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We Need Routines, Part 2

Here’s one reason February has been such a bitch: My routine has been so far off the rails that it has been hard to keep my perspective. It hurts the whole family-work dynamic. For a person in recovery, routines are beyond huge.

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6YzKLRM-pr4&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

Being the restless, boredom-shunning soul that I am, I always look forward to the next trip. I always miss my wife and children during these outings, but it’s also good to get out of the normal environment from time to time. It tests you and can even rejuvenate. I’ve also learned that recovery is portable. You can take your program just about anywhere. I’ve also learned that God is with me wherever I go, and that makes it much easier to approach life in a fearless way.

Here’s the problem: Do too much of this sort of thing and you hurt yourself and those around you. That’s exactly what I did in late January and the first half of February. I went to Washington and San Francisco within a two week period and came home violently ill. Served me right, but my family didn’t deserve having to carry on while I was passed out on the couch.

I thought I had the groove of a traveling man down pat, but I was being stupid.

Last week was a lost week of sorts. I was home a lot with my family, but mentally I was pretty vacant.

But it’s a new week. I’m in the office doing routine things. This afternoon I’ll go home and do more routine things. And I’ll be happy doing it.

I started on the path back to sanity yesterday by going to Mass. Driving there in a snowstorm wasn’t sane, mind you. But by the time Mass was over I felt so happy to be back. When you travel and focus on work too much, God gets the shaft, too.

That point was driven home to me when I did another routine thing last night and went to a 12-Step study meeting.

The main topic was fear and the things addicts do because of it. People discussed how their fears — over being accepted, over an abusive, drunken spouse, over work — made them drink, drug and binge eat. I sat there silent because I’m still too early in the Big Book-study process to share at these meetings, but I had a different, stranger take on fear than the rest of the room. I’ve lived in their brand of fear, to be sure.

My problem of late has more to do with the collateral damage caused when you lose the fear that held you back. You get a big lust for life, which may sound all well and good until you realize it’s just another extreme way of living.

Extremes are like absolutes: Both have caution signs plastered all over them. You go too far in one direction and neglect other, important parts of your existence.

I’ve always been a man of extremes. I’m either badly depressed like I was last week, shut off from the rest of the world, seeing only the calamities, or I’m ON — working, playing and grabbing on to every activity I only think I can handle at the time.

The middle speed in my engine rarely works right. It’s either all or nothing, and that’s a problem that may well plague me for the rest of my life.

But I’m not giving up without a fight.

This much I know: I’m always closest to the middle gear when I follow a rigid routine. That includes three weighed-out meals sans flour and sugar, an early bedtime because I rise early, at least two 12-Step meetings a week, regular check-ins with my sponsor, regular visits to the therapist, and daily prayer. It should also include time set aside after work to catch up with my wife and kids.

This is the stuff I need to work on, and I don’t tell you all this in a search for sympathy. We all have issues to work on every day. We all have our good days and bad days. I’m nothing special. I just happen to have a blog where I can process this stuff aloud. 

The blog has become another important part of my routine.

But my use of it can become unbalanced, too.

This is just one of the crosses I carry.

But 10 of my crosses are absolutely nothing compared the Cross Jesus carried. I just forget from time to time.

Some of you think that kind of talk is nonsense.

Nobody’s perfect.

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Search and Destroy

In the haze of my sickness of recent days, I’ve been listening to a lot of music. It’s not like I can do much else. This afternoon, I’ve turned my obsessions over to The Stooges.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFfnAvqf1pw&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

The opening lines to “Search and Destroy” drag me kicking and screaming back to the mid 1980s, when destruction was my idea of a job well done.

I’m a street walking cheetah with a heart full of napalm

I’m a runaway son of the nuclear A-bomb

I am a world’s forgotten boy

The one who searches and destroys.

I used to hate everyone and everything back then. Burning objects and plowing rocks through glass wasn’t simple destruction. It was something to be done with craftsmanship and pride.

