Victory

Day 300

Triumph, because you're the last soldier standing
Conquer, by not giving in to your fear
Fend off your own inner demon's demanding
Defend everything that you've ever held dear

Surge with all of the strength in your being
Fight with the very last breath in your chest
Stand when the allies around you are fleeing
Rage on and render your skills to the test

Never give up! Never give in!
Never surrender your soul!
Never commit the unpardonable sin.
Force it to swallow you whole.

Press on, my son, though the enemy advances
Ride out to meet him at first light of day
Spur on your charger no matter your chances
Crying aloud, as you enter the fray

Reach deep within you for strength not your own
Unleash the fury of a terrible dream
Mangling muscle and shattering bone
The earth and the heavens resound as you scream

Never give up! Never give in!
Never surrender your soul!
Never commit the unpardonable sin.
Force it to swallow you whole.

Stand watch o'er the shells of the warriors now sleeping
Bind the torn fibers of your war-ravaged mind
Drink mad mournful tears from the bugle now weeping
For lovers and children and friends left behind

Scrub yourself free of the gore from the battle
Note all the bruises and scars that won't heal
Set yourself steady again the saddle
For these are the wounds only time can conceal

Never give up! Never give in!
Never surrender your soul!
Never commit the unpardonable sin.
Force it to swallow you whole.

Force it to swallow you whole.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPod

Christmas Trees and Crazy People

Day 292

"O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree, I wish you had some symmetry..."

For all of the heavy and serious things I have posted on this blog, I thought I would share something light-hearted today. Anyone who suffers from OCD knows that some of the things we do are just funny. As I've written before, one of my main issues is perfectionism. I struggle with the need to have things be even, straight, and symmetrical. This can bring about some interesting challenges.

I am a "real tree" person. I grew up in a "real tree" family. I married a "real tree" woman and we are raising a generation of "real tree" kids. All of my grandparents, many of my family members, and most of my friends were "fake tree" people. I tried not to hold it against them. The crazy part of me could actually appreciate the symmetrical nature of these plastic pines, and, let's be honest, they hold presents as well as the real ones. Still, there's something about unboxing a synthetic spruce carried up from the basement that has always seemed lazy to me. There's just something about the smell of real pine that ushers in the holiday season. It mixes so well with cinnamon, cloves, and sugar.

The odd thing about my "real tree" obsession is that it actually competes with my perfection obsession. Think about it, have you ever seen a perfectly symmetrical tree with a straight trunk, perfectly green needles, and a perfect top branch so that the star or the angel isn't crooked? Oh sure, you may get one or two of those characteristics, but not all them. Choosing a tree, then, becomes a process of giving up some of the things that bug me in order to achieve others that I like. This seems entirely reasonable to normal people, but for crazy people, it becomes "Which one of these imperfect trees sucks the least." Not exactly a touching Hallmark holiday sentiment, huh?

This year it was nice to be able to admit to my lovely wife, as we were wandering the rows of tree possibilities, that this is a problem for me. In the past, I simply tried to hide it and often ended up just grumping through the experience. We chose a tree this year with most of the qualifications I desired and later this week, we'll bring it into our home to be part of our Christmas celebration. Then we'll have to decorate it and that carries with it a whole other set of issues, but one thing at a time, right?

Next Tuesday is Day 300, I'm working on something appropriate for the occasion. In the meantime, make the most of this holiday season, and go get a tree. It'll do you good.

First Snow

Day 280

"Normal" has never been a term that fit me. "Creative," "Fascinating," "Strange," "Gifted," "Weird," "Odd," "Rebellious," "Recalcitrant," or "Crazy," but not "Normal." However, even people who have "Crazy" going on, often follow patterns that some may call normalities. Battling increasing amounts of anxiety and depression during the winter months is one of those things. I can't even get this right.

I love winter. I like cold weather. I live for snow. Don't get me wrong, I fight the frozen blues like many other folks, but not until late January or early February. October through December is my favorite season. And today I received one of my favorite gifts - the first snow.

Nothing beats the first snow. It's just cold enough to make flakes, but not so cold that you feel miserable. You can feel the crystallized confetti kiss your face. You can taste it on your tongue as the first snap of icy chill clears the pollen out of your head and wakes you up from the decongestant fog of summer.

Yeah, the sky is gray and the trees are bare, but God is sprinkling the powdered sugar of heaven all around you. The steam rises from your favorite stone mug as you pour in the first hot chocolate of the season. Cold on the outside, but warm on the inside. It sure beats living the other way around.

To those of you who are experiencing very real increases in your struggles as winter sets in, please know that my thoughts are with you. Gray skies and holiday stress can combine for a nasty cocktail. Let's hang in there together, take our pills, say our prayers, and survive one day at a time. You might also try playing in the snow.

Equations

Day 258

Any of you who know me will realize the irony in my use of math terminology. As an artist and creative, right-brained type individual, I have long been imperically challenged. However, in spite of my scientific deficiencies, I have discovered two very important equations that govern my life. I was speaking with a friend about them recently and she encouraged me to write them down, so here they are.

Equation number one: Money and Time are interchangeable. You can always get more of one by spending the other. This is an important thing to understand. Working in marketing, I have had the opportunity to make the acquaintance of some very wealthy and influential people. Most folks don't understand that making millions is not as complicated as they think. Anyone can do it, really. You just have to be willing to take calculated risks with your resources and work all the freaking time. The only insurance you have against failure and financial ruin is your willingness to work harder than everyone else to make your risks pay off. This will cost you time - days, nights, weekends, holidays, etc.

As your resources grow, you'll have more money. You, then, use the money to buy back your time. The trick is not getting so caught up in the pursuit that you forget to "get out" down the line. Most people are simply not willing to invest the time necessary to gain the wealth in the first place. Even fewer set goals up front and establish the accountability to help them remember to buy back their time when the work pays off.

Equation number two: Everyone whores out to something. The best we can hope for is to get to say "who," "when," and "how much." This may sound a bit pessimistic, but it's true. Sooner or later we choose to sell ourselves to something. It could be an ideal, it could be money, it could be religion, it could be a relationship, whatever. The happiest people I know are the ones who have determined for themselves the "who," the "when," and the "how much." Selling out feels a lot less like selling out and when you name your own parameters.

I heard it said once that an entrepreneur is someone who will work 80 hours a week for himself to keep from working 40 hours a week for someone else. A very good friend and mentor taught me that the only real job security in the world is in my head. It's my ability to adapt and learn, to kill it and drag it home, to resist those who would try to confine me by defining me. My gift for reinventing myself has kept me alive in the lean times and brought me success in the fat ones. I've learned that I'm happier when I'm saying "who," "when," and "how much."

Why do I share these equations with you? I share them to bring you some measure of inspiration. I have chosen to work through my issues-whatever it takes. I have also chosen to not let the "crazy" confine me by defining me. I will adapt. I will reinvent. I will work harder than everyone else. I will deal with this thing on my terms and, ultimately, prevail. You can too. It's not easy. It's not simple. It's not fun. But it's life and, by taking it head on, I'll ultimately be the one who decides how it turns out. You can too. Do the math.

Follow Up About Fade Outs

Day 239

They're called dissociative episodes. The simplest way to describe it is to say that my brain reaches it's limit for stimuli and just shuts down.

My brain doesn't actually turn off. It wanders, thinking in a continuous stream of consciousness while I check out of reality and stare off into space.

Doc Brown says that they can be managed by scheduling "down time" for myself. Even if it's just 15 minutes of meditation or a quiet walk. This will be a challenge since my life tends to be an endless flow of projects and deadlines.

I'll have to learn the importance of these periodic breaks. I may even need to set my alarm to remind me at first. We'll see how it goes. I'll keep you informed.

The Technicality of Grace

Day 234

Grace is a concept that has always intrigued me. For purposes of this post let me define grace as "receiving what we don't deserve." Have you noticed that when we give grace to one another, we almost always do it because it's technically the "right" thing to do?

Grace is rarely given easily or freely, and it's hardly ever our first response. Most of the time we finally get around to granting grace out of moral obligation or a wise political strategy.

If you think about it, grace is probably the most valuable thing we can give to another person. It's the freedom to struggle, to screw up, to be needy, to fall short, to offend and apologize, to sit out, to lag behind, to be quiet, to shout, to judge, to jump to conclusions, to be nosey, to misunderstand, and to disagree.

In short, it is granting someone the opportunity to be human with all the frustrating baggage that accompanies, all the while guaranteeing them love when the smoke clears.

Grace is the thing we find hardest to give, and it's the thing we are most desperate to receive. We ache for it because we can't buy it, take it, make it or trade for it. Grace cannot be mass-produced or stored in surplus. It originates from within us. When we offer it, we are offering a piece of ourselves. Grace can only be given and accepted.

So just remember that grace is no ordinary gift, because, if it were, we would only want to give it to those who deserve it. After all, that's why we give gifts most of the time.

However, if they deserved it, it wouldn't be difficult to give. If they deserved it, it wouldn't be nearly as valuable. If they deserved it, technically, it wouldn't be grace.

