Posted on

Athletic Bulimia and Asshole Slogans

As someone who has struggled with both compulsive behavior and binge eating, a blog post from Pilates instructor, movement therapist and martial artist Kevin Moore called “The 6 Most Shockingly Irresponsible ‘Fitspiration’ Photos” strikes a big chord with me.

Moore takes aim at the advertisers who put out photos of rail-thin men and women with six-pack abs with messages suggesting you’re inferior, even pathetic, unless you find a way to get ripped. Number three especially resonates with me. It’s a saying I’ve seen a lot on places like Facebook:

1069874_537105859683152_1805500004_n

I won’t say this one offends me. But as someone with OCD, a condition where obsessive behavior is a form of slavery, I find it spectacularly stupid. Especially the part about people being lazy if they are not of this “dedicated” mindset.

The saying describes the dedicated as those who spend hours upon hours in the gym, pushing their bodies to the outer limits until they reach physical perfection. Take it from someone who knows what it’s like to be obsessed with both exercise and the more obviously self-destructive behaviors like binge eating: Being that dedicated is not always a good thing.

I have a lot of friends who are very athletic and I’m inspired by them. Some have lost a lot of weight that caused them a variety of health problems. Getting in shape wasn’t easy for them, but they got it done.

But when you start to feel subhuman because you only exercised an hour instead of two, or you only lost two pounds in a week instead of five, you’ve blown past the parameters of healthy.

The biggest reason I find this slogan stupid, though, is that I know from experience how obsessive exercise is used to mask ongoing bad behavior in the eating department:

  • In my late teens, I got the bright idea that I could party and drink all I wanted on the weekends with no danger of weight gain if I starved myself during the week, often living on one cheese sandwich a day.
  • My senior year in high school I wanted to drop a lot of weight fast. So for two weeks straight, I ate nothing but raisin bran from a mug two times a day and nothing else. I also ran laps around the basement for two hours a day.
  • In my late 20s, after years of vicious binge eating sent my weight to 280, I lost more than a hundred pounds through some healthy means and some fairly stupid tactics, like fasting for half of Tuesday and most of Wednesday. On Wednesdays, I would also triple my workout time on the elliptical cross-training machine at the gym. I did all this so I would be happy with the number on the scale come Thursday morning, my weekly weigh-in time. Thursday through Saturday, I would eat like a pig, then severely pull back on the eating by Sunday. Call it the 3-4 program (binge three days, starve four days, repeat).
  • In my early to mid-30s, some of my most vicious binge eating happened. For a while, though, I kept the weight down by walking 3.5 miles every day, no matter the weather. That worked great for a couple years, but then the dam broke and I binged my way to a 65-pound weight gain.

I’ve heard this kind of behavior described as athletic bulimia. I found it easy as hell to become dedicated to athletic bulimia. But health had nothing to do with it. My obsessions were all about body image.

And slogans like the one above only made the obsession worse, because it was always a reminder that my body was not perfect.

Posted on

Latest Obsession: Whitey Bulger

I’ve written previously about how my OCD gives me the tendency to latch onto certain subjects and research them obsessively. Examples include the history of the Manson and Amityville murder cases, to the point of getting a closer look at sites related to those cases.

I’ve always considered this obsession harmless. It makes me read a lot of books on the subjects and visit places when the travel schedule permits, but what’s wrong with that? The obsession expands into other areas of America’s past, including White House history. That one got me in trouble once but also led to a West Wing tour for Erin, the kids and me.

Now I find myself captivated by the history of Whitey Bulger, his associates and their arrangement with the Boston FBI.

Mood music:

I’ve always had more than a passing interest in Whitey and his brother Billy, who ruled the Massachusetts statehouse with a corrupt iron fist for decades. But the recent trial of Whitey rekindled my interest. I recently read Black Mass, probably the best one on the subject, and now I find myself Googling everything related to the subject.

Since I live and work in the Boston area, I now have the compulsion to drive around to every place connected to the case: the Lancaster Street garage Bulger and his associates used as a front, the South Boston liquor store he extorted from a husband and wife immediately after they opened for business, the places where his victims were exhumed.

These outings are always more fun with friends, especially those with photography talents.

Who’s in?

Whitey Bulger

Posted on

Think Before You Talk About Your ‘OCD’

People often ask me if I get offended by jokes and movies about OCD. The answer is usually no, because I think it’s healthy to see the humor in one’s afflictions, and the movies, when done right, educate the masses on what it’s like to suffer from this scourge. But one thing does piss me off.

