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R.I.P., Karen LaPierre

I’m sad to hear that Haverhill resident Karen LaPierre was killed yesterday morning by an alleged drunk driver.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/7CHHoDDTJdU

Here’s what happened, as told by Eagle-Tribune reporter Mike LaBella:

Karen LaPierre, who with her husband Bill LaPierre ran the Angelo Petrozzelli Food Pantry at Sacred Hearts Church, was standing behind her 2010 Ford Taurus parked in front of 55 South Main St. at 5:20 a.m.

Police said she was struck from behind by a 2003 Nissan Altima driven by Lisa Leavitt, 37, of 15 Lapierre St., Haverhill. Police said Leavitt was traveling south on South Main Street at the time. Bill LaPierre was with his wife at the time but was not injured.

Police arrested Leavitt and charged her with motor vehicle homicide while intoxicated and negligent driving. Leavitt is to be arraigned on the charges today in Haverhill District Court.

Karen LaPierre was always at her husband Bill LaPierre’s side. Aside from their work with the food pantry, the LaPierres helped distribute Thanksgiving dinners to families throughout the city and collected Christmas gifts from parishioners to give to children in the city.

Every Sunday morning, the LaPierres would pick up boxes of doughnuts at Heav’nly Donuts to serve following Masses. When they would get to the church, they would start brewing the coffee, said Holly Roche, business manager for Sacred Hearts.

I’m sad for her family and her church community, but also for Lisa Leavitt, who was charged with motor vehicle homicide while intoxicated and negligent driving. That might anger some people, given that she was allegedly the drunk driver who ended a precious life. But I’m thinking of what my friend Mike Kearns said about this on Facebook:

“But for the Grace of God go I. There were many mornings when that could have been me driving in Bradford.”

How many of us have taken the wheel after consuming alcohol, telling ourselves it was just a couple drinks and we’re fine? A lot of us have. Whatever happens in court, Lisa Leavitt is going to suffer for this until the end. She was the instrument of tragedy. She made the decision to drive and now she’s going to have to pay whatever price the law hands her.

But she made the same bad decision a lot of us have made at one time or another.

There are a lot of times we get in the car and drive even though we’re impaired. It’s not just the booze.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve put the pedal to the metal when exhausted or agitated. Drowsy driving and angry driving kills innocent people as often as drunk driving.

I’ve also driven many a time while binging my brains out on $40 worth of McDonald’s drive-thru. When you’re stuffing your face in a compulsive rage, you are hell on wheels. I never hit anyone in the act. But I could have easily. Many times.

Let’s rewind to about 21 years ago. It was registration day at North Shore Community College, where I was enrolled for the fall semester. I was just out of high school and angry at the world for a variety of reasons. I had been working long hours in my father’s warehouse in Saugus and was rubbed raw. I was frustrated because a girl I liked was getting cold feet about the idea of hooking up with a loose cannon like me. It didn’t take much to trigger a temper tantrum.

That day I was rattled hard by the long lines of college registration. I wasn’t expecting it and was full of fear that I wouldn’t get the classes I needed. Not that it really mattered, since my major was liberal arts.

Two hours in, I realized I had to give them a check for the courses I was taking. I had no money and panicked. They allowed me to drive to Saugus to get a check from my father. I was in full road rage mode on the drive there and back.

I was a very angry driver. I would tailgate. I would speed. In the winters I would intentionally spin out my putrid-green 1983 Ford LTD station wagon in parking lots during snowstorms. While in college, I nearly hit another car and flipped off the other driver while my future in-laws sat in the back. Traffic jams would infuriate me. Getting lost would fill me with fear and, in turn, more anger.

It’s a miracle I didn’t kill anyone with my car on those occasions, because I could have easily.

I’m just glad I don’t do that anymore, just as my friend is glad he no longer drives drunk at 5 in the morning.

My prayers are with everyone involved in this tragedy. May the survivors find the peace to carry on.

