I originally wrote this in 2012. But as I sit here in 2015 listening to Van Halen to celebrate Eddie Van Halen’s 60th birthday — and with a major blizzard on its way to my neck of the woods — it’s worth a re-post. This is about using music in winter to put the brain in summer mode.
The thing about Van Halen is that the sound and lyrics always transport my mind to summer. And summer has the weather and long days that put my brain at its healthiest.
It’s kind of fucked up, because as a child I used to prefer winter to summer. Bad things always happened in the summer. Except for my brother dying in January, winter was always like a blanket to me. It was an excuse to be all cozy indoors.
It makes sense in the rear-view mirror. I didn’t want to deal with people back then. I just wanted to stay inside, play with my Star Wars toys and watch TV. Summer meant I had to go outside and face people.
I guess the blanket started to smother me as I got older.
People often fail to recognize that there are different flavors of depression — the debilitating kind that can put your life in danger with thoughts of suicide, and the milder, grumpy-old-man variety where you’re in an ongoing state of crankiness and tiredness, but you see it for what it is — a chronic condition that comes and goes, like arthritis or sinus infections. The dark spots always pass.
But before it happens, something like Van Halen will always make me feel better.
I prefer the David Lee Roth era, which makes me more receptive to the new song than others are so far. But I like most of the stuff they did with Sammy Hagar, too. In fact, one of my favorite “Van Hagar” albums is “Balance” — the last with Hagar and not one of their more popular efforts commercially. But it has a moodiness that fits me like a glove.
For a similar reason, my favorite Roth-era album is “Fair Warning.”
Edward Van Halen’s guitar sound is what really puts my brain in a sunnier place. Even the moody stuff. I don’t know why. It just does.
Say what you will about the material they’ve released in more recent years. Complain that Michael Anthony’s bass and backing vocals are sorely missed on the last album. In the bigger picture, any new Van Halen album is like a long lost sunrise to me.
I used to be a political junkie, getting my fix under the delusion that the fate of the world rested on the outcome on an election. I was particularly obsessed about the N.H. primary.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/9F8QM3tjkTE
With the 2012 N.H. primary taking place today, I must confess: Never have I cared so little or felt so unrepresented. But this isn’t a post about gloom and doom or the fall of America.
It’s simply about the realization that we sometimes look for our saviors in the wrong places.
As I said, the fate of the world always seemed to hang on the next election. In 1994, when I was a lot more liberal than I am today, I felt devastated and depressed when the GOP swept both chambers of Congress. Two years before that, when Bill Clinton was elected president, I thought all would be right with the world. A lot of people had the same emotional jolt almost four years ago when Obama was elected.
But, you see, I’ve found in more recent years that my personal happiness has absolutely nothing to do with which way the political winds are blowing. What says it all are the lyrics from the Avett Brothers song “Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise” —
When nothing is owed, deserved or expected
And you’re life doesn’t change by the man that’s elected
If your loved by someone you’re never rejected.
Decide what to be and go be it.
My life has taken turns for the better and worse regardless of who is in office. Government can’t change me. Only I can.
I’ve also realized that politicians will fail us every time. Everyone thought Obama would close the Guantanamo Bay detention camp and reverse policies where innocent people were detained for years without trial or explanation, then he turns around and signs an unconstitutional defense bill that gives the government power to do more of the same.
The field of Republican candidates, meanwhile, show no promise. It’s just more of the same, in my opinion.
We don’t know how this election year will turn out, but I do know plenty of things for certain:
1.) The most important parts of my life — family, control over my addictions and managing my mental ticks — are all things I can influence for better or worse. Who goes to Washington is irrelevant in those affairs.
2.) Politics to me is a game, like football. I never cared much for football.
3.) We all have far more control over our own lives than we think. Those of us lucky enough to realize that become increasingly disinterested in the political game.
I do admit that I may have swung too far in the apathetic direction. Maybe some day I’ll find national politics important again. It will never be the way it was. But maybe I’ll find a middle ground.
But not today.
http://youtu.be/UW8UlY8eXCk
You want change? Be the change. Work on the problems that hold you back. Work on being a better spouse, parent, friend and colleague.
When you can do that, you’ll brighten more lives than you ever thought possible.
Watching some of the “Pearl Jam: 20” documentary, I learned something I didn’t know about lead guitarist Mike McCready: Like me, he has Crohn’s Disease.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/Phez1FvzGbY
Knowing what the disease does to you when you’re under attack, I’m impressed he’s been able to keep the kind of touring schedule Pearl Jam is known for.
