The OCD Diaries

September 4, 2014

Opinions Are Like Assholes, Especially on Facebook

There’s an old saying that opinions are like assholes: everyone has one. Nothing amplifies the point like a typical day on Facebook, Twitter and other forms of social media.

Mood music:

The scenario typically unfolds in five steps:

Someone posts a status update with emotion. It can be anger over personal situations (they stubbed a toe), sports (their favored team lost), politics, etc. Or it can be something whimsical or nostalgic, like marveling at how fast time moves.
Someone reads more into said post than what may have been intended. This annoys or angers them.
They put an annoyed comment under the status update. “Stop whining and accept life,” for example.
Three or more bystanders see the comment and get upset.
They make a comment about the comment.

Achievement unlocked: a full-throated Facebook drama.

I’ve received my fair share of emotional comments, negative and positive, over the years. I’m fine with that, because as a writer I know my strong opinion will be met with another strong opinion. I even welcome it, because passionate discussion can make us all wiser.

That is, until people get mean. Telling someone to fuck off or go kill themselves if they don’t like life’s curve balls is a pretty good example of that. Name calling also fall into this category.

When someone goes there, I shut them down. I ignore them and move on, because once someone goes there, nothing good is going to come of it.

But the drama isn’t always that cut-and-dried.

Sometimes, good people misinterpret other people’s posts and say regrettable things before thinking it through. This is usually because you can’t read a person’s intent online the same way you can when face to face. I’ve seen good people who love each other get mean on Facebook for this simple reason.

It’s unfortunate.

The online world is not same as the real world. We’ve had thousands of years to learn how to talk to each other in person, and we’re still a long way from mastering the art of personal communication.

We’ve had far less time to learn how to talk to each other online, which means we still pretty much suck at it.

I’m not going to tell people what to post or how to react to someone else’s posts. I’m still far too amateur at this to do that.

I will, however, suggest that we stop and think before diving in to the comments section.

If we pause first or seek clarification of what someone’s status update means, we may avoid some of the online drama that’s become commonplace.

We may all be happier as a result.

September 3, 2014

5 Things I’ve Done That Scare Me

A while back I wrote a post celebrating Eleanor Roosevelt’s call to “do something every day that scares you.” Rereading that post recently, I realized I forgot something important.

Mood music:

I forgot to mention how I’m living that advice and not simply parroting it to be cool. If this blog is to mean anything, I have to lead by example, though not in the ways you may be thinking of.

I’m not about to skydive from an airplane, though some day I just might. I’m not going to ride a wild horse, though that might be a neat exercise in facing fear. But not today.

Instead, I’ve been doing the more mundane things that scare me all the same. To some people they may seem like trivial accomplishments. But to me they’re significant, because I faced down fear.

During DEF CON last month, I waited in big lines and walked with big crowds despite both being major OCD triggers. I managed just fine.
Despite swearing I’d never take Prednisone again, I took a leap of faith and accepted the prescription to cool a battered back.
Despite that back pain, I managed to drive a hitched trailer home from an already painful camping trip. I’m always nervous driving the truck when the camper is attached. Doing it in pain was a rougher deal. But I couldn’t think of a reason not to. I was going to be in pain anyway.
Despite huge fears of not measuring up at work, I postponed an important video shoot so I could put my health back in order. That was scary as hell, because I had thrown a lot of time and energy into meeting a deadline.
I agreed to be a trustee for my father’s realty trust, opening me up to financial tasks and decision making that are way outside my comfort zone.

Again, seemingly small actions. But these are the things that scare me, and I didn’t run away.

Tarantula walking in man's hands

September 2, 2014

Trying to Make Peace with Prednisone

I’ve been on Prednisone for five days now, and the side effects are kicking in. My appetite has gone from zero to 100, and my moodiness is considerable.

Mood music:

But the drug is doing its work, easing my back pain from shooting, piercing spasms to a more manageable dull ache. Now I remember why they used to put me on this shit for Crohn’s Disease.

