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Thank You

I still go through the day like a punk sometimes. I get wrapped up in my own selfish impulses and forget everyone else around me. I’m excellent at making it all about me. But I know the truth. I have a beautiful life despite myself. And I have many to thank.

Mood music:

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

I’m thankful to God for taking a chance on a rat like me and for sending me the grace to help me be a better man.

I’m thankful to my wife and kids for loving me unconditionally and helping me see the magic in life.

I’m thankful to my parents for sticking by me when I was a kid, even though I gave them plenty to worry about. That’s right. Both parents. Even though I’m not talking to one of them right now.

I’m thankful for an army of friends that seems to grow by the day. That includes all the new friends I’ve made because of this blog, old friends who’ve always been nearby and friends I thought were gone forever but somehow came back into my life.

I’m thankful to Sean Marley for showing me how to live way back when no one else could get through to me.

I’m thankful for my recovery from OCD and addiction. My recovery is challenged every day. Some days it bends. Some days it burns. But it hasn’t been broken.

I’m thankful for music.

I’m thankful that God showed me how to break the spell of fear and anxiety.

I’m thankful for the 12 Steps.

I’m thankful for the city of Haverhill for accepting me for who I am.

I’m thankful for the city of Revere for always welcoming me back.

I’m thankful for people who forgive.

I’m thankful for my job. Many people don’t have one, and the truth of the matter is that I have the best job in the world. I could feel guilty. Instead, I’m just grateful.

I’m thankful for the therapist who helped me understand what mental illness is about — and what it’s not about — even though I walk in his office wearing my bad habits and smug attitude on my sleeve.

I’m thankful for the Secret Service guys who hassled me in Washington D.C. over the summer because they gave me a fun story to tell.

I’m thankful to Howard Schmidt for honoring my family with a private tour of the White House West Wing.

I’m thankful to all my friends in the security world for fighting the good fight every day and for making me smarter than I ever thought possible. 

I’m thankful for everyone who could have judged me harshly for writing this blog, but instead gave me nothing but support from day one.

Finally, I’m thankful to be alive. There were many times as a kid that I wasn’t sure how I’d ever see 21, let alone 40.

Yet here I am.

Thanksgiving used to be all about the food in my twisted little mind.

Now the food is a mere distraction from all the blessings around me.

Thank you God.

Thank you everyone.

It’s good to be alive.

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Pounding the Reset Button

I mentioned Monday that I’ve hit a wall in my recovery program. Last night I decided some changes are in order.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9F8QM3tjkTE&fs=1&hl=en_US]

Making changes is a bitch. It’s almost like admitting failure. I haven’t failed on the big things. I’ve held on to my abstinence and sobriety. But in a lot of areas I’ve gotten sloppy.

A collection of tiny failures can add up.

I’ve gotten bored with my current plan, and as I’ve said before, boredom is poison for the addictive personality.

Boredom means the mind is free to start spinning. I feel uneasy and can’t settle on anything. Then I’m in the kitchen, looking through the cabinets.

I see a bottle of gin and consider taking a swig. If I do, surely no one will ever know. I see cupcakes Erin baked for the kids. Surely no one will notice if one goes missing. Or two. Or five. For about 20 minutes, I’m standing there seriously thinking about breaking both my abstinence from binge eating and my sobriety. Erin doesn’t have to know. My OA sponsor doesn’t have to know.

Then I come to my senses and leave the kitchen. Instead of doing what I used to do all the time, I make a couple calls to fellow addicts in recovery, take a shower and go to bed.

But if I let the boredom stick around for too long, one of these days I’ll be in a similar scenario, standing in the kitchen, and things won’t end as well as they did before.

I don’t want that.

So I’m pounding the reset button. Changes have to be made in the food plan. I might need to change sponsors, even though I love mine to death. I just need a fresh perspective.

I might have to stop sponsoring other people for awhile. I don’t feel right telling other people how to manage their recovery if my own recovery needs work.

Admitting that I have to do something is liberating. I feel a weight starting to lift off my shoulders.

It always feels better to be honest with yourself, because lies weigh you down.

For those who might worry about me over this, don’t. It’s all good. 

As anyone with long-term sobriety and abstinence will tell you, changes are always necessary from time to time. It’s like an oil change for the car.

This is a process I’m supposed to go through. And I get to go through it without having a full-blown relapse, which is mighty lucky of me.

The reset starts in 45 minutes, when I talk to my sponsor.

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Read This…

My good friend Jennifer Leggio has started a new personal blog that chronicles, among other things, her battle with the weight demon.

I know that demon well. More of us do than we care to admit. Jen took a bold, somewhat controversial step to slay the demon and went under the knife. If you want to see courage — and the excellent writing — check it out. Now.