In the concrete storage room off the basement in my old Revere house I’d collect beer bottles from the frequent parties I’d have down there. Every time the pile got big enough, and it never took long, I’d go in there, light up a cigarette and start throwing rocks.

If there was a large pile of broken glass on the floor at the end, I would consider it a good day’s work.

It would be like an afternoon of chopping wood, only… different.

I played a lot of records on my shitty little stereo system while I did that. The Ramones always got me in the mood for breaking things.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wa6O0yFv1bE&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

Van Halen’s “Fair Warning” album always did the trick, too. It’s been said that Eddie Van Halen wasn’t in a happy place during the recording of that record 30 years ago, and the darkness is all over his playing. I guess that’s why it’s my favorite Van Halen album.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3aW7oofNgs&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

I don’t break things anymore. Not out of anger or depression, anyway.

But I still listen to the music and it still makes me feel better.

I like to think of it as progress.

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When Honesty Is A Lie

I’ve figured out another reason for my sour mood in recent days, and now is as good a time as any to get it off my chest.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/6YzKLRM-pr4

A lot of people have been coming up to me here in San Francisco praising me for being “so honest, open and courageous” in this blog. It was a similar thing when I was in Washington D.C. for ShmooCon a couple weeks ago.

I appreciate those feelings. I really do. But when I look in the mirror lately, those words don’t ring true.

Maybe I’m being too self-critical, maybe not.

But the feeling is there. And it stings.

Here’s the thing: I do open up about a lot of things on here. That’s why I do this thing. If one person can open up about himself, I figure, others will be less afraid to be honest with themselves and they’ll be happier for it.

But don’t think for a second that I tell you everything.

I still have trouble sometimes being honest with myself and other people. It’s not that I hide anything particularly insidious. It’s the more typical things:

If I run into a PR person who wants to pitch me something I’m not interested in, I often lack the honesty to tell them I’m not interested. That strings them along and gives them false hope, and it’s not fair to them.

When I talk to people about how I’ve cleaned up from an addiction, I’m not so revealing about the other addictions I still let control me (computer gadgetry, for example). Sure, I wrote about that and just linked to it. But I think I’m far more hooked on technology in ways that make life less manageable than I initially let on.

I’m also not honest enough about just how hard it is sometimes to be social and sober-abstinent at the same time. Last night I stayed in the hotel because I wanted nothing to do with people.

I’m not saying what I’ve written before was a lie. It wasn’t. But it wasn’t the full, naked and ugly truth, either. I hold little details back. Some things just feel too private to share.

I guess that’s just part of being human.

Whatever the case may be, I don’t want people thinking I’m better than I am and inflating my head with high praise.

Instead, just help keep me honest.

(Image originally appeared on the SodaHead site )

 

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Do Drunks and Recovering Addicts Mix?

It can be tricky socializing with a recovering addict at a party. In some ways the guy who can’t drink or eat whatever he wants  is socially awkward. So how do you deal with someone like me?

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSih4o2YfmA&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

It’s a fair question, and one I’ve put some thought into since a good friend sent me this feedback:

“As someone who knows several people who struggle with addiction issues I’m always hyper-sensitive to everything I say and do around them. The last thing I want to do is add pressure to someone who may be at the end of their tether…but at the same time I don’t want to bring attention to the issue or treat them differently. What, in your experience and belief, are things people like me should do/not do/worry about/not worry about so that we are helping and not hurting those around us.”

I’m glad my friend posed the question, because I’ll be honest: Sometimes I feel the same way around someone who’s drinking. I’m sensitive about coming off as the snob in the room who thinks he’s better than everyone else because everyone else is drinking or drunk.

I just want to blend in, enjoy the company I’m with and drink something without alcohol — usually tonic water with a splash of cranberry juice if I can’t find decent coffee.

That’s what I drank last night at a gathering in San Francisco, where I’m covering RSA Conference 2011 and BSidesSF.

