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Some Days, I Don’t Have My Shit Together

A lot of people read this blog because I always try to put a silver lining on tough stuff. But some days I fail to live up to the image. Yesterday was one of those days, when I let a 7-year-old get the better of me.

Mood music:

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You see, Duncan is like me in that too much winter messes with his mental balance. He’ll get goofy, sad and every emotion in between at the drop of a hat. And he has a terrible time focusing.

We’re not sure what it’s about, but since it happens every year between December and March, it’s not a stretch to conclude there’s a winter-related cause.

Like father, like son.

Yesterday he was unfocused when he needed to be getting his homework done. He had a Cub Scouts meeting early and that put some added pressure on us. When he does his homework, you really need to stand over him. But I always struggle with this, because the OCD pushes me to do seven things at once, especially on a tight schedule.

So Duncan kept fooling around and doing his homework in an excruciatingly slow manner.

So my voice started to get a little louder every few minutes. And Duncan still stayed all over the place.

So then I really snapped at him.

I didn’t hit him. We don’t believe in hitting our kids. But I yelled. A lot.

I nixed his going to the Scouts meeting. That was appropriate, since he still had too much homework left and that comes before the fun stuff.

To some or most of you all this may read like a typical afternoon with children. Kids get a little out of control and the parent in the room has to open the can of whoop-ass.

But to me, it was a loss of control. Worse, I feel like I should be A LOT more patient with the boy, since he’s under the same spell I’m under.

Whatever it was, I didn’t feel good about it.

I am thankful for a few things, though:

–We’re getting Duncan evaluated by a medical professional to see if he has any disorders. Whatever the verdict, we’ll get some direction on how to help him along.

–Duncan is a sweet boy, and it’s impossible to stay mad at him for long. Especially when he gives you a big hug and apologizes for being difficult.

–Erin was a calming presence, reminding me that this is a particularly bad winter and everyone is on a short fuse because of it. 

–At the end of the day, I kissed my wife as she was leaving for a school board meeting, I tucked Duncan into bed and got some one-on-one time with Sean.

–There isn’t the thick, stinking cloud of rage hanging in the air. Love wins out over anger.

Because of all these things, this family is going to be just fine, thanks.

Even if I can’t always get my shit together.

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The New Slavery

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So what do I do with this newfound clarity?

I don’t know.

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

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

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Depressed But OK With It

Actually, I’m not going through a wave of depression right now. But it does come and go and I’ve had to learn how to be OK with it. A new friend who found this blog told me she’s struggling with the concept.

This post is directed toward her. It’s my attempt to answer some questions she asked me about it.

Mood music:

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You mentioned that you have frequent bouts of depression medication and therapy don’t seem to touch, and that you’re at a point where you’re learning — trying to learn, anyway — how to live with it and be happy, even though you’re kind of resigned to the notion that true happiness is beyond your reach.

The answer is complicated, but it goes something like this:

First, I should mention that I still have my ups and downs and always will. Bad things will still happen, but I know beautiful things will happen, too.

My addictive personality still pins me to the wall sometimes. I’m not binge eating or drinking like I used to, but the temptation is always lurking nearby, taunting me. I’ve learned to manage my OCD pretty well, but it still escapes from its cage on occasion. My wife will testify to that.

Too much OCD out of control will almost always send me back to the depressed place.

A couple years ago I started to wonder if I’d ever understand true happiness in the face of these chronic conditions. The answer, I’ve found, is yes. Sort of.

I don’t think I’m happy in the conventional sense. But I don’t think anyone really enjoys that kind of happiness.

And that’s the problem.

We have an overdeveloped sense of what happiness is supposed to be. I call it the Happily Ever After Syndrome. We have this stupid idea that if we can just get the right job, find the right mate, accumulate the right amount of material things and have as little conflict with people as possible that we’re going to be on cloud nine for the rest of our lives.

Deep down we know that’s bullshit. But we reach for it anyway.

It’s a battle of false expectations. And when we can’t reach those expectations, it’s a huge let-down. It creates a hole in our souls that we try to fill with more material things and with alcohol, food, drugs or a combination of the three. For others, porn works, too.

