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Entourage Disease

Entourage Disease: A disease where the sufferer surrounds him or herself with people as a shield against painful encounters.

Mood music:

The sufferer will show up in a hospital room, at a family party or a funeral surrounded by up to six people. Usually the number is about three. If it’s a hospital visit and the room is really small, the sufferer will be brave and only come in with one hanger on.

There are drugs to mitigate the pain, particularly alcohol, food and drugs. But they all have side effects and usually are not worth the trouble.

As with any disease, there is collateral damage. The family of a cancer patient, for example, may experience pain from watching their loved one suffer.

The third party suffering with entourage disease is usually a feeling of claustrophobia and the discomfort that comes from a lack of personal space. The people who comprise the sufferer’s entourage have a special talent for getting in the personal zone of everyone else in the room.

The ultimate cure for this disease is self confidence, forgiveness and faith.

Unfortunately, those things can be hard to come by.

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Narcissism Is A Fatal Illness

Call it what you will: Narcissism. Selfishness. Ego. We’re all a little full of ourselves. But people like me are worse than others. It’s a shameful thing, but it’s the truth.

People with addictive tendencies tend to be the most selfish souls alive.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:76Je5Wklky23mVoxiRszcN]

And that’s why we have Step 3 in the 12 Steps of Recovery: “Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.”

This is all about doing something about the addict’s overwhelming desire to control everything. It also applies to people suffering from a variety of mental illnesses, including OCD, the one that plagues me.

At a Big Book step study meeting I went to last night, the speaker talked about this in language I won’t soon forget. He described himself as a “rebel without guts,” the guy who talks tough but lacks the balls to BE tough. He also described selfishness as a terminal illness.

Selfishness hasn’t killed me yet. But I’ve lost friends and family over it along the way.

It all comes back to the need to control everything and everyone around me. I want everything to go my way, and when it doesn’t my world comes crashing down. If the day doesn’t unfold exactly as I planned it, the day is ruined. Someone took my parking space? The restaurant didn’t have the ranch dressing I planned to have on my salad? That was it.

That’s how it is with everything when you’re a control freak. The obsession with control and self-fulfillment also leaves you feeling adrift and anxious when things are going relatively well for you.

That’s how it used to be with me, anyway.

People like us crave control like a junkie craves a shot of smack to the arm. It grabs us by the nose and drags us down the road until our emotions are raw and bleeding.

That’s why I used to be such an asshole at The Eagle-Tribune. Every story I edited then went through three more editors and then to the page designer. Along the way, everyone after me had to take a whack at it. I’d hover over the page designers because it was the closest thing I had to control. Ultimate control would have meant laying out the pages myself. That would have been a stupid thing to do, mind you. I couldn’t lay out a news page to save my life.

When I was the assistant news editor for the paper’s New Hampshire editions, I was out a week when my son Sean was born. I came in one night to catch up on e-mail and saw the message where my boss announced my son’s birth. In it, he joked that I probably stood over the doctor and told him how to deliver the baby.

I wanted to punch him. I saw red. Because I knew how close it cut to the truth.

The control freak has emerged in a variety of other ways over the years. Getting stuck in traffic would send me into a rage because all I could do is sit and wait. Getting on a plane filled me with dread because I could only sit there and wait. There was the fear that the plane might crash. But the bigger problem for me was that i was at the mercy of the pilots, the air traffic and the weather. I had no control over the schedule, and that incensed me.

I still get this way sometimes, but I’ve tried hard to take Step 3 to heart, turning my will over to God and trusting Him to push me in the right direction.

When I do that, I never fail. It always works out.

People think surrender means quit. That’s as far from the truth as you can get.

For people like me, you don’t start to experience victory until you surrender. It sounds crazy, but I’ve lived it.