One Bright Star

Day 229

One bright star in the heavens
Not the only one, just the only bright one
Beaming without regard to the thoughts of other stars
Without bestowal or removal of the Man in the Moon's approval
He's a beacon in the night

One shining pin prick in the fabric of the cosmos
His radiance is nothing new, it's all he's ever known to do
He'd never dim or mute his fire for there would be none to inspire
Men to shine their inner light

How much easier would it be to blend into the tapestry of barely twinkling dipping gourds, of hunters' belts and Grecian lords?

One glistening jewel upon azure hue
Not the safest one, just the bravest one
With firm resolve, denying convention, refusing dissolve with the purest intention
He burns aloft against the fade, regardless of the comments made
He does what he believes is right

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPod

A Quick Thought

Day 221

We all have predispositions when it comes to interaction with people. There are those who prefer association with others, those who prefer evaluation of others, those who prefer manipulation of others, and those who prefer connection with others, just to name a few.

Being an artist, I am, by nature, a connector. I have an innate desire to communicate--to understand and be understood.

Unfortunately, I am also an introvert. This presents an extra unique challenge when I factor in the "crazy". In order to fulfill the desire for connection, I have to encounter people; and people wear me out faster than anything.

Admittedly, the meds have helped. I have also made strides using visualization and breathing techniques. However, the biggest change has been the way I see myself.

I used to think I was cancerous to relationships and toxic to those around me. I lived for years regretting the way I handled things in my past. Because of the chaos in my head, I assumed that, since I couldn't make sense of myself, no one else could either.

The major flaw in my logic was that this approach left me wholly responsible for every bump in the road. The truth is that no one is ever entirely responsible for every issue. Believing this way also fed and fueled the negative self-image I had developed.

I needed to see my life as worthwhile, even beneficial to others. I had to extend grace to the one person in my life who, for 36 years, had been utterly unlovable-- me.

Audibly congratulating myself for doing things well and celebrating every interpersonal victory, regardless of how seemingly insignificant was a huge shift. I must admit that there have been times when I have felt a bit like Stuart Smalley, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me."

So, I'll let you know that reprogramming your self-image is going to feel a little strange. But, occasionally becoming a caricature of me has taught me not to take myself or others too seriously. This has been one of the most liberating things I've tried. As a result, I have grown in my ability to handle, and even connect with, people.

I won't be winning any humanitarian awards any time soon, but I do think I'm a little easier to be around these days.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Feelings vs. Choices

Day 211

I've written before about how everything in my life is a choice. This has been particularly fresh in mind today, so I thought I would give some examples.

Happiness is a feeling
Joy is a choice

Restlessness is a feeling
Compulsion is a choice

Admiration is a feeling
Respect is a choice

Smart is a feeling
Wisdom is a choice

Infatuation is a feeling
Love is a choice

Sadness is a feeling
Misery is a choice

Anger is a feeling
Vengeance is a choice

Curiosity is a feeling
Obsession is a choice

Sure is a feeling
Faith is a choice

Satisfaction is a feeling
Contentment is a choice

Frustration is a feeling
Defeat is a choice

Remember, your choices make all the difference.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Outside the Walls

Day 210

When others accept, I ask "why"
When others walk, I try to fly
When others stop and hold their ground, I see another way around

When others speak, I choose to sing
When others release, I'm prone to cling
When others work, I'd rather play and call it work if that's OK

When others whisper low, I shout
When others withhold, I let it out
When others color in the lines, I make daring new designs

When others grandstand, I just yawn
When others settle, I press on
When others hold their thoughts in bind, I go ahead and speak my mind

When others reason through, I feel
When others quit, I cut a deal
When others dream of true romance, I kick up both my heels and dance

When others fall in line, I lead
When others guard their hearts, I bleed
When others retreat within their halls, I will remain outside the walls

Yes, I will remain outside the walls


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Zoning Out

Day 209

Some of you are undoubtedly curious about the origin of the poem from yesterday. I have been experiencing what I have come to call zone outs. Not long ago, Leslie and I left a business meeting at the same time. She headed for church to pick up the kids and I headed home. I remember calling my mother, walking the dog, and going to sit in the back yard. I didn't bother to turn on any lights, I was just sitting there in the dark. I used to do something similar with my dog when I was a kid.

The next thing I knew Leslie was calling my phone to see where I was. She had been home for some time and had put the kids to bed. I answered and told her I was in the back yard. When she asked me how long I had been out there, I didn't know. I had simply lost an indeterminate period of time.

I can think of a handful of times that this happened to me as a child and I used to occasionally lose sizable periods of time in college when my roommate would go home for the weekend. I never thought much of it, because it never really affected anyone else. When I was hiding all those years, it was imperative that I cover it up, so it never became an issue for people who were close to me. Now that others know about the "crazy," I've had to be mindful of the way this behavior effects my friends and family.

Part of the concern is that I have been off of my Concerta for a few days. I was having persistent heartburn and I needed to rule out the medication. As it so happens, it was just a sinus thing. I will resume my focus medication tomorrow and hopefully reduce the zone outs.

The second part of the concern is that my grandmother had Alzheimer's disease. I watched her suffer with it for years. Her brother also had it. In fact, they were in the same unit at the same nursing home passing each other in the hallway daily, but couldn't recognize each other's face. If that wasn't enough their sister also suffers from the disease. Three siblings with the same affliction-- no recollection of their spouses, their children, or each other. I don't know if this kind of thing runs in families, but I do know that losing my mind terrifies me. It's the only thing I fear more than deafness.

I wrote the poem to express my feelings of struggle and fear, but to also hear myself profess the hope of brighter days ahead and the many years that stretch out before me. After all, the only thing I really have is today and a good shot at tomorrow. Whatever lies beyond that, I'll have to take as it comes.

Journey In My Head

Day 208

Where do I go when I am gone?
Where do I hide when I'm withdrawn?
A minute. An hour. A night.
And then, the dawn will rescue me again.

A random thought, a frantic rabbit.
Disappearing becomes a habit
Face it. Chase it. Fight it down.
Then stab it and bury it in frigid ground.

I fade. I stare. I check out. I zone.
She brings me back from all alone.
Twisted, tangled, thoughts astray.
I phone it in - she says, "that's OK."

In the corners of my mind I've found,
Nothing because my mind is round.
But with every daunting step I take,
I'm bound to once again awake.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Sharing the Struggles

Day 191

My association with church and religion has been a complicated and many-faceted one over the years. My relationship with God began in my teens and has grown through countless seasons of life--some pretty and some not so much. Ministry has been, in some ways, my greatest joy and, in other ways, my greatest pain. I have had the privilege of helping people discover God's love, mercy, and grace for themselves. I have taught from scriptures and applied timeless Biblical truth to life in ways that have enabled people to grow closer to God and love others. I have also suffered inhuman levels of abuse at the hands of people who claim to love and follow Jesus. I have been lied about, lied to, ridiculed, mocked, plotted against, betrayed, cussed, dismissed, ignored, and marginalized--all within the walls of the church.

My philosophy of ministry has never exactly jived with the church establishment. Maybe it's the "crazy", but I have always struggled with the idea of fixing, improving, changing, and saving people with religion. I see Jesus differently. My goal has always been to try to be authentic, open, and truthful as I build relationships with people inside and outside the church walls. I believe that the Apostle Paul spoke to this in the book of Philippians.

In verse 14, after he shared about how the strength of God enabled him to live whether in want or in plenty, he states, "Still, it was good of you to share in my struggles." The point is that the power of God, the strength of God, the mercy of God, the grace of God, the love of God and so on will be experienced when we care enough to simply share in each other's struggles.

That's one of the things that I hope to accomplish through this blog. I want to write openly, authenticly, and truthfully in an effort to share in the struggles of others and allow them to share in mine. This is how we win. So, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU to all who read these words. Please know that somewhere there's a guy who regularly prays for everyone touched by the "crazy". You are remembered, appreciated, supported, and loved. Hang in there.

Quick Update - New Meds

Day 187

I saw Doc Brown on Wednesday. We decided that 40mg of Methylin in two doses wasn't getting the job done. We opted for Concerta in an effort to eliminate remembering to take pills in the middle of the day, boost the focus effect and minimize the rebound symptoms. I started it today. I took two 36mg capsules around 9:30 am and it's now 9:56 pm.

I have felt it wearing off for the last 30-40 minutes and I'm beginning to rebound. All in all, things went pretty smoothly considering we went from 40mg of one med in two 20mg dosages to 72mg of the same basic med (the FDA maximum dosage) in one dosage with a long-term release mechanism. Right now, I'm just waiting. It usually takes a day or two to discover all of the fun side effects of drugs like these. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

When the Wheels Fell Off Part 2

Day 187

"May I speak to Barb please?"

"Just a minute..."

"This is Barb."

"Barb, it's your favorite insurance customer."

"Hi, Greg. What can I do for you?"

"You're never going to believe this one. The wheel fell off my truck."

"Oh my! Are you OK? Was there damage? Was anyone hurt?"