How anyone can spend two hours a night on stage when they’re taking Prednisone is beyond me. I’ve done a lot with my life despite the disease, but I doubt I could have done that. Physically I could have. Not mentally, though. Whenever I’ve been on that drug my prevailing desire has been to tell the world to fuck off.
McCready performs an annual concert to benefit the Northwest chapter of the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America and has been pretty outspoken about his bouts with the disease.
It’s another example of how no one with the disease has to settle for a lesser life.
McCready was reportedly diagnosed when he was 21. I was diagnosed when I was 8 and the worst of the attacks for me ended by the time I reached 17. I’ve been freakishly lucky, though the effects of the disease and the Prednisone use certainly contributed to the mental illness and addiction that has clung to me light a wet blanket in adulthood.
That’s life, though. The curve balls are hurled at us and we can duck, get hit or learn to catch them and make the best of it.
Today is the wake and funeral for Jessica Cormier, the girl who worked for my parents and was murdered last week.
I was at the family business Saturday and you could tell everyone there is devastated by the loss. I’m told she could handle any task around there. Having worked there as a teenager and early twenty-something, I can tell you that’s no small feat.
I’m sorry I never got to know her, but I’m grateful to her for helping the family as she did. For those who want to pay their respects, here’s the wake and funeral information, from the Boston Herald death notice:
CORMIER Jessica Barbara Rose of Everett, January 3rd, at 20 years of age. Devoted daughter of Walter and Barbara (Melesciuc) Cormier. Beloved sister of Nicole Cormier and her fiance Lee Thomas and his son Samuel Thomas of Everett. Granddaughter of the late Stephen and Barbara Melesciuc and Walter and Catherine Cormier. Also lovingly survived by many aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. Family and friends are kindly invited to attend a Funeral Service in the Smith Funeral Home, 125 Washington Avenue, CHELSEA, on Monday, January 9th, at 12:00 Noon. Visitation will be held prior to the service beginning at 10:00 A.M. Services will conclude with interment at Holy Cross Cemetery, Malden. In lieu of flowers, donations in her name may be made to any cause or organization that assists families that lost a loved one to a violent crime. Smith Funeral Home 617-889-1177 www.smithfuneralhomes.com
My brother died Jan. 7, 1984. On this anniversary, I find myself grateful that he was in my life. He left a positive mark on me and left plenty of amusing family stories.
Mood music:
I’ve already written plenty about the darker side of dealing with his death. You can read about it in “Death of a Sibling” if you’re interested. In this post, I just want to celebrate a few things:
2.) My kids are at an age where they can appreciate stories about their uncle Mike, including the yarn about how he switched the hot and cold water pipes in his hospital bathroom during one of his asthma attack stays because he was pissed at the medical staff.
3.) I’m at a point in life where I no longer have to obsess about how his death shaped the man I became. I’m fine with who I am and how I got here doesn’t matter as much anymore. The important thing is what I do with the future.
I do think he would have been amused as hell by my attempts to copy him after his death.
He probably would have been amused to find me hanging out with Sean Marley and listening to Motley Crue and Def Leppard. He would have noticed my widening girth and got on me about it. Despite his asthma he was a fanatical weight lifter. He’d be on my ass to join a gym. Just not his gym. Me hanging around his gym would have been gross.
Right after he died, I did join his gym, Fitness World. It was just down the street from our house, a short walk down a side alley. I wasted no time trying to be him, and lifting weights in Fitness World was as good a place as any to start my charade. I lasted maybe a week. Everyone there expected me to be him. I should have figured out then and there that there could only be one Michael S. Brenner.
Later in my teen years, he might have punched me in the face or broken my other middle finger (he had broken one of them in the back of my father’s van one day when I flipped him off) for wearing his leather jacket. It was a true biker’s jacket, with the zippers on the sleeves and scratch marks from a few falls he had off his motorcycle. He was one cool-looking motherfucker in that jacket. But when I put it on, it was two sizes too small. I wore it anyway.
He might have been jealous of the palace I made out of the basement apartment at 22 Lynnway. At the time of his death the place was being renovated and the plan was for him to move in there. Instead, my father rented it to a guy who was nice enough but always seemed to be fighting with his girlfriend. Since my bedroom was in the basement level at another end of the house, this often pissed me off. Sometimes I heard the make-up sex, and that pissed me off even more. It’s hard to get lost in your quiet, dysfunctional mind when people are making a racket on the other side of the wall. The guy moved out by late 1987 and I moved in.