When it comes to putting the freeze on inflamed muscles and bone, it gets the job done.

Still, I wonder if the inflammation could have been dealt with using a different medication — something that won’t inflame my mood and puff up my face.

When the doctor said he was prescribing Prednisone, I let out a groan.

“What?” he asked, annoyed that I might be questioning his almighty judgement.

“Prednisone and I have a history,” I told him. “During the Crohn’s attacks …”

“But this is a low dosage, and it’s only for 14 days,” he said, using a tone one uses when addressing idiots.

This doctor is an arrogant bastard. I hope he knows what he’s doing. He’s a new doctor, so I won’t give up on him yet.

This back injury has been hard. I have to lie down and watch the world pass by, which isn’t how I prefer to operate. It’s been so bad that I’m willing to take my chances with a drug I said I’d never take again.

For now, I’m focusing on the positives:

It’s not the maximum dosage I used to take — eight pills a day in all.
It is only for another week or so. It used to take weeks just to be weaned off of it.
I’m hungry, but I haven’t fallen into any titanic binges yet.
I can sit up, lie down and stand up again, which I couldn’t do a week ago.

But still I worry. I will until this prescription’s time is up.

Stay tuned.

Red skull and crossbones on a patch of white pills

August 26, 2014

A Back-Breaking Plot Twist

Awhile back, I wrote about learning to roll with the unexpected punches life hurls at you. I called those occasions plot twists. Yesterday I got one hell of a plot twist, and at first I had trouble following my own advice.

Mood music:

The back injury I wrote about yesterday is much worse than I thought. I went to the chiropractor, figuring he’d fix me and I’d be on my way, even though I’d reached the point where I couldn’t do anything without waves of agony coursing through me. After trying to get me to lift my feet and get off the table unassisted, the chiropractor — who loathes the idea of people taking pain killers for their back — ordered me to do just that.

I went to my primary care doctor, who confirmed the extent of my injury and put me on Vicodin, Flexeril and my old enemy, Prednisone. (Expect a follow-up post on how I deal with being back on that drug, which I like to refer to as Satan’s Tic Tacs.)

Now I have to spend the next several days on the couch, except for daily visits to the chiropractor. My family has to pick up all the tasks I usually do, which I find upsetting. I had to postpone some video shoots at work that I’ve been throwing my soul into preparing. The week isn’t going to go as planned.

So how do I deal with this plot twist?

My wife and boss made the first party easy for me. They both ordered me to scrub work for the week, and assured me that postponing my project wasn’t the end of the world.

The drugs are already helping in that I can be a bit more comfortable, even if I hate taking them.

And I’m getting a lot of kind words from friends and family, which always lifts the spirits.

So I’m going away for a few days. But I’ll be back, in full force.

Be good to yourselves and each other while I’m on the sidelines.

August 25, 2014

I Forgot About Back Pain Depression

After eight years of life without any significant back pain, I’d forgotten how threatening an injury can be to one’s mental health.

This past week and a half, I’ve gotten all too clear of a reminder.

Mood music:

A couple Fridays ago, I twisted my tailbone out of joint while plugging in a power cord. It has never the heavy lifting for me that’s caused injury; it’s always been the quick, careless movements.

I spent that first weekend out of commission, but my spirits were good because I figured all would be better by Monday. Then I got to Monday and the pain seemed worse. A visit to the chiropractor had me feeling much better. Then, on Tuesday, I drove 90 minutes north for a camping trip. I’ve been walking crooked and slow ever since.

Saturday night, wave after wave of spasms kept me awake and in agony.

As I write this I’m back home and feeling a bit better about my ability to address the pain. I have another chiropractor appointment today, and I suspect I’ll be going for follow-up visits for the rest of the week before I’m back to normal.

I have to admit: My attitude has tanked because of all this.

Erin and the kids have had to pick up all the chores I usually do, which makes me feel badly. The biggest torment for me is a feeling of uselessness, and I’ve been pretty useless, though I’m very grateful to Erin and the children for picking up the slack without complaint.