"No, but my truck is out of commission for a week or so. Does my policy cover a rental?"

"Not unless there was damage to the frame or the body. And since this wasn't exactly an accident, I'm not sure they will."

"Can you call and ask anyway? I'm hurting without a vehicle"

"OK, let me see what I can do."

A few hours later

"Good news, as it turns out, the policy will cover a rental 'til you get your truck back. You should check with Chrysler to see if they have any recalls listed for that model. I seem to remember something about recalling ball joints on front wheels of Durangos."

"I did that after I got off the phone with you earlier and they do have a recall out for my truck as a matter of fact. I called a friend of mine who owns a Dodge dealership in northern Ohio and he gave me his service manager who gave me a number for Chrysler. I called the number and spoke with a nice lady who gave me a man who transfered me to another man who gave me the number to call. I called and left a message and I'm just waiting to hear something. I'll keep you posted."

"Well, the good news is that you should be able to pick up your rental today at Enterprise."

"Cool, thanks, Barb. You're the best."

Hours later

"Here you go, sir. These are the keys to your Hyundai Sonata. Drive safely and thanks for using Enterprise."

"Hmm..XM radio, Cool!"

Check this out!

Day 186

I don't normally write multiple posts in one day, but I'm due for some blog action. I received a fantastic email from a woman named Abby Nelson at www.mastersincounseling.com. They recently compiled a list of 50 great OCD blogs and I was chosen as one of them.

If you love blogs about the "crazy" (and I know you do) you should really check out this list. There are some wonderful and creative writers out there sharing about their experiences. Thanks, Abby, I am truly honored to be part of your effort to help people learn to live with OCD.

Here's the link: http://www.mastersincounseling.com/50-great-blogs-for-ocd-support

You Can't Fall Up

Day 186

I will continue the story about the wheel on my truck in upcoming posts, but, today, I want to share something else.

When I was first diagnosed with clinical OCD there was a period of shock--a time when I said to myself, "Wow, I have a problem. I mean a real problem. This is one that takes doctors and medications and therapy. This is not just a bad day!" I did all the usual things. I researched the problem. I worried about the problem. I dwelt on all the negative aspects of the problem. Then, I told some people about the problem. I medicated the problem. After a while, I realized that it wasn't the end of all things, it was just a problem.

I was standing on the observation tower at Clingman's Dome 6643 feet above sea level (the highest point in the Smoky Mountains). Looking out, I could see for nearly 50 miles and stretched across those miles were many peaks and valleys. That's life, World. Peaks and valleys. And it was at this point that a life-changing thing happened to me. I realized that it is possible to fall from a peak as a result if a random happening; and that such a fall could send a person into a completely uncontrolled, rapid, and perilous descent landing that person abruptly and painfully at the bottom of a deep valley.

That was the first part, but what happened next sealed the deal. For the first time in my 37 years of life it became painfully clear to me that, while a person can certainly fall from a peak to a valley, it is impossible to fall back up. There's only one way out of a valley and that's to climb. Funny thing about climbing, it doesn't happen by accident like falling does. In order to climb, one has to be intentional about it. It's hard work. It's a struggle. It's a growth experience and an incredible victory. Climbing changes us--makes us stronger. This is why people pay large sums of money and risk life and limb to climb to the top of mountains, but nobody's out there laying down their life savings to fall off of one.

I'm happy to report that I have finally begun my intentional climb out of this valley. I don't know when I'll reach the top, but I do know I be stronger, when I do.

When the Wheels Fell Off Part 1

Day 168

"Oh Crap!" "Honey, I forgot to turn the air off at the office. I need to run over there. I'll be right back." "I know it's 11 pm, but I promised I wouldn't forget again." "It'll just take minute. I'll be right back."

6 miles to the office. Into the parking lot, into the building, turn off the air. Back out the door, into the truck, turning around in the parking lot to head for home. THUMP! What the...? Exit the truck to see the left front tire laying on it's side with the truck resting on top of it. "You've got to be kidding me!" Breathing becomes labored, start to sweat, trembling begins. Have a seat on a nearby bench and breathe slowly.

"Hey Babe, you are not going to believe this. I can hardly believe it myself. The left front wheel just fell off my truck! Yeah, I'm OK. I was turning around in the parking lot and it just fell off. No, I can't find the AAA card. But, I don't want you to have to get him out of bed and load him in the car just so you can bring it to me." "Yeah, so far I haven't freaked out, but it would be nice to have the company, thanks. I'll see you in a minute."

"Yes, it's a 2001 Dodge Durango. Yes, I'm off the road. No, I'm not in danger. 45 minutes to an hour? OK, thank you." "They'll be here in an hour. You don't have to wait with me, but I appreciate it."

"Man, I've been driving a tow truck for 16 years, but I've never seen this before. I'm not sure exactly how to even get it hooked to the truck without two front wheels." "It looks like we'll have to chain the wheel to the frame, because the only thing holding it on there is the brake line. Once we get that done, we'll have to chain it to the stinger, throw it in neutral, and tow it real slow. I just hope we don't damage the 4-wheel drive."

Two Hours Later

"Well Buddy, there you go. We'll just leave it out back here and they'll take a look at it tomorrow. It'll be fine sitting on that tire. I'll just have to remember to come back and get it tomorrow, because it's my only spare. Good luck, man."

"Hey, it's me. Yeah we finally got it towed. I borrowed Jenny's car. I'll be home soon. I can't help but think that this is the perfect metaphor for my life right now. It feels like the wheels are coming off in every direction. Thanks, I love you too, Bye."

Quick Update

Day 152

Let's see, since I last wrote much has happened. Doc Brown doubled my Ritalin I now take it twice a day. This helps to give my wife and kids some benefit of my new-found "focus." We took vacation to Gatlinburg for 5 days. That was the first time we had gone away for that many days. We stayed at the Parke Vista Double Tree. I highly recommend it, the view is phenomenal and the rooms are really nice.

I had some struggles with the crowds (Saturday night was particularly challenging), but we managed. Let's just say that OCD and trollies are not a good mix. I enjoyed as much of the local food as I could (appetite is still significantly diminished). I'm down another few pounds, at this rate, I may even fall below 200 lbs. by the end of the year. I haven't seen the other side of two bills in a decade. That will feel good. Losing weight almost makes up for losing my hair.

I have much more to write soon, but this is the skinny. I'm still surviving and I know I'll make it eventually. Thanks to everyone who reads this blog (however infrequently I write in it). Your support is vital, your love is appreciated, and your prayers are helping.

Crispiness? Are you serious?

Day 124

I posted an update today, but I'm due for something a bit more interesting. I had a wacky dream the other night. I do graphic design and marketing for a company that owns multiple nursing homes. This company if family owned and the family members are colorful to say the least. I have been contracted with them for a year and a half now, so these people have become my friends and regular parts of my life.

I have always had wacky dreams, but Ambien sort of ramps up the process. There are a few things aout my dreams that you should know. I always dream in color. There is always a musical soundtrack playing in my dreams. People in my dreams have clear faces and voices. Finally, I always dream in first person meaning that I experience the dream through my own eyes.

In this particular dream, the people who own this company had just purchased a camp. By camp I mean 500 acres of wilderness in the middle of nowhere, like a summer camp. In the middle of this land, there was a large hill. We were walking up the hill when one of the family members developed a respiratory condition and began to lag behind. I volunteered to hang back and walk with him while the other went up the hill.

While walking, he noticed a building off to our left. "Let's go see what's in there," he said, "I haven't been in that building yet." It was just a large metal out-building like a big garage, warehouse, or a Vineyard church. This particular guy is the COO of the family's corporation, so he's in charge of the physical running of the facilities. He is also Microsoft certified so he is constantly fixing some server, computer, laptop, or cash register. This is significant because the building was literally filled with the skeletal remains of computers all the back to the Commadore 64. Crossing the room, we saw a door that led us into a second warehouse filled with drums sets and workout equipment. "This is awesome!" he exclaimed, "We could open up a combination workout facility and jazz club!" Nevermind the fact that our clientele is in their eighties and couldn't make it up the hill, let alone workout, dance, or stay awake long enough to enjoy jazz.

While all of this was going on, the owner of the business and my design partner made it to the top of the hill where they discovered the cremation oven. Yes, there was a cremation oven in the middle of nowhere. The owner declared that, since we were in the retirement business already, opening a crematorium only made sense. He also announced that it would be called The Central Crematorium of Crispiness, and that we would have to find a way to market it.

I woke up just as we were about to create a newsletter for the Central Crematorium of Crispiness. When I got to work, I shared my dream with the owners and the other marketing staff. While I don't think we'll be opening a camp, a workout jazz club, or a crematorium anytime soon, I'll be ready just in case.

I Can See Clearly Now...I Think

Day 124

I saw Doc Brown yesterday. He checked out all my meds and started me on Methylin (a generic form of Ritalin). The best way to describe it is to say it's like having your eyeglass prescription updated and looking through your new, scratch-free lenses for the first time. Everything seems a little clearer and sharper. I could also say it's like watching and keeping up with 5 TV shows at the same time by constantly flipping channels vs. watching a TV that only gets one or two stations but with better picture and sound.