He might have been annoyed when I decided not to pursue a career in drafting. I wanted to be a writer instead. The poetry I was writing at the time would have sent him into fits of laughter. It would send you into fits of laughter, too.
He was going to be a plumber, and he might have shaken his head back and forth in disgust at my inability to do anything useful with a set of tools.
What he would have thought of me in the 1990s, or of Sean Marley, for that matter, is probably not worth exploring. Had he lived a lot would have been different. I don’t know if Sean and I would have gotten as close as we did, and had that been the case, his death in 1996 wouldn’t have sent me into the self-destructive nosedive I found myself in.
He probably would have been pleased to see me get my demons under control in the last decade. He might even appreciate my decision to be open about it in this blog. But he might not have told me so.
One thing I’m pretty certain of: He would have loved his nephews, and they would have loved him.
Today, I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I’m blessed with the best wife and kids a guy could have. In my work they pay me to do what I love, which is pretty rare. I have many, many good friends.
Michael is probably staring down, approving of it all.
“This is a horrific and senseless case in which we allege that the defendant fatally stabbed the young victim numerous times, causing her death,” District Attorney Leone said. “Our thoughts are with Jessica’s family, who have lost a young woman dearly beloved by her family and friends.”
Authorities say Berry and Cormier knew each other and the violent attack occurred outside on Pearl Street, not from the victim’s home.
On Tuesday, a family member had heard screaming, went downstairs to the apartment’s foyer and found the victim on the floor.
Police searched Berry’s residence in Chelsea and evidence was recovered. Preliminary testing on some of the evidence tested positive for human blood.
Berry will be arraigned Monday in Malden District Court.
I hope this starts the process of justice and healing for Jessica’s family and friends.
I didn’t really know Jessica Cormier. I met her a couple times in passing. But to my father and stepmom, she was important.
Mood music:
I was very sad to learn that Jessica was murdered earlier this week — stabbed in the heart by some deranged punk. A life cut short far too young. She was only 20 years old.
I met her a couple times in my father’s wharehouse, where she worked. She helped out a couple times at my parents’ condo, where my father has been recovering from a stroke. My stepmom, Diane, always spoke glowingly of Jessica, and she’s taking this loss pretty hard.
I hope the cops find the guy who did this soon, before he gets the chance to extinguish another young life.
I hope her parents find peace and solace in knowing that their daughter is now an angel in Heaven, impervious to anyone who would try to hurt her again.
This is one of those events where you stop and wonder why God lets these things happen. I used to ask myself about that a lot.
My relationship with God has gone through changes in recent years. I no longer pray for the safety of everyone I know. I just pray we’ll all have the wisdom to live our lives the way we’re supposed to for whatever length of time we’re going to be around. I’ve come to see life’s body blows not as a punishment but as situations we’re supposed to work through to come out stronger.
Jessica Cormier, 20, graduated from Everett High in 2009.
EVERETT – Growing up in a big extended family, Jessica Cormier was “the quiet one,’’ a soft-spoken girl who liked to keep to herself or blend into the crowd.
After graduating from high school in 2009, she worked several jobs while living at home with her parents, saving money for a place of her own.
But on Tuesday evening, the 20-year-old was fatally stabbed outside her parents’ home, in an apparently targeted attack that left those who knew her grief-stricken and grasping for answers.
“She was so sweet, so good,’’ her aunt, Susan Melesciuc, said through tears. “She had her whole life in front of her.’’
Melesciuc said she could not imagine who would want to hurt her niece, and described her as a “good kid’’ who spent much of her time at home. Cormier’s parents were at home at the time of the attack, she said.
The Middlesex district attorney’s office said investigators do not believe the attack was random, but otherwise provided no details about a possible motive. No arrests have been made.
Authorities declined to say whether police had previously visited the home or whether Cormier had taken out a restraining order.
Neighbors said Cormier was stabbed in the doorway to the three-family home around 6:45 p.m., and that her screams sent several people rushing to her aid. They wrapped her in a sheet and applied pressure to her wounds, but could not stop the bleeding.
“She lost a lot of blood,’’ said next-door neighbor Nicholas Riggin, whose son ran to Cormier’s side. “The poor girl was just minding her own business. She was a nice girl. She didn’t bother nobody. It’s very sad.’’
