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Sometimes, It’s Good to be Hard on Yourself

Last week, I vented frustration on Facebook after a particularly frustrating day. I was angrier than I had been in a long time.

Mood music:

https://youtu.be/lyL58DRZ9KQ?list=PLG5y42X_qOGxGXuyLOr6FJV76M3o5TUcX

By the next morning, the bad feelings had dulled and I had second thoughts about venting my anger the way I did. So I put this on my timeline:

Yesterday I was having a bad-attitude kind of day and I let it bleed onto Facebook. I try to never do that. Sorry to those who had to see it.

The larger reality is that I have a blessed life. I’m married to my best friend and we have two awesome children. We live in a great place. Erin C Brenner is doing great things with her business and I have a great job and legions of friends.

Managing a building on the side has been hard, but things there are steadily moving in the right direction and I’ve been able to keep it from affecting my work. I’ve also picked up a ton of business experience I never thought I’d have.

My biggest problem is that I’m sweating the little stuff too much lately and I haven’t been writing enough.

That’s gonna change.

Thanks to all of you for being in my life.

A lot of people responded, most saying I’m entitled to vent sometimes and that I’m way too hard on myself. I appreciated the words of support. But when people say I’m too hard on myself, I don’t entirely agree.

Sure, there’s a point where self-criticism can take ugly turns and be counterproductive, especially when you beat yourself up physically and mentally, lash out at everyone around you out of shame and fail to move on with life. I’ve gone down that road too many times.

I’ve also discovered that more often than not, when you think you’ve said or done something counterproductive, it’s healthy to acknowledge it. If you’re not hard on yourself once in a while, you never learn and evolve. I don’t want to be that guy. To that end, I feel better for having written that second take on Saturday morning.

The trick is to know when you’re putting yourself in check and when you’ve crossed over into angry self-righteousness. It’s difficult to see when you’ve crossed that line, but I think I’m getting better at it as I get older.

Thanks again for all your support.

Victorian woman in front of a mirror/skull

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When Your Child Grows Up to Be a Monster

Like most people, the 2012 Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre cut me to the core. I blogged about it, trying to find a lesson for humanity. Having lost a sibling myself, I wrote an open letter to kids who lost a brother or sister, hoping to offer them something useful, if not comforting.

Mood music:

But I’ll be honest: I didn’t spend much time dwelling on the question of whether my children could ever grow up to do such a thing. Like most parents, I try hard not to consider such things. It’s too uncomfortable and implausible.

But after reading a New Yorker interview with Peter Lanza — father of killer Adam Lanza — I realize it’s an issue we can’t ignore.

The article has gotten a lot of attention from the mainstream media, and just about every headline captures a statement Peter makes deep in the interview: He wishes Adam had never been born.

That statement is all the more a kick to the gut because it comes after he describes a son who didn’t start out as a monster. In fact, Peter says, Adam started out as a “normal little weird kid.” He remembers playing LEGOs with his son and notes that he didn’t see things starting to go wrong with the boy until he was a teenager.

Since December 2012, Peter has had to live with the knowledge that his son murdered innocent children and educators. His last name has become poisonous, though he decided not to change it, determining that he can’t hide from what happened. Nor has he tried.

It goes to show how as a parent, you can invest heart and soul to ensure your children grow into forces for good. You can do everything right, in fact. And sometimes, that’s still not enough.

When I look at my offspring, I see two beautiful boys with hearts as big as the solar system. They are smart, caring and driven to overcome obstacles. Erin and I have put a lot of effort into making sure they turn out right, and we think we’re on the right track. Duncan is challenged with ADHD and mild autism, but he’s made huge progress in recent months. We’re very proud of him.

Staring at that picture, it’s inconceivable to me that they’d grow up to be anything less than awesome.

But Peter Lanza thought that once about his son.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not bracing myself to watch my kids go down dark, twisted paths. Most kids grow into good men and women despite a variety of obstacles. The dark seeds are few and far between.

