The OCD Diaries

February 11, 2015

The Bright Side of Being Buried Alive

Here in Massachusetts, hell has frozen over. We have six feet of snow on the ground and at least two more snowstorms in the forecast. The kids have had 2-3 snow days a week since late January. Public transportation is at a standstill. Words like “unprecedented” and “historic” keep surfacing.

Mood music (sure, this song is about cocaine, but the title fits):

But I’m here to tell my fellow citizens that it could be worse.

Seriously.

True, winter tends to disagree with me. This is the time of year where seasonal depression typically kicks my ass. I’m usually the last guy to see silver linings in those snow clouds. But really, folks, this could be so much worse. Consider the following:

The storms so far have dumped light, fluffy snow. That means power outages have been minimal. Here in Haverhill, we’ve had power throughout.
Families have gotten a lot of extra quality time this winter. Around here, we’ve enjoyed several movie nights a week instead of the usual one or two. So what if the house is in shambles?
In this day and age, the Internet makes working from home much more feasible. A lot of people still have to trudge through the snow to work. But many of us can work anywhere where there’s an Internet connection.
It’s no longer pitch black at 5 p.m. Longer days will inevitably give way to spring and warmer weather.

We will survive. We will prosper.

And yes, we will cry some more after another two or three feet have fallen.

snowman with sign: I'll be dead soon

January 25, 2015

For Parents With Kids Freaked About Winter Storms

With a blizzard in the New England forecast this week and next month’s 37th anniversary of the Blizzard of 1978, I thought this might be of use:

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/6-WMbP1RcC4

I got a message awhile back from a mom who reads this blog regularly. I’ll keep her anonymous but share some details of the note:

“My son, only 7, has suffered from pretty severe anxieties about weather over the past 3 or so years. It took me forever to figure out what was going on (the doctors couldn’t) and finally found an amazing counselor for him that has given him the tools to deal. But still it is a lot for a little kid.”

Since this one really hits me where I live, I’m going to take a stab at offering something useful. But be warned first that I AM NOT a doctor. It’s also important to note that one person’s perfect solution might make things worse for another individual. What I offer is simply based on my own personal experience and some of what I’ve read from smart people in the medical community.

Tricky stuff, mental illness is.

I do think there’s good news for children who suffer:

1.) Getting the right help early will spare him/her from a lot of pain later on.

2.) Children seem to learn things like coping mechanisms more readily than adults.

3.) If a kid has to deal with any form of mental anguish, anxiety is probably one of the more natural, normal reactions to life. Even the healthiest of children live with a certain level of fear. My kids are healthy boys, mentally and physically, but they still crawl into bed with Mom and Dad in the middle of the night because their minds are spinning with worry over a ghost story they heard in school.

What really resonated with me is that this child gets anxiety over the weather. It’s been nearly 35 years since I watched in fear as the ocean rose up and ripped apart my neighborhood along the northern edge of Revere Beach in Massachusetts during the Blizzard of 1078..

Houses were torn from their foundations. Schoolmates had to stay in hotels for a year or more while their homes were rebuilt. The wind tore the roofing off some of the pavilions lining the beach.

Every winter since then, every nor’easter riding up the coast filled me with anxiety. The TV news doesn’t help. Impending storms are more often than not pitched as the coming apocalypse.

From the late 1970s straight through the 1990s, I’d shake from weather reports mentioning the Blizzard of 1978 with each new storm. As a young adult, I developed a pattern of throwing a blanket over my head and going to sleep. That’s exactly what I did in 1985 when Hurricane Gloria grazed us and, at age 21 in August 1991, when New England took a direct blow from Hurricane Bob.

My step-sister still likes to bring up how, on the morning Hurricane Bob was coming, I came into her room and yelled at her to wake up, telling her, “This aint no (expletive) Gloria.” That was me in OCD mode.

That rough weather scared the heck out of me as a kid, I think, was perfectly normal. Carrying that same fear and anxiety well into adulthood? Probably not so normal.

In more recent years, I’ve overcome that fear, and I actually like a good storm now and again. I love to drive through the snow. And when Washington D.C. got smacked with 30-plus inches of heavy snow in a blizzard in 2010, I gleefully walked the streets as the storm continued to rage.

That’s my long-winded way of saying this 7-year-old probably — hopefully — will grow out of his weather-based anxiety, and hopefully sooner than I did.

I think the best thing his mom can do is talk him through it, explaining that weather changes all the time and we usually get through the rough stuff just fine, even if a tree is blown over.

I’d tell him it’s ok to be concerned about a coming storm, but that the storm always passes and is followed by the sun.