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Fear and Loathing in the TSA Line

It’s rare that I connect the things I write on CSOonline.com with this blog. The two are separate entities dealing with different subjects. But once in a great while, the two intersect. The uproar over the TSA’s more “invasive” security tactics is a good example.

Last time the two intersected was over the summer when I got hassled by the U.S. Secret Service (the cops on bikes, specifically).

I look at this TSA controversy and I’m immediately reminded of my past battles with fear and anxiety and how something like airport security would freak me out.

So please indulge me and click on the column below. And if you agree or disagree, please do weigh in.

Thanks.

TSA and the freedom thing: We’re the problem

The nation is in an uproar over full body scanning and pat downs in the airport TSA security lines. Is it a necessary security measure or a violation of our freedom and privacy? Bill Brenner weighs in.


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Mr. Danny

Just got the sad news that the mom of my friend Danny Goodwin passed away yesterday. No doubt he could use some bucking up right now, so here’s my contribution…

Mood music: “Creep” by Korn

I periodically write about friends who have helped me heal and deal over the years and Danny is one of them. It didn’t seem that way at first, because when we first met I was busy trying to be someone else.

I was night editor at The Eagle-Tribune and he was the obituary writer. Early on in my time there, Danny was out sick for a few days. When the obit writer calls out sick, the night editor has to find someone to replace him for the night. Nobody ever wanted to volunteer for that task.

One day during his illness, I was ordered to call him and lay down the law, so I did. Danny wasn’t taking it. He didn’t call me any names, but his tone had “You’re a dick-head” all over it.

After that, we had an uneasy yet peaceful co-existence in the newsroom.

I backed off, because if he quit, I would probably be writing the obits myself. I wasn’t about to let that happen.

Besides, other editors were already pushing him to the brink. One particularly snotty editor was marking up his obits with red pen every day, and, of course, I had to show him the markup and tell him to clean it up.

The top editor at the time, Steve Lambert, was writing a daily narrative of kudos and criticisms for the newsroom staff, praising the wins of the day and pointing out things that could have been done better. One such note proclaimed: “This obit page needed Last Rites.”

Steve, if you read this and still have copies of that one, I want it. I’ve been meaning to frame it and give it to Danny. I bring it up every time I see him, because it was one of those classic moments.

It took a couple years, but me and Danny started to grow on each other like mold. We bonded over music and shared newsroom stress. The most fun I had as night editor was in that period just after midnight Saturday, once the paper had gone to the printer. Me, Danny, John Sullivan and John O’Neil would sit there and slay each other with our witty newsroom observations of the day as we waited for the first papers to come off the press.

I remember a lot of laughter, pizza and boxes of MSG-laden food from China Wok. I always binged on extra helpings when no one was looking. On my last Friday night there, I downed 2 of the five boxes of pizza by myself, one piece at a time when heads were turned the other way.

By then, my unhinging at the hands of OCD, fear-anxiety-depression and addiction was well under way, and sometimes the only thing that got me through it all were those early-morning newsroom hangouts.

He stuck around at The Eagle-Tribune for a few months after I left, and it was around this time that we met his wife, Danielle, who we love. Every time they’re in town we have dinner. Those two have lived all over the country since then: Texas, Florida, California, South Dakota (or is it North Dakota?), Pennsylvania and Indiana.

Danny eventually started working for the company Erin worked for. In fact, Erin was one of the people he reported to. 

“Give him hell,” I’d tell her. “The more you do it, the more fun it is.”

It’s really something when you think about how some friendships evolve.

That the friendship between me and Danny developed out of the initial distrust is one of the greatest blessings for me.

Thanks, Danny. Thanks, Danielle. Erin and I will be thinking of you in the coming days.

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The Snow-White Mind That Drifted

I’m like a proud papa every time I read the “Crazy Love” blog from former Eagle-Tribune colleague Grace Rubenstein. She focuses on a topic near and dear to me, and despite the torment she surely suffered when I was her night editor, she honored me early on by asking for my feedback. Her latest post is particularly good, and I have thoughts about it.

Mood music: “Driftaway” by Motley Crue…

She writes about how a drifting mind can be an unhappy one:

I can over-think, over-analyze and worry with the best of ‘em. My mind is constantly moving. Yet in the past few years as I’ve learned the practices of meditation and yoga, I’ve found what peace can come with quieting what yogis call “the monkey mind.” Of course, my mind is still scratching fleas, swinging from branches and throwing bananas most of the time. I have a long way to go. But the more I practice, the more often I can catch the monkey in the act and calm him down.

A mind adrift is one of the most debilitating parts of OCD. Everyone suffers from a limited attention span from time to time. It’s part of what makes us human.

But when you’re a clinical OCD case, that mental drift doesn’t go away after you’re done with whatever boring activity caused it in the first place. It grows as the day progresses, like a tidal surge that leaps over a sea wall and floods out the road so traffic can’t get through. That’s how it happens in the brain.