But still, you never know, do you?

As parents, all we can do is take life one day at a time and embrace the precious present. All we can do is be the best parents we can be.

I’ll keep doing that, and I’ll pray hard for Peter Lanza. I hope the man can find some peace.

Adam Lanza

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My Brother Lives on in the Nephew He Never Met

Thirty-one years ago this week, my older brother Michael died at age 17. I felt the need to write something to mark the anniversary. But to be honest, I didn’t know what to say.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/hEXpmYNgdBM?list=PLLFxufQM_PMu0EJn7shfH34GFPkEBXE_f

Part of that is because I wrote the whole “how his death affected me” post three years ago in “Death of a Sibling.” I also delved into the lighter memories — the outrageous and hilarious shit he used to pull — in “Celebrating a Lost Sibling.”

Then yesterday, during my 45-minute drive to the office, I was chuckling over a crack my oldest son made at my expense a few days ago.

“You know, Dad,” he said, staring at the Superman S on the T-shirt I was wearing, “you look like Superman, 20 years after saving the Earth, with more gray hair and more than a few extra pounds.”

I have the same, serrated brand of snark.  I’ll scold him to teach him manners and respect, but I’m usually laughing inside. More often than not, I laugh aloud, which admittedly defeats the purpose of scolding him in the first place.

Screen Shot 2015-01-12 at 7.17.40 AM

Truth is, I also enjoy it because it reminds me of my brother.

It’s funny how life works. Sean is named for a best friend and surrogate brother who died some years ago. But he’s sounding and looking more like my real brother all the time.

Like Michael, Sean has a unibrow and the start of some whiskers above his upper lip. He’s tall and lanky, the way Michael was before he started weight lifting in his early teens. His hair grows wild, the way Michael’s did, though the latter tried to control it with frequent hair cuts. Sean prefers a shaggy head.

There are some distinct differences between Sean and the uncle he never met, however. Michael was studying to be a plumber at the time of his death. He enjoyed the art of putting pipes together in just the right formation, allowing water to flow. Sean prefers putting LEGOs and robotic machinery together.

Sean is a Boy Scout, a choice his uncle — and dad, for that matter — would never have made. Sean is also more cautious and refined than Michael was. Sean hates his braces but hasn’t pulled them off with a pair of pliers like his uncle did the same day his mouth metal was installed. Years later, my brother’s act of rebellion is the stuff of treasured family lore. But Sean knows better than to try such a thing.

Differences aside, the similarities are hard to miss.

That makes me happy.

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Is the Point of Pines of My Generation Cursed?

A friend from my old neighborhood opined a couple years ago that our generation of Revere kids lived under a curse. “The more time moves on, I think we may be lucky for just getting out of the city,” he told me in an email. “Revere was just eating people up back then. It’s like we lost a generation.”

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/QPNqojbyIDk

The death tally boggles the mind:

  • Stefanie Santarpio died last week at age 36 from pneumonia complications. Her mom died a couple days later.
  • TJ Leduc died in early October in an apparent suicide. His father died a few hours later.
  • Jay Nickerson died from cancer in 2006.
  • Sean Marley ended his life in 1996.
  • Zane Mead was the first of the three people on this list to die of suicide, in 1988.
  • Michael Brenner, my brother, died in 1984 from a severe asthma attack.
  • Michael McDonald was a name I remember from the neighborhood, though I didn’t really know him. He died several years ago.
  • Kenny Page was also a name I remember but someone I didn’t know, who died several years ago.
  • Scott James also died several years ago. He’s the one I know the least about.

A sad legacy, for sure. A curse? You be the judge.

I keep all these people in my prayers, and I’m thankful for those I was blessed to know.

Point of Pines

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My Heart Breaks for the Newtown Officer, But …

It’s hard not to get where Newtown, Conn., police officer Thomas Bean is coming from. He responded to last December’s massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School, where 20 children were among the brutally slain. He now has post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and can’t work. He says he feels dead inside.