When the TV news starts to hype up a storm, make fun of them for making mountains out of molehills. Sometimes, the hype is warranted, like when Hurricanes Katrina and Andrew came along. The Blizzard of 1978 certainly lived up to the hype. But most of the time, the media exaggerates the importance of a storm, and they deserve to be picked on for it, especially if it makes a little kid feel better.

Now, for those seeking a more scientific, medically-grounded piece of advice on treating childhood anxiety, I once again direct you toward the excellent WebMD site. I did some digging and found some helpful tips, which include the following:

Professional counseling is an important part of the treatment for depression. Types of counseling most often used to treat depression in children and teens are:

Cognitive-behavioral therapy, which helps reduce negative patterns of thinking and encourages positive behaviors.
Interpersonal therapy, which focuses on the child’s relationships with others.
Problem-solving therapy, which helps the child deal with current problems.
Family therapy, which provides a place for the whole family to express fears and concerns and learn new ways of getting along.
Play therapy, which is used with young children or children with developmental delays to help them cope with fears and anxieties. But there is no proof that this type of treatment reduces symptoms of depression.

Hope that helps!

“Blizzard of ’78,” by Norman Gautreau, depicting the devastation of Revere Beach following The Blizzard of 1978:

January 13, 2015

My Problem with “One Day at a Time”

“One day at a time? You wouldn’t believe the crap that swirls around my head one day at a time.”–Anonymous

Recovering addicts have a saying burned into their brains: “one day at a time.” It’s important wisdom to live by. But when the recovering addict has OCD, there’s a big problem.

Mood music:

In the world of 12-step recovery programs, the idea of “one day at a time” is not to be overwhelmed. Instead of trying to get your arms around everything necessary for recovery inside of a week or a month or a year, we subscribe to the idea of just focusing on what we have to do today. Doing this a day at a time makes the clean-up tasks seem a lot less overwhelming.

It’s a good way to be in all aspects of life. Plan for the future, but stay focused in the present.

The problem with an OCD case is that the disorder forces you to do nothing but stew over the future. You look at the next week or the next month and relentlessly play out the potential outcomes.

The first time someone told me to take it a day at a time, my instinct was to punch him in the face. I had a business trip three weeks away to worry about. I had a medical test scheduled for the following month and had all kinds of potentially grim outcomes to worry about.

That’s how guys like me roll.

Still, I decided to give “one day at a time” a chance. I even took a class of mindfulness-based stress reduction to that end.

I learned that it absolutely is the best way to go about life. When I’m able to focus on the present, I’m happy and successful.

But I’ve also learned that it’s hard as hell to pull off. My OCD often reasserts itself and I dive back into long-term worries, which lead to present-day failures.

The whole concept fell to ashes this past autumn as I slipped into one of the deeper depressions I’ve had in a long time. The depression has lifted significantly, but I remain scattered.

This past weekend I was so all over the place that my lapse from mindfulness became too big to overlook, and I find myself looking for ways to get it back. I feel like Bill the Cat from the “Bloom County” comic strip: flopping about and yelling “Ack!”

I played guitar both weekend days, which helped. More daily walks would help, too. It might also do me a world of good to go to confession sometime this month. Emptying the trash that builds up in the soul is a good way to move on.

In a perfect world, I would probably do well to take a refresher course in mindfulness. But this isn’t a perfect world, and there’s no time or money for such an endeavor.

Somewhere in my house is the packet of papers I collected during the mindfulness course. I plan to tear the place apart until I find it.

Stay tuned.

Bill the Cat

January 7, 2015

EddieTheYeti’s Images, My Words: Chapter 1

I’ve been releasing posts as part of a project where I put my feelings to images created by artist and infosec pro Eddie Mize, more popularly known as EddieTheYeti.

The project will continue indefinitely, but here’s a compilation of what’s been done so far. Think of it as chapter 1.

Mood music:

EddieTheYeti: Art as Mental Therapy

I sucked at a lot of things as a kid, but I could draw. It was the one thing that always got me compliments from people who otherwise ridiculed me. Those drawings were an exercise in emotion. A good example of that is the Paul Revere Owl of Rage I wrote about a while back. Writing eventually replaced drawing, though I’ve maintained a life-long appreciation for art that captures emotion. Which brings me to Eddie Mize, also known as EddieTheYeti.

An EddieTheYeti Christmas

Every year, I have trouble finding my Christmas spirit. I’ve written a lot about why that is, and 2014 was no different. But I feel like God is throwing me more clues than usual. One such clue came as I was reviewing some works from Eddie Mize.

Remorse? I Have It

Here’s the thing about remorse: You can’t change what’s in the past. You can let the memories rip you apart, or you can learn from the experiences and invest it in being a better person.

Turning Mental Disorder into a Superpower

Instead of fighting some mental disorders, such as OCD or ADHD, picture yourself accepting and even embracing them. Then learn to use your disorder to your advantage.