That stuff makes us feel better for a few minutes, but before long we feel worse than ever.

I think that hole is still in me. But through the Grace of God it’s gotten a lot smaller.

My faith is part of it. Some people shut right down when you mention faith, but I can’t avoid the subject, because believing in a higher power and fighting tooth and nail to devote myself to Him is something that filled me with a peace I didn’t have previously.

Some people have told me it’s a waste to live that way because after death there’s nothing but darkness. OK, let’s supposed their right. I still have no regrets, because living this way is better than living with the shame I always felt when I was all about me. I’ve also noticed something about people who think I’m crazy for that: They never seem to be happy, either. But I try not to judge them. I’ve done enough wrong in my life to know that I’m in no position to do so.

That doesn’t stop me from being an ass at times, thinking I’m better than the next person. But it helps.

The biggest thing, though, is that at some point I changed my expectations. Some might say I lowered them. More accurately, I think I just discarded expectations altogether. Sometimes the expectations still swell beyond reality, but they’re much more in check than they used to be.

And through that process, I’ve discovered there is happiness. In being more accepting about the low points, I can deal with them more quickly and move on.

I used to grope around for eternal happiness in religious conversion. But some of my hardest days came AFTER I was Baptized a Catholic. I eventually found my way to abstinence and sobriety and got a pretty good handle on the OCD. But there have been plenty of sucky days since then.

I like to think of these setbacks as growing pains. We’re supposed to have bad days to test the better angels of our nature. We’re supposed to learn how to move forward despite the obstacles that used to make us hide and get junked up. When you can stay sober and keep your mental disorders in check despite a bad day, that’s REAL recovery.

This is where I consider myself lucky for having had Crohn’s Disease. That’s a chronic condition. It comes and goes. But you can reach a point where the flare ups are minimal.

It’s the same with mental illness and addiction. You can’t rid yourself of it completely. But you can reach a point — through a lot of hard work and leaps of Faith — where the episodes are minimal.

Accepting all this for what it is lets me be happy.

Prozac, therapy and the 12 Steps have helped me immensely. But they don’t take the deeper pain at your core away. These things just help you deal with the rough days without getting sucked back into the abyss.

The depression I experience now is more like a flare up of arthritis or a passing headache than that desperate, mournful feeling I used to get. It’s a nag, but it doesn’t break me. It used to break me all the time.

That’s progress.

Maybe I’m not happy forever after, but that’s OK. My ability to separate the blessings from the bullshit has improved considerably in the last five years.

That’s good enough for me.

I hope someday it’s good enough for you, too.

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Mental Illness and Cybersecurity

I want to flag you all to a post I just wrote in my security blog, Salted Hash, on CSOonline.com. It’s based on the opening talk at the ShmooCon security conference in Washington D.C.

The speaker, Marsh Ray, uses the fragile mental condition as the basis of a talk called “A paranoid schizophrenia-based model of data security.”

The post I wrote could easily work as a post in this blog. But the most appropriate audience this time were the people I write for in my day job.

Please check it out here, and thanks.

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Do TV Shows About OCD Make Me Angry?

A friend asked what I think of how OCD is portrayed on TV. The answer isn’t as cut and dry as you might expect.

This is actually a good time to tackle the subject, because yesterday I got the following message from someone who read my “Red Bull Blues” post:

My name is Rebecca and I’m a casting producer for the TLC show “Freaky Eaters.” We’re currently looking for ADULTS ADDICTED TO ENERGY DRINKS for Season 2 of the show.

For more info or to nominate someone, please send an email to pickyeaterscasting@gmail.com with your name, age, number, and brief description of your daily consumption of energy drinks/caffeine.

Hope to hear from you soon!

Sorry, Rebecca. I won’t be auditioning for that one.

It’s not that I don’t think there’s a useful case study to be had in the stories of people addicted to energy drinks. I just don’t think most of the reality shows are doing it right. The goal is always to show the viewer a train wreck purely for the sake of the train wreck. I never walk away learning anything new about what to do if you have such an addiction.

