Someone recently asked if I think about my disease 24-7 and, if so, whether doing so is perilous to those around me. In this case, the disease is OCD and the addictions that go with it.
Mood music:
Let me try to take a stab at addressing that:
I don’t think my disease should define me and keep me in a box. But it’s also a major part of who I am and how I tick. Writing a blog that focuses on that probably amplifies things. But I see some necessity in it all.
Like any person with an addictive personality, I have to have it on my mind around the clock because if I stop thinking about it I forget it’s there. That’s when I get sloppy and sink into the bad behavior.
The OCD part is a little more complicated and maybe even a little contradictory.
Since OCD is largely a disease that triggers destructive over thinking, you would think that the goal is to teach yourself not to think so hard. In some respects, that is the goal. But it’s about not engaging in thinking that snags your brain like the scratch in a CD does to the laser. It’s about never forgetting that the disorder, like addiction, is nearby doing push-ups, ready to kick your ass when you get too comfortable.
I’ll admit that I’m not even close to having this stuff in balance. But to those who think I focus on my disease at the expense of all else, I disagree. The me of today is a deeply flawed animal. But go back and meet the me of five or 10 years ago and you’ll meet a monster. A wounded monster. Everyone is probably better off with me as a flawed animal. I’m less harmful that way.
That doesn’t mean I should tell everyone to fuck off and carry on with no regard for the needs of others.
I need to keep working on being a better husband, a better father, a better friend and colleague. I’m never going to be perfect. But I can be better. If I have to think about my disease 24-7 to keep getting better, so be it.
I also think it’s necessary to remember my disease so I can be be more helpful and supportive of other people dealing with their own diseases — not necessarily cancer and the like, but everything from work stress to a loss of identity.
I’ve tried hard to demolish the wall I hide behind when my mind isn’t right. But whenever I think I’ve made progress, shit happens and I find it’s taller and thicker than ever.
Mood music:
My latest mood swing has me thinking hard about how I allow this to happen. Far as I can tell, I do make progress, but then I take my eye off the wrecking ball and the wall rebuilds itself when I’m busy internalizing everything.
For all the sharing I do in this blog, sometimes it’s still ridiculously hard to open up to those closest to me. One reason is that I’m still a selfish bastard sometimes. I get so wrapped up in my work and feelings that it becomes almost impossible to see someone else’s side of things.
I also don’t like to be in a situation where there’s yelling. There was plenty of that growing up, and I tend to avoid arguments with loved ones at all costs. Putting up a wall can be a bitch for any relationship, because sooner or later bad feelings will race at that wall like a drunk behind the wheel of a Porsche and slam right into it. Some bricks in the wall crack and come loose, but by then it can be too late. Relationships are totaled.
I’m starting to believe this is a chronic condition hardened by my early history. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit here and accept it.
When I stop talking, it hurts my wife, my kids and my larger family. But how do I calm the restlessness so that I’ll stay buckled into the bulldozer with my hands firmly on the controls, pounding the wrecking ball through the wall until only dust remains?
Therapy helps, and I have that regularly. But somewhere between the therapist’s office and the rest of my life, the action plan goes missing.
Maybe the problem is that I dance around it in therapy and I’m really not leaving with an action plan in hand.
Maybe the height and thickness of the wall increases and decreases on a set schedule and I just have to be more watchful. It definitely seems to grow more impenetrable at the start of winter, which is where we are now.
But maybe it’s always there, the same size and thickness, and I just happen to ignore it until someone forces me to remember its existence.
If all that sounds like bullshit, perhaps it is. I try to be as honest as possible in this blog, but let’s remember that I’m an addict and addicts are skilled at lying to themselves and others.
My mind is clear about one thing right now: I’ve slid backward and need to regain my footing. The best place to start is by making a real action plan, right here, right now:
–At my next therapy appointment, I need to make my communication troubles the focus of the appointment instead of letting the therapist run down the broader checklist.
–I need to be more disciplined about using the happy lamp I’m supposed to sit in front of during the winter. Truth be told, I’ve resisted it because in the end, I look at the florescent glow and grouse to myself that it’s just not the same as real sunlight.
–I need to reassess my diet. I’m pretty disciplined about following a strict, OA-approved food plan. But I’ve had trouble getting up the mood to eat the vegetables that are a staple of the program. So I fall back on my OA-approved breakfast at other meals. I tell myself the end goal is not to binge eat and that’s true. But messing with the food could also mean I’m messing with my mind.
–I need to get better at letting people yell at me sometimes. Yelling from anyone inevitably sends me back under my mother’s roof. Maybe Ma doesn’t yell anymore but she did back then, and a raised voice goes in my ears and hits the brain like gunshots. But avoiding arguments doesn’t make problems go away. They just sit patiently in the corner waiting for the next opportunity, which is always there.
