Sleep

Thanks to a strict food plan I follow to keep the binge-eating disorder in its box, I’m not walking around a bloated mess like I used to. Instead, I gorged on something else yesterday.

Mood music:

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

I napped in the morning, I napped in the afternoon and I have no regrets.

I’ve always had an interesting relationship with sleep.

Back when I was slowly destroying myself, I would fall asleep at all the wrong times: In a restaurant while someone was talking to me, during moments of what was supposed to be catch-up time with Erin, and behind the wheel.

I still nod off early. But I’m up at 4 a.m. almost every morning. I don’t have to be. I just happen to open my eyes at that point. I can’t seem to help it. So by 7 or 8 p.m., it catches up to me.

For the most part, though, I only average about six hours of sleep a night. Sometimes, I get less than that.

When you don’t get at least eight hours of sleep a night for an extended period of time, it catches up with you. In my case, I go into cycles of depression. I feel doom and gloom for no good reason.

Erin knows this, and has been diligent in making me go to bed earlier, even when I’d rather be awake doing other things. 

I usually don’t give the sleep issue much thought, because my demons are rooted in many other, more insidious habits. But a friend of mine was just diagnosed with severe depression, and this dude has had a batshit-crazy sleep schedule for many years now. He gets into his office by 4 a.m. so he can leave early, but doesn’t really go to sleep until around 10 or later. Now it’s caught up with him.

Apparently it caught up to me yesterday. But it wasn’t the anxiety-driven kill switch that kicks in from time to time. This was a no-regrets trip to la-la land. Well, I regret it a little. I wanted to be up later to spend quality time with Erin, because she’s been working crazy hours lately and quality time is hard to come by. Last night I blew it on that score.

But looking at Thanksgiving day as a whole, it was much, much better than stuffing myself until I wanted to be dead.

The perfect balance still escapes me, but who really has the perfect balance anyway?

Thank You

I still go through the day like a punk sometimes. I get wrapped up in my own selfish impulses and forget everyone else around me. I’m excellent at making it all about me. But I know the truth. I have a beautiful life despite myself. And I have many to thank.

Mood music:

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

I’m thankful to God for taking a chance on a rat like me and for sending me the grace to help me be a better man.

I’m thankful to my wife and kids for loving me unconditionally and helping me see the magic in life.

I’m thankful to my parents for sticking by me when I was a kid, even though I gave them plenty to worry about. That’s right. Both parents. Even though I’m not talking to one of them right now.

I’m thankful for an army of friends that seems to grow by the day. That includes all the new friends I’ve made because of this blog, old friends who’ve always been nearby and friends I thought were gone forever but somehow came back into my life.

I’m thankful to Sean Marley for showing me how to live way back when no one else could get through to me.

I’m thankful for my recovery from OCD and addiction. My recovery is challenged every day. Some days it bends. Some days it burns. But it hasn’t been broken.

I’m thankful for music.

I’m thankful that God showed me how to break the spell of fear and anxiety.

I’m thankful for the 12 Steps.

I’m thankful for the city of Haverhill for accepting me for who I am.

I’m thankful for the city of Revere for always welcoming me back.

I’m thankful for people who forgive.

I’m thankful for my job. Many people don’t have one, and the truth of the matter is that I have the best job in the world. I could feel guilty. Instead, I’m just grateful.

I’m thankful for the therapist who helped me understand what mental illness is about — and what it’s not about — even though I walk in his office wearing my bad habits and smug attitude on my sleeve.

I’m thankful for the Secret Service guys who hassled me in Washington D.C. over the summer because they gave me a fun story to tell.

I’m thankful to Howard Schmidt for honoring my family with a private tour of the White House West Wing.

I’m thankful to all my friends in the security world for fighting the good fight every day and for making me smarter than I ever thought possible. 

I’m thankful for everyone who could have judged me harshly for writing this blog, but instead gave me nothing but support from day one.

Finally, I’m thankful to be alive. There were many times as a kid that I wasn’t sure how I’d ever see 21, let alone 40.

Yet here I am.

Thanksgiving used to be all about the food in my twisted little mind.

Now the food is a mere distraction from all the blessings around me.

Thank you God.

Thank you everyone.

It’s good to be alive.