As a recovering addict, I know the real answer is years of often painful, often mundane and always complicated therapy and building of coping skills. I have yet to see a 30- or 60-minute reality show that pulls it off.

If a mental illness is going to be tackled in a reality TV show, give me something I can use. I don’t need drama for drama’s sake.

Another question is if I get angry about shows that poke fun at people with OCD. No, I don’t.

If you can’t laugh at it from time to time, you can’t successfully fight it. Let’s be honest: Some of the habits of an OCD head case like me are amusing. It’s hard not to crack a smile at the sight of someone checking their laptop bag seven times to make sure the computer is really in there. I do that all the time, and I don’t mind if someone finds amusement in it.

Then there are TV shows like “Monk.” I was never a consistent viewer of that one, but I always liked what I did see. What’s not to like about an OCD guy who solves crimes?

Bottom line: Most programming about OCD is harmless. Sometimes you actually learn something valuable. Sometimes, the program is nothing but crap that was made for the sake of drama.

There is a movie being made that I think is going to change the way people look at OCD cases.

A reader pointed me toward the website for “Machine Man: The Movie” last month, and I’ve been digging around the site, totally captivated. There’s a “why we’re doing this” clip on the site that sounds a lot like the reasons I started this blog.

The website is chock full of useful information on the illness and I think the project is going to help a lot of people understand what this is all about.

Film maker Kellie Madison deserves a lot of praise for taking on this complicated beast.

She could also use everyone’s help to fund this project.

From the Facebook page:

“We are raising all of the money for this movie through donations and fundraising! Our hope is to demystify some of the stigma attached to OCD and encourage people to seek proper treatment and get their lives back! Be a part of making this project happen!”

At the very least, you should “like” the Facebook page for the film and share it with friends and family. They will learn a lot.

Bottom line: There’s a lot of crap about OCD on TV, but for someone like me to get uptight about it would just be a waste of time. There’s also a lot of useful programming on the disorder, especially the news-based programs.

But good or bad, I don’t get offended. The folks who are serious about getting an education in mental health know where to find the valuable stuff most of the time.

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Thinking is Not a Tool

People like me who are recovering from addiction and an underlying mental disorder rely on a set of tools to live better, more useful lives. A food plan is one of them. Twelve-step meetings are another. Some people think thinking is a tool, but it’s really just another insidious bastard that robs us of sanity.

Overthinking is something I have experience with. One of the most painful parts of OCD out of control is that your mind spins out of control with thought. I’ve heard it described accurately as worry out of control. The mind spins like a record and doesn’t stop. You can slow it down momentarily by binging on booze, drugs or food, but that’s a fake solace that doesn’t last.

I was reminded of all this during a recent OA meeting. During the part where everyone can get up and share, me and two others focused on this peculiarity of our condition.

One woman shared about how she thought her brother had been badly hurt all these years over an incident where she smeared blueberries across his face when they were kids. She’s worried about it all these years, and recently told him she was sorry. He chuckled and reminded her that he smeared something on her first. She didn’t remember that.

Another woman shared that on the night of her senior prom, she was so full of insecurity that she took off without even saying goodbye to her date. Surely, she thought all these years, the incident must have devastated the poor guy. She recently contacted him to apologize, and he didn’t remember being hurt. All he remembered was that the senior prom was one of the best nights of his life.

As addicts, we have a very exaggerated perception of how people look at us. But, as this woman noted, “We’re just another bozo on the bus.”

I spent many years assuming that Sean Marley‘s widow hated me over something I did right after his death. A couple months ago we reconnected on Facebook and I sent her a note about how sorry I was. She sent a note back. I won’t share the contents, but let’s just say she hasn’t hated me all these years.

Thinking is like anything else in life: The right amount is good. Too much of it will kill you.

When it came to my health, I’d make myself sick for real by fixating too hard on what MIGHT happen. That’s when the anxiety attacks would come. In 1991, after a colonoscopy to monitor the Crohn’s Disease, I was informed that my colon was covered with hundreds of polyps — more scar tissue than polyps, but something that had to be kept an eye on. I was advised to get a colonoscopy every year to ensure it didn’t morph into colon cancer unnoticed. Good advice. So I let more than eight years pass before a bout of bleeding forced me to get one. Until then, I wasted a lot of time in fear that every stomach cramp, however small, was colon cancer. I’d spin it in my head repeatedly, rationalizing why I shouldn’t get the test. Just following doctor’s orders in the first place would have saved me a lot of over-thinking. That was clear when I had the test and found out everything was fine.