It’s when people say they “went OCD” after doing such routine tasks as cleaning their house, cooking or completing a work project.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/72rWAe0pUdQ

When someone says they “got all OCD” with particular tasks, I usually keep my mouth shut. In most cases no one gets hurt from such talk and everyone I know who has tossed around the acronym so casually have done so without malice, and are good people I’m grateful to call friends, colleagues and family.

But I also think if someone is going to say they have OCD, they should know what the disorder really entails. Having a Type-A personality doesn’t cut it.

Sure, there are parts of my own OCD that look like Type-A activity. I tend to swing for the fences when a task is before me, and I have had a lot of career success that was in part fueled by the freakish drive I get when the OCD runs hot.

But there’s more to it. Much more.

For me, OCD also means crippling obsessions and compulsive behavior: worry that has spun out of control and made me physically sick. The itching urge to check doors over and over to make sure they’re locked or check my laptop bag multiple times to make sure the computer is in fact in there. The nagging itch to go on a binge or spend money on something I can’t afford.

I’ve learned to manage these darker aspects through therapy, medicine and life experiences. But I never forget the fear and anxiety I lived with for years as the OCD spun furiously beyond my control.

I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Obviously, I sure as hell wouldn’t wish it on friends and loved ones.

So next time you describe how OCD you are, think about what that really entails.

obsessed

Posted on

Waiting Is the Hardest Part

One of my biggest struggles has always been impatience. I hate waiting, whether it’s being stuck in a long line at Starbucks or getting adjusted to life’s changes. Since I recently started a new job, the challenge has grown particularly steep in recent weeks.

Mood music:

It’s all good, really; I’m enjoying the new job. But I’m always obsessed about where I want to be in the process, and that has made for a world of hurt in past jobs. That hurt is usually all in my head, thoughts that run wild and make me sick or irritable.

The normal thing to do is take it a day at a time, learn the ropes and realize that it takes several weeks to start hitting the right groove. But that’s not me. I come in with a long list of what I want to accomplish and get bummed out if I haven’t burned through half the list after the first two weeks. If I write 5 blog posts, I feel like I should have done 10 or 15 by that point. If an idea for a new web page isn’t live a month after I’ve laid down the first design, I start to feel adrift.

If I were a carpenter instead of a writer and editor, I’d be bummed out about not getting an entire house built in the first month.

The reality is that a person usually has plenty of time to get acclimated. Some jobs ramp up faster than others. When I worked in a record store in my early 20s, I only had a few days to learn the ropes. By the end of the first week, I was expected to be restocking shelves and working the cash register.

But that’s retail. In the world of writing and editing, the ramp up is a longer process, especially when you’re doing the job in a setting that is not based on an editorial operation.

What I need to do now is going to take time. Relationships must be made and solidified. Ideas have to go through multiple channels for review. That’s as it should be. Push things through too fast and you’ll create a legacy of half-baked works. Push too hard on people you’re just getting to know, and they’re not going to want to work with you much.

So I’m working on taking the new job a day at a time. Doing so should be easy. My new workmates have made me feel welcome and comfortable.

My only enemy is in my head. He’s an old adversary, and I suppose he’ll always be there. It’s an enemy born of false and impatiently conceptualized expectations. He pushes me to move fast and recklessly. But I can’t let him win.

I’ll be working the coping tools hard in the coming weeks as I find my footing. Waiting is hard. But more often than not, it’s necessary and you have to accept it.

And so I’ll continue trying.

Cracked Glass
Photo Credit: W J (Bill) Harrison via Compfight cc
Posted on

Look Out Honey, ‘Cause I’m Using Technology

It’s a miracle I’ve survived a decade of writing about information security in my day job, considering how technologically inept I can be.

As I try to set up a new analytics tool for this blog, get accustomed to the daily use of Skype and install work email on my Android, I find that my OCD is off the charts. I keep hearing this in my head:

“Look out honey, ’cause I’m using technology!
Ain’t got time to make no apology.”
—The Stooges, “Search and Destroy”

The Skype and phone issues are actually no big deal, but the analytics tool is making me crazy. There are a million plug-ins so you can better access your site metrics, and all are advertised as easy to use. I’ve downloaded one after the next, carefully following the instructions, only to have them all fail.

Some say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result. I have to admit that’s an accurate statement. I once spent an entire afternoon freaking out over a VPN that kept dropping. That was two jobs and several years ago. I’m much better at dealing with such things now, but I still have smaller explosions.

The answer to these ridiculous episodes is to walk away, to do something else and try again later. But for all my progress in recent years at managing the more disruptive OCD episodes, I have yet to master that one. There’s a chance I never will.