I need to make one thing clear: I don’t mind if people around me are enjoying a few drinks. Sometimes I envy them for being able to do it and still function, and I want them to have a good time. I had a good time last night catching up with industry friends, and nobody made me feel uncomfortable. Not once.

I certainly don’t want to make them feel uncomfortable.

It’s my responsibility to keep my sobriety and abstinence intact while functioning in these surroundings. It’s also up to me to know how to behave. Some recovering addicts can’t be at a party because they’re deathly afraid of slipping. Fortunately, I’m not in that state of mind.

Occasionally someone will ask me if I want a beer or some other alcoholic beverage. Or they’ll ask if I want some of their fried and breaded appetizers. I just say no thanks and it’s no big deal. If you have no idea I can’t have these things, how could I be upset when you’re just trying to be friendly and sharing?

If you offer me something I can’t have and find out later, don’t sweat it.

If someone were to keep badgering me with the “why not” and make fun of me for not wanting to have a good time, I’d have a problem with it. But it’s rare that it happens. And the person who does that is usually the same one who can’t hold his liquor and makes a spectacle of him or herself.

Now, I’m not a mirror image of how sober people feel about this, and no two people will have the same reaction. I only know my experience. 

So far, my experience is that most people are respectful of what I do.

It comes down to this:

You let me be myself.

I’ll let you be yourself.

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Snake on the Plane

Tomorrow I get on another plane to another city — this time San Francisco. It’s time to go cover the RSA and B-Sides security events. I used to be a raving lunatic the day before a flight. Not anymore. Still, I feel uneasy this morning.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwzGvMwO-yg&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

My mind has been raw all week for a multitude of reasons. Mostly, it’s a case of winter getting to me. The sun is setting later each day, which is good for me, but the cold and snow have done their damage and plunged me into a depression.

I’ve pushed myself hard with work and at home I’ve been a slug. I forget to do simple things and I just want to collapse on the couch. I sigh a lot and swear even more.

It’s not fair to my family. But I can’t seem to help it.

On a positive note, I’ve kept my recovery intact. That’s real progress, because this kind of mindset used to make me binge my brains out. Those days were so much worse.

That doesn’t make me satisfied about my current state of mind.

On one hand, I’m excited for the coming trip. I love the fast and furious writing and the copious networking that gets done. I love seeing friends I usually only see on Twitter and Facebook.

On the other hand, I feel terrible about abandoning my family for four days.

It’ll all work out. I know this. But the uneasiness is still there.

I don’t dive into bouts of self-hatred in moments like this like I used to, and that’s very good. I’ve learned to see this mood for what it is: A mild-to-moderate depression that hits after a serious lack of sunlight. Duncan suffers from it, too, though not in the same ways.

It’s just something we have to keep working on.

The depression hit me later this time than it usually does in winter. The happy lamp, proper Prozac dosage and program of recovery have served me well. But I’m starting to realize I’ll probably never be able to go an entire winter without feeling this way.

Tough shit. That’s my cross to carry, and I just have to keep getting better at managing the load without complaint and without becoming useless to those around me.

My Faith will see me through. 

My wife and kids will see me through, even if they’re not happy with my impending travel at the moment.

The 12 Steps of Recovery will see me through.

And once I get to San Francisco, the work at hand will see me through.

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The New Slavery

I reigned in my addictions to food and alcohol. I brought the compulsive spending down to a dull roar. But the Android. The Laptop. Technology is a new addiction and I’m a slave.

In some respects, it’s strange that this is now my lot in life. For most of my adulthood, I was never an early adopter of the latest gadgetry. I didn’t own an iPod until late 2008, and it’s one of the older models. I was still using a Walkman and cassette tapes long after everyone started switching to digital music.

And yet here I am, skilled to the gills in the ways of smartphones, social networking and squeezing Internet connectivity out of the most remote places.

How did this happen? The easy answer is my job.

I write about technology — information security, specifically — and I have to use all this stuff to know how it works and, obviously, how to write about it.