Why Can’t They Just Snap Out Of It?

For those who don’t experience or understand depression, it can be hard to understand the duration of someone’s melancholy and why, after a while, they can’t just snap out of it.

Forgiveness: Trash Removal for the Soul

Seeking and giving forgiveness is essential if you want to become a better person. But it’s hard and often seen as a green light for more abuse.

When Anger Was All The Rage

I had a vicious temper when I was younger. To call it a byproduct of OCD, depression and addiction would be pushing it, because I think the temper would have been there even without the mental illness.

Image drawn with Sharpie of man in suit with the top of head exploding
“Relief Valve” by EddieTheYeti

November 13, 2014

Why Can’t They Just Snap Out Of It?

For those who don’t experience or understand depression, it can be hard to understand the duration of someone’s melancholy and why, after a while, they can’t just snap out of it.

I’ve spent a lot of time learning to keep my moods out of the way, carrying on in public like all is normal. But when I’m home, it’s exceptionally difficult to keep up appearances.

No matter how hard I try to “snap out of it,” the fog remains. My family has learned to see it for what it is — an illness that comes and goes and has to be managed. But I know that if I stay in the fog for too long, the whole house suffers.

Mood music:

My ongoing challenge is to minimize the suffering for those around me. I’m better at it than I used to be, but there are still days where I fail. I’m coming out of a particularly severe episode of depression now. I’m playing my guitar again and eating more carefully. But I still feel some numbness of the mind and want to sleep a lot. I’ve probably spent more time dozing on the couch than I have in a long while. That too will pass.

The thing loved ones have to realize is that there’s no such thing as snapping out of it. When melancholy takes hold, it doesn’t like to let go. The sufferer can fight it with therapy appointments, medication and meditation, and they can and usually will come out of it. But it’s a gradual thing. It’s like a storm. You wish it would just end and that the sun would come out, and eventually it does. But sometimes it takes days.

With the depressed mind, it sometimes takes weeks.

I’m not going to tell you to get over it and be patient. That would be as ridiculous as expecting someone to snap out of a depression. It’s frustrating to be around someone who’s miserable. And the depressed person does have a responsibility to do what they can to get healthy.

Sometimes the therapy and medication are enough. Sometimes, getting better requires a hospital stay. Fortunately, I’ve never required hospitalization for my depression, though family members and close friends have. That’s hard on loved ones, too. But at least there’s round-the-clock treatment for the sufferer and a respite for the people at home.

All I can tell you to do is keep the faith.

Godspeed to you and the depressed person in your life.

Observing Despair by EddieTheYeti

“Observing Despair” by EddieTheYeti

November 6, 2014March 29, 2020

5 Stages of Depression: Like Grief, Only Different

I first wrote this in 2014. Amid COVID-19, a lot of us are going to go through bouts of depression. Back then, I found it useful to use the five stages of grief as a reference point for what I was feeling. It helped me get to the other side. May it help you now. It won’t make the depression go away. But it might help you deal with it.

There are plenty of articles out there about the so-called five stages of grief. Based on my experiences in that department, I find the writings mostly accurate and valuable.

I’ve been thinking lately about how there are also stages of depression, not unlike those of grief. Identifying them can help you know where you are and what’s going on. Note: this is not a scientific effort. It is simply based on my own experiences.

Mood music:

Denial and isolation. Things start to go wrong, but you’re not immediately aware of them. Your short-term memory starts to slip, you become disorganized, and you protest when those who love and know you best suggest you may be heading for an episode. You respond by clamming up and ignoring friends when they ask you to have coffee. You spend a lot more time on the couch.
Anger. After one too many days in denial, you start to realize you’re again slipping into depression. This makes you angry, and you start taking it out on those around you. Your self-worth begins to sink, and you start to feel you can’t do anything right. This leads to more anger, self-loathing, and self-pity.
Bargaining. During grief, this is the stage where a person repeatedly goes over the what-ifs: what if the loved one had gotten medical attention sooner, what if you’d recognized the problem for what is was, etc. With depression, the bargaining works a bit differently. You plays the blame game with the world around you. You’re depressed because of work. You’re depressed because of a disagreeable family member. If the depression is really bad, you blame anyone and anything but the disease within your own brain.
Melancholy. With grief, the fourth stage is depression. Within the depression itself, the fourth stage is melancholy, at least in my experience. A deep sadness and hopelessness take hold in your gut after too many successive days of feeling like shit. It becomes hard to do most basic daily tasks.
Acceptance After a while, you realize you have a few choices. The most extreme choice is suicide. I’ve never seriously considered it, but I know people who have and, sadly, gone through with it. Another choice is to start doing things to emerge from the depression. For me, that involves talking to people and writing to get the feelings off my chest. The other step is to re-embrace coping tools. It’s not like flipping a switch, but more like rebooting a computer. It takes time to start using your coping tools effectively again and more time for them to make a difference. But acceptance is a start.

