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.

January 5, 2012

Traci Foust Talks OCD on NPR

Erin is playing me an NPR broadcast about OCD. I went looking for the link to include here and tripped over another good NPR segment. This one is an interview with Traci Foust, author of “Nowhere Near Normal: A Memoir of OCD.”

I recently connected with Traci on Facebook and she’s a great resource for understanding the disorder.

Do yourself a favor and listen to it HERE.

While we’re on the topic, it’s also worth checking out “A Life Lived Ridiculously” by Annabelle R. Charbit, about a girl with obsessive compulsive disorder who makes the mistake of falling in love with a sociopath.

Both writings work so well because of how the authors use humor. Of course, my humor falls on the dark side, so take that comment with a grain of salt.

As for that other OCD segment on NPR, here it is. It’s about how art can be used to raise a person’s understanding of the disorder.

Enjoy, and be better for it.

January 5, 2012

My Happy Lamp Isn’t Working As I’d Hoped

Me and the happy lamp Erin bought me to combat winter depression aren’t seeing eye to eye. Everyone I talk to who uses one says it works. But here’s my problem…

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/UXFUnnoSphY

As I stare at the florescent glow that’s supposed to simulate sunlight, a nagging thought dogs me: “It’s just not the same as real sunlight,” I keep telling myself.

There’s something about genuine sunlight — how it bounces off trees and houses, how it shoots through windows and lights a room — that you just can’t capture in a box.

When the happy lamp is on, it just seems like I have my face extremely close to one of those florescent ceiling lights.

I’m not blind to the fact that part of the problem is me. Knowing that it’s not the same as real sunlight, I have a hard time giving it a chance. That’s really not fair to those who have to live in the same house with me, I realize.

As I said a couple days ago, I’m going to give it another go and work hard to be disciplined about it.

I bring all this up because I suspect I’m not the only one whose skepticism — or is it cynicism — gets in the way of the scientific benefits of light therapy.

I found a write-up from the Mayo Clinic that explains the science pretty well:

Light therapy is a way to treat seasonal affective disorder (SAD) by exposure to artificial light. Seasonal affective disorder is a type of depression that occurs at a certain time each year, usually in the fall or winter.

During light therapy, you sit or work near a device called a light therapy box. The box gives off bright light that mimics natural outdoor light. Light therapy is thought to affect brain chemicals linked to mood, easing SAD symptoms. Using a light therapy box may also help with other types of depression, sleep disorders and some other conditions. Light therapy is also known as bright light therapy or phototherapy.

Reading further, I can see how I haven’t exactly been doing it right. I turn on the box and don’t keep track of time. I’m inconsistent about the time of day I use it. My mind gets caught on visuals: what I want the light to look like vs. the scientific effect. Here’s how the Mayo Clinic says to do it:

Three key elements for effective light therapy
Light therapy is most effective when you have the proper combination of duration, timing and light intensity:

Duration. When you first start light therapy, your doctor may recommend treatment for shorter blocks of time, such as 15 minutes. You gradually work up to longer periods. Eventually, light therapy typically involves daily sessions ranging from 30 minutes to two hours, depending on your light box’s intensity.
Timing. For most people, light therapy is most effective when it’s done early in the morning, after you first wake up. Doing light therapy at night can disrupt your sleep. Because light therapy seems to work best in the early morning, you may need to wake up earlier than you normally would to get the most benefit from treatment. Your doctor can help you find the light therapy schedule that works best.
Intensity. The intensity of the light box is recorded in lux, which is a measure of the amount of light you receive at a specific distance from a light source. Light boxes for light therapy usually produce between 2,500 lux and 10,000 lux. The intensity of your light box affect how far you sit from it and the length of time you need to use it. The 10,000 lux light boxes usually require 30-minute sessions, while the 2,500 lux light boxes may require 2-hour sessions.

Finding time for light therapy
Light therapy requires time and consistency. You may be tempted to skip sessions or quit altogether because you don’t want to spend time sitting by a light box. But light therapy doesn’t have to be boring. It can be time well spent.

