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Learning to Deal with the Pressure

Update 6/25/20:  When I wrote this, I had no clue about the stresses and curve balls still to come. I aged a lot in the 5 years that followed, but through fire and error, I remain standing.

Baseball has never been my thing, but I’m learning to deal with the big curve balls that keep coming my way.

Mood music:

Last year, before my father’s health went into its final descent, he asked me to help him with his unfinished business interests. Since his death, the task has been something close to a second full-time job.

I’m now in charge of cleaning up and selling the building that housed the family business. The work needed on the property is extensive and expensive. There are additional plots of land I’m responsible for selling, and there are accounts I have to manage responsibly — all while doing the best work I can in my real career as a writer in the information security industry. Work days are frequently interrupted with phone calls from lawyers, financial advisors, and real-estate people. And then there are bills to pay to keep the building standing.

Business is not my background and I never wanted this additional work. Life was already full and busy. I didn’t think I was up to the task because of my limited knowledge about real estate, investments and all the people that come with it. I was scared, frankly.

I was worried about mismanaging the family legacy. I was worried it would make me more absent as a father and husband. I was worried that my real job would suffer.

It’s still a major stress in my life and will be for years to come. But along the way something has happened: I’ve learned to carry the load and am even willing to contemplate the possibility that I’m getting good at this.

To my astonishment, I’ve still been able to give my real job 100 percent. And with the family business legacy tasks, I finally feel like I’m in full command. Though I want to punch my fist through walls many days, I’m glad I took this on. I’ve learned a ton, and the knowledge will be valuable going forward.

I think I’ve been able to do all this without neglecting my wife and kids. I certainly hope so. My faith has sustained me. Many awesome friends have helped me along, too. And the members of my household have been extremely patient. I’m grateful for that.

My coping tools have helped, though I admit there are days I forget to use them.

That’s how life works. Curve balls come our way and we either learn to catch them or get slammed in the face. I’ve taken a few blows to the head along the way, but I’m learning to play the game.

Brenner Party Store and Shoe Barn

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OCD: A Researcher’s Best Friend

For all its insidious characteristics, OCD has it’s pluses. For me, one advantage is that when I grow obsessed about something, I research it to the ends of the Earth.

Mood music:

There’s the musical obsession: I’m currently locked on to all things related to Brian Wilson and The Beach Boys. An obsession with the likes of Van Halen, Ozzy, Led Zeppelin, The Doors and more led me to devour every book and album having to do with them.

As a result, I can tell you the names of each album in chronological order, the year they were released and, in numerical order, the track listings. I can tell you about the highs and lows of these musical acts and the stories behind the songs, because I’ve inhaled one book and documentary after another.

There’s my obsession with criminal history. I’ve read just about every book about the Manson murders, Whitey Bulger’s reign of terror in Boston and the Amityville murders. I’ve seen scores of documentaries about each and recite the dates of the murders, names of prosecutors and defense attorneys and names of victims.

That obsession has also led me to visit the crime scenes of the Tate-LaBianca murders and the Bulger killings and the Amityville house.

My broader obsession with history has led me to read pretty much everything about the Roosevelts, Abraham Lincoln, the White House and Boston’s past. I’ve been to Roosevelt homes in Hyde Park, NY, and on Campobello Island, and I’ve been inside the West Wing of the White House and seen the spot at Ford’s Theater where Lincoln was shot, as well as the room across the street where he died.

One might consider this a lot of useless information, but I don’t think so. In my work and personal life, I’ve been able to apply what I’ve learned about many of these things. And, if nothing else, the research has been fun.

Researching the idle curiosities has given me skills that come in handy with work research.

It all goes to show that if you can bring the destructive side of your mental disorder to heel, what’s left can be a gift.

Brain Sponge

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In InfoSec, Fear Shouldn’t Be a Barrier

As some of you know, I’ve been deliberately signing up for uncomfortable, even scary tasks at work. Not scary in the grand scheme of normal life, but they are things a guy with a journalistic background doesn’t come to easily.

This time I’m managing an incident management schedule. Managing schedules in any form is something I suck at, so it’s appropriate that this responsibility has crashed into my wheelhouse.

Mood music:

Truth be told, I didn’t take this job for the specific purpose of facing fears. I’m nuts, but not to that extreme.