Part 4 in a series. Here are the previous posts:

My Name Is Bill. I’m Addicted To Stuff

I Am Absolutely Powerless

No Faith, No Recovery. Period

chickennarcissisttest

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Beauty And Gratitude In Every Bad Thing

In the battle to manage OCD and all its byproducts, I’ve learned something that’s helped me a lot: To always see the blessings hidden within the bad stuff.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/X0jHPRO98lM

–When I lose people close to me because of death or resentment, I try to remember the good stuff we got to share and how lucky I was to have known those who eventually left me.

–When I feel my addictions starting to creep up on me and I’m forced to start over, I try to remember that it’s still so much better than the days I binged at the drop of a hat.

–When I feel the depressive effect of shorter days that come with summer’s end, (I’m prone to depression from a lack of daylight) I try to remember that the longer days will eventually return and that there are still things to look forward to in the coming seasons.

–When my children get loud and their chaos invades my personal space, I easily remember that my life is so much fuller and beautiful with them in it. I also remember, when they start talking, that a lot of funny shit comes out of their mouths. Some examples here.

–When my three-year-old niece is here and she’s in a foul mood, I try to remember that she’s still so stinkin’ cute.

–When a day at work doesn’t go as I wanted it to, I remember that it’s still the best job I’ve ever had.

–When my obnoxious instincts kick in and I take the needling of others too far, I try to remember that most of those around me forgive me every time and give me another chance.

–If I’m stuck in bed with a migraine or the flu, I can take comfort in knowing it could be — and has been – so much worse.

–If I’m feeling depressed — and my OCD ensures that I will from time to time — I can take comfort in knowing it doesn’t cripple me like it used to and I can still get through the day, live my life and see the mood for what it is — part of a chronic condition.

–When I stare into the mirror and see all the scars and wrinkles, I try to remember that another year of aging is another year life didn’t beat me down.

–When I look in the mirror and see that I’m thick in the middle, I try to remember that I used to be HUGE in the middle and that the former is better than the latter.

–If I’m feeling down about relationships that are on ice, I can take joy in knowing that there’s never a point of no return, especially when you’re willing to make amends and accept forgiveness.

–When I come home fried from a few days of travel, I try to remember that I used to fear travel and now it feels routine. It’s a step in the right direction.

–When I think I’m having the shittiest year ever, I stop and remember that most years are a mix of good and bad and that gives me the perspective to cool off my emotions.

–When something really bad happens, I know that people are always going to show up to help, and that it’s an extension of God’s Grace in my life.

–When I’m angry about something, I can always put on headphones and let some ferocious metal music squeeze the aggression out of me.

–If I feel like people around me are acting like idiots, I can recognize that they may just be having a bad day themselves and that it’s always better to watch an idiot than be one.

Bad stuff happens every day. But if you squint into the darkness and stare a little longer, a little light always appears.

Photo by John Vantine. Check out more of his work here.

38-serrano-canyon-hiking-homestead-hope-springs

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Why Is This Blog So Dark?

People occasionally ask me why this blog covers so much dark ground. Let’s see if I can explain:

My life has been much like any typical run. We all go through our sad and tragic episodes, with a lot of good times and beautiful experiences mixed in. There are happy moments and terrible moments. Some get swallowed up by the darkness and descend into a life of crime, addiction and death. Others find a way out of the darkness and learn to find joy in all the things they were once too blind to notice.

Mood music:

I write a lot about my darker episodes because there has always been a light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve learned to look at adversity as an opportunity to always get somewhere better. I also believe in the saying: “When you find yourself in hell, the only way out of it is through it.”

I write a lot about my addictive behavior so you can understand just how joyful it is when you find recovery.

I write a lot about what I went through at the hands of OCD, fear and anxiety because I found a way through the worst of it and believe I need to share where I’ve been so those who are in their own personal hell can see the way to some peace.

As awesome as my life is today, I still find myself veering into episodes of darkness. I’m not a special case. We all go through that sort of thing. This blog being part diary, I need to write down the bad as well as the good because by documenting it I can put things in perspective and push myself out of the painful periods.