You can set your light box on a table or desk in your home or in your office. That enables you to read, use a computer, write, watch television, talk on the phone or eat while undergoing light therapy. Some light boxes are even available as visors that you can wear, although their effectiveness isn’t proven.

Getting the most out of light therapy
Light therapy isn’t effective for everyone. But you can take steps to get the most out of your light therapy and help make it a success, including:

Be consistent. Sticking to a daily routine of light therapy sessions can help ensure that you maintain improvements over time. If you simply can’t do light therapy every day, take a day or two off, but monitor your mood and other symptoms — you may have to find a way to fit in light therapy every day.
Time it right. If you interrupt light therapy during the winter months or stop too soon in the spring when you think you’re improving, your symptoms could return.
Get the right light box. Do some research and talk to your doctor before purchasing a light therapy box. That way you can be sure your light box is safe, the right brightness and that its style and features make it convenient to use.
Include other treatment. If your symptoms don’t improve enough with light therapy, you may need additional treatment. Talk to your doctor about other treatment options, such as psychotherapy or antidepressants.

OK, then. I’m going to give this another try.

January 4, 2012

Hey, Mom, Read This

I got a call from my mother this morning. She says she’s been reading every post in this blog and that she’s very worried about me.

“You have a beautiful wife, two healthy kids and a wonderful job, yet I read your blog and see someone who is very unhappy and disturbed,” she told me. Incredibly, she was worried that I might try to hurt myself someday.

Nothing is further from the truth. Which brings me to this post.

She commented on my last post, suggesting I’m still suffering the effects of massive doses of Prednisone during childhood. She wrote:

“When you were really sick in the hospital you were put on one of the highest doses of prednisone they give. Low doses make people have ocd tendencies while on the drug. High doses are 100 times magnified. Thus your many loud memmories. Ask any doctor what this drug can do. Having said that I will note that we are all very happy you came through the physical problems. However I think this drug is still making you sick. Even though you have not taken it for a very long time. I have taken moderate to high doses (not nearly what you took) and came home from the hospital like a crazy just let out of the mental hospital. I cannot even imagine what it did to you. But I am not convinced that this drug ends with the end of the prescibed dosage.”

There’s a lot of truth in there regarding the lingering effects of Prednisone, but that’s a topic best saved for the next post.

For now, I want to tell my mother that the reality of this blog is the complete opposite of what it’s really about. In an effort to set her straight, I’m asking her to read the following posts…

First, some words about how having the occasional bought of depression doesn’t mean a person is unhinged or even unhappy. Depression has it’s emotional components, but a lot of it is about basic science and brain chemistry: things that can be managed with the proper awareness and treatment.

Read:

A Depressed Mind Is Rarely A Beaten Mind

Depressed But OK With It

Beauty And Gratitude In Every Bad Thing

A Link Between Prednisone, Mental Illness

This post where I tell people there is no reason to avoid or be ashamed of therapy

“The Engine” where I compare mental illness and the treatments do the engine of a car.

Next, some words of encouragement I try to send people, especially kids, going through what I’ve experienced, the goal being to give them hope and inspire them to take command of their lives — not sink deeper into despair:

A Letter to Addie, a Child Fighting OCD

Mister Rogers’ Mother Was Right

Message for a Young Friend

Finally, read these posts because they are all about me making it through the rough stuff and reaching a point where I am a much happier person who loves to experience things I used to fear:

The Freak and the Redhead: A Love Story. About the wife who saved my life in many ways.

Snowpocalypse and the Fear of Loss. The author remembers a time when fear of loss would cripple his mental capacities, and explains how he got over it — mostly.

Fear Factor. The author describes years of living in a cell built by fear, how he broke free and why there’s no turning back.

Prozac Winter. The author discovers that winter makes his depression worse and that there’s a purely scientific explanation — and solution.

Rest Redefined. The author finds that he gets the most relaxation from the things he once feared the most.

Outing Myself. The author on why he chose to “out” himself despite what other people might think.

Why Being a People Pleaser is Dumb. The author used to try very hard to please everybody and was hurt badly in the process. Here’s how he broke free and kept his soul intact.

