I Don’t Care About Your Bra Color, Where You Put Your Purse Or Where You’re Going for 15 Months

I’m all for raising awareness. Cancer. Mental Illness. People understand little about these and other maladies. But telling us your bra color isn’t going to help.

In the last couple of years, we’ve seen these awareness campaigns where women throw some cryptic message on their Facebook pages. One time it was listing a color. Another time it was where they put their purse. The message would be something suggestive like this: “I like it on the desk, or in the closet.”

The idea is to have a little fun at the expense of men. Men look at their female friends’ status updates and go nuts wondering what they are talking about. Then, at the end of a day or week, the punchline is revealed.

Here’s an example of one such campaign:

Okay pretty ladies,

It’s that time of year again…support of Breast Cancer Awareness!! So we all remember last year’s game of writing your bra color as your status? Or the way we like to have our handbag handy? Last year, so many people took part that it made national news and the constant updating of status reminded everyone why we’re doing this and helped raise …awareness!! Do NOT tell any males what the statuses mean…keep them guessing!! And please copy and paste (in a message) this to all your female friends! It’s time to confuse the men again (not that it’s really that hard to do ;]) The idea is to choose the month you were born and the day you were born. Pass this on to the GIRLS ONLY and lets see how far it reaches around. The last one about the bra went around all over the world.

Your status should say: “I am going to________________for___________ months.”

The day you were born should be for how many months you are going.

This one was particularly bad because someone’s mom or dad or best friend is going to freak out on learning that their loved one is going away for more than a year. It’s in bad taste.

Here’s the problem with these campaigns in general: It first assumes that men are clueless about breast cancer. If you are the spouse or parent of someone with breast cancer, you’re pretty damn clued in. It also ignores that men can get breast cancer too. One of the more famous male victims is Peter Criss, original drummer in KISS.

All the bra color and purse placement campaigns did was leave men picturing lady friends in their bras or having sex on a desk or in a closet. I can assure you, breast cancer awareness was the last thing on their minds.

As someone who has tried to raise awareness in this blog on the risks and remedies for addictive behavior, mental illness and Crohn’s Disease, I know I’m not going to make anyone smarter by announcing the color of my underwear. In fact, that would just be gross.

To me, raising awareness is about sharing your personal experiences, medical studies and tips for something like minimizing the side effects of chemotherapy (if that’s even possible). When you take people on a personal journey, they walk away with a much better understanding of what they can do to help.

I’ll end with what I think is the best example of this — a book by my friend Penny Morang Richards called “My Breast Cancer Sally.” There’s also a blog called “My Breast Cancer Chronicle.”

There are many other blogs out there that raise awareness for everything from breast cancer to sexual addiction.

Seek out those sources. And keep your bra color to yourselves.

My Breast Cancer Sally

SOPA Shelved, But Fight Not Over

You might remember my warning about SOPA and the Protect IP ACT, legislation that as written would lead to massive censorship on the Internet. Today there’s some good news.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/XWhInhE6emE

It appears SOPA is headed for the shelf due to the rising tide of opposition. Details on the site where I do my day job, CSOonline.

I also wrote a post warning people that this isn’t over by a long shot.

We’re working on another story, which I’ll link to here later on this afternoon.

Meantime, a reminder on why these bills are so bad:

When you think of all America’s efforts to protect its citizens, the goal is always to protect A WAY OF LIFE. Our right to free speech and expression. The Internet has allowed that freedom to flourish in the form of personal blogs, social networking and so on. If the government gets the power to block that freedom, all our other security efforts will be rendered meaningless.

That’s my security argument. But let’s look at this in the scope of personal blogging. I started this blog to break stigmas around mental illness and addiction. There are many other blogs out there with similar missions.

This legislation threatens all of it.

A few months ago I wrote a post about how I was ripped off by The Midwest Center For Stress and Anxiety and how, in my experience, it’s a sham. That post has gotten more page views than any other I’ve written, and it has received countless comments, most of them mirroring my own experiences.

If this law were enacted, The Midwest Center could petition the government to block my site for posting content harmful to it’s business interests.

The government would also have greater authority to block much of the content we all post on Facebook.

I don’t deny that there is a problem with pirated content in this country. But this kind of response is typical of the entertainment industry.

Instead of embracing the new ways people choose to get their multimedia content, the industry tries to punish us instead. Their profits are drying up because consumers are abandoning them.

When your business can’t adapt to changing times, it doesn’t survive. It’s simple. It’s fair. The entertainment industry and big software companies can’t handle this simple truth. So they’re using the government to beat consumers into submission.

