Arcade Fire in Toronto

panflutesong

PANFLUTE!!!!!!

Set:

  • Everything Now
  • Signs of Life
  • Rebellion (Lies)
  • Here Comes the Night Time
  • Haiti
  • No Cars Go
  • Electric Blue
  • Put Your Money On Me
  • Neon Bible
  • My Body is a Cage
  • Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)
  • The Suburbs
  • The Suburbs (Continued)
  • Ready to Start
  • Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)
  • Reflektor
  • Afterlife
  • Creature Comfort
  • Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)

Encore:

  • We Don’t Deserve Love
  • Everything Now (Continued)
  • Wake Up

Win dedicated the show to Gord; ditto Kevin Drew from Broken Social Scene, who opened (Drew produced both the Hip’s Man Machine Poem record and Gord’s posthumous solo album).

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Live at Massey

Sam and I saw the New Pornographers at Massey Hall a couple weeks ago, the latest instalment of that hallowed venue’s “Live at Massey” concert series. And as the band played on, my mind, as it’s wont to do, began to wander.

It settled on June 1, 2017, when I saw Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds at Massey. Chris Cornell had died two weeks earlier; I was still devastated by his death, still unsure when, or even if, live music would matter to me anymore. Right before the show started Pearl Jam Heather got up and started toward the aisle – then wheeled around and said to me,  “Gord Downie.” I stood up, and there he was, walking right towards us. He looked good; he looked healthy. He walked past, then went backstage; a few minutes later he re-emerged, then took a seat near the back.

Every so often during the show I’d check up on Gord. It takes a lot to detract from Nick Cave – but Gord could do it. Gord could detract from anyone.

And then the encore started, and during “Stagger Lee” I looked back at Gord. And he was gone.

I never saw him again.

Success Story

I’m not ready for this just yet…

missionaccomplished

…but I’m happy to report that it’s been a landmark week for me in my recovery from OCD. Last Wednesday Doc Awesome called time on my “planned” exposure homework, which I’d done almost every single day since mid-May, when Chris Cornell’s suicide sent me into the most severe lapse I’ve had in years – if not ever.

And now I don’t have to do it anymore.

Don’t get me wrong: I still have to do exposure work. Unplanned exposure is the yin to planned exposure’s regimented yan. Unwanted thoughts are still going to pop up; one of the goals of planned ERP is developing the skills necessary to deal with them quickly and effectively. But (to paraphrase Lin-Manuel Miranda) look at where I am; look at where we started! In June I made what’s known as a fear hierarchy, which, simply put, is a ranked list of things that trigger my obsessive thoughts. On that initial list I gave a 10-out-of-10 to watching the Netflix angst-a-thon 13 Reasons Why. I finished the series last week; its final rating was a 2. Meanwhile, another item, which I’ve got as a 4/10, didn’t even make the original list because, as I wrote in my OCD journal, “I didn’t think there’d ever be any way I’d be able to do it.” Not only have I done it (numerous times, actually), 4 might be a generous rating.

So we’re making progress. It’s been slow, at times agonizingly so – but it’s been steady, and this latest development’s pretty major. There’s still work to do, and planned exposures will resume at various points (like next week, in preparation for my first work trip of the new recruitment year). But all success in mental health recovery is worth celebrating – and today, on World Mental Health Day, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to celebrate myself.

It isn’t mission accomplished. But it’s mission going better than ever.

37 for 37

“The first step towards getting somewhere is to decide that you are not going to stay where you are” – J.P. Morgan

First and foremost:

  1. Marry my soulmate

And then…

  1. Work for her love every single day

And after that

  1. See my OCD recovery all the way through to its conclusion (and don’t become complacent: keep working just as hard even if my symptoms become subclinical)
  2. Write regular mental health blog entries
  3. Submit a proposal to speak at the 2018 International OCD Conference in Washington DC

Hamilton Interlude!

  1. Talk lessBecome a better listener.
  2. Smile more. Learn to take yourself less seriously.
  3. Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for. Let them know exactly what you’re against or what you’re for. Disregard Aaron Burr, sir.
  4. Finish reading Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow
  5. ?

Carrying On:

  1. Be debt-free on August 16, 2018
  2. Divest from unethical personal investments
  3. Drink a butterbeer at the Lockhart ✓
  4. Take a cooking course (as opposed to individual classes)
  5. Eat more adventurously
  6. Challenge myself as a reader
  7. Write a monthly Nick Hornby-style blog entry about the books I’ve bought/borrowed and read the previous month
  8. Acquire a T206 card; bonus point if it’s the Honus Wagner card (it likely won’t be the Honus Wagner card)
  9. Go to Cooperstown
  10. See the San Francisco Giants; bonus point if the game’s actually in San Francisco
  11. See a 2018 Jays road game; bonus point if it’s at a stadium I’ve never visited
  12. See a football game at (new) Richardson Stadium
  13. See a Leafs road game; bonus point if it’s at an arena I’ve never visited
  14. Acquire a Dallas Stars Stephen Johns t-shirt jersey (yup, same spelling and everything)
  15. Play fantasy hockey
  16. Curl
  17. Ski
  18. Climb to the top of Candy Mountain in Thunder Bay
  19. Cross the finish line of the Ride to Conquer Cancer
  20. Do 1,000 km of training rides
  21. Volunteer at the Hospital for Sick Children
  22. Give blood*
  23. Reacquire this (the original was decapitated in a brutal shelf collapsing incident)
  24. Attend a music festival
  25. Go to California

And Above All…

  1. Challenge myself always
  2. Approach 37 like a belt-high fastball on a hitter’s count

(★ – bonus points)

(Updated September 15, 2017)

(* – a quick note about giving blood. I’d looked into donating a couple times before, but Canada Blood Services told me I couldn’t because I’d had cancer. Evidently they’ve changed the rules. Ironically, though, I may not be able to donate just yet because of my travel schedule: both Cusco and India, where I’ll be heading in November, are on the malaria list and, as a result, disqualify would-be donors for a year. This might change, obviously, which is why “give blood” appears on this year’s list – but there’s a very good chance it’ll have to reappear on 38 for 38.)