But to blame it all on the hazards of work would be an over-simplification and a cop-out.

The bigger truth is that the same hole in my soul that led me to the other addictions has wrapped its thorny fingers around technology.

I don’t regret it the way I regretted the binge eating and the alcohol I used as a crutch while bringing the food under control. The fact of life is that a lot of good reading has shifted online. That’s now where I go to read various newspapers, get the weather report and watch the news.

We used to turn on the TV to get the weather and watch the news. A favorite Sunday pastime used to be reading a stack of newspapers on the living room couch. It was a way to be informed and unwind at the same time.

Now I can do all these things from my laptop AND my Android phone. But to the passers by, I have my face buried behind a screen while the world hums along around me.

There’s definitely a perception issue. But I won’t lie. A lot of my computer use is obsessive, compulsive and addictive.

Imagine how easy it is to spend hours on porn sites in the middle of the night. Fortunately, porn isn’t my thing. I know a priest who suffers from that addiction, and I pray for him all the time. But I know a thrice-convicted pedophile who, last time I checked, was visiting the library Internet centers and looking at all that stuff while friending teenage girls all over Facebook.

Ah, yes. Facebook. I don’t know about you, but I can never let a day go by without seeing who is doing what on there. The funny thing is that most of what happens on there is the stuff we always got along without. We’ve always been busy enough with our own family dramas. Now we have to read about everyone else’s. Wanna punish someone for annoying you? Nothing says “Fuck You” like unfriending someone on Facebook or unfollowing someone on Twitter.

The whole addiction-to-technology thing came up a couple Saturdays ago while I was in Washington D.C. having breakfast with my friends James Arlen and Martin Fisher. Martin was recording the conversation for a podcast but somewhere in the conversation we veered away from security and started lamenting our dependence on our devices. I was lamenting, anyway.

James said something I hadn’t thought of before: Our phones and social networking tools have become like another sense. So instead of five senses, we now have six.

Make a person do without their phone or laptop and it’s like you’ve cut off an arm or deprived them of smell, hearing, taste or vision.

What’s so perfect about that description is that addictions in general are like that. The addiction becomes another sense of sorts. Deprive the addict of what they need and horrible withdrawal pains result. I experienced it when I put down flour, sugar and alcohol. And I experience it when I have to shut the phone.

I guess the reason I’m not more ashamed about it is that practically every person I know has the same problem.

Misery adores company. There’s nothing more comforting than the knowledge that you’re not alone in your stupidity.

So what do I do with this newfound clarity?

I don’t know.

A good place to start is to minimize my laptop use when I’m home. But I have a feeling I’ll fall short.

Meet the new slavery. Not quite the same as the old slavery, but still a bitch.

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Even in Sobriety, Life Must Go On

I’ve been posting lately about some of the dysfunction I encounter among people in AA and OA. I name no names, because our anonymity is vital. But some things are worth a rant or two.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpzIlWIF24k&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

I’ve ranted about folks who shove passages from the AA big book down my throat even when it’s obvious that they’re still messed up (See: Readings from the Book of Crap).

I’ve also ranted about folks who let their program of recovery become just another addiction. (See: When Recovery Becomes The Addiction).

This line of writing may seem harsh. And at the end of the day I know I have to pay attention to my own side of the street instead of getting fixated on what other people are doing.

But what the hell. As someone working the 12 Steps, I have to live with these people, and for those who are in the abyss of addiction and want to clean up, it’s useful to know about some of the quarks the program has. As long as it doesn’t scare you away. I don’t want to do that, because I owe my life to my recovery program, and I love the folks I share meetings with to death. They’ve helped me in so many ways — by sharing their stories, offering me guidance and just being friends.

I should also note that even for those who turn recovery into another addiction, it sure as hell beats the shit out of the old addictions that made their lives utterly unmanageable.

This post and the ones I mentioned above are about the few people who can screw things up for everyone else.

I’ve gotten a ton of feedback from folks in various LinkedIn forums, especially those who read the post about recovery becoming addiction. Some of that feedback simply must be shared.