Mood music:

CNN reports that Bean might be fired because Newtown says it can’t keep paying someone who is permanently disabled. A letter CNN obtained from the police department said that “he could be fired because Newtown could only afford to pay two years of long-term disability. He has a dozen years left on the job before being able to retire.”

The union that represents Newton police officers may sue. Joe Aresimowicz, House majority leader in the state General Assembly, said the state covers mental healthcare only if the diagnosis comes with physical injuries for long-term disability claims. That mental illness can’t be covered without physical injury tells me there’s stigma busting to be done. It demonstrates a lack of understanding of how mental illness works.

But that — and the heartbreak I feel for this officer — isn’t enough. There’s a bigger issue at play.

When Bean joined the police force, surely he understood, just as those who join the military do, that violence comes with the job. He knew the chances were better than average that he would someday have to go to a murder scene. To his credit, he responded to Sandy Hook on his day off. And obviously, this was not your typical murder scene. Twenty dead children. Even now, almost a year later, the thought of it brings me close to tears. So I can imagine his state of mind after seeing what he saw.

Many officers responded to the scene that day. Surely they remain haunted by what they saw, as well, yet they remain on the job.

That’s no knock against Bean. It’s unrealistic and unfair to assume everyone who experiences trauma should be able to bounce back in the same short period. But functioning in the face of trauma is something we rightfully expect from our public safety professionals. Otherwise, public safety would break down.

If Bean is permanently disabled and can’t do his job any longer, Newtown has to let him go. It sucks, but he should make way for a replacement officer who can do the job.

If it comes to that — and I believe it will — my hope is that Newtown supports Bean and others like him in other ways. A good start would be to get him the help he needs to put his life back together, including a good psychiatrist and career counseling.

There are no bad guys here, only victims. But as a whole, we have to move on.

Newtown tragedy

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For Those Mourning Colleen Ritzer

I didn’t know Colleen Ritzer, the 24-year-old Danvers High School math teacher found dead in the woods behind the school this week. I also don’t know Philip Chism, the 14 year old charged with murdering her. But I’m affected by this tragedy all the same.

My first job as a reporter 20 years ago was at the weekly Danvers newspaper. Andover, Ritzer’s hometown, is where my kids go to school. It’s a town I know well as a Merrimack Valley resident and former editor at The Eagle-Tribune. I truly feel for everyone touched by this sad turn of events.

Mood music:

We know almost nothing about the circumstances in which this happened. But we do know this is going to be hard for Danvers High School students to absorb. For a lot of these kids, it’s probably their first taste of death. Even for those with previous experience, the loss of a grandparent, for example, this is likely something new and terrible. The victim was young, not much older than her students. Her accused killer was one of them, a pleasant kid by most accounts.

I’ve experienced a lot of death in my life, including that of a 17-year-old older brother and a best friend who committed suicide. I’m not going to claim you get used to these things, but I have developed a six-point road map that I try to live by in these situations. I share it here in hopes that it will help some of you.

  • Let it suck. Don’t be a hero. If you’re feeling the pain from losing your grandmother, let it out. You don’t have to do it in front of people. Go in a room by yourself and let the waterworks flow if you have to. Don’t worry about trying to keep a manly face around people. You don’t have to pretend you’re A-OK for the sake of others in the room.
  • Don’t forget the gratitude. When someone dies, it’s easy to get lost in your own grief; there’s a self-pity reflex that kicks in. Try to take the time to remember how awesome your loved one was. Share the most amusing memories and have some laughs. The deceased would love that. And you’ll feel more at peace when you remember a life that was lived well.
  • Take a moment to appreciate what’s still around you. Your girlfriend. Your friends. If the death you just suffered should teach you anything, it’s that you never know how long the other loves of your life will be around. Don’t waste the time you have with them.
  • Don’t worry yourself into an anxiety attack over the fact that God could take them from you at any moment. God holds all the cards, so it’s pointless to even think about it. Just be there for people, and let them be there for you.
  • Take care of yourself. You can comfort yourself with all the drugs, alcohol, sex and food there is to have. But take it from me, giving in to addictions is nothing but slow suicide. You can’t move past grief and see the beauty of what’s left if you’re too busy trying to kill yourself. True, I learned a ton about the beauty of life from having been an addict, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever wish that experience on others. If there’s a better way to cope, do that instead.
  • Embrace things that are bigger than you. Nothing has helped me get past grief more than being of service to others. It sounds like so much bullshit, but it’s not. When I’m helping out in the church food pantry or going to Overeater’s Anonymous meetings and guiding addicts who ask for my help, I’m always reminded that my own life could be much worse. To put it another way, I’m reminded how my own life is so much better than I realize or deserve.