What OCD is Not

OCD’s unusual in that a lot of people who don’t have it, think they do. We’ve all heard someone describe themselves as being “so OCD.” Maybe you’ve said it yourself. You’d never hear someone who doesn’t have cancer claim to have cancer, yet that’s kind of what people are doing whenever they equate their fastidiousness with having a debilitating mental disorder. I know, I know: it’s not exactly the same and language evolves and blah blah blah. But it’s also illustrative of how we diminish mental illness, like when people claim they’re depressed after their favourite team loses.

OCD isn’t about being fastidious. Allow me to illustrate:

  • Person A: “I like being organized! Organization makes me feel calm and in control. I don’t do well amidst chaos.”
  • Person B: “I have to be organized, because if I don’t arrange things just so my family’s going to die in a fire.”

Spot the difference? To be sure, some people who do have OCD like being organized, just like some people who have OCD are left-handed or eat a pescatarian diet or listen to Blue Rodeo. Some people have OCD and couldn’t care less about being organized; I am one of these people. But don’t think I’m exaggerating about Person B: that’s an actual example of an obsessive thought, the kind that get stuck in a loop inside our brains and make OCD so debilitating. I’ve never had that particular thought, but it wouldn’t take long to find someone who has.

I think it’s also important to mention that OCDers don’t necessarily have comorbid (or simultaneously occurring) depression. Some do; I’m among the lucky ones who don’t, or at least hasn’t yet. It’s easy to say “choose optimism,” and I know that’s a tough thing for some people to do. But if you can then cling to it: optimism can be a powerful recovery tool.

So OCD isn’t depression, and it’s not a quirk either. One thing OCD is, at least in my case? A positive thing. I’ll explain in my next entry.

Gratefull

My OCD’s at a point where it hardly ever affects me: I haven’t had a flare-up since last October, if not last July, and while that doesn’t mean I’m “cured” or anything (since there is no cure) it’s still a wonderful development.

I wrote that on Thursday, May 18, shortly after learning that Chris Cornell had killed himself. A few hours later I was in the initial throes of what’d turn out to be the worst OCD lapse I’ve had in years – if not ever.

Cornell’s death was the the triggering incident – the McGuffin, if you will – but the real culprits were me messing around with my medication and, more broadly, becoming complacent with my recovery. I hadn’t had obsessive thoughts in so long I was starting to let myself think that maybe, just maybe, I’d kicked OCD once and for all. Which is difficult to do, if not quite impossible: OCD’s a chronic illness, and even if it’s been dormant for a long time it’s liable to rear its head at a moment’s notice (like, for instance, when your favourite singer dies by suicide). Moreover, I’d been doing great on 15 mg of Trintellix, which is the antidepressant I’ve been taking since January. It seemed logical therefore that I’d do even better on 10 mg. My doctor agreed. Of course, neither of us could’ve anticipated the McGuffin.

So that’s how the lapse began. But something else happened, too: I got pissed. How dare OCD force its way back into my life? How fucking dare it? And so I got pissed, and then I started fighting back.

This is part one of what’ll be a series of entries about my latest recovery from OCD. It might not be the last recovery – but two months in I’m feeling (and I don’t think I’m exaggerating) better than I’ve felt before.

Like, ever. I feel better than I’ve ever felt before. There have literally been times this week where I’ve sat back and marveled at just how good I’m feeling. (I am now knocking furiously on wood.)

I’m also working harder at my recovery than I’ve worked at almost anything. It’s been all-encompassing and my commitment’s been total. And each day the work starts as soon as I wake up and doesn’t end till right before I fall asleep with things called gratitude meditations. (This is the earth-y part of the process.) They’re a great way of starting and ending each day; plus, gratitude’s been shown to stimulate serotonin, which is also what antidepressants do.

Gratitude meditations are short and simple. In the morning I give thanks for…

  • My bed
  • My senses
  • The rest of my body, including my brain
  • Sam
  • My family
  • My friends; this’ll often expand to incorporate my broader community, including neighbours and co-workers

At night, meanwhile, I give thanks for three things. Sometimes they’re big (my fiancée!). Sometimes they’re not (dark roast coffee!…scratch that, dark roast coffee’s the best; once, though, I gave thanks for an aircraft that’d passed overhead earlier that evening, and while I do love to fly that one particular plane wasn’t especially meaningful to me). By enumerating things I’m grateful for at night I’ve begun finding all sorts of things to be thankful for during the day. Cumulatively, gratitude meditations have turned into a simple technique for appreciating my everyday life and being more aware of all the awesome in the world. Because when you’re looking for it, you’ll find it almost everywhere – sometimes, even, in mental health recovery.

This morning I’m grateful for light roast coffee, the British Open on TV, deliberately adding a second “l” to words, and the chance to share my recovery strategies with you. Have a gratefull day, everyone.