I’ve been more short-tempered with people than usual, and that makes me feel badly, too.

The build-up of bad feelings inevitably leads to depression for me, and here it is. I’m not feeling doomed, and I’m sure as hell not feeling hopeless. I know this too shall pass, and the experience reminds me of how lucky I am to have full mobility most of the time.

When I can’t get off a couch, bed or chair, I can’t help but think of people who are permanently disabled. I can’t help but feel for my father, who has been left partially blind and in need of a walker after a series of strokes and heart attacks.

I’ll get to the chiropractor and get this fixed. I’ll also resume routine appointments to keep the back in check.

The black cloud currently over my head will lift.

But I’m reminded of how fragile the body and spirit can be. I’m sure I’ll appreciate the reminder in the long run.

For now, I’m just ready to get past this.

Skeleton with lower back pain highlighted

August 23, 2014

“Crazy Mike” Lives

A couple years ago I wrote some posts criticizing fellow Haverhill residents for making fun of a mentally ill man — Crazy Mike, as he is unfortunately known.

Some jerks created a Facebook page dedicated to making fun of the man, whose real name is Michael Nicoloro, which was taken down after a wave of complaints.

Mood Music:

There’s been a lot of debate and speculation regarding Mike’s mental state and how he got that way, some saying it was from his experiences while serving in Vietnam. Others claimed that he’s not in fact a veteran and that he simply chooses to live the way he does.

Most recently, many have speculated that Mike had died.

I knew something was up when traffic for my posts about him shot through the ceiling.

I got in touch with members of his family, and his apparent death was news to them.

Despite any official obituary or other confirmation, the rumors persisted.

With that came more comments to my personal email about how I was an asshole for defending him and buying into the so-called lie that he was a veteran mentally scarred by what he saw.

Whether or not he’s a veteran is beside the point, but more on that in a second.

A trusted source told me he saw Mike this week in Central Square. He’s perfectly alive, so the death rumors can stop now.

My source believes Mike was off getting a 90-day evaluation. Whether that’s true or what for I don’t know.

Now, back to all the trash talk about his military status:

His relatives have confirmed that he was in Vietnam and that he came back with the scars of war. I’m more inclined to believe his relatives.

But as I said, it’s beside the point.

He’s mentally ill. Regardless of how he got that way, people have to be jerks to make fun of him.

We all have some baggage weighing down our souls. But instead of addressing our own issues, we judge other people.

Can an encounter with Mike be unsettling? Sure. Should he be kept off the streets? Not unless he has broken the law or hurt someone. I know of no evidence that he’s done that.

I do know for a fact that people have gone out of their way to bully him and set him off.

I’m glad he lives, and I wish him peace.

Now leave him alone.

August 15, 2014

Suicide Is Not a Rational Act

As this week has gone on, we’ve seen discussion continue about suicide and depression as more details about Robin Williams‘ death are made public.

Two conversations in particular highlight an important fact.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/ATsP7WlZ7i4

The first is a comment someone made regarding my post on Shepard Smith calling Williams’ suicide a cowardly act. Bert Knabe wote:

Looking at his words, I don’t think [Smith] was calling Williams a coward, he was saying one of those two things happens and you kill yourself. He’s probably right. In some cases it probably is a cowardly act – but those aren’t depression suicides. Those are ‘death is better than facing the consequences’ suicides – like when people leapt out of windows because of the stock market crash in 1929. Most of those are spur of the moment reactions without thought.

That’s an important point. There are spur-of-the-moment suicides instigated by shock and fear so intense that they overwhelm the person. There’s an inability to see life on the other side of the fresh calamity, 1929 being a pretty good example.

Suicide that comes at the end of a long struggle with depression is different. The depression is like a cancer, eating away at the sufferers mental ability to process information and confront realities for what they are and simply sucking the life force out of them.

In my opinion, both cases deal with people who no longer have the ability to think and act rationally. Their tether to reality is sliced away.