Riggin and other residents on Pearl Street said they did not see the perpetrators or hear any disturbance before Cormier’s screams.
Cormier was transported to Massachusetts General Hospital, where she was pronounced dead.
Cormier graduated from Everett High School in 2009. In her senior yearbook, which included a baby picture of her wearing a Red Soxhat, she wrote that she had “made it on her own’’ and loved her parents, sister, and family forever.
She listed her nicknames as Kiwi and Little One.
Louis Baldi, the principal of Everett High School, expressed his “deepest sympathies and prayers’’ to Cormier’s family.
Melesciuc said her niece had worked a variety of jobs in recent years, and to her knowledge was not dating anyone.
She said that the family had just spent the holidays together and that Cormier seemed happy. She said she did not believe that Cormier was mixed up with a bad crowd and speculated that she was robbed.
She had learned about the slaying from Cormier’s sister, who she said is devastated by her death.
“I can’t imagine what she is going through,’’ she said.
Neither Cormier’s parents nor her sister could be reached for comment.
Yesterday morning, a young man lay flowers on the front steps of the home.
After getting no answer at the door, he sat on the front step, covering his head with the hood of his jacket and his face with his hands.
For more than 10 minutes, he sat there, tears running down his face.
Erin is playing me an NPR broadcast about OCD. I went looking for the link to include here and tripped over another good NPR segment. This one is an interview with Traci Foust, author of “Nowhere Near Normal: A Memoir of OCD.”
I recently connected with Traci on Facebook and she’s a great resource for understanding the disorder.
While we’re on the topic, it’s also worth checking out “A Life Lived Ridiculously” by Annabelle R. Charbit, about a girl with obsessive compulsive disorder who makes the mistake of falling in love with a sociopath.
Both writings work so well because of how the authors use humor. Of course, my humor falls on the dark side, so take that comment with a grain of salt.
As for that other OCD segment on NPR, here it is. It’s about how art can be used to raise a person’s understanding of the disorder.
Me and the happy lamp Erin bought me to combat winter depression aren’t seeing eye to eye. Everyone I talk to who uses one says it works. But here’s my problem…
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/UXFUnnoSphY
As I stare at the florescent glow that’s supposed to simulate sunlight, a nagging thought dogs me: “It’s just not the same as real sunlight,” I keep telling myself.
There’s something about genuine sunlight — how it bounces off trees and houses, how it shoots through windows and lights a room — that you just can’t capture in a box.
When the happy lamp is on, it just seems like I have my face extremely close to one of those florescent ceiling lights.
I’m not blind to the fact that part of the problem is me. Knowing that it’s not the same as real sunlight, I have a hard time giving it a chance. That’s really not fair to those who have to live in the same house with me, I realize.
I bring all this up because I suspect I’m not the only one whose skepticism — or is it cynicism — gets in the way of the scientific benefits of light therapy.
Light therapy is a way to treat seasonal affective disorder (SAD) by exposure to artificial light. Seasonal affective disorder is a type of depression that occurs at a certain time each year, usually in the fall or winter.
During light therapy, you sit or work near a device called a light therapy box. The box gives off bright light that mimics natural outdoor light. Light therapy is thought to affect brain chemicals linked to mood, easing SAD symptoms. Using a light therapy box may also help with other types of depression, sleep disorders and some other conditions. Light therapy is also known as bright light therapy or phototherapy.
Reading further, I can see how I haven’t exactly been doing it right. I turn on the box and don’t keep track of time. I’m inconsistent about the time of day I use it. My mind gets caught on visuals: what I want the light to look like vs. the scientific effect. Here’s how the Mayo Clinic says to do it:
Three key elements for effective light therapy Light therapy is most effective when you have the proper combination of duration, timing and light intensity:
Duration. When you first start light therapy, your doctor may recommend treatment for shorter blocks of time, such as 15 minutes. You gradually work up to longer periods. Eventually, light therapy typically involves daily sessions ranging from 30 minutes to two hours, depending on your light box’s intensity.
Timing. For most people, light therapy is most effective when it’s done early in the morning, after you first wake up. Doing light therapy at night can disrupt your sleep. Because light therapy seems to work best in the early morning, you may need to wake up earlier than you normally would to get the most benefit from treatment. Your doctor can help you find the light therapy schedule that works best.
