Tag: OCD

One restaurant owner triumphs over the pandemic

One restaurant owner triumphs over the pandemic

Quebec’s second lockdown, which began in October, has been a devastating blow to business owners all over the province. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, “Public health actions, such as social distancing, can make people feel isolated and lonely and can increase stress and anxiety.”

Due to COVID-19 restrictions, restaurant owners have only been allowed to open for takeout. As much as it’s been a financial burden for many restaurant owners to be unable to offer dine-in services, it remains a question as to how restaurant owners deal with their own mental health issues — on top of keeping their businesses afloat during this global pandemic.

Dino Angelo Luciano, an accomplished chef, moved to Montreal shortly after his win on season 8 of MasterChef. Originally from California, Luciano’s journey has been quite inspiring. As a result of Luciano’s large Instagram presence, he not only uses his platform to show his cooking skills, but he also advocates for mental health awareness. In a video on his Instagram, he explained that he has struggled from a young age with OCD, paired with anxiety and depression.

In a Zoom interview, Luciano explained that he remembers dealing with OCD from a very young age.

“I think I remember being around seven years old, that’s when I was the most conscious of what I was doing, who was around me, where I was living. The first thing I was doing was turning off the waterspout in the bathtub. I would do it over and over again, flick it on and off. I don’t know why I did it, I think it made me feel good. I think my parents always thought I was just messing around.”

Luciano’s mental health struggles followed him during the taping of MasterChef.  “I had my little ticks here and there, like let’s say I had to cut something twice, like if I had to cut an onion at a certain angle. When you are cutting an onion, you’re dicing it up and you maybe get nine to 14 slices. Maybe I had a certain number in my mind, and I would cut the onion x number of slices,” Luciano explained.

After his move to Montreal, Luciano recounted that he always dreamed of opening a restaurant.

“I believe in manifestation, fate is written. I think we have the ability to control destiny and certain things happen at certain times. I came up here three years ago, October 2017. I met a lot of people, maybe not the right people at the time. They helped me build my knowledge on the culture of Montreal. As much as I wanted to open up something a long time ago, I don’t think I was mentally ready for it.”

He put his focus into his cannoli business instead, called ‘The Fat Cannoli.’ His business had done pretty well at the time however, he left this business behind and focused on his dream of opening the restaurant.

During the second lockdown in Montreal, Luciano explained that he wasn’t worried about the state of his future business.

“I could care less about my own stress at this point, the stress of opening a restaurant, ‘it might fail, we might hemorrhage money, we might not, we might fail.’ Actually, we’re doing pretty well at the moment. But even if we weren’t, the joy of making people happy with food was satisfying enough for me. I know during the first wave, I was going crazy, and I think one of the only things that was making me happy was ordering a lot of take out,” Luciano recalled. He explained that if he can offer the same joy to others, it would make everything well worth it.

No one human is perfect and everyone has their dark moments. However, who does Luciano turn to when things get tough?

“I don’t really talk about the dark thoughts too much, sometimes it manifests into my moods and makes me very grouchy and moody. My girlfriend mainly has to deal with that and she’s my number one supporter.” Luciano said that when his mind goes to the dark place, his girlfriend is able to bring him back.

“I have a secret that got me through this pandemic. You’re forced to be alone and a lot of people are watching Netflix… pay attention to those actors in those movies. When you’re forced to be away from everybody, you kinda get to develop who you want to be … By the time you go out again you can surprise people with who you have become.” Luciano says that the pandemic has been a time for self-growth and reflection, and believes that if people don’t take this as an opportunity to learn more about themselves, another opportunity will be less likely to present itself in the near future.

 

Feature photo by Dalia Nardolillo

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Mental illness is as serious as physical illness

Graphic by Zeze Le Lin.

The stigma around mental illness needs to end, and the conversations need to start

Full disclosure: I suffer from obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). If I’m not medicated, it will take me 20 minutes or more just to get out of my apartment in the morning. I will check to make sure the back door is locked several times over. I will check repeatedly that the stove and oven are off, despite having eaten cold cereal for breakfast.

Then I need to verify that nothing near the heaters could start a fire, even in the summer when I know the heaters are off. Finally, and most importantly, if I cannot see the cat when I close the front door to leave, I assume that he has escaped and is lost somewhere outside. All the while, I keep my right hand on the pocket where my keys go to make sure I haven’t left them inside (and won’t be subsequently locked out).

I know a lot of people have morning routines, and they may even have similar rituals themselves. However, in my daily life, I must do these things. It’s not just a habit—it’s something that releases a pressure inside me and satisfies a seemingly physical need. Now, keep in mind, this is just my attempt to leave home. None of this says anything of the day-long struggle to keep everything and everyone doing what I need them to do in a way that appeases these compulsions. That is the most exhausting part.