I always try to end a darker post on a positive note. If you skim, you’ll miss it.

I’ve been through some rough patches lately and it has shown through here. But I never stay in the rough patch for long, because I keep moving and learning. Many of you help me do it, and I’m grateful.

I try to be like Leo, the chief of staff in the TV series The West Wing. The character was a raging alcoholic and pill popper who got through it and kept living a life of public service. This clip pretty much sums up the purpose of this blog:

 I don’t know my way out of every dark situation, but by sharing stories of the struggles that ended well, I’m hopefully helping a few of you.
Thanks for reading.
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Be Yourself, And Let The Chips Fall Wherever

If someone doesn’t like you, too bad for them.

Mood music:

From the good folks at “Choose Happiness” — something to keep in mind when people get all snotty and hypocritical about who you are and what you do:

You are a person, not a Facebook status. Other peoples "like" is not needed. Everyone isn't going to like you and that's ok. Just make sure YOU like you...
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I’m A Facebook Hypocrite

I’ve gotten some static lately over what I post and how often I post it. Much of the feedback is fair and I’m working on it, but I can’t help feeling like there’s a little hypocrisy going on.

Many of us have the same problem: We want to say what we want at will, but don’t want anyone else to do the same. I can be a hypocrite with the best of ’em, so I know I can’t get all high and mighty and defensive. I think this is just another byproduct of the social networking age. We all have this megaphone and we worry that if we don’t yell into it constantly, it’ll get taken away from us. Some people don’t have this problem, and post a lot more sparingly. I give them a lot of credit for their self control.

Mood music: 

In my crankiness I’ve made a list of all the things on Facebook and Twitter that annoy me. Some of you will relate. None of you should take it too personally. I admit to using this post to blow off steam.

Blowing off steam is important for us, because it keeps us from exploding further down the line. So thanks in advance for indulging me.

In my moments of self pity and self righteousness, when someone takes issue with how I use my social networking tools, I get all red in the face, climb onto my high horse and think to myself, well, at least I don’t …

–Think I’m taking a big, brave stand by posting self-righteous and self-evident statements, daring the rest of you to repost if you agree.

–Insist on getting all lovey-dovey with my wife on Facebook for all to see, dropping words like “baby” and “honey” everywhere.

–Fight with my significant other on Facebook for all to see.

–Vilify others for their political and religious views, even though my own views are equally offensive to others.

–Push buttons for attention, though some have accused me of doing so.

–Whine nonstop about the weather. I feel pretty smart for realizing it’s perfectly normal for it to be hot in the summer and snowing in the winter.

–Whine about the latest Facebook layout changes, forgetting that it’s a free service and that I really didn’t like the last six layouts, either.

–Complain about my job constantly.

Since I don’t do those things, I guess that means I’m better than you.

Well, not really.

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I’m Told I Repeat Myself A Lot

Update March 19, 2012: I touched on this issue in today’s Salted Hash blog post on @CSOonline. There has been some good discussion on the matter of how often to tweet and how best to achieve variety. After reading this from my friend @Beaker, I remembered that I had indeed touched on the issue here as well…

I’m asked a lot lately why I push out multiple posts through the day and why many of them are repeats. Here’s what it’s about — and what I’m trying to do about it.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/7v4umdrtWtg

There’s a professional and personal reason behind it. The professional part is that as someone who works in the media-publishing business, a big goal is always to get your content in front of as many eyes as possible.

I don’t apologize for a few reasons. One is that I don’t write this stuff so it’ll sit there unread. The other is that in the world of social media, people are coming online at different times of day. If you only post something in the morning, you miss the evening readers and vice versa. That’s why with new posts I typically post thrice daily: In the morning, around lunchtime and in the evening.

Social media is also like a rushing river. Especially Twitter and, to a lesser extent, Facebook. You put something in the water and it’s immediately flushed miles out of view by all the other waves people make. Some call it an echo chamber where you have to yell to be heard. That’s an accurate description, too.