The Methylin takes 20-30 minutes to begin working and lasts about 8 hours. I have a slight feeling of medicine-head (light-headed, faintly buzzed), but I can actually think about one or two things without having stray random thoughts constantly running through my head. Also, activity going on around me doesn't seem to bother or distract me as much. I'm anxious to try it out in a busy restaurant. Restaurants have always been very difficult for me because of all the sensory input.

Of course, with the marvelous benefits of this medication, like the others, there are side effects. I'm still frequenting the bathroom, eating very little (down 13-14 pounds now depending on the day), and fighting off fatigue and nausea. The worst of the drawbacks though, by far, is the "let down" when it wears off. I can actually feel the chaos returning to my brain and it's a bit depressive. It's strange because normally I would medicate this kind of melancholy with food, but I don't feel like eating, so I'm searching for a remedy that I can use everyday at 5 pm. I see Coach soon, so I'll ask him about it.

All in all, I'm surviving. Doc Brown says that the side effects will even out in 2-3 days and that I'll see the full benefit by then. I know this much; my birthday is next Tuesday and 37 will be dramatically different from 36. There are days when I'm more miserable trying to be normal than I was being crazy. However, I know that life is better for my wife, my children, my friends (and anyone else who, for some odd reason, has chosen to find value in knowing me) than it was 6 months ago, and, because of that, I have to keep trying.

Quick Update

Day 108

Man, it's hard to believe that it's day 108. I meant to write something witty and reflective on day 100, but that didn't happen. I know that I am overdue for an update and I don't want any of you who follow this blog to worry, so here's what I've got. I saw Doc Brown, the shrink, last Wednesday. He raised my Zoloft again to 150 mg. This is the median dosage for people who take the stuff according to Coach. When he asked me if I had experienced any lessening of the desire to ritualize, I said, "No." He commented that he wasn't surprised because we still needed to get my dosage up to therapeutic levels. The annoying thing is that no one makes 150 mg pills, so I have to cut them in half every other night.

As expected side effects have increased and I'm down another few pounds (12 in all since starting the meds). I still haven't experienced any lessening in the desire to ritualize and I'm still taking Ambien every night to sleep. I see Coach in the morning so I'm sure we'll discuss it. I see Doc Brown again in two weeks when we will begin a generic form of Ritalin. It carries it's own collection of side effects so the combination could get interesting.

Anyway, thanks for reading, world. Let's keep in touch.

Update

Day 91

I saw Coach last Wednesday. He's back from his knee replacement and moving pretty well. We talked about how I was tolerating the new dosage of Zoloft and the Ambien. Going from 50 to 100mg of Zoloft has sent me through another round of side effects. Let's just say that I have had plenty of time in the bathroom for reading and reflection. The morning sickness is back along with the heartburn. I have learned that I have to force myself to eat protein in the morning and to eat lunch, even though I don't feel like it, in order to keep from getting light-headed and punchy in the afternoon. On the other hand, Ambien is wonderful! I have slept straight through the night for the last week and a half. I can't tell you how much easier it is to deal with this stuff when I can sleep.

The other thing we discussed at length, besides my need to work less and reduce my stress, was the possibility of adding a psychostimulant like Ritulin when I see Doc Brown on the 9th. Coach says that these drugs act differently than the antidepressants. The take effect within about 20 minutes and only last 4-6 hours. This means I can manage my focus by taking them only when I need them. We first have to get my Zoloft up to therapeutic levels which means increasing them to 150mg or more. Suffice it to say, we have a ways to go with the medication.

I have a gig tonight. That's always a good thing. Nothing fixes what's wrong with the world like a gig. I haven't had one for a few weeks because we seem to be working less than last year. I guess the economy has finally caught up with us. Oh well, I'll just be thankful for tonight and take the tomorrow with a handful of ibuprofen.

Real Shrink Day

Day 81

I saw Doc Brown, the real deal shrink, today. This guy is the big guns, Kids. He had a background in aerospace engineering before he decided to become a board-certified psychiatrist who specializes in the administration of medications to "crazy" people. I didn't see any flux capacitors, but he definitely knows his stuff. He verified that I am on the right medications, but the wrong dosages. My Zoloft is going from 50mg to 100mg. He also added some Ambien to help me sleep. So it looks like, starting tomorrow, we get to have more fun with side-effects. He says that the median dosage of Zoloft is 150mg and that people with serious OCD often require more than that. We'll see how it goes. I see him again in two weeks to evaluate the situation. At that visit we see how I'm tolerating the new dosage and we discuss the possibility of adding a psycostimulant to deal with my ADHD.

Speaking of ADHD, I asked him how in the world a person can have one disorder for which the treatment is organization and routine and another disorder where organization and routine are the problem. He told me to look at it like this. Perhaps the channel changing in my head caused by my ADHD was severe enough t0 cause my brain to hyperorganize and over-routine in order to compensate. The goal of treatment heading forward will be to gain a balance of meds that handle both conditions allowing me to function like "normal" people. Just think, Papa, if this works, I could be a real boy!

Bad Day

Day 75

I really don't want to write this post. I'm forcing myself to do it. Today was a bad day. I have had bad days many times in my life. This one wasn't any more bad than other bad days I've had. The difference between other days and this one is that I'm writing about it. For 36 years, I would just suffer through it alone. I couldn't really tell anyone, because then they'd just worry. You see, "normal" people have bad days, but there's usually a reason or a cause. They can talk about it and say, "Today sucked because (insert sucky reason here)." When you can name what caused it, you can generally devise a plan for fixing it, so they blow it off or tackle it tomorrow, fix it, and go on. It doesn't work that way for "crazy" people.

When we have a day like this, we just have one. We don't know why things suck. In fact, if I recounted my day to you moment by moment, you would probably say, "That doesn't sound so bad." That's because there isn't a cause or clear explanation when you're "crazy." There's only sad. Big, hairy, painful, ugly sad. It's like the worst sadness ever in the world borrows deep inside your bones and you can't shake it no matter how hard you try. You just have to hurt until it doesn't hurt anymore and try not to do anything stupid in the meantime.

Medicine complicates things. Before the meds, I would freak out and completely lose it emotionally. It was three kinds of ugly but at least there was some sort of release. With the meds, I don't lose it, so I'm less likely to hurt myself or anyone else. The downside is that I don't feel, I'm just numb. There's no release - no crying, no screaming, no yelling, no anything - just silent hurt. I'm sorry if this post brings you down, but this is part of the "getting better" thing. I have to tell the whole story. I have to talk about all aspects of this stuff. This is what I promised those of you who, for some unknown reason, have chosen to love me.

So, when it's all said and done, there's always tomorrow. I can only hope that it will be better than today. Life can't suck forever, right? Who would read that?

Back at the Keys

Day 72

OK World, I'm back. Thank you to all those out there who have inquired about my whereabouts. I'm happy to report that my recent disappearance was strictly work related. I was involved in several political campaigns in the recent primary election. After that, I had to climb out from under the mountain of work that had piled up on me while I neglected my regular clients due to my political pursuits. Anyway, I have returned.

The next hurdle in the "getting better" challenge is my appointment with Doc Brown, the shrink. I see him on the 19th. He will evaluate my prescription and decide where we go from there. You may remember that my current dosage is only an introductory strength of 50 mg. Coach says that regular clinical strength is anywhere from 100 to 150 mg. Also, since the Xanax ran out, I haven't been sleeping again. I dance with the "Blue Death" occasionally, but I try to use it only in desperate circumstances. Dr. Thurman doesn't like me to mix OTC and prescription meds in the long term.

I have noticed that I function better around "normal" people since the Zoloft reached full potency. I have to admit, though, that I haven't begun doing exposures and challenging my rituals yet. Not having the pressure of hiding them from my friends helps, but it also enables me a bit. I know I will have to take them on eventually. I'm just waiting until I know what a full dose of meds will do to me.

Coach tested me at my last session and officially declared that I have ADHD. This is something I have known for years, but I finally have a real diagnosis. Now, here's the true definition of "crazy." I have one disorder that is managed by routine and organization. I have another disorder that is routine and organization elevated to the level of sickness. In Gatlinburg, my wife found a T-Shirt that reminded her of me. It said, "You're just jealous, because the voices only speak to me." The trick is learning which ones to listen to, I guess.

In other news, I have actually started playing music again and having some semblance of creative thought. I sat down at the piano and enjoyed myself for the first time in a long while recently. For those of you who know me it may be hard to believe, but the "crazy" got so bad that I literally didn't play for over six months. I couldn't focus long enough to make it happen. It borders on tragic to think that something so integral to my very being was beyond my reach. I can't tell you what it means to me to have the music back. I can hear it in my head and make sense of it where, for so long, there was only noise, confusion, and cacophony. I have also been able to laugh again in the last few weeks. I love to laugh. It's healthy. But when you're imprisoned by the "crazy" nothing is funny. I have a long way to go, but it's slowly getting better. That's good news.