Mr. Danny

Just got the sad news that the mom of my friend Danny Goodwin passed away yesterday. No doubt he could use some bucking up right now, so here’s my contribution…

Mood music: “Creep” by Korn

I periodically write about friends who have helped me heal and deal over the years and Danny is one of them. It didn’t seem that way at first, because when we first met I was busy trying to be someone else.

I was night editor at The Eagle-Tribune and he was the obituary writer. Early on in my time there, Danny was out sick for a few days. When the obit writer calls out sick, the night editor has to find someone to replace him for the night. Nobody ever wanted to volunteer for that task.

One day during his illness, I was ordered to call him and lay down the law, so I did. Danny wasn’t taking it. He didn’t call me any names, but his tone had “You’re a dick-head” all over it.

After that, we had an uneasy yet peaceful co-existence in the newsroom.

I backed off, because if he quit, I would probably be writing the obits myself. I wasn’t about to let that happen.

Besides, other editors were already pushing him to the brink. One particularly snotty editor was marking up his obits with red pen every day, and, of course, I had to show him the markup and tell him to clean it up.

The top editor at the time, Steve Lambert, was writing a daily narrative of kudos and criticisms for the newsroom staff, praising the wins of the day and pointing out things that could have been done better. One such note proclaimed: “This obit page needed Last Rites.”

Steve, if you read this and still have copies of that one, I want it. I’ve been meaning to frame it and give it to Danny. I bring it up every time I see him, because it was one of those classic moments.

It took a couple years, but me and Danny started to grow on each other like mold. We bonded over music and shared newsroom stress. The most fun I had as night editor was in that period just after midnight Saturday, once the paper had gone to the printer. Me, Danny, John Sullivan and John O’Neil would sit there and slay each other with our witty newsroom observations of the day as we waited for the first papers to come off the press.

I remember a lot of laughter, pizza and boxes of MSG-laden food from China Wok. I always binged on extra helpings when no one was looking. On my last Friday night there, I downed 2 of the five boxes of pizza by myself, one piece at a time when heads were turned the other way.

By then, my unhinging at the hands of OCD, fear-anxiety-depression and addiction was well under way, and sometimes the only thing that got me through it all were those early-morning newsroom hangouts.

He stuck around at The Eagle-Tribune for a few months after I left, and it was around this time that we met his wife, Danielle, who we love. Every time they’re in town we have dinner. Those two have lived all over the country since then: Texas, Florida, California, South Dakota (or is it North Dakota?), Pennsylvania and Indiana.

Danny eventually started working for the company Erin worked for. In fact, Erin was one of the people he reported to. 

“Give him hell,” I’d tell her. “The more you do it, the more fun it is.”

It’s really something when you think about how some friendships evolve.

That the friendship between me and Danny developed out of the initial distrust is one of the greatest blessings for me.

Thanks, Danny. Thanks, Danielle. Erin and I will be thinking of you in the coming days.

Facebook Follow Friday: Penny

Welcome to week four of this new tradition of mine: Giving the nod to some of my Facebook friends for giving my spirits a lift and teaching me new things.

A reminder on what this is about: There’s a thing we do on Twitter called Follow Friday, where we list people we follow and suggest others do the same. I figured Facebook should have something similar, so here it is.

There’s a lot of crap on Facebook. Some people might consider me part of the problem and unfriend me over it. That’s OK. My brand of insanity isn’t for everyone. But there are a lot of giving folks on there as well; friends that lift the spirits and teach me something daily.

Next week’s list will be long, because it’ll be Thanksgiving and I’m thankful for all of you.

But this week’s entry is dedicated to one person: Penny Morang Richards.

Mood music (click the YouTube link to hear):

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

I’ve been thinking of Penny a lot this week. A year ago today, her beautiful daughter died in a motorcycle accident. I’ve followed her struggle very closely, online and in person. She doesn’t like when people call her things like brave and courageous. I can understand that.

But here’s why I have to piss her off and argue that those words DO apply: When God forces us into a horrific situation, we have choices on how to react. We can collapse into a pile of rubble and stay the hell away from society, or we can share our ups and downs so others can learn from it.

Penny has done some of the former. Who can blame her? It’s part of the grieving process. But she has done the latter in abundance.

She has chronicled almost every day of her life since her daughter’s death in the blog Penny Writes…Penny Remembers. I hope she makes it into a book like she did with her blog chronicling her breast cancer battle. There’s just so much to learn from her.

