That’s not something that’s absolutely terrible or absolutely wonderful.

It’s just the way it is.

Fortunately for me, my wife, kids and friends are able to see me as I am, and that — for better or worse — they accept me anyway.

I’m thankful for that.

Posted on

Those 70s Cartoons and Child Abuse

There’s a thing going on this weekend on Facebook where people are changing their profile pics to a 70s cartoon of their choice to raise awareness against child abuse. It’s an admirable thing, but there’s also a downside.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i5P8lrgBtcU&fs=1&hl=en_US]

I did bite, though. Here’s what I am for the weekend:

When I was in the hospital six weeks at a time for Crohn’s Disease, Tom and Jerry was a welcome distraction. I used to love watching Tom get the shit knocked out of him. It was a great release of aggression for a 9-year-old. It was before I had heavy metal music to do that.

I was a big fan of Super Friends, too. I watched it mainly because I was a big Superman fan. I never liked the Wonder Twins, though. I always wanted them to die horrible, gory deaths.

I wasn’t all there when I was a kid. Come to think of it, I’m not all there now.

So this campaign is all about child abuse awareness. Here’s what people are posting on their walls:

All children deserve happy childhood memories, RAISE AWARENESS: Change your FB picture to a cartoon from your childhood. The goal? To not see a human face on facebook until Monday the 6th of Dec. Join the fight against child abuse, and invite your friends to do the same.

It raised my awareness, all right. In the 70s and 80s, I saw plenty of child abuse in my house. Not from my father or step-parents, but from my mother. She had a hard life so I don’t hold it against her. I forgave her long ago. But the memories still suck. My sister got it the worst. Between that, a bitter divorce, illness and death, I don’t exactly consider that period a happy childhood.

I’m pretty happy today, so maybe I should start a more contemporary campaign with modern cartoons like one of my current favorites, “Phineas and Ferb.” I love snuggling up with the kids and watching that one.

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

To me, the happy memories are being made right now.

But I’m going to go along with the childhood cartoon thing anyway. Billy Joel once sang that “the good old days weren’t always good and tomorrow aint as bad as it seems.”

As a kid I used to think my parents lived in a world that looked a lot like that movie “Pleasantville.” Everything was clean and pretty. Nobody fought. Every day was Christmas.

I know that wasn’t true for my mother. My father tells me the 50s and 60s kind of sucked for him. He was overweight and kids made fun of him.

But that didn’t stop me from wanting to live in their past. Surely, it had to be better than the present I was living.

A lot of kids probably look at the 70s and 80s the same way.

So, if putting up pictures from old cartoons is going to make them happy, I’ll do my part.

Posted on

The Eagle-Tribune Revisited

Danny Goodwin and I decided on a whim to crash the newsroom of The Eagle-Tribune this afternoon. It’s where we forged our friendship. It’s where I was when my sanity really started to come apart and it’s where some damn good people still work.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9yuDEnMhhk&fs=1&hl=en_US]

The place hasn’t changed a bit. The computer screens may be flatter and a corner of the room is now taken up with multimedia gear, but the pictures on the wall are the same, as is the stained carpet and the old cubicles. The lunch room has the same peculiar smell it had when I worked there.

But the same dear friends remain, including Bill Cantwell, Gretchen Putnam and Taylor Armerding. Gretchen wasn’t there when we came through, unfortunately, but it was good to see old faces.

It was also nice to walk through there with a different mindset than the one I had last time I walked those halls in early 2004.

I did a lot of stupid things when I worked there — to myself and to other people.

I’d like to think I did some good when I was there, too.

That’s for others to determine, and it’s doesn’t exactly matter anymore.

Posted on

Friends in Crisis

I have a few friends who are in crisis these days, making my own struggles seem trivial. Talking to them is a lot like living in the Twilight Zone. I’m used to being self absorbed.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:7bv9wNXN3FHKMRTMdi48fL]

I have to admit something: I’m not that good at being there for others. Lord knows I try, but I get so stuck in my own head sometimes that it’s hard to see what’s happening around me.

My failure on this front is most evident on the family side. Even before the relationship with my mother imploded, I always sucked at visiting my grandparents and calling siblings. I was always too busy with other things.

Actually, I was always obsessed with other things, some real, some imagined.

When my great-grandmother was dying, I kept meaning to go visit her. The week I finally planned to was the week she died.

I was terrible at visiting my Nana. Instead of loving her unconditionally, I was fixated on her quirks. Here’s the thing with a head case like me: It’s much easier to stew about someone else’s faults than your own. That may sound like a contradiction, since I talk a lot about being stuck inside my own head. But that’s part of the problem. People like me will come outside my own head for a few minutes just to spit on someone else’s quirks.

I’ve paid the price along the way.