3 Weeks of Pills

Day 48

Today marks three weeks on Zoloft. I can say that I have felt a difference. My "freak outs" are at least manageable. They are still pretty intense in my head, but I can get through them using breathing and visualization. Coach says that the dosage I'm taking is an introductory dose and that therapeutic levels are usually 2 to 3 times as much. I'm sure that that Doc Brown will want to increase my dosage when I see him in May. I'll probably need the help as I haven't started intentionally doing exposures yet. The strength I'm on now basically allows me to muddle through.

Also, I'm out of the tiny amount of Xanax I was given to help me sleep. I slept last night, but I noticed that my dreams weren't peaceful. I found myself running from things, worrying about things, and fighting things. They weren't as bad as the ones that used to wake me up several times a night, but they were definitely heading that way. I'm interested in seeing how I feel next Friday after 4 full weeks with Zoloft. At this point, I'm just thankful for what relief I have.

Balloons

Day 44

I was going to tack this on to the previous post, but I decided it deserved one of its own. My business partner has some very good friends who lost their son recently. Dwaine was a remarkable person from what I have learned. He was severely mentally handicapped and from birth he was left at the hospital for dead. This woman, a nurse, took him in. She and her husband adopted him and raised him. He lived to be sixteen and brought joy to countless people.

One of his greatest loves was balloons, purple ones to be exact. So, at his memorial service, hundreds of balloons were released in his honor. Last week I was designing the "Thank You" cards that his family would send to people who attended the service. On the front of the cards is an illustration of purple balloons floating into the sky. After I drew the illustration, I realized some things about balloons.

You can't push, pull, throw, or launch them into the sky. In order for them to fly, you need only to stop holding them back. Once you let go and release the balloons, they do what they were created to do - fly. As I continue to struggle through this recovery, one day at a day time, I will think often about those balloons and realize that worrying is like trying to push balloons into flight. The magic only happens when we let go.

Besides the side effects...

Day 44

Well, World, last Friday marked 2 weeks on my medication. This means that, by now, I'm supposed to have seen all that Zoloft can throw at me with regard to side effects. At this point, I still wake up nauseous every morning, but it's getting better. I have learned that eating a small amount of food for breakfast such as a muffin, a banana, or some cereal helps to calm things down. I've also learned to pack a snack to help me through the 3 pm crash. I still don't have much of an appetite and I'm down about 10 pounds, but that's OK with me. I could lose about 40 more before I worry about it and I doubt that I'm going to be that fortunate. Most of the people who report weight loss with SSRI medications say that they eventually gain the weight back anyway. I'm going to try not to let that happen. Besides, all my life I have eaten for comfort and if the meds do their job I shouldn't have the anxiety that caused the medicinal eating.

In other news, My son begins Little League tomorrow. We bought the glove and bat yesterday. I was so excited to pass on the love of baseball. There is something American, something spiritual, something downright manly about baseball. It was such a massive part of my development as a young man. I learned to play on a team. I learned to win and lose with dignity and pride. I learned to overcome my fears. And I learned to push myself beyond my limits to grow in my abilities. Baseball united me with my friends, my family, and most importantly my dad. I am truly overjoyed to share this with my boy. This will be good for both of us.

Mountain Music

Day 37

"Oh, play me that mountain music
Like Grandma and Grandpa used to play
Then I'll float on down the river
To a Cajun hideaway"
-Alabama

Leslie and I got back from Gatlinburg yesterday. It feels good to be with the Murmels (our kids... more later) again. I missed them. There is a sadness, though, that lingers at our house. We found the beginnings of some real healing down there and a longer stay would have been nice. We're planning a family trip for the summer - I look forward to returning. There's something about seeing mountains that reminds you of how there are bigger and more important things than the daily crap you face.

Leslie went with me to see Coach today. She's on Spring Break and I'm glad she had the chance to meet him. I think it was good for him to see our relationship in action as well. He seems reassured that our marriage is strong and that she is on board with this whole "getting better" thing. We discussed side effects of the medications and how to deal with re-entry (coming home to work and life again). We talked about finding ways to go back there in my mind when the freak outs come. That's where the music and the food come in. These are my two greatest sources of comfort. I'll have to work on ways to bring Gatlinburg back to Ohio - even if its only in my mind.

For now, I'm still sick every morning from the medication, I have no appetite, and I'm buried in projects with insane deadlines, but we just muddle through, right? On a positive note, I noticed that my thyme and oregano plants are coming back alongside my chives. Also, my apple trees are blossoming and the bumble bees are hard at work helping them make babies. I love the fragrances of spring. Soon the lavender will bolt and the mint will take off. Before you know it, we'll be planting tomatoes and peppers. Maybe, when the medicine evens out, I'll feel like cooking. How's that for positive thinking?

Sir, Step Away From the Orange (How Drugs Cured My Breakfast Ritual)

Day 32

It's been a few days, World, so here's the stuff. I saw Coach yesterday and he is pleased with the medications that Dr. Thurman prescribed last Friday. I can report that I no longer eat an orange for breakfast. I don't eat cereal most mornings either as I feel nauseous when I first wake up. The sick feeling usually wears off around lunch time and I manage to hold down something light. By evening, I actually feel like eating, then I take the meds, go to sleep, and start all over again. I'm down 2 pounds from last Friday. So it's not the way I wanted to lose weight, but at this point, I'm willing to consider the loss a benefit to weigh against the sickness. Also, the 3 pm crash (I have always had an energy low between 3 and 5 pm) is worse now, but that probably has more to do with how little I'm eating, than the meds. However you look at it, the meds have stopped my 3 am checking rituals because I don't wake up and my breakfast rituals because I can't eat. Oh, the miracles of modern medicine!

Coach and I also talked about deep breathing to make it through the freak outs. This is where being a musician (and especially a wind player) comes in handy. I learned how to deep breathe in my earliest trumpet lessons as a kid and I just trained myself to do it all the time. The trick I learned yesterday was to exhale twice as long as I inhale and to concentrate on a word or phrase that is calming to me. Also if I turn the corners of my mouth up slightly in a half smile while I exhale through pursed lips, it stimulates cranial nerve 7 in my parasympathetic nervous system causing my body to release endorphins (which apparently are like Prozac mixed with crack). Let me see, deep breathing, pursed lips, turned up corners, yeah sounds kind of like an embouchure doesn't it? This explains why trumpet playing was my preferred method for dealing with the "crazy" when I was younger and also, why I suffer more with it now. I need to play more often, but then, I knew that without the copay.

Now, I need to head for work. I'm looking forward to this weekend. Leslie and I are going away. Just the two of us. She's informed me that I'm not allowed to worry about the cost and assured me that we need to do this. I know we have the money, but then I also know that the doors are locked at 3 am. The bottom line is that she's right, like so many other times before. World, I wish I could truly explain to you how strong and amazing she really is. She'll be what pulls me through this. I'm a fortunate man. God only made one and only he knows why she picked me - probably because he knew I was going to be a handful. Regardless, when it comes to having a hand to hold, I'm so glad I have hers.

The First Pills of the Rest of My Life

Day 29

Last night I took the first pills of the rest of my life. After I took them (and didn't faint, explode, or melt into goo) I said to my loving wife in a melancholy tone, "Well, I just took the first pills of the rest of my life." Unphased by overblown sense of personal drama, she simply replied, "We don't know that it will be for the rest of your life." So I sat on the couch to watch TV with her, because she was right. I don't know if this will be for the rest of my life, but I do know that it is for right now.

As for the sleep, all things went well. Xanax can be a worthy opponent when navigating to the bathroom at 2 am, but, all things considered, I awoke around 6:30 ready for the day. Today I will work on the taxes, take the kids to a pizza party at 1, and try to relax a bit. I may even cook today, my chives are coming up in the garden outside and their just begging to be used. I love chives, because winter can't kill them. They just keep coming back year after year. I hope to be like that.

First Doctor's Day

Day 28

I saw my doctor today. Her first name is Uma, so she will be referred to in this blog as Dr. Thurman. I choose to protect the identities of those mentioned here in case they ever desire not to be associated with me or my "crazy." Besides, a certain degree of anonymity is just smart sometimes.

Anyway, she checked me out and listened to my story. I've got it down pretty well by now. It goes something like this: "I have something to tell you - I'm crazy. You see, I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I've had it all my life. I've hidden it from everyone I know for 36 years and now I'm teetering on the brink of insanity. I have the prerequisite people, publications, and prescriptions; and I'm ready to get better."

"I see," she says, "How do your symptoms manifest themselves?" "Usually with counting, checking, perfectionism, ordering, straightening, and cleaning," I say. "Things need to be done in even numbers. Steps have to alternate over lines or planes of any kind. Chewing needs to be equal on both sides of the mouth. I touch things, tap things, repeat things, research and memorize things ad nauseum." "Uh huh," she answers as she ponders asking me for specifics.