Don’t let it happen.

The EFF page I link to above makes it very easy for you to send your elected officials a message asking them to vote against this legislation.

Simply go to the top right of the page, enter your zip code, then fill in your name and address.

I did. Now it’s your turn.

Don’t let this bullshit stand.

OCD On My Left, ADD On My Right

It’s been an interesting month in mental disorder awareness. In taking steps to nip wintertime depression in the bud, I’ve learned that OCD isn’t my only mental defect.

Mood music:

It appears that as OCD messes with one side of my brain, Attention Deficit Disorder is toying with the other side. This little epiphany happened when I visited the nurse who helps me manage my regimen of medication.

She asked a lot of questions she usually doesn’t ask about my focus of late. I noted that while I still have frequent OCD moments — particularly if I’m knee-deep in a work project or tackling a list of chores at home — I also seem to be having trouble concentrating a lot. One recent day in work, for example, it took all the strength I had to focus on the work at hand.

That almost never happens. But this time, doing the work was painful. It gave me a migraine. If I hated what I do that would be normal. But I love what I do. Meanwhile, at home, I’d stand in the kitchen, oblivious to the fact that I was standing right where Erin was working on dinner. I would try to give her a hug or shoulder rub while she was in the middle of a task — almost as if I had one foot in this dimension and another foot in some other world.

There’s more to it, but those are a couple good examples.

Looking back on my life, it all makes sense. The OCD-ADD push and pull has always been there to some degree. As a kid I would go into OCD mode, organizing my Hot Wheels and Star Wars action figures just so. Then I’d go the other way and have a hell of a time trying to focus on simple homework assignments or chores around the house.

The Prozac nurse tells me it’s actually typical for someone to go back and forth with these disorders. OCD and ADD operate on the same mental plain. Both spark anxiety (I used to be crippled by anxiety, but that’s not an issue today) and mood swings. Both are effected by the time of year, amount of daylight vs. darkness, etc.

The image that comes to mind is two-face, that villain in Batman with the split personality.

So now I have Wellbutrin to go with the Prozac to balance things out.

Funny how life works. You learn something new about yourself, and then discover it’s not really new at all.

God clearly has a sense of humor.

Joe Zippo’s Gift

Tomorrow night is the second annual benefit show for Joe “Zippo” Kelley. This post is to urge you to go. But it’s also to show you how his spirit lives on.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/nnyVCQrFN7Q

This is my own little example of how a life touches other lives, even after death. Joe died in August of 2010. That day, I didn’t know people like Anne Genovese, Audrey Clark or the guys in Up Your Bucket.

I’ve met them at subsequent shows to celebrate Joe’s life and legacy. I’m a richer man for it.

I’ve also gotten to know and grow fond of Joe’s parents.

My musical tastes have widened to include The 360’s and a lot of punk. I’ve also gotten to know the other guys from Pop Gun (I’ve known the drummer, Greg Walsh, for many years) and have a renewed appreciation for The Neighborhoods, who headlined last year’s benefit show.

See what happens? You go do something to honor a guy who is no longer with us. Then, from his perch in Heaven, he leads you to a bunch of special people who become friends. It gives new meaning to the idea that someone lives on after death.

Details for tomorrow night:

Two Wombs, Two Vaginas And A Lot Of Balls

Joke all you want. In my opinion, Hazel Jones, a woman with two wombs and two vaginas, (the condition is called uterus didelphys) has more balls than many of us ever will.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/yxOHm8M8BcQ

Jones opened up about her condition on the This Morning show, and The Huffington Post ran this article, which says in part:

Embarrassing Bodies health expert Dr Dawn Harper explained on the show that Hazel’s condition occurred because the uterus tube septum failed to break down when Miss Jones was a baby, meaning two uteruses formed instead of one.

Uterus didelphys, more commonly known as ‘double uterus’ happens when a woman’s uterus forms differently and goes on to develop into two uteruses (wombs). While the condition itself is not uncommon, having two separate vaginas is extremely rare.

”The two tubes have made two separate uteruses and two vaginas and two cervixes. And although it’s relatively common to have a septum within the uterus, to actually have two separate uteruses is much rarer – one in a million,” explained Dr Harper.

MIss Jones first discovered something was wrong when she reached puberty and started her periods at 14.

“That wasn’t fun. I used to suffer from horrendous cramps and my periods could be very heavy. I now know that my periods were worse because I have two wombs,” Hazel explained. “It wasn’t nice. I had friends and I tried explaining to them I was having problems and they had no idea what I was doing wrong.