As for the repeats, I do that because many of the posts in this blog are meant to be lessons you can retell when they can do the most good. At other times I like to think of them as songs worth replaying when the right mood strikes.  Also, sometimes people will see a post for the first time months after it was first written.

Now for the personal side: It’s not your imagination. You ARE seeing one of my OCD ticks in action. Someone once called me an obsessive poster, and they were right. I’ll post things repeatedly just as someone with OCD might check a door lock or wash their hands repeatedly.

What am I trying to do about all this? The simple answer is that I’m working hard to post less each day. If I write something new, it runs three times, spread out as I described above. But I’m throttling back on repeats of the older stuff, because I do take your feedback to heart and want to do the right thing.

But when all is said and done, I will never be able to please everybody, nor should I try. I do what I do and if people want what I’m pushing they’ll stick around. Those who don’t want it should just unfollow or defriend me.

Or, as they used to say when all we had was radio and TV, if you don’t like what’s on, change the channel or turn it off.

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Losing Friends

I find myself worried this morning that, by opening up in this blog, I’ve lost another dear friend.

That’s the challenge with expressing one’s feelings publicly: Even when you think you’re taking care to protect one’s privacy, leaving out names and such, you find a way to hurt someone anyway.

Writing this blog has been a lifesaver most days. A lot of people have told me it helps them.

But sometimes I curse the day I started this thing.

For now I just have to walk away and hope time heals another wound.

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A Relapse Isn’t The End Of The World

When a person relapses back into addictive behavior, it seems like the end of the world. Everything they’ve worked for is in ashes, and they embrace their old demon with reckless abandon.

It shouldn’t have to be that way.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:1JKiRbc7uA6B9QrO3I1zZH]

I’m thinking hard about this because I came close to a relapse recently, and a friend now finds himself in a full, free-falling backslide.

A lot of people have a hard time seeing compulsive binge eating as an addiction on par with alcohol and heroin. But it’s just as effective at destroying a man’s life and health as those other things. And since you still need to eat to survive, there’s a lot of fear around this type of relapse, because it seems to suck us in deeper more quickly.

Anyway, this post isn’t meant to convince the skeptics. It’s directed specifically at those who have relapsed to their addictions, whatever the substance. It’s the same message to be had in today’s mood music, from the Sixx A.M. “Heroin Diaries” soundtrack:

You know that accidents can happen

It’s OK, we all fall off the wagon sometimes

It’s not your whole life

It’s only one day

You haven’t thrown everything away.

The best thing to do is accept the relapse and start over. But when the feeling of failure overwhelms you, it’s easier said than done. The point was brought home to me the other day when talking to my friend who relapsed.

He noted that this is his third relapse, and that he wasn’t sure if he could return to the halls of Overeater’s Anonymous. He correctly noted that there are some people in the program who look at relapse cases as pariahs. Most people will embrace you and try to help you regain your footing. But the ones who look at you like an exploded zit can be overwhelming and keep you from going back.

Shame takes on a lot of insidious forms for the relapsed soul.

Talking to this fellow makes me realize just how lucky I was this time. I came to the brink and started getting sloppy. But I pulled myself back before falling off the cliff and going on a binge. A lot of good people aren’t so fortunate.

I really feel for my friend. He’s stuck down the hole and doesn’t know if he can ever find his way back out. He says he’s knee deep in the food and won’t leave his house because he’s putting on weight so fast that he doesn’t want to be seen.

That is one of the shittiest things about compulsive binge-eating: You can’t hide it because your behavior is obvious in the fast weight gain. This disease hangs off our belly like a sack of shit. And when it keeps you from leaving your house, you are in a very bad place. I know, because I spent a lot of years avoiding people because I didn’t want them to see the mess I’d become.

Hell, in my journey to a near-relapse, I didn’t gain weight but still felt bloated and didn’t want to be around people.