I decide to give her one just for fun. "Like the fact that I spent less than 10 minutes in your waiting room. I haven't been there in almost 2 years. You have 39 openings behind your receptionist - 30 of them are drawers and nine are doors organized in groups of three, two on top of the drawers and one below. There are four pictures hanging on the left wall and one on the right wall. The one on the right is larger and crooked - it leans to the left. The second photo from the left on the opposite wall is crooked inside the frame (also leaning to the left) so I was unable to fix it. you have six white chairs and four orange ones; two windows; and one cubbyhole with an angel statue in it. There is one ink pen that is nearly dry, one bottle of hand sanitizer that needs to be refilled, two magazines and one children's book with an free book bag offer on the cover. Shall I continue?" She assures me that won't be necessary.

After a listen to the lungs and a short discussion about sleep deprivation and the side effects of SSRI medications, I left with two prescriptions: one for Xanax to relax me and help me sleep and one for Zoloft to fix the chemicals in my brain. I dropped them off at the Walgreen's near where I work. I'll pick them up on the way to cash my check and start taking them tonight at bedtime.

So that's the plan for now. I have no idea how I'm going to feel or what this stuff will do for the "crazy," not to mention any side effects, but I'll keep you informed as I go. Here's to sleepier nights and happier days, World. May they come quickly and stick around for a long, long time.

First Doctor's Eve

Day 27

I called this post, "First Doctor's Eve," but this is certainly not the first time I've seen my doctor. She is a good doctor. She listens. She doesn't rush through appointments. She doesn't push medications unnecessarily. Most of all, she genuinely cares about her patients. This is especially fresh in my mind as I received a lesson in customer service from a disgruntled customer of my own this evening.

The purpose of my visit tomorrow is to bring my doctor into the loop about my "crazy" and to get her recommendation on medications. I also want her to weigh in on the best sleep solution, especially if it's not the "Blue Death." I go at noon so I'll let you know what she says tomorrow.

On a separate note, I've been reading in the book I purchased a while back (remember that?) and I definitely have some questions for Coach on Monday about cognitive therapy. More about all that later. Goodnight, World, we'll go at it again tomorrow.

Thank God for the "Blue Death"

Day 26

I discovered Tylenol PM in college. I have never been one to sleep much, but back then it was especially bad. All night study sessions, late night gigs, fraternity life, and other extracurricular events made for a sleep schedule that was erratic at best and often times down right chaotic. My roommate and I heard about this little over-the-counter wonder and decided to give it a try. The adult dose was two tablets, so each of us downed a couple tiny blue dream-makers and headed for bed. I awoke 8 1/2 hours later refreshed and ready for the day. He didn't stir for another 4 hours and when he did he was foggy for another hour or so. I love him, but he's kind of a medicinal light-weight.

After this, we affectionately named this product the "Blue Death." When either of said we were going to take the "Blue Death" the other one had to abstain and play "Town Cryer" to make sure we made it to class the next day. (As a side note, Nyquil often accomplishes the same result, but if you don't have sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, or fever why overdo it right?).

As the years have come and gone, I have occasionally had cause to dance with the "Blue Death." The last few weeks have brought me to one of those occasions. I am happy to report that for the past two nights, I have slept much more soundly thanks to Tylenol PM (which, incidently, is just extra strength Tylenol with Benedryl added to it). However, in a constant effort to limit my dealings with the "Small Blue One," I will be seeing my primary care physician tomorrow. She was the one who told me to use it until I could get into the office. I have complete confidence in her knowledge of medications and I know that she will help me craft a more permanent sleep solution.

As for the "crazy," I have to admit that it is much easier to deal with when I can sleep at night. So fear not, World, things are looking up. I see the doctor tomorrow, the Coach on Monday, and the shrink in May. And just think, less than a month ago I was just some poor schlep touching, counting, and checking his way to insanity. Now, I have people, publications, and prescriptions. Looks like the sky's the limit. Or is it? You know, I haven't checked that lately...

The Night of the Pillows

You Guessed It, Day 24

OK, so I'm feeling saucy about the whole writing thing today. Actually, I find that writing helps lessen the anxiety. This is why I'm on my fourth post of the day and ready to tell you about the "Night of the Pillows".

Leslie and I have had trouble sleeping in recent months. This is probably due to the hand-me-down mattress in our room that is older than we are combined. The trick about sleeping on our mattress is that you have to lay in one spot until the spring that's poking you wakes you up, but not long enough for said spring to actually bruise a rib. Then you reposition, rinse, and repeat over and over until morning. If your lucky you will only wake up 2 or 3 times and you won't sustain any lasting contusions.

Back around Christmas, we finally decided, while watching the bionic woman commercial, to give the sleep number bed some thought. After all, bionic people have to sleep too, right? We took a trip to our nearest sleep number store and fell in love with the bed. However, we were in the final throws of a grueling 3-year effort to get out of debt. We decided that when we could pay cash, we would return and purchase the bed of our dreams (no pun intended). As an intermediate step, though, we decided to purchase contoured pillows - expensive contoured pillows. They're not cheap, World, but they are amazing! They cradle your head in perfect support almost causing you to forget that your being poked in the ribs my a recalcitrant steel coil.

We brought our pillows home and unboxed them. I slept on mine for a few nights and then it was time to change the sheets and cases. Leslie stripped the old bedding and set our naked pillows aside. When it came time to make the bed, I helped. We had all of the sheets on in perfect teamwork when she picked up the pillows. Without their outer coverings, they were identical. They had the same contoured shape. They weighed the same. They were the same color. They were exactly alike except for one extremely important thing - I didn't know which one was mine! All my life I have been very picky about my pillows making sure that no one else slept on them and that I used mine and only mine in complete fidelity until down do us part.

When she handed me my pillow, she noticed the terror on my face. She was concerned because this was before "The Morning of the Orange" and she still didn't know about the "crazy". "What's wrong?" she said. "I...I...don't know if it's mine," I choked. "They're identical," she replied. She didn't understand and I was still hiding so I couldn't explain. I unboxed that pillow! I and I alone had slept upon it. Now something that belonged to me may have been lost! That's really the fear - losing my stuff. I don't lose my stuff. Everything goes in the same place every time according to years of time-tested ritual and practice. I wasn't appalled at the idea of sleeping on a pillow my wife had used or anything like that. This wasn't about wife cooties. This was about lost stuff and that, my friends, is a big, big, deal to a person with my brand of "crazy".

I couldn't sleep on it. I just laid it aside and rolled over eventually falling asleep in silence on my auxiliary pillow. I awoke, for the usual checking of the house (more later), around 3 am. After staring out the window, deep breathing for 45 minutes, and performing half a dozen decontamination rituals, I was finally able to sleep on the pillow. Leslie now assures me that the two pillows are separate at all times and I shall never again be parted from the one on my side of the bed. Someday, I hope to be free of this junk. Then I may just mix them up myself employing ridiculous things like odd numbers, asymmetrical patterns, and all manor of normal person whimsicality. For now, I'll keep saving for the bed. At this point I would give anything for the ability to get some sleep.

Get to Know Me

Still Day 24

Today was Second Shrink Day. I did most of the talking. It was mainly just more "Get to know me!" (John Lovitz vintage SNL).

I elaborated on the people in my life who share the knowlege of my "crazy." Friends and family mostly. We did speak briefly about church. There will eventually be volumes about that, but scratching the surface was helpful.

Next week we discuss relaxation techniques and how to survive full scale freak outs.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPod

Second Shrink Day

More Day 24

Here on time. Waiting. Just handled a stressful work situation over the phone. That did wonders for my state of mind.

Strangely, for as much as I have looked forward to this, I feel very anxious. Breathing is labored. Mind is racing. It's like the "crazy" knows it's days are numbered and it's fighting to survive.

My turn.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPod

The Morning of the Orange

Day 24

If you have followed this blog from it's inception, then you'll remember my mention of the "Morning of the Orange." This was the last straw crisis that prompted my coming clean about being "crazy" after 36 years of hiding it. To fully understand the event, you must first understand my lifelong on-again off-again relationship with oranges. Throughout my childhood, my mother would always have a glass of orange juice with breakfast. She made it from concentrate in this translucent, tubular, container. Every now and again, I would try it, but I couldn't deal with the pulp (I called it pits as in "Oscar, you know I can't stand pits in my orange juice!"). C'mon, fist pump for the obscure Odd Couple reference? Ok, then. Let's just say that orange juice was something I never quite settled into.

Fast forward to college. The dining halls served orange juice with breakfast and, considering breakfast was usually left over pizza and coffee, I thought I'd give it a try. A guy has to have his fruit, you know. Well, you can imagine my surprise to learn that college dining hall orange juice didn't have "pits!" This bit of free experimentation gave way to eating fresh oranges which were delicious. The citrus fruit, once held as the bane of my childhood, was now my friend.

Fast forward to adulthood. After graduating from college, I took a job as a pastor. I was the Associate Pastor of Youth and Music. This is much like being the Associate Pastor of Chaos and Insanity. I worked for a self-serving, manipulative, evil, tyrant of a man that everyone else called "Pastor." We'll have many conversations regarding this phase of my life as this blog continues, but for now you only need know that I was severely used and abused by someone who was supposed to love Jesus. This led to the stomach issues. I worked in these inhuman conditions for 6 1/2 years during which, and for years afterward, I could no longer eat oranges because my stomach couldn't handle the acid.