Yet I continue to succeed in the world of technology from a career standpoint. I actually love playing with new tools and programs and have gotten pretty good at doing it, especially on the smartphone. I like to access the guts of the machinery and learn what makes it all tick. And when I figure it out, I feel pretty fucking brilliant.

My big problem is how I can get when I can’t figure it out.

Fortunately, people around me continue to save me from myself. Erin is a natural at setting up and managing all the feeds and coding that drives me to distraction. A friend at work was generous with his time when I needed help configuring some of the programs I’ll now be using daily.

Eventually, I’ll figure out the analytics tools, too.

Until then, I’ll try not to go off the deep end.

Scotty and the Mouse

Posted on

The Burden of Being Upright

A couple facts about the last few months: I made it through the winter more mentally intact than I have in a long time. I also went through a lot of uncertainty over the future of my career, which exhausted me enough to behave in spring as I normally do in winter: scattered, aloof and depressed.

Things have actually turned out well. I got the job I coveted the most after fielding a couple other opportunities. It feels good knowing the opportunities found me when I wasn’t actively looking for a change. And I’d like to think that of late I’ve carried on with good humor.

But this weekend it became apparent to me that I’m having trouble connecting all the dots. It almost exclusively manifests itself at home, where I push around trying to do so many things at once that I create bigger messes than what I started with. I get overwhelmed, which makes me irritable and unable to listen to people as closely as I should.

It leads to me making stupid mistakes with the family finances and screwing up carefully made schedules because I forget certain details.

It pisses me off, because the realization usually smacks me in the face out of nowhere, usually after a period of time where I think I’ve been doing pretty good managing life.

You think you’re fixed. But you never really are. The good and bad come in cycles. I’m fine with that. I just wish I had an early-warning system in my brain that could go off before things go too far.

This isn’t a post about self-loathing. In the big picture, I like who I am. It’s not a post about feeling sorry for myself, either. When I see myself sliding off track, saying so here forces me to right the ship.

Sometime, I admit, I get tired of revisiting that challenge. Trouble is, it’s a challenge that’s always going to be there.

You don’t become a good person and stay that way. It takes constant work.

So off I go, fixing things again.

Chess boards
Art by Bill Fennell
Posted on

Cannibal Cop’s Morbid Fantasy Crossed the Line

The New York Times published a story about the conviction of Gilberto Valle, a police officer who apparently plotted to kidnap, torture and eat several women. He never actually abducted or killed anyone. It was mostly talk in seedy online chat rooms. Which begs the question: Should a person be tried and jailed for dark thoughts that percolate in the mind?

Mood music:

[spotify:track:54YmspVxT9aeIxQ7YvG9Or]

Valle’s trial highlighted some of the darkest corners of cyberspace, where, as the NYT noted, “fetishists hide behind Web identities like Girlmeat Hunter — the name that Mr. Valle used — and engage in role-playing fantasy about cannibalism and sexual torture.” Prosecutors successfully argued that Valle went beyond the fantasy and started laying the groundwork to carry out his dark fantasies. He kept files on women, illegally obtaining details from a restricted police database. He also researched kidnapping and cooking techniques. (See court documents here.)

My two cents: If you’re keeping detailed plans on your laptop and conducting surveillance, you’re moving past online fantasy and engaging in a real-world conspiracy. Using a restricted police database for the task is worth conviction on its own.

We’ve all had twisted thoughts. In some cases, those thoughts become obsessive-compulsive fantasies. Usually, the fantasy is about killing someone who caused pain and aggravation. Maybe it’s the boss who torments you. Maybe it’s the lady who cut you off on the highway. Then there are the sexual fantasies people have.

I’ve had my fantasies about punching people in the face and dropping them off a cliff. As a recovering compulsive binge eater, I’ve had vivid fantasies about the food I would binge on and how I’d get it. The latter fantasies often became reality. But eating Twinkies and Big Macs is not illegal, and though I’ve had fantasies of violence, I’ve never acted on them. That’s how it is for most of us. We entertain dark thoughts but don’t act on them, because for the most part we are law-abiding citizens with a sense of right and wrong.

If Valle was making blueprints and researching his potential victims, then his sense of right and wrong was impaired, making him a threat to public safety.

The lesson for the rest of us is that we must always work to control our actions. We can’t always stop the bizarre images our minds weave, but we can hold the line between fantasy and reality.

Those who have trouble doing so need to get help before they end up hurting someone.

Below: Former New York City police officer Gilberto Valle (L), dubbed by local media as the “Cannibal Cop”, listens as his wife Kathleen Mangan testifies in this courtroom sketch on the first day of his trial in New York February 25, 2013. REUTERS/Jane Rosenburg 

Cannibal Cop