Need to talk? Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:
1-800-273-8255
You can talk to a trained counselor 24/7.

The other conversation started with something KISS bassist Gene Simmons said about depression. Simmons made this ridiculous comment:

For a putz 20-year-old kid to say, ‘I’m depressed. I live in Seattle.’ F– you, then kill yourself. I never understand, because I always call them on their bluff. I’m the guy who says ‘Jump’ when there’s a guy on top of a building who says, ‘That’s it, I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to jump.’ Are you kidding? Why are you announcing it. Shut the f— up, have some dignity and jump! You’ve got the crowd. By the way, you walk up to the same guy on a ledge who threatens to jump and put a gun to his head, ‘I’m going to blow your f—in’ head off.’ He’ll go, ‘Please don’t.’ It’s true. He’s not that insane.

Mötley Crüe/SIXX AM bassist Nikki Sixx responded with his own story of addiction and depression:

It’s pretty moronic because [Gene] thinks everybody listens to him, that he is the god of thunder. He will tell you he is the greatest man on earth, and to be honest with you, I like Gene. But in this situation, I don’t like Gene. I don’t like Gene’s words, because … there is a 20-year-old kid out there who is a KISS fan and reads this and goes, ‘You know what? He’s right. I should just kill myself.’

Good on you, Nikki.

I like KISS and have a lot of respect for you, Gene. But all too often, you’re an asshole.

Suicide isn’t a rational choice, but that doesn’t mean we should give up on people who are suicidal.

Nikki Sixx and Gene Simmons

August 14, 2014

A (Small) Defense of Shepard Smith

A lot of people are incensed with Fox News anchor Shepard Smith, who suggested Robin Williams was a coward for killing himself this week.

My first instinct was to call him out for being an idiot, an enabler of insensitive motormouths uninterested in learning about how depression really ticks. But I’m going to take the road less expected.

I’m going to defend the guy a little bit.

Mood music:

First, let me clarify three things:

I hate Fox News. It’s not a political thing. I hate CNN and MSNBC, too. These networks are more interested in infotainment than enlightenment. Most of the anchors say poorly thought-out things on a daily basis, and no one bats an eye.
I’m a fierce advocate for breaking the stigma and misunderstandings around depression. I’ve lived through it. I’ve watched friends die from it. If you think suicide is cowardly, you have absolutely no idea how the depressed mind works. It doesn’t make you an asshole. It just makes you uninformed. Unless you do know how the depressed mind works and you still think it’s a cowardly move. Then you’re an asshole.
I consider Robin Williams a hero. It saddens me that depression got the better of him, but his acting roles have done more to enhance understanding of the human condition than myriad research studies that have been done over the years. Tragic? Yes. Cowardly? No.

That said, Smith was stupid to call Williams a coward. But I don’t think he meant it that way in his heart. I watched a playback and read the transcript, and I think he fell into the trap many TV personalities fall into when speaking off the cuff. A lousy word choice dropped from his lips. If he weren’t live on air and had had the time to consider his words, I doubt coward is the word he would have chosen.

His actual words:

It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? You could love three little things [Williams’ children] so much, watch them grow, and they’re in their mid-20s and they’re inspiring you and exciting you and they fill you up with a kind of joy you can never have known. Yet something inside you is so horrible, or you’re such a coward, or whatever the reason that you decide have you to end it. Robin Williams, at 63, did that today.

I’ve seen Smith’s work over the years, and while I think he has a tendency to be overly dramatic and excitable, I also think he’s one of the more balanced anchors on a network that is anything but “fair and balanced.” I also noticed the pain in his eyes when reporting Williams’ death. I think the pain was genuine, that he was honestly distressed by the end of such a bright star.

Now that I’ve said all that, maybe Shep will bring some real depression sufferers and survivors onto his show so they can educate us — and him — on what this shit is really about.

screen shot of Fox News anchor Shepard Smith

August 13, 2014

Was Robin Williams Suicide a Selfish Act?