This isn’t a science. It’s just what I’ve learned from my own walk through the valley of darkness.

Life is a gift to be cherished and used wisely. Sometimes, it hurts. But that’s OK.

Colleen Ritzer

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Flying on September 11

One of my biggest moments of shame came a week after September 11, 2001, when I scrubbed a planned trip to Arizona for a relative’s wedding. I was terrified to get on an airplane, and fear won out. Not only did I miss an important day in a loved one’s life, I also deprived my wife of the same thing. I didn’t want her flying, either.

Mood music:

I’ve talked to many people over the years who have similar stories and whose fear of flying lasts to this day. I got over the flying fear several years ago and love doing so now. But it’s always been hard to fault people who have vowed not to get on a plane if it’s the anniversary day of the attacks. For some, it’s not even about fear and superstition. The memories of that day are simply too much to take, and nothing will make you fix on such a thing like being on an aircraft on the anniversary.

But last year I flew on September 11. And it was one of the most peaceful flights I had all year.

I was coming home from the CSO Security Standard. I was managing editor of CSO at the time, and the Brooklyn event was a favorite, because it always coincided with the anniversary. New Yorkers showed us how to stare down adversity during and after the attacks, and there’s something special about being in NYC around that time of year. But I never managed to fly on 9/11 until last year. I always left on September 9 or 12.

Truth be told, I didn’t think much about the anniversary when I went to the airport. I was too tired to think about much of anything after a super-busy few days. I was also more focused on being annoyed with the third-world experience that is LaGuardia Airport. But once we took off, I looked out the window and could see Lower Manhattan, with the Freedom Tower rising up next to where the Twin Towers once stood. I could clearly see the two memorial pools built in the footprints of the towers as well.

It brought my mind right back to the anniversary. But it also inspired me in a major way, which suppressed any feeling of dread or sadness I might have otherwise had.

I’ve been to the site many times. But on the ground it can be hard to get the full appreciation of what’s taking shape there. It is, after all, a large construction site with all the noise and barriers that drive a person to distraction. It’s also not easy to get a clear view of the memorial unless you’re right there, behind the fencing, boards and signage. Seeing it from above was quite a trip, indeed.

It wasn’t an exercise in banishing fear, since I had already overcome the fear of flying years before. But it was one of those moments that marks you forever.

In this case, it’s a mental mark I’m happy to have.

World Trade Center

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Aaron Swartz and How to Deal With Suicide

I read many articles this weekend about the suicide of Internet prodigy and activist Aaron Swartz. Most were about how we should view his legacy in the face of charges that he used MIT’s computers to gain illegal access to millions of scholarly papers kept by JSTOR, a subscription-only service for distributing scientific and literary journals.

Mood music:

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Some call Swartz a hero who stood up for Internet freedoms. Others point out that he broke the law and had to be punished.

All that is beside today’s main point: The 26-year-old, co-creator of RSS and Reddit, was a tortured soul, the victim of a horrible illness many still fail to comprehend. It’s an illness I suffer from, and it claimed the life of my best friend 16-plus years ago.