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THE OCD DIARIES, Two Years Later

Two years ago today, in a moment of Christmas-induced depression, I started this blog. I meant for it to be a place where I could go and spill out the insanity in my head so I could carry on with life.

In short order, it snowballed into much more than that.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/IKpEoRlcHfA

About a year into my recovery from serious mental illness and addiction — the most uncool, unglamorous addiction at that — I started thinking about sharing where I’ve been. My reasoning was simple: I’d listened to a lot of people toss around the OCD acronym to describe everything from being a type A personality to just being stressed. I also saw a lot of people who were traveling the road I’d been down and were hiding their true nature from the world for fear of a backlash at work and in social circles.

At some point, that bullshit became unacceptable to me.

I started getting sick of hiding. I decided the only way to beat my demons at their sick little game was to push them out into the light, so everyone could see how ugly they were and how bad they smelled. That would make them weaker, and me stronger. And so that’s how this started out, as a stigma-busting exercise.

Then, something happened. A lot of you started writing to me about your own struggles and asking questions about how I deal with specific challenges life hurls at me. The readership has steadily increased.

Truth be told, life with THE OCD DIARIES hasn’t been what I’d call pure bliss. There are many mornings where I’d rather be doing other things, but the blog calls to me. A new thought pops into my head and has to come out. It can also be tough on my wife, because sometimes she only learns about what’s going on in my head from what’s in the blog. I don’t mean to do that. It’s just that I often can’t form my thoughts clearly in discussion. I come here to do it, and when I’m done the whole world sees it.

More than once I’ve asked Erin if I should kill this blog. Despite the discomfort it can cause her at times, she always argues against shutting it down. It’s too important to my own recovery process, and others stand to learn from it or at least relate to it.

And so I push forward.

One difference: I run almost ever post I write by her before posting it. I’ve shelved several posts at her recommendation, and it’s probably for the best. Restraint has never been one of my strengths.

This blog has helped me repair relationships that were strained or broken. It has also damaged some friendships. When you write all your feelings down without a filter, you’re inevitably going to make someone angry.

One dear friend suggested I push buttons for a good story and don’t know how to let sleeping dogs lie. She’s right about the sleeping dogs part, but I don’t agree with the first suggestion. I am certainly a button pusher. But I don’t push to generate a good story. I don’t set out to do that, at least.

Life happens and I write about how I feel about it, and how I try to apply the lessons I’ve learned. It’s never my way or the highway. If you read this blog as an instruction manual for life, you’re doing it wrong. What works for me isn’t necessarily going to fit your own needs.

Over time, the subject matter of this blog has broadened. It started out primarily as a blog about OCD and addiction. Then it expanded to include my love of music and my commentary on current events as they relate to our mental state.

I recently rewrote the “about” section of the blog to better explain the whole package. Reiterating it is a pretty good way to end this entry. You can see it here.

Thanks for reading.

"Obsession," by Bill Fennell

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A Word About Christmas Gifts

Every year, when family members ask me what I want for Christmas, I’m always at a loss for words. I don’t really care about getting presents, though I love to give them.

Mood music:

But there are some non-material things I wish for:

–That this Christmas season I’ll be free of the blues that almost always plague me this time of year.

–That some old friends who have lost someone special this year find peace and solace in those around them.

–That a friend who is killing himself with food can see the light and change his ways.

–That I’ll have the wisdom to keep being the husband and father I want to be.

–That my current Prozac dosage will continue to be enough.

–That my father continues to make progress in his recovery from 2 strokes.

–That some relationships continue to mend, and that those involved be patient about the slow pace of recovery.

–That friends who are going through a divorce find love again.

–That my coffee cup will never run dry.

–That my program of recovery from addictive behavior continues unbroken and gets stronger.

–That everyone else gets what they want for Christmas, and that those wants are something deeper than anything sold at Target and Best Buy.

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Keeping Up With The Joneses

It’s not how big your house is. It’s the souls inside that make it a home.