Acceptance is where I’m at now. I long ago accepted that frequent bouts of depression come with being me and that there are things I can do to keep it in check. It’s time to reboot the system.

“Melancholy” by BaxiaArt

November 5, 2014

A New Season of SAD: Self-Doubt Shows Up

In what seemed like seconds after turning the calendar to November, a wave of depression hit me hard. It dogged me through the weekend and it’s with me now. With it comes feelings of self-doubt.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/N88YgEKGMzI

Those who know me see me as a confident man, and most of the time I am. I’ve been through enough to know that with the right attitude and will, things ultimately work out.

I’m usually confident about my workmanship and ability to see through the clutter of life. But in this wave of depression, that part of me has gone missing. I find myself doubting my abilities.

In this state, the things I do wrong seem bigger and more pronounced than the things I do right. It can be paralyzing, but I can only allow it to be that way for a short time.

At work and at home, I have a lot of responsibility. I can’t neglect those responsibilities, no matter how hopeless I feel.

So I do what I’ve always done. I show up and take my best swing.

In the big picture, beyond the depression, I know I do more good than not. The depression is usually temporary, and I know that before long, the positives will look bigger than the negatives.

In real life, the positives ARE bigger than the negatives. But for now, I feel like shit.

I need to get back to using my coping tools — playing guitar every day, setting aside time daily for prayer, and seeing a therapist. Yesterday I found a new therapist, so I’m almost back on track there.

The Christmas season is usually when I feel like this. My goal this time is to make that the season where I emerge from the storm, stronger than ever.

After the Storm by William Bradford: Two sailing ships in a stormy sea

“After the Storm” by William Bradford

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 11, 2014

What I Learned About Myself at DEF CON

I’m just back from Las Vegas, where I attended BSidesLV, Black Hat and DEF CON. I’m jet-lagged as hell and feel like toxic waste, but I’m also feeling pretty good about myself.

Mood music:

Here’s the thing about DEF CON: Attendance is huge, the lines are long and it’s easy to find yourself wedged between crowds of humanity moving in different directions. Like all of Vegas’ casinos, a thick cloud of cigarette smoke hangs in the air, and unhealthy food is easier to obtain than healthy food.

For someone given to fear and anxiety, the place is a nightmare — the trigger for every mental demon to come out.

As readers know by now, I have a history of fear and anxiety. I’ve written about how I’ve brought it under control in recent years, but the DEF CON experience really demonstrated how far I’ve come.

No matter what you tried to do at DEF CON, there were huge lines. Lines for coffee. Lines to get into talks. Lines for food. The kind of lines that snake around corners and continue into infinity.

A decade ago, I would have hidden in my hotel room the entire time. Actually, I would have just stayed home.

But I walked with the big crowds and stood in the lines. I kept calm and usually found a friend to talk to and pass the time.

Part of my success is having the ability to realize that the crowds aren’t there to torment me. Everyone’s trying to get somewhere. It’s not about me, ever. Knowing that makes me feel more secure in the crowd.

I’ve also learned to take breaks. Hiding in the room the whole time is bad; going there for one- or two-hour breathers is good. I did the latter a couple times a day, and it worked well.

I also made a point of getting to bed before midnight each day. I used to stay up all night, going from one party to the next. A couple years ago, I made peace with the fact that I’m getting too old for that. Prioritizing sleep allowed me to maximize the quality of my awake hours.

DEF CON did show me that I still have work to do on myself. Social awkwardness remains an issue. I have a lot of industry relationships on Facebook and Twitter, but I still get weirded out when I meet some of those people in person. People never look exactly the same as their Facebook pictures, including me.

I probably walked past people I know online a bunch of times. If you saw me and I didn’t come up and say hello, I apologize. In my awkwardness, I sometimes have trouble recognizing you.

So there you have it: Better with crowds and lines, still socially awkward. In the grand scheme of things, the journey in the right direction continues.

July 28, 2014

Happy in My Discomfort

I’ve written about information security for more than a decade, but I’ve never pulled the levers, so to speak, until this past week. It’s both terrifying and awesome.

Mood music:

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.

One reason I took my current job is because I felt the need to be part of a security operation rather than simply writing about it.

In recent weeks, I’ve started the training. I attended a 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.

But there’s a much bigger point for me to make: Getting this type of training is a watershed moment.

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 follks, 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.

Bill the Cat leaning on lever behind sign that says Don't Lean on Lever