Swartz, a man I never met, was open about his depression. Like other sufferers — like me — he wanted people to understand that it was a true illness, as dangerous to the body and the brain as cancer is when left unchecked.

Now he’s another tragic statistic, and those left behind have to come to terms with the nature of his death.

In the years since my friend’s death, I developed a code of conduct that allowed me to stop wallowing over that evil day in November 1996:

  • Don’t blame yourself; it’s pointless. No matter how many times you replay events in your mind, the fact is that it’s not your fault. For one thing, it’s impossible to get into the head of someone who is contemplating suicide. Sure, there are signs, but since we all get the blues sometimes, it’s very easy to dismiss the signs as a normal bout of depression. When someone loudly contemplates suicide, it’s usually a cry for help. When they say nothing and even appear OK, it’s usually because they’ve made their decision and are in the quiet, planning stages.
  • Don’t blame others; it’s equally pointless. Take it from me: Nerves in your circle of family and friends are so raw right now that it won’t take much for relationships to break apart. A week after my friend’s death I wrote a column about it, revealing what, in hindsight, was too much detail. His family was furious and most of them haven’t talked to me since. They feel I was exploiting his death to advance my writing career and get attention. What I’ve learned, and this is tough to admit, is that you’re going to have to let it go when the finger pointing starts. It’s better not to engage the other side. Nobody is in their right mind at this point, so go easy on each other. Give people space to make their errors in judgment and learn from them.
  • Don’t demonize the dead. When a friend takes their life, one thing that can gnaw at survivors is the notion that if they believe in Heaven and Hell, they believe those who kill themselves are doomed to the latter. I’m a devout Catholic, so you can bet your ass this one has gone through my mind. What I’ve learned, though, is that depression is a clinical disease. A person suffering from depression who then kills themselves isn’t in control of their actions, and Catholics, at least, don’t believe God punishes them for that.

    Even if you don’t believe in an afterlife, you might feel angry at your loved one for intentionally leaving you just when they did. It comes to the same thing: that person was sick and couldn’t make good decisions. My practice today is to simply pray that those souls will be redeemed and that they will know peace. It’s really the best you can do.
  • Break the stigma. One of the friends Swartz left behind has already done something that honors him: She went on Facebook and directed people toward the American Association of Suicidology website, specifically the page on knowing the warning signs. That’s a great example of doing something to honor your friend’s memory instead of sitting around second-guessing yourself. The best thing to do now is to educate people on the disease so that sufferers can help themselves and friends and family can really be of service.
  • Get on with your life. Nobody will blame you for not being yourself for a while. You have, after all, just experienced one of the worst tragedies there is. But try not to let it paralyze you. Life must go on. You have to get on with your work and be there for those around you.

Life can be brutal. But it is a beautiful thing. Seize it.

Aaron Swartz

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To the Siblings in Sandy Hook

To the people of Newtown, Conn., particularly the surviving children of Sandy Hook Elementary School:

I have no idea what it’s like to lose a child, and I pray to God I never will. But I’ve lost a sibling and know how that feels. So I’m hoping, nearly 30 years after my brother’s death, that some of what I’m about to say will be of some comfort to you.

We all experience the death of relatives and friends. Usually, it’s our grandparents and great-grandparents. It hurts, but it’s the normal circle of life. There are younger people in our lives who suffer and succumb to disease. That hurts, too, but there’s at least some comfort in the fact that they’re no longer suffering.

The sudden, unexpected death of a sibling is something quite different, as you’ve unfortunately discovered. My brother had asthma, a serious condition but not one we typically consider fatal. And yet just one major attack took him from us. Our family had been through the pain of divorce and dysfunction, but we had survived it. Our lives imploded with my brother’s death.

The manner in which your brothers and sisters were taken from you must feel 1,000 times worse. Though I can’t imagine how that feels, I’m hoping I can make a few points based on my own experiences.