Hopefully, you’ll walk away with a new perspective. This thing is really about overcoming obstacles and learning to put ongoing challenges in their proper place.

If you don’t feel that way after more reading, we’ll simply have to agree to disagree.

January 4, 2012

Do I Think About My Disease 24-7?

Someone recently asked if I think about my disease 24-7 and, if so, whether doing so is perilous to those around me. In this case, the disease is OCD and the addictions that go with it.

Mood music:

Let me try to take a stab at addressing that:

I don’t think my disease should define me and keep me in a box. But it’s also a major part of who I am and how I tick. Writing a blog that focuses on that probably amplifies things. But I see some necessity in it all.

Like any person with an addictive personality, I have to have it on my mind around the clock because if I stop thinking about it I forget it’s there. That’s when I get sloppy and sink into the bad behavior.

The OCD part is a little more complicated and maybe even a little contradictory.

Since OCD is largely a disease that triggers destructive over thinking, you would think that the goal is to teach yourself not to think so hard. In some respects, that is the goal. But it’s about not engaging in thinking that snags your brain like the scratch in a CD does to the laser. It’s about never forgetting that the disorder, like addiction, is nearby doing push-ups, ready to kick your ass when you get too comfortable.

I’ll admit that I’m not even close to having this stuff in balance. But to those who think I focus on my disease at the expense of all else, I disagree. The me of today is a deeply flawed animal. But go back and meet the me of five or 10 years ago and you’ll meet a monster. A wounded monster. Everyone is probably better off with me as a flawed animal. I’m less harmful that way.

That doesn’t mean I should tell everyone to fuck off and carry on with no regard for the needs of others.

I need to keep working on being a better husband, a better father, a better friend and colleague. I’m never going to be perfect. But I can be better. If I have to think about my disease 24-7 to keep getting better, so be it.

I also think it’s necessary to remember my disease so I can be be more helpful and supportive of other people dealing with their own diseases — not necessarily cancer and the like, but everything from work stress to a loss of identity.

Am I pulling that off?

I guess that’s a question only others can answer.

January 3, 2012

Another Brick In The Wall

I’ve tried hard to demolish the wall I hide behind when my mind isn’t right. But whenever I think I’ve made progress, shit happens and I find it’s taller and thicker than ever.

Mood music:

My latest mood swing has me thinking hard about how I allow this to happen. Far as I can tell, I do make progress, but then I take my eye off the wrecking ball and the wall rebuilds itself when I’m busy internalizing everything.

For all the sharing I do in this blog, sometimes it’s still ridiculously hard to open up to those closest to me. One reason is that I’m still a selfish bastard sometimes. I get so wrapped up in my work and feelings that it becomes almost impossible to see someone else’s side of things.

I also don’t like to be in a situation where there’s yelling. There was plenty of that growing up, and I tend to avoid arguments with loved ones at all costs. Putting up a wall can be a bitch for any relationship, because sooner or later bad feelings will race at that wall like a drunk behind the wheel of a Porsche and slam right into it. Some bricks in the wall crack and come loose, but by then it can be too late. Relationships are totaled.

I’m starting to believe this is a chronic condition hardened by my early history. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit here and accept it.

When I stop talking, it hurts my wife, my kids and my larger family. But how do I calm the restlessness so that I’ll stay buckled into the bulldozer with my hands firmly on the controls, pounding the wrecking ball through the wall until only dust remains?

Therapy helps, and I have that regularly. But somewhere between the therapist’s office and the rest of my life, the action plan goes missing.

Maybe the problem is that I dance around it in therapy and I’m really not leaving with an action plan in hand.

Maybe the height and thickness of the wall increases and decreases on a set schedule and I just have to be more watchful. It definitely seems to grow more impenetrable at the start of winter, which is where we are now.

But maybe it’s always there, the same size and thickness, and I just happen to ignore it until someone forces me to remember its existence.

If all that sounds like bullshit, perhaps it is. I try to be as honest as possible in this blog, but let’s remember that I’m an addict and addicts are skilled at lying to themselves and others.