I had a friend in the early 1990s who weighed well over 400 pounds. To comfort his mind and gloss over the medical problem he had to deal with, he rationalized that he was a great thinker, and that was all he needed to make it in life.

He never made it out of his 30s.

I’ve learned something in my recovery from OCD and the related binge eating addiction: When you learn to stop over-thinking, a lot of things that used to be daunting become a lot easier. You also find yourself in a lot of precious moments that were always there. But you didn’t notice them because you were sick with worry.

I’m a lot happier now that I quickly file an article right after writing it. I move on to the next item on the agenda more quickly and am a lot more productive at work as a result. Does that mean my stories need more editing? Not that I’ve noticed. But that’s what editors are for anyway.

By making doctor appointments and just getting the next blood test or colonoscopy, I do away with a lot of physical pain that worrying used to cause me.

That doesn’t mean I never worry or think about anything. What’s the use of having a brain if you never think about things? There are also a lot of people out there who don’t do nearly as much thinking about their lives as they should.

But there’s a fine line between useful thought and white noise, and my challenge has been to keep myself on the right side of that line. I’ve learned to pick my mental battles more carefully.

If you’re a chronic worrier and someone tells you not to worry you want to punch that person in the face, right? I did. When the worry is rushing out of every corner, you can’t even begin to figure out how to shut the valves.

I eventually did it by getting years of intense psychotherapy. I had to peel back each layer of worry and figure out how it all got there. It sucked. A lot. Every painful memory of childhood came to the surface and I had to deal with it head on. Prozac definitely helped. Without getting all the therapy first I don’t think the medicine would have worked as well as it has. In the end, all the Prozac did was fix the flow of my brain chemistry, which was hopelessly out of whack from years of self-abuse.

Delving into the 12 steps through OA was huge, too. Eliminating flour and sugar from my diet cleared out my head in ways I never thought possible. Sugar and flour consumed in massive quantities gummed up my mental gearsas bad as any bottle of whiskey would have done.

Letting God into my life was the most important move of all. [See “The Better Angels of My Nature“]

Yeah, I still worry about things. But not like I used to.

It feels better that way.

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When Recovery Becomes the Addiction

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

Mood music:

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

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

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

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

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

I get and respect that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Coffee With My Therapist

I had my monthly appointment with the therapist this morning. Sadly, I ran out of time to hit the Starbucks drive-thru on the way. He’s one of those stress-reduction specialists who thinks I should quit coffee, avoid cigars and do yoga every morning.

I do keep the cigars to a minimum, but coffee is about all I have left. And I will never do yoga. It’s just not my style.

I always make it a point to walk into his office with a large cup of the boldest coffee brew I can find. He looks at the cup and says, “Oh, I see you’ve brought drugs with you.” 

I like my therapist.

I guess that’s why I do these things.

When I like someone, I needle them.

While I’m on here, I’d like to remind you that a benefit show for Joe “Zippo” Kelley is tomorrow night in Salem, Mass. Details HERE.

Did I mention The Neighborhoods are headlining?

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Message for a Young Friend

Two old friends have a son who’s been through the meat grinder too many times in his 12 short years. Some think he should settle in for a lesser life than he’s capable of. I say bullshit.

Mood music:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6a9WmfFKs8&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999]

My young friend’s name is Mark. He lives in a city on the North Shore of Massachusetts. That’s all I’ll reveal about his identity. But his parents will know this is for him and will hopefully share this with him:

Dear Mark,

Because of the mental and physical challenges you face, some grownups think you should set your sites low. They think you’re not cut out for college or a career as, say, a scientist.

They mean well. They know what you’ve been through and they don’t want you to get hurt. But if I’ve learned anything in my own journey through hell, it’s that you can’t always hide from hurt and disappointment. Life is hard. But it’s supposed to be.