When I see other people going through their personal hell, it hits me hard. Some of it is the old fear of loss I’ve mentioned before. Some of it is that when I see someone else going through grief, pain and depression, my own bad memories bubble to the surface.

I feel like an idiot when this happens, because it’s a typical reaction for someone who gets self-absorbed, which is one of the basic ingredients for someone with OCD.

Here’s the really whacked out thing: I only met her daughter a couple times in person, during The Eagle-Tribune days. And she was still a kid at that point.

And yet, when I heard about her death, I went into a depression.

Again, I think it’s because these events trigger my own fear that you can lose everything at any time, without warning. And since we were at the start of the holiday season, that depression wasn’t going away any time soon.

And that, in part, is why I started this blog. I had planned to for awhile, but the blues I was experiencing at that moment compelled me to do something to get out of my funk. THE OCD DIARIES was the result.

Only a self-absorbed bastard like me would react that way to the death of someone he didn’t know particularly well.

But I know her mom, and this whole experience has driven home what a strong, giving woman she is. Strong because she didn’t run away from life when that darkest hour hit. Giving because through her sharing, we’ve all learned a lot about how to bounce back from adversity.

Penny’s ups and downs are far from over. But she teaches me every day that you can’t hide from your pain and problems. 

Well, you can.

But there’s always another way.

Thanks for teaching me that, Penny.

My thoughts and prayers are with you and Dave today.

Peace be with you both.

Facebook Follow Friday: Nov. 12

Welcome to week three of this new tradition of mine: Giving the nod to some of my Facebook friends for giving my spirits a lift and teaching me new things.

A reminder on what this is about: There’s a thing we do on Twitter called Follow Friday, where we list people we follow and suggest others do the same. I figured Facebook should have something similar, so here it is.

Let’s face it: There’s a lot of crap on Facebook. Some people might consider me part of the problem and unfriend me over it. That’s OK. My brand of insanity isn’t for everyone.

But there are a lot of giving folks on there as well; friends that lift the spirits and teach me something daily. Here are those who make the list this week:

Queue the mood music:

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

Ralphie Hubble: A fellow classmate at The Voke, Ralphie always lifts the spirits with his Friday lyrics for the soul. He was always one of the cooler kids in school, and that coolness has gotten cooler with time.

Jason-and Gretchen Grosky: Two former colleagues that always inspire me with posts about their family life. To me it doesn’t matter that Gretchen is a Pulitzer-Prize winning editor and that thanks to her The Eagle-Tribune still kicks plenty of ass. What’s important to me is that she always puts her family first, and it shows in just about all of her posts. When I need a reminder that work isn’t everything, I get caught up on the adventures of the Grosky household. Pretty freakin’ ironic, given that we met through work.

Stephanie Chelf: Another former Eagle-Tribuner, I never actually worked with her. She came along after I left. She gets a mention because in her latest job, one of her accounts is an organization that’s near and dear to me: The International OCD Foundation. Given my struggles with OCD, the organization has been a valuable resource. And I learned about it from her. 

Mary Ann Davidson: She’s the chief security officer for Oracle, and that’s how I met her, but the reason I love being a Facebook friend is that she is an enormously spiritual person whose Faith rubs off on me. I also enjoy keeping track of her surfing adventures in Hawaii and the exploits of her dog Thunder.

Michael Tranfaglia: I’ve been friends with this guy for many, many years. We met in the North Shore Community College smoking room in 1989, and haven’t been able to shake each other since then. He’s one of the few people who know how to use sarcasm effectively. It’s a complicated art, and if done wrong it’ll blow up in your face. The man knows what he’s doing. He’s also been a good friend since day one.

Stacey Scutellaro Cotter: Another longtime friend, she is also Sean Marley’s cousin, which earns her a place in my heart for life. Her Facebook posts always reflect her love of friends and family, and I need to see that on days where I might be tempted to tell the world to go screw.

More to come next week!

Little Things That Count

After a moody Friday, things are looking up. It’s kind of a big deal because usually one day of feeling low was never enough. It always had to be several days of feeling low.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spAs1b6x_qQ&fs=1&hl=en_US]

This time of year is usually tricky. As the days get shorter and the weather gets gray, it gets to me. It’s one of the many byproducts of having OCD, and it has often led to vicious spikes in my addictive behavior.