My advice to you:

  • Don’t be afraid to cry. When I was a kid I never cried in front of others unless it was family. I thought it would make me look weak and stupid. I was wrong. No one — and I mean no one — will hold your tears against you. In fact, people will be relieved that you’re able to let the tears out. When tears are suppressed, you feel worse. The longer you go without crying, the worse it gets. Let it all out.
  • Remember that for every evil event in this world, there are countless good people around to help you through it. They will make sure you’re not forced to linger in the cold darkness. Mister Rogers described it this way: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers — so many caring people in this world.” Those people won’t disappear when the TV news crews go away and the funerals are over. They will always be there, and you will never be alone. That’s why good always wins out over evil in the end. Good people never give up or give in.
  • Be patient with your parents and give them all your love and help. Burying a child is the absolute worst thing a parent must do. It’s the greatest fear of every parent. After my brother died, I rebelled hard against my parents, partly because I lost patience with them as their grief made them stumble. It’s one of my big regrets. Don’t let it happen in your house. Help your parents and be very patient with them, and they will be able to function again. They’ll always carry a sadness, but they’ll also learn to experience new joys. You can be a big part of that.
  • Take your greatest dreams for the future and make them come true. Your brother or sister won’t get to experience the big moments of adulthood. It hurts knowing that. But they will be watching you from Heaven. Make them proud. No dream or goal is too big for you. If you keep studying and don’t give up when the going gets tough, you’ll be able to do anything you set your sights on. If anyone tells you a certain career is too hard to get, don’t believe it. I’ve managed to make a long, satisfying career out of writing. I’m not rich, but I’m happy.
  • If you find yourself laughing and smiling, don’t feel guilty about it. A few months after my brother died I went to see a movie. It was a comedy and I laughed hard. Then I felt horrible for laughing because I thought you weren’t supposed to laugh ever again. But that’s not true. It’s not only OK to laugh, it is essential to your survival. Humor will help you through all the difficult times ahead. Embrace it.

You will feel better in time. You’ll experience more difficult moments in your life, but that’s OK. We all have to go through the difficult times to truly understand and appreciate the good times. It may not make sense to you now. But in time, it will.

May God Bless you, your family and friends.

— Bill
candle_light

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An Inconvenient Death

It happens whenever someone dies. After the initial shock passes, you start thinking about when the wake and funeral will take place, including whether it will get in the way of your work, family, or entertainment plans. We feel selfish and petty when we get this way, but it’s human nature.

[spotify:track:4zbJWmA6NqIPSyNsLddZnO]

Some of the youngsters in my life went through this as we prepared for the wake and funeral of Nana Ruth. There was the quest for perfect attendance at school that wasn’t realized because of the funeral. There was the grumbling over fun and games getting put on ice. We’re getting similar discontent as we prepare for the wake and funeral of Grammie Arline.

It drives us adults crazy, and we try to teach the kids that life’s unfair and we’re called to put our wants aside in times like these. But we grown-ups aren’t much better.

I don’t have to look far to find an example.

My great-grandmother died hours before my 25th birthday. Her daughter, my nana, died on Columbus Day weekend in 2003. Papa died the day before a major relaunch of the newspaper I was working for at the time. Sometimes, I grin as I think of how my grandparents were probably getting back at me for not visiting them often enough. They could be deliciously devious that way.

My brother died days into a diet and exercise program I was obsessed with at the time. In my 13-year-old mind, that program was vital to my future as one of the cool kids who got all the girls in junior high. As a 26 year old, I was again on the path to fitness when my best friend died. From there, the binge eating and escape into work was off the rails.

Inconvenient deaths, mucking up all my best-made plans.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gained a lot more perspective on these things. I’ve slowly learned that life can be disrupted without being derailed completely. In the old days, when my life lost control following death, it was usually my own doing.

Today, I’m better at temporarily putting things on hold, honoring the dead and then moving on.

The youngsters in my life will learn that lesson in time.

Hopefully, they won’t have to get their hearts broken too much along the way. But in the end, that’s in God’s hands.

Bill & Ted and Death