–I need to get better at talking back. This might seem strange to those who think I’m pretty good at speaking up. But that’s just in writing form. Verbally I still suck at it. I don’t want to say things that might be hurtful and, at the least, uncomfortable. But sometimes others need a talking to for their own good. I need to be more helpful in that regard.
–I need to start walking again. I used to walk compulsively, then a few years ago I stopped. Perhaps I need to work 20 or 30 minutes two or three times a week back into the mix, so I can use the time to process my thoughts. I used to use walking time to do that and I was still a mental mess. But I’ve made a lot of progress since then and maybe the walks will be more useful for organizing thoughts now that it’s not a game of spinning worries and anxieties around in my skull.
Is any of this realistic? I don’t know. But it’s time to try more radical wall-demolishing activities.
I’ve had some sharp mood swings in recent days. Now that it seems to be leveling off, I can write about it.
Mood music:
I made it through the usual Christmas blues in one piece and even enjoyed the holiday once it arrived. A week of vacation followed, and we Brenners did something we rarely do: Sit around like slugs. We needed it. We must have needed it really bad, in fact, because God sent the whole family a stomach bug to force a couple days of inactivity. I escaped the bug myself, but pretty much stayed under the quilts anyway.
The mood swings started around Thursday. I’d feel happy and at peace for a couple hours, then miserable, angry and agitated for a few hours, then back and forth. I didn’t mention it to my family, though I’m sure it was obvious. New Year’s Eve was especially brutal. I walked around in a fog all day, even as we did stuff as a family. We enjoyed a trip to the Museum of Science but much of the time my head was someplace else — someplace darker.
I carried on that way into the evening, feeling deep sadness over things I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Then, as we got further into the evening, my spirits lifted. After Duncan and my niece went to bed, Erin, Sean and I watched TV and Sean and I played a game of Battleship. It felt good.
Yesterday was a good day overall. I had enough energy to go on a housecleaning spree before church. In the afternoon Duncan and I worked on a craft involving Plaster of Paris and, while the plaster dried, we watched some Harry Potter.
I ended the day dozing off in my favorite living room chair next to the Christmas tree lights, and was feeling content about it.
A couple items worth noting:
–The worst of my mood swings coincided with some dreary weather outside. No snow, but lots of clouds and a fair amount of rain. That kind of weather always tampers with my mood.
–Yesterday, New Years Day, the sun lit up the day brilliantly. I always do better when the sun shines.
The weather is always a factor for those who are prone to depression this time of year, when the days are short and the trees are bare.
I’m feeling good this morning. All in all, it was a good, restful vacation but I’m ready to get back to the work I love. I used to dread the end of vacation, so that’s a big plus.
I cherished the time I spent with family, even if my flawed side sometimes surfaced to make a mess of things.
I’ve learned to expect this stuff at the beginning of winter. That means I’m able to recover more quickly.
Thank God for that, because nothing sucks more than a slow, downward spiral you can’t pull yourself out of.
"Darkness and Light" -- check out the "Four Lease Ranch" blog where I found this. Good stuff.
I won’t bullshit y’all: I’m feeling ho-hum about the new year. Like everyone else, I have my high hopes and wish everyone the very best in 2012 and beyond. But in other respects, I see this as just another day, with all the usual struggles.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/8UDYVFgE5D0
I like my life well enough. I’m certainly blessed well beyond what I probably deserve.
I’m just not feeling the euphoria I’ve felt at New Years past.
That’s probably just as well, since the euphoria never lasts. But neither does the let-down that follows.
Meet the new year. Same as the old year. Steady as she goes.
A bump on the path to reconciliation after five years of estrangement from my mother: Angered over posts about my childhood, she has unfriended me from Facebook.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/ZQlM59sDJVo
I wasn’t too surprised. I knew that recalling childhood as I remembered it wouldn’t sit well with her. But I was hoping — really hoping — that she would see the bigger picture I’ve been trying to present: One where I’ve turned out fine despite earlier struggles. I also hoped she would recognize my efforts to point out where I’ve been wrong and hurtful along the way.
Ah, well.
She did call to wish me a Merry Christmas, and told me she dropped me because she didn’t want certain friends and relatives to see the blog through her connection. Fair enough.
“I wish you thought about the consequences beforehand,” she said. “Or maybe you did and this is what you wanted.”
“Consequences” is one of those words that almost always means something bad — the putrid result of an ill-advised action. In this case, people seeing my mother as an abusive “Mommy Dearest” type is the consequence of writing my back story.
But in my opinion, it was necessary. Everyone struggles in life. Our history always shapes us. I had to show you all where I’ve been so you can understand where I’m going.