It’s how we find out what we’re truly made of.

Item: Franklin Delano Roosevelt was a pampered child whose world view changed when he was crippled by polio in 1921. A lot of people would have given up right there, but he rebuilt his life, became a mentor to other polio victims and was the longest-serving president in history, dealing with war and economic calamity that could have broken the spirit of healthier leaders. Through it all, he carried on an outward cheeriness that put people at ease.

When I was a kid there were plenty of roadblocks. I missed a lot of school because of Crohn’s Disease and lost a brother when I was only a year older than you are now. My studies suffered, and I was put in a lot of the classes where they put the problem children.

Things worked out, though. I got married and had two kids that are much smarter than I was at that age. I have a job that’s allowed me to do a lot of excellent things (excellent to me, anyway).

You shouldn’t settle for anything less than the life you want.

Item: Abraham Lincoln suffered crippling depression his whole life and lost two of his four children, all in a time before anti-depressants were around. He led the Union through the Civil War and ended slavery.

There will be setbacks and those can be discouraging, but you CAN survive them with the right perspective.

Item: The drummer from Def Leppard had an arm ripped off in a car wreck. A lot of people thought his career was over. Twenty-six years later, he’s still drumming.

So just keep trying, and never give up on yourself. Nobody can hold you back. Only YOU can hold yourself back.

One more thing: Having a good life doesn’t mean you get to live without the bad stuff from time to time.

It’s easy for people who fight mental illness and addictive behavior to go on an endless, futile search for the happily ever after, where you somehow find the magic bullet to murder your demons, thus beginning years of bliss and carefree existence.

There’s no such thing as happily ever after.

That’s OK.

I believe in you. Your parents certainly believe in you.

The rest is up to you.

–Your friend,

Bill

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Narcissism Inc.

I’ve always wondered if I was a narcissist. I’ve been wondering even more since last week, when someone asked me when I reached a point in my recovery where I stopped being self-absorbed. I had to be honest and tell her I still get self absorbed. All the time.

Mood music:

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People with obsessive-compulsive tendencies are basket cases about being in control. Maybe it’s simply control of one’s sanity. Usually, it’s control of situations and people you have no business trying to control.

I went looking for a definition and found this on Wikipedia:

Narcissism is the personality trait of egotism, vanity, conceit, or simple selfishness. Applied to a social group, it is sometimes used to denote elitism or an indifference to the plight of others. The name “narcissism” was coined by Freud after Narcissus who in Greek myth was a pathologically self-absorbed young man who fell in love with his own reflection in a pool.

So, let’s see…

I’ve never fallen in love with my reflection. Usually, when I look in a mirror, it’s to make sure I don’t look too fat. I don’t get people who insist on having their bedroom or bathroom fitted with wall-to-wall mirror. I’ve also gone through long periods of hating myself.

But I am guilty of thinking I’m better than the guy sitting next to me. I probably think I’m a better writer than I really am. There are days when I think a little too highly of myself.

Here’s a fact about addicts: We are among the most selfish people on the planet. Or, as Nikki Sixx says in the final track on Sixx A.M.’s soundtrack for The Heroin Diaries: “You know addicts. It’s all about us, right?” That selfishness usually leads us to do stupid things that make us feel shame. In the midst of that shame, we lie.

That sort of behavior can overwhelm us, no matter how much we want to be better people. Putting ourselves before others is the hardest drug of all to resist. 

In OA, those of us in recovery from our compulsive eating disorders rely on a set of tools that go hand in hand with the 12 Steps. There’s the plan of eating, writing, sponsorship, the telephone and literature. There’s anonymity. And there’s service to others.

The plan of eating is what’s most necessary for me, but I think my favorite tool is service.

When I do service, the people I may be trying to help are helping me as well. If it’s through OA, everyone is supporting each other. It’s the same at church, be it through school activities or actively participating in Mass. That’s why I do lectoring. Actively participating in Mass helps me to pay attention to what’s going on instead of sitting there locked inside my head.

Service forces me out of my usual role of being a selfish little bastard.

It may not be a cure for narcissism, if I even fit that description. But it makes it manageable.