But I did want to be part of a security team instead of merely writing about what other people do. To do that, getting outside my comfort zone was inevitable. It’s something I wouldn’t have done 15 years ago.

People in my industry assume I know how to conduct a penetration test, process software vulnerabilities and manage compliance operations. Truth is, I know how to write about this stuff, but I’ve never actually done these things. I never claimed that I had, but since my writing has veered unashamedly toward the side of security advocacy, I can see where people might make the assumption.

What I’m learning so far counts as baby steps.

In recent months, I’ve attended a training session on how to be an threat incident response manager and processed my first three vulnerabilities. I still can’t say I know what I’m doing, and I expect to screw up plenty when my time comes to jump into the fire. But the mechanics aren’t so alien to me now, and that’s a quantum leap.

A few years ago, the terror of the unknown and fear of failure would have kept me from doing any of this stuff. Training can seem like routine to some folks, but when you live with things like fear, anxiety, depression and OCD, the wall to climb looks much higher than it really is.

That’s not to say I’m going about all these things in a carefree manner. I still have my episodes of self-doubt. I still experience stress when thinking about how best to manage the new skills in tandem with the editorial and writing skills that encompass 90 percent of my job.

But unlike the old me, I know I can do it. I’m at peace with the mistakes I know I’ll make. I’m prepared to be the guy people talk about in meetings when the subject turns to who fucked what up during an incident. These days, I can show up.

All this training a gift. So is the fact that I can accept the gift. And even though mistakes are inevitable, I can accept that as part of the learning process.

feet standing on hot coals“Walking on Hot Coals” from the Wallpaper Converter site.

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A Plot Twist to Cure a Bad Mood

This old bastard woke up angry this morning. For two hours, I’ve wanted to punch objects and shout at people. I’ve done neither, but I still suck to be around right now. The rest of the day need not be this way.

I keep thinking of a post I wrote a while back about life’s plot twists and the lessons therein. When problems arise, embrace them, I said at the time. Roll with the punches. Catch the curve balls. Clichés like that.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/irskrVvKR1E

It’s good advice for someone like me, whose OCD makes schedule changes seem like calamities. But in that context, plot twists are all the inconvenient, annoying and bad things that throw the best-laid plans into turmoil. I woke up in turmoil, so I’m looking for some reverse plot twists: unexpected developments that convert a shitty day into an excellent one.

It’s happened before. There was the day a bad commute got under my skin and I thought the rest of the day would rot my soul. Then I found out I was getting a promotion and a raise.

There have been times when a movie I wanted to see was sold out and, though pissed, I got tickets for another film that turned out to be glorious.

There have been days I thought I’d crumble under the weight of an overpacked schedule. Then a series of cancellations made it all better.

It’s only 7:30 a.m. as I write this, so there’s plenty of time for this day to be salvaged.

Meantime, I’m going to sit in my cube, drink coffee and listen to The Stooges. Approach with caution.

Middle Finger Mushroom Cloud

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‘Dude, You Are Pathetic’

I don’t always respond to readers who call me names in the comments section, but sometimes it’s necessary.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:0xfaolnQFiBRZLff8vvkUK]

When I wrote a post the other day about being released from mental therapy, a guy named Jerry had this to say:

Dude you are pathetic. Be a man, work out your issues outside, or in the gym. Talk to your friends and family. You don’t NEED anything, you just tell yourself you do.

Now, I don’t care that he called me pathetic. After 20 years as a journalist, I have pretty thick skin. I also don’t feel the need to repeatedly justify why I write about these things.

But I see his comment as an insult to anyone who struggles to overcome the demons that hold them back.

So I’ll just say this to you, Jerry:

I agree that people need to talk over their challenges with friends and family. If not for that outlet, I wouldn’t be here. I also agree on the value of the outdoors and the gym as both a physical and mental strengthener.

But mental disorders often require the intervention of a medical professional. In this case, a therapist. If a person’s brain chemistry is off and signals don’t move back and forth properly, venting to a friend or demolishing a punching bag in the gym will help. But it won’t fix the brain chemistry problem, and the person will continue to suffer.

Pathetic? Hardly. It takes courage for someone to admit they need help and then go get it.