The death of actor Robin Williams has left many in shock, myself included. I can’t imagine a world without his talents, and the nature of his death has brought all my old memories of depression and suicide back into focus.

A couple friends have suggested that Williams committed a selfish act that will ravage his friends and family for years to come. I can see where that line of thinking comes from. After my best friend killed himself in 1996, I felt the same way. I resented and hated him for doing it. But my perspective is different today.

Mood music:

My friend’s suicide and my own struggle with depression over the years compelled me to do a lot of research about what makes the brain tick. One lesson: Those who commit suicide are under such distress that they are essentially severed from reality. Much like an addict feeds the demon because they can’t help it, even though they know they could die, people with severe depression are compelled to throw the kill switch because they are blinded to everything around them. The brain is essentially broken, no longer able to process things as they really are.

I have no idea what Williams was going through in recent months, but I suspect this is what was happening to him.

Need help? Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:
1-800-273-8255
You can talk to a trained counselor 24/7.

Was he selfish for wanting to end it? To the extent that he wanted peace for himself and to escape the noise in his head, yes. Was he selfish to his family and friends for forcing them to deal with the pain his passing will cause? That’s a lot harder to parse.

I don’t think anyone with depression sets out to hurt people and leave them behind. When pain overwhelms and chokes off reason, you tend to lose the ability to see those around you.

I’ve never contemplated suicide, but I’ve been depressed enough that I couldn’t see the people in my presence. They could be there talking to me, but all I’d hear is the wind. The brain completely turns in on itself, causing a destructive, sometimes unstoppable chain reaction.

Only Williams knows what was going through his head at the time of death, so I’m not going to judge.

I’m just going to appreciate the life I have today and live it to the full. That will include the regular enjoyment of all the great movies the actor left behind.

Robin Williams in The Fisher King, one of my favorites among his movies.

August 12, 2014

ALS Ice Bucket Challenge: Dumb Stunt or Change Agent?

Like pretty much everyone else on Facebook, my news feed has been full of videos of friends and relatives dumping a bucket of ice on their heads to raise awareness of ALS and money for research that may one day lead to better treatment.

Some people have suggested this is a useless exercise, something people are doing so friends on Facebook can say, “Wow, look how awesome that person is.”

Is that so?

Mood music:

For some people, probably.

According to one local ALS Association chapter, the challenge calls for people to get doused with buckets of ice water on video, posting that video to social media, and then nominating others to do the same, all to raise ALS awareness. Those who refuse to take the challenge are asked to make a donation to the ALS charity of their choice.

I’m certainly for raising awareness of ALS, a terrible disease that has killed people I know and left families devastated. If people dousing themselves gets others to take it more seriously, I’m for that. I’m for raising money to fight it even more.

And I’ll admit that I enjoy watching friends and relatives doing this on video. It’s harmless fun.

Like all awareness causes, I’d like to see more.

People in these videos say they’re raising awareness, but many of them aren’t talking about the disease itself. Some are, but most are just announcing what they’re doing and dousing themselves.

To make this a more effective exercise, I suggest people throw in some dialogue. Tell us about people you know who have suffered at the hands of ALS. Give us some statistics of how many people are afflicted each year and how many die from it. Shed some light on what the research money is being used for.

Nothing raises awareness like details.

If people are filming themselves performing the stunt instead of donating, then it’s a hollow deed that fuels the argument that there’s some narcissism at work.

In the big picture, though, I think people have their hearts in the right place, and they seem to be getting results.

The ALS Association says it raised $1.35 million nationally from July 29 to August 11. A spokesperson for the association told Fox News they raised $22,000 during the same period in 2013.

So keep dumping the ice on your head. And add some personal stories to your videos to make the tragedy of ALS more real.

UMass leaders take the Ice Bucket challenge. Photo from CBS News UMass Medical School Chancellor Michael Collins and Chair and Professor of Neurology Robert H. Brown Jr., DPhil, MD, accept the Ice Bucket Challenge. Photo from CBS News.