I think the biggest point to be had is that recovery should be about helping an addict clean up, gain wisdom and then live life to the fullest.

It should also be about getting clean so you can be there for friends and family in need.

If you decide it’s more important to attend six AA-OA meetings in a week instead of doing your job or helping your kids with their homework, there’s something wrong with you. Sorry. That’s how I feel.

One of the folks on LinkedIn, Taunta Beanie Taylor, agreed, writing, “I have the same kinds of feelings about AA. I love it in that it works GREAT for some people, but I also hate it in that some people become so attached to the program that they allow it to interfere with the rest of their lives. ‘My Sponsor suggested I not go so I’m not, even though it will hurt people in my family’ kinds of attitudes. Or they HAVE to do a meeting, so they don’t give aid to a friend in need. They often lose the line between suggestion and requirement. Recovery (from whatever addiction) becomes a form of religion, and like religion, some people get confused about the fact that we were all created unique and individual, therefore having unique and individual needs.”

Not everyone will agree with that statement. Some will tell you that recovery is a matter of survival, and if they choose an extra meeting over some dysfunctional family events, that’s how it has to be.

I understand that point of view fully. One of the reasons I’m not on speaking terms with my mother is because she’s too big a trigger. I don’t want it to be that way, but yeah, it’s survival.

Indeed, there are many difficult balancing acts to be had in recovery.

I’m not the voice of perfection. Lord knows I got my own issues.

But this is another challenge on the journey that’s worth being aware of.

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Need More Proof It’s an Addiction?

My new hero is a fellow Bostonian, Michael Prager. I mentioned him briefly yesterday as proof of what I’ve been writing here for the last year — that addictive behavior can latch onto food in destructive ways.

Long before I realized I could only beat my addiction if I started treating it as such, and long before I started this blog, Prager was well on the road to recovery I now find myself on.

There’s a great article on him in The Washington Post you all must read. So hit the link and go learn from this man.

Conquering food addiction

Sitting across a Starbucks table from Michael Prager a few weeks ago, I’d never have guessed that he once weighed 365 pounds. Or that he’s an addict.

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See? I Told You It’s a Real Addiction!

I’ve focused hard in this blog on blowing false notions to smithereens. One of those is the idea that compulsive binge eaters aren’t true addicts; that they’re just gluttons who lack discipline.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fV-5eE_gpU8&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999]

My argument — already supported by a growing chorus of medical and mental health specialists — is that this is a true addiction. I’ve lived it. I know it. And the only program that worked for me is the same exact one alcoholics and drug addicts use to turn it around.

Addictive behavior comes in many forms: Food, drugs, booze, the Internet, porn, and usually a mix of one or more. The root cause is always a hole in our souls that sends us in search of comfort in the most self-destructive ways.

People always struggle to include food in there because it’s something we all need to survive. You don’t technically need drugs, booze or porn to survive. Addicts only think that they do.

Well, a column in The Washington Post tackles the issue head on. In “Is food addiction real?” author Jennifer LaRue Huget notes that “for all the fanfare surrounding food addiction, the condition isn’t fully embraced as legitimate in medical and psychological circles. Some argue that our complex relationship with food can’t be easily boiled down to an addiction, as so many factors are in play. Others maintain that allowing for “food addiction” ends up absolving people of the personal responsibility to manage their food consumption. And some experts say the science to support the notion of food addiction remains incomplete.”

But she goes on to write that “for some overweight people — including Michael Prager, author of the book “Fat Boy, Thin Man” — viewing one’s troubled relationship with food as an addiction is the first and necessary step toward improving that relationship. Prager, who once weighed 365 pounds and for the past 20 years has weighed 210, was reluctant to accept the idea that he was addicted to food, but once he did so, he found that treating his addiction as an addiction led to his finally shedding those extra pounds and keeping them off for the long term.”

She admits that she was among the skeptics who felt food addiction was a copout. After meeting Prager and reading his book, however, her opinion shifted.