People like me, who suffer from chemical imbalances in the brain, are directly impacted by daylight levels.

When the weather is dismal, cold, rainy and the days are shorter, a lot of folks with mental illness find themselves more depressed and moody. Give us a long stretch of dry, sunny weather and days where it gets light at 4:30 a.m. and stays that way past 8 p.m. and we tend to be happier people. This summer was hot and dry, and I loved every second of it.

There are lessons to be had in the history books:

– Abraham Lincoln, a man who suffered from deep depression for most of his adult life, went from blue to downright suicidal a few times in the 1840s during long stretches of chilly, rainy weather. [See Why “Lincoln’s Melancholy” is a Must-Read.]

– Ronald Reagan, a sunny personality by most accounts, was a man of Sunny California. Once, upon noticing that his appointments secretary hadn’t worked time in his schedule for trips to his ranch atop the sun-soaked mountains of Southern California — and after the secretary explained that there was a growing public perception that he was spending too much time away from Washington — Reagan handed him back the schedule and ordered that ranch time be worked in. The more trips to the ranch, he explained, the longer he’ll live.

The WebMD site has excellent information on winter depression. Here’s an excerpt:

If your mood gets worse as the weather gets chillier and the days get shorter, you may have “winter depression.” Here, questions to ask your doctor if winter is the saddest season for you.

Why do I seem to get so gloomy each winter, or sometimes beginning in the fall?

You may have what’s called seasonal affective disorder, or SAD. The condition is marked by the onset of depression during the late fall and early winter months, when less natural sunlight is available. It’s thought to occur when daily body rhythms become out-of-sync because of the reduced sunlight.

Some people have depression year round that gets worse in the winter; others have SAD alone, struggling with low moods only in the cooler, darker months. (In a much smaller group of people, the depression occurs in the summer months.)

SAD affects up to 3% of the U.S. population, or about 9 million people, some experts say, and countless others have milder forms of the winter doldrums.

So this worsening of mood in the fall and winter is not just my imagination?

Not at all. This “winter depression” was first identified by a team of researchers at the National Institute of Mental Health in 1984. They found this tendency to have seasonal mood and behavior changes occurs in different degrees, sometimes with mild changes and other times severe mood shifts.

Symptoms can include:

  • Sleeping too much
  • Experiencing fatigue in the daytime
  • Gaining weight
  • Having decreased interest in social activities and sex

SAD is more common for residents in northern latitudes. It’s less likely in Florida, for instance, than in New Hampshire. Women are more likely than men to suffer, perhaps because of hormonal factors. In women, SAD becomes less common after menopause.

Here’s where the Prozac comes in for me:

As I mentioned in The Bad Pill Kept Me from the Good Pill, Prozac helps to sustain my brain chemistry at healthy levels. Here’s a more scientific description of how it works from WebMD:

How Antidepressants Work

Most antidepressants work by changing the balance of brain chemicals called neurotransmitters. In people with depression, these chemicals are not used properly by the brain. Antidepressants make the chemicals more available to brain cells like the one shown on the right side of this slide:

Photo Composite of Neurotransmitters at Work

Antidepressants can be prescribed by primary care physicians, but people with severe symptoms are usually referred to a psychiatrist.

Realistic Expectations

In general, antidepressants are highly effective, especially when used along with psychotherapy. (The combination has proven to be the most effective treatment for depression.) Most people on antidepressants report eventual improvements in symptoms such as sadness, loss of interest, and hopelessness.

But these drugs do not work right away. It may take one to three weeks before you start to feel better and even longer before you feel the full benefit.

I’m convinced the drug would NOT have worked as well for me had it not been for all the intense therapy I had first. Developing the coping mechanisms had to come first.

I’ve also learned that the medication must be monitored and managed carefully. The levels have to be adjusted at certain times of year — for me, anyway. 

Since last winter, my Prozac has been adjusted twice. I dropped back 20 milligrams for the summer and went back up in August, to get ahead of the shorter days. It hasn’t been perfect, but I seem to be in a much better place than usual.

The happy lamp Erin bought for me and Duncan seems to be having a positive impact as well.

All this allows me to enjoy the little things in life.