The obsessive thought floods that critical part of the mind a lot of other mental traffic needs to pass through. From there it’s nothing but disaster.

Grace is lucky to have found meditation and yoga. The truth is I’ve never had any interest in either of those things. My therapist, who specializes in stress reduction exercises, is always pushing yoga on me. Between sips of the coffee he tells me to stop drinking, I tell him there’s no way in hell I’m going to do yoga. 

Am I being an ass about it? I’m sure I am. But that’s where my head is at for now.

I’ve also been lucky enough to find other tools to keep the drifting down to a minimum. There’s the medication. There’s the years of extensive therapy and a change of diet. There’s my 12-Step program. And there’s prayer, which I guess is to me what meditation is to Grace. Without my spiritual development, I’d be nowhere today.

My mind still drifts, especially during a long conversation with just about anyone. It’s much better, but it’s still there. And when it is, I find it almost impossible to stop.

So if my eyes glaze over as we’re talking, try not to take it personally.

And please accept my apology in advance.


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My Program at the Crossroads

My mood was all over the place yesterday, but I couldn’t figure out why. I chalked it up to the usual things: too much to do, too tired and not enough down time. On the drive to work this morning, I started to realize what the real problem is.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqHv3L7e8-U&fs=1&hl=en_US]

Now, yesterday wasn’t all bad. Mass was good, I got up and did a reading without incident, and Duncan and I marched in Haverhill’s Santa Parade, helping Scout Pack 27 and the Betsy Conte Food Drive collect food for those who are having trouble finding enough of it.

The day was sparkling, and once we got going, I enjoyed the three miles of walking.

It was also nice to get some quality time with Duncan. He wore his pink hat, and no one gave him crap about it. I’d like to think more than a few people learned to keep their stupidity to themselves after reading this post.

Probably not, but that’s OK.

Unfortunately, he spent two hours before the parade grousing about having to walk three miles (he stayed in the Radio Flyer wagon most of the time while I pulled him along) and I lost my cool trying to talk him off the ledge.

He had a great time, so all that difficulty amounted to a waste of a couple perfectly good hours.

But that’s life — the normal ebb and flow of family life. Back when my demons had me by the balls, I would sink into major depressions over this sort of thing. In the last couple years I’ve had a much cooler head about moments of parental challenge.

Yesterday I let things get to me more than I should have, though.

Erin chalked it up to everyone being overtired, and that’s certainly part of it. She made sure all three Brenner boys were in bed before 8 p.m.

But on the drive in this morning, I started thinking about a few things, and then it hit me.

I’m hitting a wall in my recovery program.

The things I do to manage the OCD are working fairly well.

But the program to keep my addictive impulses at bay is at a crossroads.

I don’t know what the answer is.

But one thing is certain: If I don’t figure it out and make some changes, I’m headed for a relapse.

Since I’m not about to let that happen, I’m going to figure out what I need to do. I took the best possible step forward once I got to the office: I talked to my sponsor about it. Together, we’ll figure out the right adjustments to make that’ll keep me sober and abstinent.

One area where I know I’m having misgivings: The sponsorship thing. I’ve sponsored others in the program for more than a year now, but one of my sponsees has turned out to be a lot of work. The emotional baggage with this guy is immense. We’ve also become good friends, and that might be part of the problem. He needs me to be a friend more than a sponsor. He just doesn’t realize it yet. He requires so much of my time that I’m starting to worry about him getting in the way of my own recovery. 

That sounds selfish, and it is. But in the end, my first responsibility is to my own recovery. My family, friends and colleagues deserve nothing less.

So I’m going to talk to him.

We’ll see how that works out.

Stay tuned.

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Saturday Punk Songs

This Saturday, I share some of my favorite punk songs. Some of it may not be punk from a technical standpoint, but to me it’s all about the vibe.

NOTE: I’ve noticed a crackdown on what you can embed from YouTube, so for now just click the “watch on YouTube” link and the music will play in a separate tab while you read. I’m trying to select videos that are in the clear, but at this point it’s a luck of the draw. I’ll come up with a solution soon.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSih4o2YfmA&fs=1&hl=en_US]

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvxrYm4nxXY&fs=1&hl=en_US]

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

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

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oSTT3eVbzv4&fs=1&hl=en_US]

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1eyROvw6zbY&fs=1&hl=en_US]

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

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Gsad-kiveU&fs=1&hl=en_US]

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How Marriage Saved Me

A couple days ago I compiled some of my posts on how being a Dad helped me move beyond addiction and depression. My marriage to Erin changed me for the better in similar fashion. These posts are about her.