Erin and I have had frequent discussions about what it might be like to own a larger home. Our 1300-square-foot townhouse has served us well for more than a decade. But there’s always that desire to have what others have.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:1gmPJL4u6Jv1oTZEQyDlfw]

The discussion usually starts with everything that needs fixing around here: A hole in the kitchen wall that gets bigger every time the front door is slammed against it. Chipped and mismatched paint. Toilets that constantly need plunging.

For all our work success, we never seem to make enough money to do things we might want to do, like fixing the items above, gutting the kitchen or buying a bigger house.

To me, there’s a mental health issue at play: Your surroundings have a big affect on your sanity. When my OCD was at its worst, I was delirious over how clean the floors were or how the curtains were arranged. I became a nutcase when the kids made a mess.

Now, admittedly, I’ve become something of a slob in my recovery. I can walk right by a mess and not notice a thing.

Erin, on the other hand, finds it harder to have clarity and peace of mind when the house is a mess and falling apart.

As a kid, I grew up in excessive cleanliness and some filth. My mother was always obsessive about keeping a squeaky clean house. But I can’t say I was particularly happy in those years. After my parents divorced and my father got the house, he was so focused on the family business much of the time that the house became a mess — even with housekeepers. Erin grew up in a house that was always in disrepair. But her parents had — and have — a strong marriage and raised four daughters. It was a warm and happy home.

To me a house with holes in the walls is a pain in the ass. But it beats an immaculate house where the mood is always tense.

I know a lot of people who try to keep up with the proverbial Joneses. They bury themselves in debt they can never get out of and they never seem to be happy. They have to have a TV as big as their neighbors. They have to have a nicer car, a bigger yard.

It doesn’t seem worth it to me anymore.

Though I will admit there are days where I wouldn’t mind a bigger house and someone to clean it for us.

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Thankful Friday

I have much to be thankful for this morning after Thanksgiving. A list:

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/V8et8ReesOM

–Erin’s Uncle David, for letting me take his vintage car for a spin around the block.

—Erin, Sean and Duncan, simply for being who they are.

–My sister Stacey, husband Sean and niece and nephew Lilly and Chase, for inviting us into their home for an excellent Thanksgiving dinner.

–My brother Brian, for cooking.

–My kid sister Shira, for her always contagious sunny disposition.

–My program of recovery, for keeping me disciplined during the feast so I didn’t turn into the bloated wreck I used to be at every holiday.

–My brother-in-law’s father Frank, for educating me on every restaurant within a 10-mile square radius of my office.

–My in-laws, for always making me feel at ease.

–All our friends. We seem to have more of them each day.

–A lazy day-after. Self explanatory.

–A spectacular sunrise. Because sunshine is my fuel.

–Starbucks K-cups. Yes, they finally exist. I got a massive box of ’em in Costco last week.

–My job. Because my work helps make me whole, and I’m lucky to work with so many cool people.

What are you thankful for?

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Schoolyard Gossip And The Damage Done

I’ve made a lot of wonderful friends among the parents in my children’s school community. But like every community, there are people who blow things out of proportion.

Mood music:

I guess you could lump me into that class of parent. I needle people, especially when I like them, and I can be like a bull in a china shop at school events. I’ve also engaged in gossip with some of the parents.

It’s easy to forget your own faults when your kid suddenly becomes the subject of that schoolyard gossip. But that’s what happened Friday afternoon.

I was sitting in my living room doing some work when I got a text from a friend whose daughter is in Duncan’s class:

“Just wanted to give you a heads up that a lot of moms are pissed at school … I guess Duncan was telling (his classmates) that Santa doesn’t exist and that the parents (do the work). Some of the moms are sending texts to everyone! I have gotten six so far!”

Duncan told us about a month ago that he figured out that Santa, the tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny don’t really exist. Ironically, he reached this conclusion because, as he told me, “To do what they do they would have to use magic. And magic isn’t real.”