Yesterday me and the kids hung out with the grandparents and visited Erin at work. It beat the crap out of sitting on the couch.

Today I have a reunion with my Cursillo friends.

Life does not suck.

Facebook Follow Friday, 11-5-10

I know it’s only Thursday, but since I put a lot of time into the Twitter Follow Friday thing, I wanted to take care of this first and keep my new tradition on track. Here are some folks I follow on Facebook and why…

Mood music:

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

Greg Walsh and Harry Zarkades: Harry I only recently connected with, but I’ve seen him play his bass and sing many times over the years. Greg has been a friend for many years, starting with our time working together at The Swampscott Reporter. I’ve been a fan of Pop Gun (Greg’s the drummer; Harry does bass and vocals) for a long time, and loved seeing them play again at the recent Joe “Zippo” Kelley benefit.

Steve Lambert: My former boss at The Eagle-Tribune, Steve writes a weekly column that I rarely miss. The gift of finding him on here is that I can enjoy his writing again — and maybe share a memory or two.

O’Ryan Johnson: Another old friend from The Eagle-Tribune, OJ was my night reporter for awhile. He used to get in trouble with the local cops for walking too close to accident and murder scenes, and he got in deep trouble one night for mouthing off to a PR lady at Phillips Academy. He’s at the Boston Herald now, and I enjoy his updates from the front lines of scrappy journalism.

Donna Swift: She graduated with the Class of 1989 at Northeast Metro Tech, and we’ve always had the same musical tastes. Many of the song selections I put in this blog are songs she posted first on Facebook. 

Kevin Littlefield: One of my closest friends. I’ve written about him in this blog a few times now.

SHATTERED HOPES: THE TRUE STORY OF THE AMITYVILLE MURDERS: This is the page for the new film being made about one of my obsessions, The Amityville murders. The film makers are very accessible on this page and I’ve had the pleasure of talking to them a few times via their wall.

More Follow Fridays next week…

Facebook Follow Friday

There’s a thing we do on Twitter called Follow Friday, where we list people we follow and suggest others do the same. I’m starting a new tradition: Facebook Follow Friday. Here’s why:

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TksqEIl1uxU&fs=1&hl=en_US]

Facebook has become a place where people spill out their state of mind like blood. Sometimes, it’s beautiful to see and I get something from it. Other times I just roll my eyes.

I use it as a place to share this blog and the security articles I write for CSOonline.com. I also like to share the crazy talk that comes from my kids’ mouthes, and whatever music I have blaring at any given moment. Some appreciate it and follow me for those things. Others don’t like it and have unfriended me. I’m fine with that. If you don’t like what I’m pushing, why would you follow me? OK — maybe it bothers me a little. But I’m no different than anyone else in this regard.

Anyway, there are a lot of people on there that inspire the hell out of me, so I’m going to start acknowledging that. Think of it as one of my 12-Step things: I spend a lot of time repairing relationships that turned to ash during my darker years, and a lot of time  focusing on people I’m grateful to have in my life. This is just another extension chord. Next week I’ll start putting these on my wall. For today, though, I’ll list people in the blog.

This week’s Follow Friday on Facebook:

Erin Brenner: She’s my muse, my love and I’d be nowhere without her.

Ken White: A newcomer on Facebook but a dear friend.

Linda White: The other half of Team White, her posts are loaded with razor-sharp humor and observations about people around her.

Amanda Corthell: I don’t think I could live without her traffic reports from the mess that is I-93. It always makes me grateful that she’s sitting in it instead of me.

Mike Greco: The man knows his guitars inside and out, and he knows how to rock.

Christian Campagna: His posts will take you to a bizarre world you didn’t know existed. It’s a place where you will laugh hard and appreciate some excellent music.

Lauren Karpenko: Her posts are always uplifting and inspiring. You can tell she’s in love with life, and it rubs off on those who are connected to her.

Lori MacVittie: So smart it’s scary. Humor with lots of snark built in, which suits me. And her updates on The Toddler are priceless.

Randi Defilippo Dockery: I enjoy her sometimes racy humor, because it beats the hell out of reading a bunch of whiney posts. 

Faith Morrill: A Corthell cousin who is going to take the world by storm with her writing. She just doesn’t realize it yet.