My mind is clear about one thing right now: I’ve slid backward and need to regain my footing. The best place to start is by making a real action plan, right here, right now:

–At my next therapy appointment, I need to make my communication troubles the focus of the appointment instead of letting the therapist run down the broader checklist.

–I need to be more disciplined about using the happy lamp I’m supposed to sit in front of during the winter. Truth be told, I’ve resisted it because in the end, I look at the florescent glow and grouse to myself that it’s just not the same as real sunlight.

–I need to reassess my diet. I’m pretty disciplined about following a strict, OA-approved food plan. But I’ve had trouble getting up the mood to eat the vegetables that are a staple of the program. So I fall back on my OA-approved breakfast at other meals. I tell myself the end goal is not to binge eat and that’s true. But messing with the food could also mean I’m messing with my mind.

–I need to get better at letting people yell at me sometimes. Yelling from anyone inevitably sends me back under my mother’s roof. Maybe Ma doesn’t yell anymore but she did back then, and a raised voice goes in my ears and hits the brain like gunshots. But avoiding arguments doesn’t make problems go away. They just sit patiently in the corner waiting for the next opportunity, which is always there.

–I need to get better at talking back. This might seem strange to those who think I’m pretty good at speaking up. But that’s just in writing form. Verbally I still suck at it. I don’t want to say things that might be hurtful and, at the least, uncomfortable. But sometimes others need a talking to for their own good. I need to be more helpful in that regard.

–I need to start walking again. I used to walk compulsively, then a few years ago I stopped. Perhaps I need to work 20 or 30 minutes two or three times a week back into the mix, so I can use the time to process my thoughts. I used to use walking time to do that and I was still a mental mess. But I’ve made a lot of progress since then and maybe the walks will be more useful for organizing thoughts now that it’s not a game of spinning worries and anxieties around in my skull.

Is any of this realistic? I don’t know. But it’s time to try more radical wall-demolishing activities.

January 2, 2012

Prozac Winter Has Set In

I’ve had some sharp mood swings in recent days. Now that it seems to be leveling off, I can write about it.

Mood music:

I made it through the usual Christmas blues in one piece and even enjoyed the holiday once it arrived. A week of vacation followed, and we Brenners did something we rarely do: Sit around like slugs. We needed it. We must have needed it really bad, in fact, because God sent the whole family a stomach bug to force a couple days of inactivity. I escaped the bug myself, but pretty much stayed under the quilts anyway.

The mood swings started around Thursday. I’d feel happy and at peace for a couple hours, then miserable, angry and agitated for a few hours, then back and forth. I didn’t mention it to my family, though I’m sure it was obvious. New Year’s Eve was especially brutal. I walked around in a fog all day, even as we did stuff as a family. We enjoyed a trip to the Museum of Science but much of the time my head was someplace else — someplace darker.

I carried on that way into the evening, feeling deep sadness over things I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Then, as we got further into the evening, my spirits lifted. After Duncan and my niece went to bed, Erin, Sean and I watched TV and Sean and I played a game of Battleship. It felt good.

Yesterday was a good day overall. I had enough energy to go on a housecleaning spree before church. In the afternoon Duncan and I worked on a craft involving Plaster of Paris and, while the plaster dried, we watched some Harry Potter.

I ended the day dozing off in my favorite living room chair next to the Christmas tree lights, and was feeling content about it.

A couple items worth noting:

–The worst of my mood swings coincided with some dreary weather outside. No snow, but lots of clouds and a fair amount of rain. That kind of weather always tampers with my mood.

–Yesterday, New Years Day, the sun lit up the day brilliantly. I always do better when the sun shines.

The weather is always a factor for those who are prone to depression this time of year, when the days are short and the trees are bare.

I’m feeling good this morning. All in all, it was a good, restful vacation but I’m ready to get back to the work I love. I used to dread the end of vacation, so that’s a big plus.

I cherished the time I spent with family, even if my flawed side sometimes surfaced to make a mess of things.

I’ve learned to expect this stuff at the beginning of winter. That means I’m able to recover more quickly.

Thank God for that, because nothing sucks more than a slow, downward spiral you can’t pull yourself out of.

