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The OCD Fidget, Caught on Video

I went back and forth with myself on whether I should do this. Sure, I’ve made this blog about exposing my quirks so the masses can get a better understanding of disorders like OCD. But did I really want to show a video of me showing the signs in a work setting?

Well, yeah. Not because I want you to see me as a freak or feel sorry for me, but because there’s something for you to learn in all this.

http://youtu.be/VwMUvMJnNcQ

I recently wrote about some of these quirks, most notably my need to put the feet up on the desk when I work. It keeps me still. When I sit like a normal person my legs start to bounce up and down as if I had a couple bass drum pedals strapped on. The feet on the desk started with a crippling back problem several years ago. I found that was the only way I could get comfortable. The back pain is long gone, but I still can’t seem to sit normally. In work meetings it would obviously be rude of me to put my feet on the table, so I sit with the feet on the ground.

I’ve also written about the windmill hands. Those who know me well have seen it at one time or another, usually when I’m sitting at a desk engaged in a project. My face gets slightly contorted and I start shaking my hands around like they’re on fire.

I call it my Windmill Hand Syndrome.

When I’m doing it, I don’t realize it, though I just noticed myself doing it just now. It tends to happen when I’m sketching or writing. Sometimes it happens when I’m editing.

So in the following video, recorded when I participated in a panel discussion at last month’s RSA security conference in San Francisco, the stuff I’ve written about is on full display. I tug at my shirt a lot. My head bounces back and forth. I have to shift positions after a few minutes.

If you were there, you probably didn’t notice it, and when it was my turn to speak, the words came out in a coherent fashion, so it’s all good, really.

Usually when I do a speaking gig I stand up and pace around a bit so the fidgeting doesn’t happen. I simply feel more in control when I’m in motion.

At the Fortinet event I was sitting in a chair that didn’t allow for putting the feet up. Doing so in front of an audience would be rude, anyway. I also spent a lot of time being quiet as other panelists made their points. When that happens, the itch starts, then the fidgeting. It’s the same when I’m in a long business meeting. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s not because I think someone is saying something stupid or blathering on for too long. It’s simply my inability to sit perfectly still for more than a couple minutes.

I have no complaints. If looking like a restless knucklehead is the worst that happens after some of the deeper, more painful OCD incidents I’ve lived through, it’s all gravy.

View this more as a scientific case study. Next time you see someone do weird things with their head, mouth, nose or limbs in public, you’ll be less inclined to stop and look in puzzlement.

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What’s This Freakin’ Blog Really About, Anyway?

I’ve gained several new readers in the past month. They have a lot of questions for me, which I like and appreciate. The most common question goes something like this: “What exactly is the focus of this blog?”

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4eVul99m50&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

It’s a fair question. Here’s the explanation. In this case the embedded links are important to seeing the whole picture. But don’t try to read them all at once. That would be insanity.

I call it THE OCD DIARIES because it’s primarily about my struggle to manage the disorder. If I have an OCD moment, I write about it. Where I’ve had success in gaining the upper hand, I share what I’ve learned so other sufferers can try it for themselves. Where appropriate, I laugh at what it makes me do. Sometimes, the result of an OCD incident is humor. But this isn’t a blog that tosses the acronym around to loosely describe every hyper moment of my existence. A lot of people say they have OCD to describe their Type-A personalities. This blog is about the real thing and why it’s so insidious.

It’s also about my upbringing in Revere, Mass., my childhood battle with Crohn’s Disease and how those things helped shape the manifestation of OCD within me. Every person’s struggle is shaped by where they’ve been in life. Historical perspective is important.

It’s also about the byproducts of my OCD, specifically addictive behavior and, even more specifically, my struggle with a binge-eating addiction. Part of that means telling you about how I brought it under control, which is why you see a lot about the 12 Steps of Recovery and Overeater’s Anonymous. I also tell you about all the stupid behaviors that goes with being an addict, including the secondary addictions that surface after you’ve put a lid on the main, most disruptive addiction.

It’s also about relationships, specifically with my wife and children, extended family members, colleagues, friends and the legions of nameless souls who have come and gone, helping me along the way. It’s about relationships that were destroyed along the way, and about broken relationships I’ve been able to repair in my recovery.

It’s about my Faith, which is all over the 12 Steps and is central to my ability to get honest with myself and get the help I needed. You’ll see a lot about my church community, the beauty as well as the warts, which we all have. 

It’s about daily learning experiences. Sometimes the mood of the writing is depressed and sometimes it’s joyful. It’s merely a reflection of all of us.