The Freak and the Redhead: A Love Story

http://www.theocddiaries.com/2009/12/17/the-freak-and-the-redhead-a-love-story/

I wasn’t looking for a soul mate when I met her. It was the summer of 1993 and I was doing just fine on my own. I was in a band and we were busy pretending we were really something. This was long before I woke up one day, realized I really don’t know how to sing, and decided to spare the masses the agony of me trying to play vocalist.

Back in the Real World, Emotionally Drained

http://www.theocddiaries.com/2010/10/11/back-in-the-real-world-emotionally-drained/

Transcript of a talk I gave at the Oct. 2010 Men’s Cursillo Weekend at St. Basil’s: My name is Bill Brenner, and this talk starts like many stories do: With a girl.

Me and My Wall

http://www.theocddiaries.com/2010/11/04/me-and-my-wall/

When I get tired and angry, I have this wall I put up. Erin is usually the one who crashes into it.

Learning to Fight Well

http://www.theocddiaries.com/2010/07/25/learning-to-fight-well/

In every marriage there are arguments. They can be good for you, but only if you learn to do it with skill. I’m working on it, but I’m not there yet.

Love Hurts, Love Stings, Love Endures

http://www.theocddiaries.com/2010/10/12/love-hurts-love-stings-love-endures/

I remembered something the priest said during his Homily at ourwedding: “You marry the person you think you know, and spend the rest of your lives really getting to know each other.” Another priest at another wedding eight years later told the bride and groom: “Your job is to get each other into Heaven.”

The Better Angels of My Nature

http://www.theocddiaries.com/2009/12/18/ocd-diaries-12-18-the-better-angels-of-my-nature/

It’s not hard for me to write about OCD, binge eating and pills. These are a part of life for people across political and religious divides. Depression and anxiety will hit you whether you’re Catholic, Baptist or agnostic; Democrat, Republican or Libertarian. Religion and politics. Those are tough. But I’m gonna get into it here anyway.

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Facebook Follow Friday: Penny

Welcome to week four of this new tradition of mine: Giving the nod to some of my Facebook friends for giving my spirits a lift and teaching me new things.

A reminder on what this is about: There’s a thing we do on Twitter called Follow Friday, where we list people we follow and suggest others do the same. I figured Facebook should have something similar, so here it is.

There’s a lot of crap on Facebook. Some people might consider me part of the problem and unfriend me over it. That’s OK. My brand of insanity isn’t for everyone. But there are a lot of giving folks on there as well; friends that lift the spirits and teach me something daily.

Next week’s list will be long, because it’ll be Thanksgiving and I’m thankful for all of you.

But this week’s entry is dedicated to one person: Penny Morang Richards.

Mood music (click the YouTube link to hear):

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

I’ve been thinking of Penny a lot this week. A year ago today, her beautiful daughter died in a motorcycle accident. I’ve followed her struggle very closely, online and in person. She doesn’t like when people call her things like brave and courageous. I can understand that.

But here’s why I have to piss her off and argue that those words DO apply: When God forces us into a horrific situation, we have choices on how to react. We can collapse into a pile of rubble and stay the hell away from society, or we can share our ups and downs so others can learn from it.

Penny has done some of the former. Who can blame her? It’s part of the grieving process. But she has done the latter in abundance.

She has chronicled almost every day of her life since her daughter’s death in the blog Penny Writes…Penny Remembers. I hope she makes it into a book like she did with her blog chronicling her breast cancer battle. There’s just so much to learn from her.

When I see other people going through their personal hell, it hits me hard. Some of it is the old fear of loss I’ve mentioned before. Some of it is that when I see someone else going through grief, pain and depression, my own bad memories bubble to the surface.

I feel like an idiot when this happens, because it’s a typical reaction for someone who gets self-absorbed, which is one of the basic ingredients for someone with OCD.

Here’s the really whacked out thing: I only met her daughter a couple times in person, during The Eagle-Tribune days. And she was still a kid at that point.

And yet, when I heard about her death, I went into a depression.

Again, I think it’s because these events trigger my own fear that you can lose everything at any time, without warning. And since we were at the start of the holiday season, that depression wasn’t going away any time soon.

And that, in part, is why I started this blog. I had planned to for awhile, but the blues I was experiencing at that moment compelled me to do something to get out of my funk. THE OCD DIARIES was the result.

Only a self-absorbed bastard like me would react that way to the death of someone he didn’t know particularly well.

But I know her mom, and this whole experience has driven home what a strong, giving woman she is. Strong because she didn’t run away from life when that darkest hour hit. Giving because through her sharing, we’ve all learned a lot about how to bounce back from adversity.

Penny’s ups and downs are far from over. But she teaches me every day that you can’t hide from your pain and problems. 

Well, you can.

But there’s always another way.

Thanks for teaching me that, Penny.

My thoughts and prayers are with you and Dave today.

Peace be with you both.