"Darkness and Light" -- check out the "Four Lease Ranch" blog where I found this. Good stuff.

January 1, 2012

What’s New Is Old Again

I won’t bullshit y’all: I’m feeling ho-hum about the new year. Like everyone else, I have my high hopes and wish everyone the very best in 2012 and beyond. But in other respects, I see this as just another day, with all the usual struggles.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/8UDYVFgE5D0

I like my life well enough. I’m certainly blessed well beyond what I probably deserve.

I’m just not feeling the euphoria I’ve felt at New Years past.

That’s probably just as well, since the euphoria never lasts. But neither does the let-down that follows.

Meet the new year. Same as the old year. Steady as she goes.

January 1, 2012

My Mother Unfriended Me

A bump on the path to reconciliation after five years of estrangement from my mother: Angered over posts about my childhood, she has unfriended me from Facebook.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/ZQlM59sDJVo

I wasn’t too surprised. I knew that recalling childhood as I remembered it wouldn’t sit well with her. But I was hoping — really hoping — that she would see the bigger picture I’ve been trying to present: One where I’ve turned out fine despite earlier struggles. I also hoped she would recognize my efforts to point out where I’ve been wrong and hurtful along the way.

Ah, well.

She did call to wish me a Merry Christmas, and told me she dropped me because she didn’t want certain friends and relatives to see the blog through her connection. Fair enough.

“I wish you thought about the consequences beforehand,” she said. “Or maybe you did and this is what you wanted.”

“Consequences” is one of those words that almost always means something bad — the putrid result of an ill-advised action. In this case, people seeing my mother as an abusive “Mommy Dearest” type is the consequence of writing my back story.

But in my opinion, it was necessary. Everyone struggles in life. Our history always shapes us. I had to show you all where I’ve been so you can understand where I’m going.

Someday, my mother might understand.

December 26, 2011

‘No Man Is A Failure Who Has Friends’

Part of the holiday tradition around here is a viewing of “It’s A Wonderful Life.” The ending used to make me sad, because it seemed to sum up what was missing in my life.

For a long time, I didn’t feel like I had any friends. It was nobody’s fault. I had crawled so far inside myself that I chose dozing off on the couch with the TV remote in my hand over going outside and dealing with people.

I was terrified of my own shadow and too absorbed in OCD-driven thoughts to reach out to real people outside the closest family.

The Christmas season always seemed to amplify the feeling that I was pretty much alone. I never was alone. But some days I felt like a ghost nobody noticed. Funny how even when you’re down on yourself, the freight-train ego takes over, making you wonder why nobody notices you.

But that’s what insanity does to you. You think all the shit that’s untrue is real and, in the process, you miss the very real beauty that’s right in front of your face.

But I’ve done a lot of mental healing in the last few years. I’ve written about it at length here — more than some folks think I should. But the facts are ironclad:

–I’m much better at living in the moment than I used to be.

–I’m not afraid of much these days. My still-new fearlessness gets me into trouble sometimes, but it beats hiding from life.

–Once I learned to get out of my own way, I realized that I do have a lot of friends; way more than I can count. That’s a big deal, because in my late teens I used to be so insecure about how many friends I had that I would try to count them all. They never went away. I did.

That last scene from “It’s A Wonderful Life” — where George Bailey finds a copy of “Tom Sawyer” from his guardian angel, Clarence, with a message inside the cover that says “No man is a failure who has friends” — is so true.

I have armies of friends from the different facets of my life — the hacker-security crowd, the metalhead crowd, the church community crowd — and they prop me up every day.

If my mood goes black and I fail to keep it to myself, friends come out of the woodwork and try to make me feel better. They always do.

Friends have stuck by me even when I’ve been the biggest of assholes.

Some friends have gotten angry as hell at me for various reasons. But they haven’t deserted me.

I thank them for that. And I thank everyone in my complicated but wonderful life.

Clarence was right. When friends are there to save you from your darker instincts, you simply cannot fail. Even if you deserve to.

Much love and thanks to all of you. I hope you had a Merry Christmas. We did.