“I always noticed there was this thing there,” said the 27-year-old.

She also revealed that she had to lose her virginity twice as she had two hymens – the thin membrane surrounding the external vaginal opening – to break.

She explained: “If you are not aware that you have got this, it can be really uncomfortable as I thought I was having cystitis and urine infections from a young age when I was tearing the middle septum.”

I’ve read a lot of comments about this and the vast majority of them are stupid jokes about the horror of this woman having two periods, thus making life doubly miserable for the men around her. The rest of the jokes are all testosterone-driven.

The jokesters fail to give her credit for having more balls than they ever will.

To publicly talk about something so embarrassing, sensitive and painful takes courage. I’ve read that her condition is not uncommon. Those who suffer from it must feel an enormous amount of shame. It must ruin their lives in a lot of ways.

Now that Jones has spoken up, the others will not feel so freakish and alone anymore. I’m not just talking about other women with her condition. I’m talking about all the “embarrassing” maladies people live with.

I’ve often been asked why I choose to “flay” myself in this blog, as one fellow put it. I do it in part to let others know that they are not alone and that they don’t have to let their demons win.

Jones doesn’t deserve ridicule. She deserves thanks.

Hazel Jones Two Vaginas

Serotonin, Dopamine And Two Blue Pills

As the reader knows, I’ve had a persistent bout of winter depression. Not the “I’m sad and want to hurt myself” type, but the ho-hum, grumpy old man variety.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/c-QnnLudkQA

This afternoon I visited the nurse who manages my Prozac intake and walked out with a new drug: Wellbutrin.

I’ll be taking it in addition to the 60 MG of Prozac I’ve been taking for a few years now. The Prozac increases the amount of serotonin, a natural substance in the brain that helps maintain mental balance. Serotonin is a neurotransmitter, a substance that helps transmit messages from one nerve cell to another. In other words, it keeps traffic in the brain moving normally.

It has served me well, but this winter the blue moods have been tougher to shake. Enter the Wellbutrin, a drug used to treat major depression and seasonal affective disorder. It’s also used to help people quit smoking because it squashes cravings.

While the Prozac raises Serotonin levels, Wellbutrin shores up another neurotransmitter called Dopamine.

If this all sounds confusing, think of the brain as a car engine. To run properly, the engine needs the right amount of fluids, including brake fluid, transmission fluid and oil. Run low on any one of these and you got problems.

I just started taking the Wellbutrin this afternoon. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Forever Six: Thinking Of The Demenkow Family

I’m thinking of two classmates from high school today: Anne Wallace-Demenkow and her husband, Shawn. Their daughter, Emily, would have turned 13 this week.

Mood music:

She died from cancer at age 6.

I know from my brief Facebook exchanges with Anne that this was a terrible loss for her family. What could be worse than losing a child? I don’t know the answer and I hope to never find out. But I’ve lost a sibling and I saw what that did to my parents.

I bring this up because there are a lot of ways this kind of loss can ruin a person. Some people are eaten alive by the pain and others learn to keep living despite it. Anne and Shawn found a way to keep living.

I never knew Emily and, truth be told, I’m not close with Anne and Shawn. We’re just connected on Facebook because we went to high school together. Anne was in my shop. I didn’t think much of her back then. I’m sure the feeling was mutual. No big deal. We just hung out with different crowds.

But on reconnecting via Facebook a few years ago, I’ve seen what a dedicated Mom Anne is. She has shared the pain of losing Emily, but the joy she feels over her other kids, her husband and her community shine through daily.

You can tell a lot about a person by the stuff they post on Facebook. Some people troll, whine and brag. Others simply share their joy and gratitude over being alive, even if life has been cruel at times.

I stay connected with the latter crowd because I need that positive energy to rub off on me.

I want to thank Anne for sending that positive energy, despite what she’s been through.

May her and Shawn take comfort in knowing their little girl is looking out for them from Heaven.

For Winter Blues, Listen To Van Halen

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.

Mood music:

As I search for the necessary adjustments to get past bouts of S.A.D. (winter-induced depression) each winter, I find that I feel better when I listen to a lot of Van Halen. I’ve mentioned many times before that music is one of my most important coping tools, the medicine that gets me through all the rough patches.

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.

Eddie-Van-Halen

Never Have I Cared So Little About The N.H. Primary

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.

Love that Joker...

Pearl Jam’s Brush With Crohn’s Disease

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.

I’m glad McCready is doing the latter.