In the week since I realized how far to the edge I’d come, I’ve tightened the bolts on my program considerably. I’m starting to feel better, and I’m close to having a new OA sponsor. Like I said, I was lucky this time.

But I feel a little anger toward some of the people in this program for making my friend feel so ashamed. We’re supposed to help each other up when someone falls, not treat this like some powder puff popularity club where the folks with long term recovery are rock starts and the fallen are zeroes.

I shouldn’t feel the anger, though, because that kind of behavior is just another part of this disease. None of us were playing with a full deck to begin with, and even in recovery, it can be hard not to be an asshole.

But as I told my friend: “Fuck them. It’s not about what they think. It’s about what you do to get better.”

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Deal With It, Get Over It And Get Out Of My Way

It’s been an emotional few days. I came to the edge of a relapse. A father figure died. Then there was the 9-11 anniversary. This stuff can burn a person down to nothing. But I don’t burn like I used to.

Mood music:

It’s funny how people react not only to their own adversity, but that of others. Some people become incapacitated with grief when a pet dies and some of us want to say, “Fuck, man. It’s a pet. Get over it and stop crying in front of everyone.” But that’s just us judging someone without all the facts.

When I come up against difficult things, I write about it. One now-former reader lamented that my blog is “soooo depressing” that she can’t read it anymore. That suits me fine, because she was the type that had all the answers and told you how you should live. She was an expert in everything, but she never really understood the purpose of this blog, which is to stare the horrors of life in the face, describe it honestly and deal with it. Life is full of depressing things, but when you can face those things head on, there’s a ton of joy and beauty on the other side. That’s my experience, so I try to share it without telling you what to do.

And that’s what this post is about. Dealing with adversity and learning to get over it.

Yeah, I came close to a relapse last week. I did what every addict does — I reached a point in my recovery where I got so comfortable and felt so in control that I started getting sloppy. It’s funny how this happens, because when we feel in control it usually means things are falling apart behind the scenes. In my case, my father having three strokes tired me out enough that I started forgetting to do the things a person in recovery is supposed to do.

I went to a 12-Step Big Book study last night and the chapter of the night was perfect for me. It was about people who relapse because they think they have their addiction licked. They have that one weak moment that sends them back down to hell.

Going to a meeting the night that chapter was on the table was a classic case of God trying to tell me something. That something goes like this: Life is full of the good and bad. Deal with it and get over it. And, above all, don’t binge over it.

I write this stuff down and share it because we all have moments where we need that kick in the ass. My ass stings pretty good right now, but I’m feeling very grateful for it.

When you become paralyzed by the hole in your soul, the thought of dealing with it is terrifying. But when you finally take that next step, it’s one of the best, natural highs out there.

Last week I started to deal with things. I told my wife about my sloppiness and decided to declare myself in breach of abstinence and sobriety. I decided to tear it down and start over.

Yesterday I left my sponsor a message telling him I was sorry for being such a lousy sponsee. Now we’ll see if he wants to stick with me or if I need to find someone else. At least I took that step.

This evening I’m going to go to the wake for a man I looked up to, and it will be with a sense of celebration, not sadness. He lived his life as we all should: To the full. He earned a ticket straight to Heaven, and that makes me happy. I’ll admit I’m a bit nervous about seeing his wife and daughter for the first time in many years. They haven’t been happy with me in that time and tonight probably won’t change things. I don’t want to be an uncomfortable presence. I’ll just do the best I can.

I have all the coffee I need and I packed three abstinent meals for the day. I guess you could say my pistol is fully loaded and I’m ready for what comes next.

I have a busy work day, and I couldn’t be happier about that. I do, after all, love what I do.

I have to deal with my feelings about ending the estrangement with my mother. This week, I’m going to talk to Erin and carve out an action plan.

If you see me twitching and talking to myself, don’t worry. I’m dealing with life and getting over things I can’t control or undo.

Out of my way.