That’s his point of view, of course, and truth be told we were sad about the whole Santa thing. No one wants their child to shed innocence before the age of 10, right?

We asked Duncan not to discuss it at school because a lot of his classmates still believed, and that they should be allowed to believe. We apparently needed to give him more than one reminder.

As I learned that several moms were texting each other wildly that Friday afternoon, warning parents that Duncan Brenner told kids at school Santa is a fraud, my blood ran cold and my head got hot.

How dare these moms trash talk my son, I thought. There they are, texting each other like some big emergency is afoot, in this case the potential destruction of Christmas.

The suggestion in this kind of parental banter is that the kid who can’t keep his mouth shut is a troublemaker. His parents must be troublemakers, too.

My first instinct was to get the names of the parents and apologize on Duncan’s behalf. Then my mood shifted and I wanted to tell them all off. Now, with my attitude somewhere near the center again, I’m writing this out, looking for the right perspective.

A few things occur to me:

–Kids in the school yard are going to talk about all kinds of things we’d rather they not talk about. There will be profanity and bad jokes. We parents should intervene whenever possible, but we’re not always going to be in the right spot at the right time.

–If someone is worried that their kid’s Christmas will be ruined over this, do you think it might be time to re-examine what Christmas is supposed to be about?

Here’s what really bothers me:

We all have a habit of gossiping. It’s a very human thing to do. But you know what? It’s wrong.

Schoolyard gossip rarely accounts for the things that are really going on with the kids and parents at the center of all the chatter. We make harsh judgments without having all the facts.

A good example is the mom who started trash-talking about a pair of siblings, suggesting they had anger issues over their parents’ impending divorce because the older sibling refused to work with her son on a class project.

Missing from that bit of gossip was the fact that the girl didn’t want to work with him because he was slacking. Also, he’s been teasing and tormenting her since Pre-K and she finally decided to take a stand.

This is a community and, like it or not, we are all responsible for making it work. Many parents already work tirelessly to that effect, but some do too much complaining about others who don’t march in lockstep.

That’s mean. It doesn’t inspire other parents to get involved and help. It’s not OK. We all have flaws and so do our kids. It also never accurately captures the reasons some people do what they do. We have no idea if someone is acting out of depression, heartache, work stress or any number of other things.

We can’t shield our kids from all the unpleasantness of life. Nor should we. When we coddle our kids too much, we do them a disservice by not preparing them for the challenges of life.

We should let them deal with some of the unpleasant topics of a schoolyard during recess because they just might learn something valuable in the process.

We should remember that when one kid says something other kids aren’t ready to hear that it’s not the end of the world. It’s may lead to unpleasant dinner conversation at home that evening, but it hardly qualifies as a crisis.

Above all, we should all remember that gossiping is mean, and kindly knock it off.

I’ll try to do better on my end.

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A Lesson From Gabby Giffords

I recently watched Diane Sawyer’s interview with Congresswoman Gabby Giffords and her husband Mark Kelly. To say I was moved would be an understatement. Hers is the story of a spirited fight back from near death.

If you ever get the feeling you can’t do something or overcome big challenges, you should watch this. It will show you that nothing is too big to overcome.

http://youtu.be/VOZgta88L5A

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Christian Intolerance Or Universal Snobbery?

Though I’m a devout Catholic, I sometimes shake my head in disgust over how some of my Christian brothers and sisters behave.

I’ve mentioned before how some in my church community are quick to judge other people and how others seem to think you have to be a member of a specific political party to be entitled to Christ’s love. Democrats are often labeled as abortionists. A friend shared this cartoon this morning and I think it speaks a lot of truth:

There does indeed seem to be a lot of anger among so-called right wingers when you try to offer a more moderate position.

That last frame in the comic, where the woman screams about being persecuted, rings especially true. When a person’s beliefs are questioned, they instantly become victims.