If that concept is hard for you to accept, leave this blog behind. I’m sure there are plenty of more manly blogs out there for you to enjoy.

weight-lifting-brain

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Starting Over

In a lot of ways, I feel like I’ve been starting everything over this past week. Not in big, drastic ways, but in little ways that will hopefully add up to something good.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:3IRovqSVYx3CNtDWRebsET]

There’s the afternoon tea I’ve been drinking instead of Red Bull and more coffee. There’s the meditation and yoga. And there’s the significant tightening of my food plan.

What’s the reason for all this?

I attribute some of it to the mindfulness-based stress reduction course I’m taking. I’m not sure it’s gotten me to the point of a sharper attention span and ability to live every minute in the moment, but the tools I’m learning are designed to get me there eventually.

The food clean-up is more about getting back on the horse after months adrift in the Overeater’s Anonymous wilderness. I never slipped back into the pattern of binge eating, but I was certainly getting sloppy. I was using way too much cheese for protein. On the last shopping trip I stocked up on salmon to use instead. Erin asked if this was my latest obsession. It’s really just me getting back to basics. I still haven’t returned to the OA meetings or gotten a sponsor, but one thing at a time.

My return to guitar playing has definitely been a factor. When I play I’m right in the moment, where I should be. I realized I play better when drinking tea than when drinking coffee. The chords are steadier and cleaner when I’m not on coffee overload. Another example of one good habit leading to another.

It’s fitting that all this is happening in the autumn. It’s usually the time of year when my mood and grip on life start to slip. Making changes this time of the year is turning out to be a powerful thing.

It’s also fitting because autumn four years ago was when I first decided my worst addictions had to stop owning me. That’s when I kicked flour and sugar and started weighing out my food. A year later I was done with alcohol.

Temptations still come and go. But the key is to take it a day at a time and get back on the horse when you fall off.

That’s what I’m learning, anyway. Hopefully, all of this will continue.

Reset Button

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I Wish Hard Rock Stations Had More Class

It’s not easy being a rock ’n’ roll fanatic some days, especially when it comes to the choices I have on the radio dial. Oh, don’t get me wrong: The Boston area has plenty of great stations, especially RadioBDC and Rock 101 in Southern New Hampshire.

But some radio stations, in the Boston market and beyond, that play my kind of music have to ruin it by appealing to the lowest common denominator.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:0pbEg5765Mvvalwn5E6ZWN]

It’s always been this way, of course, and once upon a time I didn’t mind. One of my local stations, WAAF, has cranked up a humor based on sexual crassness for as long as I can remember. Hell, this is the station that brought us shock jocks Opie and Anthony. They shocked Boston until April 1998 they told their listeners as an April Fools’ prank that Boston Mayor Tom Menino was killed in a car accident while transporting a young female Haitian prostitute. In more recent years, I’ve tuned in to hear women on the morning show being asked about the shape of their vaginas.

As a 20 year old, I loved this stuff. But somewhere along the way I grew up, and my radio stations didn’t. (The RadioBDC DJs, formerly of WFNX, have always been more mature in this regard.)

It’s a drag for two reasons:

  • I can’t listen when my kids are in the car, which is most of the time.
  • Thanks to the Internet and, more specifically, Facebook, I have to see a lot of meathead comments from WAAF and its followers. This morning, for example, WAAF posted these comments above pictures of the women they talk about:
    • “Here’s math teacher Iowa Ashley Nicole Anderson who allegedly had relationships with FOUR different students! Would you??”
    • “Here’s Mandy Caruso, the cosplayer dressed as “Black Cat” who was upset about being sexually harrassed at NY ComicCon.”

The comments to the latter post have a few mature comments, but most of them are abusive name-calling. One jerk calls her a “cumdumpster” and someone else asks, “What does she expect when she looks like that?” Forget that these women are human beings, prone to all the mistakes we’re all prone to. The woman in the latter case did nothing wrong. She was at a comic book convention and was in costume. That doesn’t give some asshat the right to ask about her cup size.

I’m no prude. I do come from Revere, after all, and have been known to swear like a sailor. When my sons let the bathroom humor flow, I admit I laugh inside even as I’m scolding them.

But there are lines I’ve decided not to cross anymore. I want my rock ’n’ roll delivered to me by DJs whose thinking and sense of humor are something above the Stone Age stuff.

I’ve unliked the WAAF Facebook page and don’t plan to listen to the station again anytime soon.

Thankfully, I have RadioBDC and, when I want to cut out all the talking, Spotify.