Finally, it’s a blog about metal music and why it’s so important in helping me with all of the above struggles. Most posts include musical selections that capture my emotions at the given moment.

Some posts will reassure you. Many will make you uncomfortable.

In the end, it’s just a collection of my experiences.

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How Does He Work In Those Conditions?

A friend and reader wants to know how I’m able to focus at work, given the OCD person’s tendency to be consumed by worry. Here’s my answer.

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1QR8c0Ns2Y&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

Her specific question:

I know that at times, I have a hard time not letting one thought consume me. I pray, read etc. but sometimes that thought will be all consuming and (obsessive). Just curious how you plow through that moment.

I know where she’s coming from. Obsessive thinking used to paralyze me. Sometimes it still does. But oddly enough, it never got in the way of work. It got in the way of everything else.

Part of the reason is that my obsessive concerns were often about work. I used to be such a people-pleaser that I’d burn myself out over whatever job I had at the time. When I was away from the office, worries about work would consume me. I couldn’t just clear my head of it for the weekend and enjoy time off. My family suffered deeply because of that.

I’m much better now. When I’m not working, I’m not working. But sometimes, the OCD gets the better of me at work.

Last year, for example, I came into work itching to post two articles I wrote and did so even though my editor hadn’t had a chance to read them yet. In my head, it was safe to post them because I hadn’t heard back about any changes being necessary. Which meant I had the green light to push them live. So I did. Now, the editor was very cool-headed about it. He’s one of the nicest guys on the planet and doesn’t yell. But I could tell he wasn’t happy. Not realizing what I had done, he had started doing his own edits. I went back to my desk, feeling like a first-class asshole. I immediately sent him an e-mail apologizing profusely. He told me not to worry about it. But I worried about it anyway. I knew I had just allowed the OCD to run wild.

But the real question should be how I plow through the obsessive moment when I’m at home.

I’m not sure I have an answer. It’s complicated, because today I have years of therapy, coping skills and medication to draw from. But I still put up a wall from time to time.

One thing that’s pretty important is that somewhere along the way, I gained the ability to not let obsessive thinking paralyze me. Today I can still focus on other parts of my life even when something is on my mind. I can focus on my family and enjoy the moment. If I’m busy with an activity on the weekend, I don’t have work worries banging away at the back of my head like it used to be. Most of the time. Sometimes it does still happen. 

I honestly think the medication is responsible for easing that kind of obsessive thinking. It corrected the traffic flow in my brain.

That probably doesn’t answer my friend’s question. But I hope I came close.

The lesson being that years of working on the problem has made me better. But the things I obsessed over were different from what she probably obsesses over, and that makes a difference, just as different people need different kinds of therapy and medication for their unique issues.

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Side-Effects of Prozac

A friend asked if I’ve ever experienced any side-effects from the Prozac I take to help manage OCD.

An excellent question. Fear of side-effects kept me from trying the medication for years. Unfortunately, I did a lot of suffering in those years that could have been avoided.

I had heard all kinds of horror stories about side-effects: Weight gain, violent mood swings, acne. That stuff does happen, but it didn’t happen to me.

I have experienced bad mood swings right after dosage adjustments, but it doesn’t last long.

I’ve also learned that if the capsules leak and the medicine gets into your throat in the raw, the result is brutal heartburn.

Other than that, no lasting trouble.

That’s just my experience, of course, and the key to making this work is a multi-pronged attack on the mental illness with therapy, developing coping skills, etc.

The medication works wonders, but it doesn’t keep the mood swings and sometimes depressed feelings from developing. But in my opinion, it’s not supposed to do that.

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Coffee With My Therapist, Part 2

I paid another visit to my therapist this morning, and the discussion was a lot more productive than last week’s get-together. Last week wasn’t his fault. I went in there with a migraine.

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Lz6qLQ4xSM&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

We’re continuing to work on my struggle to balance the urge to do everything with the need to slow it down. We’re working on my need for more patience as Erin and I help Duncan with his issues. We covered all the bases.

I must be feeling better than last week, because I walked in with a large cup of coffee. He wants me off the coffee and I know it. I drink it during our meetings partly to needle him and mostly because an hour sitting on a couch is a good time to sip some caffeine.

He asked me — for the thousandth time — when I’m going to start doing yoga.

“Never,” I said. “I have absolutely no patience for yoga.”

“Just like you didn’t have the patience to stop binge eating, right?” he shot back with a grin.

It’s all good.

I bring all this up as a reminder to those who fear therapy that there’s nothing to worry about.