I’ve had a lot of friends come and go in my life. Two of the closest friends died on me. It took a long, long time before I was willing to even consider getting close to anyone ever again outside my family.

And, as I mentioned earlier, family relationships suffered.

So here I am, a few years into recovery from OCD and addiction, and people are coming to me for a shoulder to lean on.

God has a way of giving you payback and blessing you with His grace at the same time.

I’m fortunate to have the friends I have, after all the fucking up I’ve done in life.

I hope I don’t let them down.

Posted on

Machine Man: The Movie

The disorder I was diagnosed with five years ago is going to be the focus of a movie. I guess that means it’s cool to have OCD now.

A reader pointed me toward the website for “Machine Man: The Movie” yesterday, and I’ve been digging around the site, totally captivated. There’s a “why we’re doing this” clip on the site that sounds a lot like the reasons I started this blog. Machine Man - The Movie

The website is chock full of useful information on the illness and I think the project is going to help a lot of people understand what this is all about.

That makes me happy.

Film maker Kellie Madison deserves a lot of praise for taking on this complicated beast.

She could also use everyone’s help to fund this project.

From the Facebook page:

“We are raising all of the money for this movie through donations and fundraising! Our hope is to demystify some of the stigma attached to OCD and encourage people to seek proper treatment and get their lives back! Be a part of making this project happen!”

At the very least, you should “like” the Facebook page for the film and share it with friends and family. They will learn a lot.

In fact, I’m dedicating this week’s Facebook Follow Friday post to that page.

Please check it out.

Posted on

Sponsor Shopping

The changes I need to make to take my recovery to the next level are well  underway. But an important piece of the puzzle might prove more challenging than I first thought.

Mood music (I’m on a deep Smashing Pumkins kick this week):

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r4gFpiRD2PI&fs=1&hl=en_US]

I’m shopping around for a new sponsor. I need a male sponsor, and I need to change focus to a deeper study of the 12 Steps.

Seems simple, right? Well, it’s turning out to be a bit more complicated.

Sponsorship is a tricky beast. Some sponsors are way too controlling of their sponsees, in my opinion. You’re to do everything they say without debate. I know why this happens. There’s a saying in OA that when you seek out a sponsor you want what they have and want them to show you how to get it. A lot of sponsors take that to mean they should make sponsees do everything 100 percent the way they do or take a hike.

I don’t believe in that. In fact, I think it’s possible to get so obsessed with the mechanics of the program that it becomes another addictive behavior. A more healthy addictive behavior than binge eating, drinking and drugging, of course; but it’s addictive behavior nonetheless.

Don’t get me wrong. I think a sponsor has to have rules and enforce them. Otherwise the person they try to help will always go looking for the easier softer ways that lead to failure.

At the same time, no two people are exactly alike. Our needs are unique, and I think it’s a stretch for a sponsor to think a sponsee can do everything exactly like they do. Some people have medical conditions that mean they can’t follow the same exact food plan as a sponsor.

Some sponsors won’t take on someone like that because, in their mind, they are in no position to guide someone who has to eat differently.

For example, I don’t eat flour or sugar, and so some sponsors might say I shouldn’t sponsor someone who does eat flour and sugar.

I understand the logic, but I don’t necessarily agree with it.

There’s no specific playbook for an OA plan of eating. There IS NO playbook, actually. There’s no specific diet plan. The only requirement to be here is that you badly want to stop compulsively overeating. There are a lot of ways to get there. Discipline is a must, but discipline comes with a lot of moving parts.

As long as a sponsee badly wants to stop and is willing to be honest and open-minded, a sponsor should be willing to work with them. But that’s just my view. Sponsors have a choice in the end, too. And if they choose not to sponsor someone because that person doesn’t want to be a carbon copy of them, that’s their right.

It’s just not what I want in a sponsor right now.

I’m also a firm believer that everyone in this program should take their food plan to a nutritionist for adjustments. Sponsors are not nutritionists, though some like to think they are.

I have Crohn’s Disease, so I had to make adjustments that weren’t fully in line with what my first sponsor wanted me to do. I had to dial back on the raw vegetables, for one thing. I also had to add a couple ounces of potato or rice to lunch and dinner. My sponsor wasn’t comfortable with that, but went along with it.

Sponsors also have differing opinions on how many meetings to attend each week. Some demand three a week. I do two live meetings and one phone meeting a week. Some sponsors might call that too little. But then they probably don’t have children below the age of 10 and a full-time job. 

If that sounds mean, I apologize.

I want a sponsor who will guide me and help me stay clean without trying to outright control me. I want someone who doesn’t subscribe to the belief that I’ve failed if I don’t live my program exactly as they do.

Of course, we can’t always have what we want.