Maureen Wilder Cefalu: She might be surprised to find her name on here, since we only recently connected on Facebook and in high school we really didn’t talk much. She was with one group of kids and I was with another. But here’s the thing: In junior high she was one of the few kids who treated me with kindness. We bonded over Def Leppard at the time. It helped make those two years a little more bearable. Thanks for that.

Don’t fret if you didn’t make the list. I got a lot of friends, and I’ll mention you all eventually.

The Cab Driver

I used to have this dumb, ego-driven idea that I was better than people who did things for work that were “beneath me.” Here’s how I learned to stop being stupid.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HG1FlsgLQQY&fs=1&hl=en_US]

The lesson came from an obvious place that wasn’t so obvious once upon a time: God. I expected a lightening flash or something like that, not realizing God works through other people instead.

I’ve needed these graces, because as a thick-skulled punk in my 20s and some of my 30s, I always had the idea that I was better than other people if I had a big career. If you worked in the grocery store, the laundromat or the docks, you were beneath me. Truth is, I WAS beneath a lot of the folks who do the jobs I don’t have the skill or patience for. My attitude was all based on my personal insecurities.

This morning’s lesson came in the form of a Toronto cab driver.

I got in the taxi at 3:30 a.m. for the trip to the airport and, ultimately, home. I haven’t had the best opinion of cab drivers in the past. It’s nothing personal. I just couldn’t relate. More my problem than theirs. The fellow who got me to the airport was extremely cool, though.

He asked me all about the upcoming midterm elections in the U.S. and what I thought of it all.

He asked if I had any kids. When I said I have two, he wanted to know about them. Then, he told me all about his family.

He smiled for the entire drive.

As I get older, I realize there are a multitude of motivations that drive us toward what we do for work. The most important thing every time is providing for our families. Getting to do so is a gift, even if the work isn’t always pleasant.

I’m lucky because I love my job. Getting into journalism and then focusing that on Internet security was the right path for me. But I wouldn’t be able to pull it off without a lot of people doing those “lesser” jobs.

Most days, I’m only as good as the local Starbucks barista, the guy who keeps my car running (because I suck at the handy stuff, including auto mechanics) and the priests that help me get the spiritual medicine I need. 

And the cab driver who gets me around the places away from home.

Judging other people and pondering whether I’m better than them or vice versa got old somewhere along the way.

Let’s hope it stays old.

Homeless Men, Inc.

Observation: There are a lot of homeless people on the streets of Toronto. It’s a lot like San Francisco, except these guys have a stunning cleverness about them.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsCtUj9K_tw&fs=1&hl=en_US]

You’re asking what this has to do with addiction, recovery and mental health, and here’s the answer: Whenever I travel and see someone living on the street, I’m reminded of just how easily I could have ended up the same way, and how my demons could have taken me there.

Had I not gotten a grip on the OCD and related addictions, who knows what would have happened?

I’ve always been lucky, and perhaps I’m being a bit over-dramatic. Of course, that’s what people like me do. But I look at people down on their luck and think it could happen to any of us, no matter how much money we may come from. We’re always just one step away from the one bad decision that causes us to lose everything.

Fortunately for me, I’ve always been surrounded by people who won’t let me fail.

Anyway, the people on the street around here are interesting. They are surprisingly happy. They take turns sitting on milk crates outside the prime panhandling spots with cap in hand. I walked past one guy and dropped a pocket full of change into his cup. Five minutes later, another guy was on the same crate.

It’s almost like they have a little business going, where they coordinate activity and practice their lines. I can picture them getting together each night under a bridge to take inventory on the daily haul.

Call me something unkind, but I’ve enjoyed talking to some of them. I like their humor. Should they be busy getting themselves off the street and getting their lives in order? Perhaps. But I’m clueless as to the circumstances that brought them to their current realities, so I’m not in a position to judge them.

In a really sick sort of way, I’m glad they’re around to remind me of how lucky I am. No matter how shitty my day is going, it can always be worse. Much worse.

Of course, I’ll bet some of these street walkers look at passers by with some sympathy, because everyone’s imprisoned in a world of corporate pressure and worry about material things. 

I wonder if there’s a certain comfort and even happiness to having nothing.

Of course, this whole entry is a case of judging people and wondering who is better than who. I can’t tell if I’m being compassionate or stupid.

But I’m pretty sure that one of these days God will sort it all out for me.