Fast forward to last fall. I decided that, since I had been out of parish ministry for seven years, perhaps I could give oranges a try once again. I began by eating one for breakfast. I waited and nothing ignited. While I still can't eat them after noon for some reason, I can eat them for breakfast. This became the new breakfast ritual: 1 orange and 1 bowl of dry Kashi cereal. Enter vehicle, remove lid from cereal bowl. At first stop light, score the orange with handy dandy Pampered Chef orange scorer thingy. While driving, peel orange carefully placing peels on the lid of the cereal bowl. Eat orange making sure to chew equally on each side of the mouth. Eat cereal, two pieces at a time so as to promote equal chewing in each side. In the rare case that there is actually an odd number of cereal pieces, simply bite the last one in half and chew equally on both sides. Place the orange peels safely inside the cereal bowl and place the lid securely on top. Leave in truck and dispose of peels when you get home. (This is the first half of the breakfast ritual. We'll talk about part two another time).

My wife is a bit of a worrier. She was concerned about me peeling an orange while driving, so she began trying to help me by peeling the orange for me. At first I would make excuses and rush out conveniently leaving the orange behind. Then she would send one of my children out with it so I wouldn't forget. On these occasions, I would end up throwing the orange away, because I didn't peel it. One fateful day, as I was trying to conveniently leave the orange behind, she confronted me. This was after the "Night of the Pillows" (more later) and she wasn't going to accept the brush-off. "I can't take it because you peeled it!" I exclaimed. "I'm concerned about you peeling an orange while you're driving!" she said. "You don't get it, this is MY THING! I STARTED THIS, AND I SHOULD BE THE ONE WHO CHANGES IT, NOT YOU!" "IF YOU'RE AFRAID, YOU NEED TO FIND SOME WAY TO DEAL WITH YOU IRRATIONAL FEARS, BUT CONTROLLING ME ISN'T GOING TO WORK!" Angry footsteps. Door slam. completely bewildered sobbing wife left behind.

I reached my truck and drove off as I completely freaked out. I knew what I had done. I knew full well the damage that would remain if I didn't undo it. I knew I needed help. There was a very real danger that this secret could cost me my marriage, my children, and everything that mattered to me. I simply wasn't willing to pay that price, so I called a friend who had been through something similar and began this journey. Facing Leslie that night and coming clean was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but it was the first step toward fighting my way out of this nightmare. Today, I see Coach again and take another step. One at a time, World. That's how we're going to do it. One at a time.

First Shrink Eve Eve

Day 23

I offered you some thoughts on First Shrink Eve, but I didn't tell you what happened on First Shrink Eve Eve (that's the night before the night before First Shrink Day - last Monday). I have to admit that I had a total freak out. I'm serious, this one was first class - choking sobs, hyperventilating, the whole completely unmasculine mess. You see, I realized that walking into the therapist's office meant two things. One, I was officially admitting to someone official that I was officially "crazy". This wasn't just some theory or off-hand diagnosis developed from internet research. This was the real deal, told to someone who was bound by his professional calling and my co-pay to do something about it; which leads us to the next thing. Two, someone was actually going to take away my rituals. This was absolutely terrifying!

Now, anyone who knows anything about therapy, especially this kind, will tell you that nothing happens quickly. Any change that is made will happen slowly over a period of time, so it's not like going to sleep for plastic surgery and waking up looking like someone else. However, the idea of giving up the only things that stand between me and complete and total madness was entirely overwhelming.

You have to understand, World, that this is all I have ever known. It's not like I contracted this thing 5 or 10 years back and I can remember life before "crazy". I have had this for 36 years, since birth! I cannot remember a time when things did not have to happen in even numbers, complete symmetry, or alternating footsteps. I have never known life without OCD. This meant that surrendering to therapy brought a voyage into utterly unknown darkness (with the hope that what doesn't kill me will make me stronger and eventually, I'll be able to function like normal people).

Obviously I got through the freak out, made it to therapy, and Wednesday was a pretty good day, but I felt like I owed it to you to share this. I guess I felt that way because part of the reason for writing this blog is to offer hope to others who may be struggling with OCD. In order to be true to that part of the deal, I feel it is important to show both the beautiful and the ugly. It is the only way truly display the true progression from start to healing. It also helps people who don't have the "crazy" but love someone who does, to understand the way it works.

I had a minor freak out at church today (more about this later, I've shared enough struggle for now). Let's just say that I look forward to talking with Coach tomorrow. It will be nice to have some more victory to write about.

Bad day

Day 21

When I decided to write this blog I knew there would be days like this. I have felt down all day for no reason. I can't explain it, but I'm beginning to understand the chemical aspect of the " crazy".

My ray of hope is that I get to spend the weekend with ratively safe people and I see Coach again on Monday. Talking will help, but waiting until May to get on a medication will seem like an eternity. It's funny, World, when I started this I couldn't bear the thought of taking some sort of medication. Now I almost welcome it. I think I'm just tired of suffering. Soon sleep and yes, Scarlet, tomorrow is another day.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPod

Meet the Coach

Day 20

Here's the report from First Shrink Day. As I told you before, my shrink isn't really a shrink, he's a clinical social worker. This means he needs a fitting title. His last name is Carter, so I shall, from this day forward, refer to him in this blog as Coach. This is an interesting bit of irony since I'm not much of an athlete. I am, however, a movie buff and Coach Carter was a rather inspiring flick.

Coach is a very kind and patient sort of individual, at least in therapy. He was a sports guy in his youth, but he also has a deep love for classical music and fine art. How's that for well rounded? He listens well and asks intelligent questions, he is an elder in his church, so he'll have some frame of reference for my church issues, and he looks a lot like my wife's uncle Denny. That last one is particularly helpful as I have always found Denny to be a person of compassion who is easy to talk to and great to spend time with.

Here's the plan. 1. Get the OCD under control with Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. 2. Get on a medication to help lessen the freak outs and smooth the process. This requires an appointment with a Psychiatrist who works in the same office (the first available appointment is in May, but I'm on a cancellation list. Maybe we'll get lucky). 3. Fully test me for ADHD to see if we need to treat that as well. 4. Continue with all of the above, adjusting as we go, until my "crazy" is under control. All in all it doesn't sound so scary, and so far the people I'm working with are great, so we'll hang in there and see if we can't just beat this thing.

Before I wrap up, I have to send a "shout out" to The Amazing Carolyn. She works the phones for my shrinks. After dealing with sixteen shrinks in nearly a dozen offices over a period of three weeks, I as at the end of sanity and patience. The Amazing Carolyn took it upon herself to beat the bushes for me and hook me up with Coach. I wish all office and phone people cared the way she does, because it made all the difference for me. Thank you, Carolyn. You're the best!

Off to work now. I see Coach again on Monday. I'll let you know what he says. Have a great day, World!

Waiting

Day 19

I am on the lobby waiting. It's first shrink day. Nervous. Trying not to freak out. Forgot my pen, had to use theirs, they had sanitized, so I'm better now. I don't usually have the germ thing, but I'm unusually anxious so maybe that's why. Back to waiting...

A mother with a teenage boy just came in. She is haggling over her balance. I don't have a balance. I'm new. They have a serious cancellation policy-$75. A week ago I might have found it excessive, but after working so hard to even get an appointment, I can understand how precious these time slots are.

Just got a text message fro
my wife. "I love you," she says. I don't know what I would without her. I hear a man's voice. Maybe it's my guy. He's 9 minutes late.

My turn.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPod

First Shrink Eve

Day 18

Hey World, I apologize for disappearing for several days, but here's the big catch up. Early last week, my new found shrink with the waiting list bailed because he doesn't specialize in OCD. He gave me some numbers and I tried them, but no dice. Four shrinks later, I met my new best friend, The Amazing Carolyn. The Amazing Carolyn answers the phone for group of shrinks in West Chester where I work. She tracked one down and made some calls. That guy was a bust as well, but yesterday, no doubt due to her dogged determination on behalf of all crazy people everywhere, The Amazing Carolyn found a shrink for me! Seriously, a real shrink with an actual appointment and everything!

Now, at this point, I need to offer a bit of clarification, because my shrink isn't actually a shrink. He's a clinical social worker, which is kind of like "shrink lite." The good thing is that he has expertise in helping people with OCD, and that is what counts. So, tomorrow we'll see what the beginning of "better" looks like. I'll keep you in the loop.

On the Run - Looking Out for Spiders

Day Twelve

OK, World, I only have a minute - here goes. Minor freak out at work yesterday. I'm sure it was stress induced.

 Strange dream two nights ago. I was sitting in my living room when someone placed a tarantula on my right shoulder.

I freaked out, which made the spider nervous. I thought it was going to bite me so I grabbed it's fangs with my left hand. Quick as lightning, it wrapped itself around my hand and sunk the fangs into the tip of my index finger. In an effort to keep the poison from going further into my body, I ran to the kitchen and, with my 8" chef's knife, lopped off my finger at the first knuckle. Then I wrapped the wound in towels and headed for the hospital.