“Being addicted to food doesn’t mean enjoying big quantities of delicious treats,” she writes. “It’s more like being a slave to food, adjusting your schedule and compromising relationships with other people to accommodate your cravings, needing more and more of certain foods to achieve the satisfaction you seek, and not even particularly enjoying the food you cram into your mouth. Those all sound like addictive behaviors to me.”

Amen, sister.

Thanks for articulating what I’ve been feeling for a long time.

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When Recovery Becomes the Addiction

I’ve noticed something interesting in the halls of recovery: Some folks cling to their program so tightly that their addictive behavior latches on to the program itself. In my opinion, this can get unhealthy.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvXkAIfJOEQ&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999]

To find recovery in Overeater’s Anonymous (mine is a binge-eating addiction), the only requirement is to want to stop eating compulsively. It’s very simple. There is no “OA diet.” But there are a few different food plans people choose from. One is based on a “Dignity of Choice” pamphlet that outlines a few different plans. Then there’s the so-called “Grey Sheet” plan (included among the options in “Dignity of Choice”) a lot of recovering food addicts cling to like a passage from The Bible.

For them (not everyone, but quite a few people), there IS NO OTHER WAY. If you’re not following the food plan outlined there, you are not abstinent.

There’s also the mindset that you HAVE TO ABSTAIN FROM FLOUR AND SUGAR and have nothing in between meals to be abstinent. Eat an apple in between lunch and dinner and you break your abstinence and have to start over.

To me, this is an extreme that causes a lot of people to fail. In fairness, some people need the most rigid plan available to be well because their mental state demands the most brutal discipline to stay clean.

I get and respect that.

What I don’t get or respect is when someone following that plan tells someone they’re not being abstinent if they’re doing their own plan differently.

For the record, I don’t eat flour or sugar, and I don’t eat in between meals. I have to have it this way because the defect in my brain approaches anything in between as an invitation to binge. Flour and sugar, mixed together, had the same effect on me as heroin has on the more traditional junkie.

But not everyone can do it that way. There are many reasons for someone to do it differently. If you have diabetes, for example, following my exact food plan could be bad, maybe even lethal.

I also feel that if an apple between meals keeps you from binge eating, that’s what you do. If the more extreme among us tell you you’re not abstinent if you do that, they’re wrong.

In my view, folks who get that way become addicts of a different sort. The compulsive behavior centers around the program itself.

Don’t get me wrong. If doing it that way is what you have to do to stay away from the binges that made your life unmanageable, more power to you. It’s certainly better than the type of addictive behavior you displayed before finding the program.

What makes me uncomfortable is when that person tries to force their way onto everyone in the room.

There are also sponsors who insist you do your program exactly as they do, with no differences whatsoever. Even if another medical condition forbids you from eliminating all flour and sugar, these particular sponsors won’t work with you. That’s their choice, and they’re entitled to it. Some believe they’re not qualified to guide someone with a plan that’s different from their own. In some cases, that kind of sponsor comes off like someone on a power trip.

In some cases that’s true. In other cases, those folks are just afraid of breaking their own abstinence by letting a sponsee do something different. I understand that fear completely. Nobody wants to have a relapse. That’s the recovering addict’s biggest nightmare.

The problem is that when you give a sponsee no room to do it differently, you’re doing them more harm than good. Someone hungry for recovery gets turned off and walks away to resume their self-destructive behavior.

I sponsored four people at one point, and I eventually decided I had to take a break from it because I was worried that I wasn’t in the best position to tell these people what to do.

Call it the fear of making someone worse while trying to help them.

I decided to pull back and re-organize my own side of the street to prevent that sort of thing. 

It just goes to show that addictive minds never heal completely. When you put down the addiction that made you into a monster, you tend to redirect your compulsive nature onto other things — including the recovery plan itself.

This isn’t a criticism of people who are like that.

It’s just an acknowledgement of how hard and complicated recovery can be.