I don’t think people should be embarrassed about seeing a therapist. And yet people are embarrassed, like they’re being treated for the clap after a reckless night in a whorehouse. It’s the kind of shame that does you no good. Take it from a guy who has been there.

It’s a funny thing when I talk to people suffering from depression, addictionand other troubles of the mind. Folks seem more comfortable about the idea of pills than in seeing a therapist. After all, they’re just crazy “shrinks” in white coats  obsessed with how your childhood nightmares compromised your adult sex life, right?

I’ve been to many therapists in my life. I was sent to one at Children’s Hospital in Boston as a kid to talk through the emotions of being sick with Chron’s Disease all the time. That same therapist also tried to help me and my siblings process the bitter aftermath of our parents’ divorce in 1980.

As a teenager, I went to another therapist to discuss my brother’s death and my difficulty in getting along with my stepmother (a wonderful, wonderful woman who I love dearly, by the way. But as a kid I didn’t get along with her).

That guy was a piece of work. He had a thick French accent and wanted to know if I found my stepmother attractive. From the moment he asked that question, I was done with him, and spent the rest of the appointment being belligerent.

That put me off going to a therapist for a long time. I started going to one again in 2004, when I found I could no longer function in society without untangling the barbed wire in my head. But I hesitated for a couple years before pressing on.

The therapist I started going to specialized in dealing with disturbed children and teenagers. That was perfect, because in a lot of ways I was still a troubled kid.

She never told me what to do, never told me how I’m supposed to interpret my disorder against my past. She asked a lot of questions and had me do the work of sorting it out. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what a good therapist does. They ask questions to get your brain churning, dredging up experiences that sat at the back of the mind like mud on the ocean floor. That’s how you begin to deal with how you got to the point of dysfunction.

She moved to Florida a year in and I started going to a fellow who worked from his house. I would explain my binge eating habits to him, specifically how I would down $30 worth of McDonald’s between work and home.

“You should stock your car with healthy foods like fruit, so if you’re hungry you can eat those things instead,” he told me.

That was the end of that. He didn’t get it. When an addict craves the junk, the healthy food around you doesn’t stand a chance. The compulsion is specifically toward eating the junk. He should have understood. He didn’t. Game over, dumb ass.

The therapist I see now is a God-send. He was the first therapist to help me understand the science behind mental illness and the way an inbalance in brain chemistry can mess with your thought traffic. He also provided me with quite an education on how anti-depressants work. Yes, friends, there’s a science to it. Certain drugs are designed to shore up the brain chemicals that, when depleted, lead to bi-polar behavior. Other meds are specifically geared toward anxiety control. In my case, I needed the drug that best addressed obsessive-compulsive behavior. For me, that meant Prozac. 

But I don’t necessarily heed his every suggestion. Take the yoga and coffee, for example.

He makes recommendations but I decide what I’m going to do.

Fortunately for me, I’ve gotten smart enough to take most of his advice.

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Why The Hell Does He Do That?

My friends and family will tell you I have an arsenal of odd quirks. There’s the windmill hands. There’s the pacing, a trait my oldest son has inherited. Then there’s the fidgeting problem.

Mood music (R.I.P. Mike Starr):

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9jX1KAKp78&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

Ah, yes. I fidget a lot.

That’s why I tend to work with my feet up on the desk. It keeps me still. When I sit like a normal person my legs start to bounce up and down as if I had a couple bass drum pedals strapped on.

The feet on the desk started with a crippling back problem several years ago. I found that was the only way I could get comfortable. The back pain is long gone, but I still can’t seem to sit normally. In work meetings it would obviously be rude of me to put my feet on the table, so I sit with the feet on the ground.

Twenty minutes into the average meeting, I’m in hell. I have to hold back the overwhelming urge to tap my feet or tap the table with my fingers. If a meeting lasts more than an hour, sitting there starts to get physically painful.

I can never sit at the kitchen table for long, either. I tend to eat fast and then get up and do other things. Duncan has a similar problem.

In the grand scheme of things, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. I live with it well enough, and nobody hassles me over it.

But next time you walk by my desk and wonder why I’m sitting the way I do, that’s why.

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New Website for “Machine Man”

The producers of “Machine Man,” a film about a man battling OCD, have relaunched their website, which includes an excellent forum where people can share art, writing and music that reflects their personal experiences.

Tonight I had the honor of speaking to Kellie Madison, the writer, director and producer of the film. She had sent me a message with her phone number, asking me to call. She urged me to sign up for the forum, and I just did. Exciting stuff.

Kellie is funding this film in a grassroots manner to keep the content free of the typical Hollywood bullshit treatment. The more she can raise from people like us, the sooner the film will come out.