Next, I woke up with some nasty heartburn and had to drive to Meijer at 2 am for Pepcid. Not sure what that was all about, but it sure was real. Let hope there are no giant spiders lying in wait for me today.

Whipped but I made it.

Day Nine

Well, World, I survived the gig last night. I knew that when I finished one of two things would be true. Either I would have worked out the anxiety during the performance and felt better or I would have held it off for hours only to be hit with it extra heavy around 1 am. I don't know that either of these options happened actually. I was so exhausted when it was over that I just went to bed.

I have zombied through the day today including Bible Study tonight and I'm now ready for bed once again. Tomorrow we begin the workout schedule, the new diet, and the new work hours including time spent in the new office. I'm sure my shrink would caution me against three big life-altering changes at once, but if it was really that big of a deal, I wouldn't be waiting 4-6 weeks now would I? Goodnight, World. We'll go at it again tomorrow.

Pencil me in

Day Eight

I'm experiencing some nasty anxiety tonight as I get ready for a gig. That's something I haven't told you yet, World, I'm a musician. I play in a band and, until recently, gigs were the only things in my life that were relatively " freak out free." My theory is that I didn't get done several work-related things that I had planned to do today, and the "crazy" is taking it out on me this way. I guess we'll find out what my shrink says in only 4-6 weeks.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

It's Our Anniversary...

Day Seven

Do you remember those hot, steamy, Jr. High romances when you celebrated everything imaginable like it was some kind of milestone? "Congratulations, Baby, it's our 5 minute anniversary!"

Well, we're not far off, World. This post marks one week in the "crazy" business. In this first week, I had "the" conversation with everyone who needs to know what's going on with me, I found the shrink of my dreams (I just have to wait 4-6 weeks to see him), and I bought my OCD Bible (no, that's not the name of the book - it's just that important right now). I'm learning why I freak out, trying to freak out less often, and looking forward to having someone to talk to who actually studied this crap.

Now I'm off. Headlong into another weekend. Hopefully, I can enjoy it. Have a great Friday, World. There'll be more to say soon, I'm sure.

By the Book

Day Six

I think I finally found my shrink. The only problem is that he is out of the office until Monday and he's not currently taking new patients. His voicemail says that I can go on a waiting list and maybe get in for an appointment in 4-6 weeks. 4-6 WEEKS! Do you know how many freak-outs can happen in 4-6 weeks, World? This is going to be a long, hard month. But, I'm sure that this is the guy. I know that I want a Cognitive Behavioral approach and he is in the network. I'll just have to wait, that's all - just wait.

In the meantime, because I'm just a pro-active or bust kind of guy, I have to do something. Therefore I bought a book. It's a rather comprehensive book written by a foremost expert on OCD and I figure I can at least learn enough in 4-6 weeks to be dangerous in a therapy session. At the very least, I'll be able to tell whether or not this guy knows his stuff. Like I said before, this is my head we're talking about. I'm not about to let just anyone poke around in there so he can bill my insurance and buy that time-share in Cabo, he's been eyeing.

I'll keep you up to date on what I'm learning in the book, but for now, rest assured that progress is being made.

On a side note, I do my writing at a Panera Bread near my office. Panera has definitely become THE place for job interviews and business meetings. I crack up every time I walk in toting my backpack computer case and sixteen people start eyeing me wandering if I'm the guy they are supposed to meet. One of these days I'm going to sit down and interview for something just for kicks. Wouldn't it be hysterical if I made through the whole interview and got hired to some company before they found out? I have the perfect exit, "I'm sorry sir, I'm crazy and I have an interview obsession." "Now about that promotion..."

Still Searching

Day Five

OK, I have now been shrink searching for over a week. I have some new leads today, so hopefully, I'll be able to land one soon. I have learned all about shrink specialties like "Cognitive Behavioral Therapy" and "Psycho-Analysis". I believe I'm looking for one of these Cognitive-Behavior people, but there doesn't seem to be many of them around. I have noticed that they tend to be Psychologists rather than Psychiatrists. I don't know if that's an actual tendency or just the way it shakes out in greater Cincinnati, where I live. I do know that there are only about 5 OCD specialists in this area and three of them aren't in my network and the other two aren't taking new patients. Also, only 2 of the 5 are men. Sorry ladies, but I would really like to see a man on this one. Maybe we can get together over my next neurosis.

I definitely underestimated the anxiety that would come from being turned down my a dozen shrinks. I had a freak-out over it on day 3. The strangest thing was the number of people who just said, "no" and didn't offer to help me find something. It's a good thing that I'm not likely to throw myself off a bridge or anything. I may polish it until it gleams with perfect symmetry in the noon-day sun, but that's the extent of my personal danger.

Today, I will make more calls and maybe, just maybe, I'll find the shrink of dreams. How's that for optimism?

Shrink Searching

Day Two

Have you ever searched for a therapist? Where do you begin? How do you decide whether or not a name in an insurance directory or on a website could be the right person to let inside your head? I'm not looking for someone to check out my tonsils or my skin condition, this is my head we're talking about. It's the only place in the world that truly belongs to me and me alone, and I have to decide who gets to join in the fun (for a healthy fee, I might add, going crazy is expensive stuff).

I began with a friend who has been through this kind of thing. He gave a great recommendation, however his guy is no longer in my insurance network. Then I moved on to a friend who works for the Mental Health Board of a nearby county. He recommended the Mental Health Board of my county. They recommended a list of agencies and gave me phone numbers. I don't know if any of these are in the network or not, so there is research to be done. And, if there is research afoot, I might as well become an expert on shrink searching (this is one of my symptoms - needing to become an expert on everything that effects me or people I care about).

I decided to nip this insurance thing in the bud and peruse the old network directory myself. Once I had a list of likely suspects, I googled, read, defined, and googled some more. I can honestly say that, in the last several days, I have exhausted my resources and I am squarely back where I started.

I have a list of names, addresses, and phone numbers with no clue how to proceed. Couple this lack of direction with a basic distrust of everything and everyone (another of my fabulous symptoms) and you get my latest source of anxiety. I guess I'll have to just date around, slapping down co-pays and sitting through office consultations until I find my shrink charming. Wish me luck, I'll keep you informed as I go.

You Shouldn't Say "Crazy".

Day 2

My wife and I have had some of the best conversations in the last two weeks. Ever since the "Morning of the Orange" (more about that later), we have discussed every aspect of our marriage with a new openness and honesty. You'd like Leslie, she is the sweetest, most loyal, most helpful, most loving person on earth. Honestly, I feel badly for every other man who had to marry less.

Anyway, in one of our conversations recently, she fussed at me for using the term, "crazy" to describe myself (non-OCD folks really struggle with the whole self-loathing thing). "People will think you're belittling them, and they'll be offended." She helps me think, see, and hear, through the brains, eyes, and ears of others, because I'm so busy trying to sort out all of the rogue thoughts marauding through my own brain. And I do see her point.

So, let me first declare that neither the title of this blog nor any of it's posts are meant to offend anyone. Now, I'll tell you why I say, "crazy". Have you ever seen the movie What About Bob? In the film, Bill Murray is afraid that he may have Tourets Syndrome, so he occasionally shouts obscenities on purpose. The rationale is that, if he were shouting them involuntarily, he may have Turrets Syndrome, so, as long as he is doing it on purpose, he knows he doesen't have the disease.

I know that I'm not crazy (at least not any crazier than I have ever been or than most people are). I use the term to lessen the severity of the situation. "Crazy" is a word we use when we speak of something that is absurd or rediculous. Words like "obsessive" and "compulsive" are scary words that denote real and debilitating things. I would much rather think of the madness I live everyday as absurd. Believe me, no one understands the very real pain of OCD more than me, and anyone out there struggling with this junk has my deepest empathy. Saying "crazy" just helps me to deal with it. Thanks for understanding.

OK, so I'm crazy.

It's called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It has symptoms, a diagnosis, treatment options, medications, books, manuals, websites, television personalities, and even it's own government agency. It's the reason why millions of people wash their hands til they bleed. It's what causes them to touch, tap, step, knock, repeat, chew, speak, count, and check certain things in a certain ways every day. It twists and distorts our understanding of religion, sex, work, family, and friends. It's a clinical condition that can be the scariest place imaginable. It's a prison of the mind, an oppression of the spirit, and a struggle for sanity. It's the fog through which even the brightest light labors to penetrate. It's confusion, anxiety, adversity, and pain.

For me, it's everyday life.

I have exhibited symptoms of OCD for as long as I can remember. Recently, these symptoms have intensified. What used to be the "things that make me unique" have become the "things that make me crazy". This blog is about my struggle with this demon. This is where I will record my day to day thoughts and struggles - my defeats and my victories. I have two choices at this point in my life - roll over and die or fight my way out. I've never been one for rolling over and I'm not about to start now.

You're welcome to walk this valley with me. If you are living with OCD or if someone you love is, take heart. There are brighter days somewhere, and we will find them together.