Intensity. The intensity of the light box is recorded in lux, which is a measure of the amount of light you receive at a specific distance from a light source. Light boxes for light therapy usually produce between 2,500 lux and 10,000 lux. The intensity of your light box affect how far you sit from it and the length of time you need to use it. The 10,000 lux light boxes usually require 30-minute sessions, while the 2,500 lux light boxes may require 2-hour sessions.
Finding time for light therapy Light therapy requires time and consistency. You may be tempted to skip sessions or quit altogether because you don’t want to spend time sitting by a light box. But light therapy doesn’t have to be boring. It can be time well spent.
You can set your light box on a table or desk in your home or in your office. That enables you to read, use a computer, write, watch television, talk on the phone or eat while undergoing light therapy. Some light boxes are even available as visors that you can wear, although their effectiveness isn’t proven.
Getting the most out of light therapy Light therapy isn’t effective for everyone. But you can take steps to get the most out of your light therapy and help make it a success, including:
Be consistent. Sticking to a daily routine of light therapy sessions can help ensure that you maintain improvements over time. If you simply can’t do light therapy every day, take a day or two off, but monitor your mood and other symptoms — you may have to find a way to fit in light therapy every day.
Time it right. If you interrupt light therapy during the winter months or stop too soon in the spring when you think you’re improving, your symptoms could return.
Get the right light box. Do some research and talk to your doctor before purchasing a light therapy box. That way you can be sure your light box is safe, the right brightness and that its style and features make it convenient to use.
Include other treatment. If your symptoms don’t improve enough with light therapy, you may need additional treatment. Talk to your doctor about other treatment options, such as psychotherapy or antidepressants.
I got a call from my mother this morning. She says she’s been reading every post in this blog and that she’s very worried about me.
“You have a beautiful wife, two healthy kids and a wonderful job, yet I read your blog and see someone who is very unhappy and disturbed,” she told me. Incredibly, she was worried that I might try to hurt myself someday.
Nothing is further from the truth. Which brings me to this post.
She commented on my last post, suggesting I’m still suffering the effects of massive doses of Prednisone during childhood. She wrote:
“When you were really sick in the hospital you were put on one of the highest doses of prednisone they give. Low doses make people have ocd tendencies while on the drug. High doses are 100 times magnified. Thus your many loud memmories. Ask any doctor what this drug can do. Having said that I will note that we are all very happy you came through the physical problems. However I think this drug is still making you sick. Even though you have not taken it for a very long time. I have taken moderate to high doses (not nearly what you took) and came home from the hospital like a crazy just let out of the mental hospital. I cannot even imagine what it did to you. But I am not convinced that this drug ends with the end of the prescibed dosage.”
There’s a lot of truth in there regarding the lingering effects of Prednisone, but that’s a topic best saved for the next post.
For now, I want to tell my mother that the reality of this blog is the complete opposite of what it’s really about. In an effort to set her straight, I’m asking her to read the following posts…
First, some words about how having the occasional bought of depression doesn’t mean a person is unhinged or even unhappy. Depression has it’s emotional components, but a lot of it is about basic science and brain chemistry: things that can be managed with the proper awareness and treatment.
“The Engine” where I compare mental illness and the treatments do the engine of a car.
Next, some words of encouragement I try to send people, especially kids, going through what I’ve experienced, the goal being to give them hope and inspire them to take command of their lives — not sink deeper into despair:
Finally, read these posts because they are all about me making it through the rough stuff and reaching a point where I am a much happier person who loves to experience things I used to fear:
Snowpocalypse and the Fear of Loss. The author remembers a time when fear of loss would cripple his mental capacities, and explains how he got over it — mostly.
Fear Factor. The author describes years of living in a cell built by fear, how he broke free and why there’s no turning back.
Prozac Winter. The author discovers that winter makes his depression worse and that there’s a purely scientific explanation — and solution.
Rest Redefined.The author finds that he gets the most relaxation from the things he once feared the most.
Outing Myself. The author on why he chose to “out” himself despite what other people might think.
Why Being a People Pleaser is Dumb. The author used to try very hard to please everybody and was hurt badly in the process. Here’s how he broke free and kept his soul intact.
Hopefully, you’ll walk away with a new perspective. This thing is really about overcoming obstacles and learning to put ongoing challenges in their proper place.
If you don’t feel that way after more reading, we’ll simply have to agree to disagree.
As for that other OCD segment on NPR, 