So if you can, help her out. We’re all financially strapped, including me. It’s a bad time to ask people to give to a cause. But I ask anyway, because I want to do my part.

Here’s a press release describing the film and Kellie’s approach:

Veteran Female filmmaker Kellie Madison tackles obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) with narrative feature film; Kicks off never-been-done-before grassroots campaign to raise awareness and funding

For Immediate Release

FEMALE FILMMAKER TACKLES OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER (OCD) WITH NARRATIVE FEATURE FILM

Writer / Producer / Director Kellie Madison Kicks Off Never-Been-Done-Before Grassroots Campaign to Raise Awareness and Funding

(HOLLYWOOD, CA) – Donald Trump. Howie Mandel. Howard Stern. Each of these men is among the most influential public figures of the world. Yet, most wouldn’t imagine that these powerful people all share a common mental disorder. They, along with millions of others around the globe, suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), a neurobiological anxiety disorder characterized by intrusive thoughts (obsessions) and a need to perform repetitive and ritualistic behaviors (compulsions). One in 50 adults currently battle with obsessive and compulsive behavior. One in 25 has dealt with the disorder at some point in their lives.

Just as “Rain Main” brought worldwide awareness to autism and “Children of a Lesser God” eloquently dramatized the trials and tribulations of the hearing impaired, Kellie Madison brings us a narrative film that illuminates the debilitating struggle that millions of people who suffer from OCD go through on a daily basis. “Machine Man,” chronicles the spirited tale of an average man, who struggles with an extraordinary problem, facing his most debilitating fear in order to save the woman he loves.

Far too often, people with OCD suffer in silence because of the shame and stigma associated with this disorder.  Some don’t even recognize what they’re suffering from and are terrified to leave their homes.

To date, a film that addresses the daily debilitating fears associated with OCD has yet to be produced. Film is one of themost powerful mediums for conveying messages to audiences around the world. A feature like “Machine Man” can and will create empathy and awareness for those suffering with OCD. This will ultimately affect change by helping people recognize their disorder and subsequently seek proper treatment.

It takes more than a great script and great talent to get a film off the ground.  It takes funding.  Madison is using her passion for the project to attempt a filming feat no Producer has yet to achieve: raising the entire $2,000,000 budget of the film through philanthropic support from the local community. We need YOUR help in spreading the word.  This grassroots campaign is a unique, ambitious and worthwhile endeavor.  Depending on the level of support, all participants will be rewarded, including the opportunity for a role in the film.  Additionally, partial proceeds will go to the International OCD Foundation.

Kellie Madison, as well as experts from around the country are on board and available for interviews. We would appreciate your help and the opportunity to spread the word about this amazing project.

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The Agony of Awards

This will seem strange to some of you, maybe even ungrateful and insulting — but lately I’m looking at some of my old writing awards with disdain.

I should be proud of those awards. I earned them.

But every time I look at them, it’s another reminder of just how fucked up I used to be. We need reminders so we don’t repeat the same mistakes, but some memories are best left in the trash can.

One of those awards was for my coverage of the RSA security conference in 2005. When I think of just how brutal that experience was, the award becomes less of a prize.

At the last job, there was an annual award ceremony called the Bull’s-Eye Awards. They’d have a nice dinner and after the awards were handed out there would be karaoke, talent shows and the like.

I would practically lose my mind obsessing about the awards in the month leading up to the ceremony. It was a stupid thing to do, but that’s where my head was at five years ago.

I got my one or two awards each year, but the glow was always short lived. The pressure would be on to top it next year.

My perspective has changed.

I won’t lie: Getting awards today doesn’t suck. I have one in my office from my current job and I’m proud of it. I’m proud of it because I wasn’t trying to earn it. I was just doing my job and enjoying it. I wasn’t obsessed about pleasing my masters. I just did what felt right. That made winning it a lot sweeter.

But the bigger point is that I really don’t care about awards anymore. If I get them then great. But I’m never again working myself into a stupor over trying to win one.

It’s just not worth it for pieces of glass and plastic.

I recently thought of breaking the awards from the last job as a sort of exorcism. I decided that would be immature and foolish. In the end, whatever my emotions were back then, they gave me those awards because they liked my work. They didn’t have to do that.

And despite my frame of mind back then, the folks at TechTarget were always good to me. The job I’m in now is so much better, but part of it is my own change in attitude.

So the awards will stay where they are, on the side table of my work area at home.