To be fair, Christians have not cornered the market on hypocrisy and intolerance. I’ve had many a conversation with people who think anyone who believes in God is a sheep or an idiot.

I’m a Christan. I believe Jesus Christ died for my sins. But that doesn’t mean I think everyone has to believe the exact same thing. I really don’t care if you’re a Wiccan, Buddhist, Jewish or Atheist. A good person is a good person. A bad person is a bad person.

When you label someone a bad person because their beliefs aren’t perfectly aligned with yours, that makes you an asshole.

Here’s the element people seem to be most consistently daft about across the board: The idea that a person can be figured out and branded for life based on what their current belief system is.

Today’s right-wing nut job isn’t necessarily tomorrow’s right-wing nut job. Today’s satanist isn’t necessarily tomorrow’s satanist. We are constantly evolving.

We should really stop haggling over this stuff and focus instead on being the type of people we want others to be. Not Christian or Agnostic or Islamic, but kind, open-minded and willing to admit along the way that our belief systems need fine-tuning.

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Learn From My Mistakes

In all my efforts to get sane a few years ago, I did a lot of stupid things. I’m sharing it with you here so you don’t make the same mistakes:

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/l4Xx_vjGnlo

–Don’t try to control your compulsive binge eating problem by fasting. You won’t make it through the morning, and then you’ll binge like you’ve never binged before.

–Don’t mix alcohol with pills that have the strength of four Advil tablets in an effort to kill your emotional pain as well as your physical pain. That sort of thing might kill you.

–Don’t hate the people in your life for the bad things they’ve done. Remember that they’re fucked up like you and that hating them will never make the pain go away. In fact, it’ll just make it worse.

–Avoid the late-night infomercials. Those things were designed for suckers, especially suckers who can’t sleep because they’re so overcome with fear and anxiety that they see knife-wielding ghosts around every corner. You might find yourself falling for it and spending stupid sums of money on fraudulent bullshit like this.

–Don’t spend every waking hour worrying about and rushing toward the future. You will miss all the beauty in the present that way, and that’s a damn shame.

–Don’t try to control everything. Doing so just makes you look like an asshole.

–Don’t put down others just so you’ll feel better about yourself. You’ll just ruin another life, and you will not feel better. You’ll feel worse.

–Don’t try to eradicate your mental disorder. Learn to work with it instead, because once your brain reaches adulthood, there’s no turning back.

–Don’t spend your life trying to please everyone. You never will, and they usually won’t deserve the effort.

—Don’t over-think things. Thinking doesn’t make you smarter.

—Don’t bitch about your job. You’ll just annoy people. Change yourself and your attitude first. Then, if you still don’t like the job, work on finding a new one and keep doing your best at the current job in the meantime.

—Don’t whine about how tough everything is. Life is supposed to be tough at times, and wallowing in it keeps you from moving on to the good stuff. To put it another way, stop seeing yourself as a victim.

Class dismissed.

OCD Diaries

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Snowstorm Gratitude

It’s 6:14 a.m. and it’s still snowing. But I am big-time thankful for one thing:

The power was on when I woke up, and may yet go out. But I managed to get my coffee made first.

It’s the little things. Or, for this coffee addict, the huge things.

I also stepped outside and found that in my corner of New England, the snow accumulation was not nearly as bad as predicted. Clean up should be easy here. A lot of folks are without power and got up to 2 feet of snow, particularly west of here. My heart goes out to them.

Whatever the weather outside your door, just remember: It could always be worse and this too shall pass.

My neighborhood got off easy so far, but I’ve lived through many catastrophic storms in my day (The Blizzard of 1978, the 1991 Halloween “Perfect Storm” and the 2008 ice storm, to name a few). After all of them, life moved on and it was all good.

Family and friends always helped us through, making sure we had warm shelter and food, especially in the wake of the 1978 blizzard.

It’s like Mister Rogers’ mother once told him: When bad things happen, watch for the helpers. They always appear.

Take care, folks.