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When The Grass is Greener on Your Side

I had an eventful trip to the therapist this morning. I had a migraine and was trying hard not to puke all over his nice blue carpet. There was couple’s counseling going on in the office next door, and the walls seemed awfully thin.

You could hear pretty much everything, including the wife going into a rage at her husband. Their therapist seemed to be making a valiant effort to hold it all together.

My therapist was uneasy about the whole thing. I think he was annoyed that it was distracting us and it was none of our business, though we couldn’t avoid hearing it.

But for some reason a warm feeling came over me, despite my head feeling like it had a knife lodged in it.

I felt bad for the people next door, and I’ve seen friends’ marriages fall apart lately, which hurts a lot.

But for all my challenges and quirks, I wasn’t having to do the kind of appointment that went on next door.

Marriage is work. Always will be. But I love my wife more and more every day. She’s built a business from nothing. She stays true to her Faith. She’s a super mom. She’s been tolerating my shit for many years. I’m proud of her. And we make a point to talk things out instead of letting things slide.

So in the therapist’s office, listening to the dysfunction next door, I was feeling like the grass is greener on my side of the street, despite some of my more recent struggles.

I’ve been going several weeks between appointments the last year. But this has been a rough winter.

I’ll be making weekly visits for a while.

And that’s fine with me, because I’ve done enough therapy to know it works if you keep at it.

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We Need Routines, Part 2

Here’s one reason February has been such a bitch: My routine has been so far off the rails that it has been hard to keep my perspective. It hurts the whole family-work dynamic. For a person in recovery, routines are beyond huge.

Mood music:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6YzKLRM-pr4&fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0]

Being the restless, boredom-shunning soul that I am, I always look forward to the next trip. I always miss my wife and children during these outings, but it’s also good to get out of the normal environment from time to time. It tests you and can even rejuvenate. I’ve also learned that recovery is portable. You can take your program just about anywhere. I’ve also learned that God is with me wherever I go, and that makes it much easier to approach life in a fearless way.

Here’s the problem: Do too much of this sort of thing and you hurt yourself and those around you. That’s exactly what I did in late January and the first half of February. I went to Washington and San Francisco within a two week period and came home violently ill. Served me right, but my family didn’t deserve having to carry on while I was passed out on the couch.

I thought I had the groove of a traveling man down pat, but I was being stupid.

Last week was a lost week of sorts. I was home a lot with my family, but mentally I was pretty vacant.

But it’s a new week. I’m in the office doing routine things. This afternoon I’ll go home and do more routine things. And I’ll be happy doing it.

I started on the path back to sanity yesterday by going to Mass. Driving there in a snowstorm wasn’t sane, mind you. But by the time Mass was over I felt so happy to be back. When you travel and focus on work too much, God gets the shaft, too.

That point was driven home to me when I did another routine thing last night and went to a 12-Step study meeting.

The main topic was fear and the things addicts do because of it. People discussed how their fears — over being accepted, over an abusive, drunken spouse, over work — made them drink, drug and binge eat. I sat there silent because I’m still too early in the Big Book-study process to share at these meetings, but I had a different, stranger take on fear than the rest of the room. I’ve lived in their brand of fear, to be sure.

My problem of late has more to do with the collateral damage caused when you lose the fear that held you back. You get a big lust for life, which may sound all well and good until you realize it’s just another extreme way of living.

Extremes are like absolutes: Both have caution signs plastered all over them. You go too far in one direction and neglect other, important parts of your existence.

I’ve always been a man of extremes. I’m either badly depressed like I was last week, shut off from the rest of the world, seeing only the calamities, or I’m ON — working, playing and grabbing on to every activity I only think I can handle at the time.

The middle speed in my engine rarely works right. It’s either all or nothing, and that’s a problem that may well plague me for the rest of my life.

But I’m not giving up without a fight.

This much I know: I’m always closest to the middle gear when I follow a rigid routine. That includes three weighed-out meals sans flour and sugar, an early bedtime because I rise early, at least two 12-Step meetings a week, regular check-ins with my sponsor, regular visits to the therapist, and daily prayer. It should also include time set aside after work to catch up with my wife and kids.

This is the stuff I need to work on, and I don’t tell you all this in a search for sympathy. We all have issues to work on every day. We all have our good days and bad days. I’m nothing special. I just happen to have a blog where I can process this stuff aloud. 

The blog has become another important part of my routine.

But my use of it can become unbalanced, too.

This is just one of the crosses I carry.

But 10 of my crosses are absolutely nothing compared the Cross Jesus carried. I just forget from time to time.

Some of you think that kind of talk is nonsense.

Nobody’s perfect.