This is my everyday experience if I am not medicated. It is a pain in the ass, but my symptoms are mild compared to many others who suffer from OCD. I take medication for these symptoms, and I am not ashamed of that because they tell my brain that many of these silly rituals are unnecessary. Therefore, medication gives me the option to focus on what’s really important, like going to school and doing reasonably well. So, am I crazy? Am I a lunatic not worthy of anything more than a life of seclusion and shame?

I’m not embarrassed about having OCD, nor should I be. Just as someone with a physical disability shouldn’t be embarrassed either. This is how we need to start thinking about mental illness. The stigma of “weakness” or “lunacy” are old and outdated, just as the terms “invalid” or “cripple” are. The time has come to talk about mental illness in a constructive manner. And so, I am putting myself out there to say that I am not crazy—my brain just works in a different capacity than others, and I will not apologize for that. I am not responsible for the position I have been put in, yet, I’m responsible for managing it.

So, why are some people scared to talk about mental illness? Perhaps it’s because they cannot see it. Or perhaps they simply fear the unknown. Well, I’ve got news for you: it is visible and we can see it all around us. Unfortunately, though, it will remain unknown until we talk about it.

You know some of those folks living on our city streets, right near Concordia’s downtown campus, talking to garbage bins and yelling at shadows? That’s mental illness. And until we educate ourselves, they will continue to be marginalized by society. According to the Mental Health Commission of Canada, nearly 40 per cent of the homeless population in Montreal suffer from various forms of severe mental illness. They are not evil, they are not crazy, nor are they possessed (by anything other than the socially-constructed prejudices of others). They are examples of what happens when people fear you or don’t understand you.

Perhaps I could be one of them. Luckily, I have a network of understanding people around me and access to healthcare that keeps me in school and possibly off the streets. This is not afforded to everyone, but it needs to be. You can help just by talking about it. I want to talk about this, and I want to talk about it now. My hope is that this will get things started.

If you or someone you know is suffering from a mental illness, please seek help. It is worth the effort. You can contact the Canadian Mental Health Association, Action on Mental Illness (AMI) Quebec or Mouvement Santé Mentale Québec for help or to get more information.

Graphic by Zeze Le Lin

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Getting a ‘handle’ on mental illness

Graphic by Zeze Le Lin.

One student’s experience with OCD and depression, and how she learned to seek help

Close your eyes. Imagine walking the halls of Concordia University, just like every other day. All is well when, unexpectedly, your breath is stolen away from you. Your limbs become numb and your vision starts to wane. You panic. Your body does not belong to you anymore. Your flight or fight response kicks in, and all you want to do is escape the absolute dread you are feeling.

For some, this may sound like a horror movie scenario. Unfortunately, many students at Concordia do not have to imagine this nightmare. Attending school, studying and completing assignments are a struggle for individuals suffering from mental illness, such as myself. Luckily, those afflicted by mental health issues don’t have to struggle alone.

When I was a child, I had rituals I felt compelled to do even though they made no sense. Whenever my mother left the house, I felt the need to kiss her four times on each cheek. If I did not do this, I believed she would die a horrible death and it would be my fault. No one understood my behaviour until I was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) at age 12.

“So great,” I thought to myself. “I have OCD. I need to pull out and push in my chair four times and twist doorknobs until it feels just right. This is not what I want to be doing, but I can handle this.” And I did. All by myself.

A few years later, I began to experience a new feeling. It wasn’t quite sadness. I had felt sadness before. This feeling was far worse. It made me feel like I was imprisoned in the world I called home. This feeling turned the world grey and black, with only nuances of the colours I knew were supposed to be there. At 16, I was diagnosed with depression.

“So great,” I thought to myself. “I have depression to go along with my side dish of OCD and anxiety. I really don’t want to find out what dessert will be.” I was in absolute misery, but once again, I handled it on my own.

The thing about ‘handling’ a mental illness is that, eventually, the handle breaks. I took on the demons in my head alone for so long that they took the reins of my life. I had no choice but to watch as they sucked the life out of me.

At this point, I was so worn down that I simply did not care anymore. I stopped going to school because I thought: “What is the point in trying anything when your mind is constantly clouded with dark thoughts?” On good days, I would force myself out of bed, brush my teeth and, if I was lucky, I could muster the energy to take a shower. But when it came time to leave the house, I would crumble and find refuge under my blankets. On bad days, I didn’t make it out of my bedroom.

I don’t remember the exact moment I decided enough was enough, but I remember feeling angry. I felt angry that my brain was holding me hostage; it was robbing me of experiences, challenges and opportunities. I finally decided it was time to get the help I needed. I found a psychologist in the youth sector of the Jewish General Hospital as well as a psychiatrist who prescribed me medications to level out my emotions.

I am learning new ways to cope with these emotions, like focusing on the present instead of freaking out about some imaginary scenario that might never happen. Now, I make an active decision to care for myself every day.

I won’t lie—getting better is difficult at times. However, it’s the most worthwhile work you will ever do for yourself. And like any new endeavour, the beginning is the hardest part. Admitting to yourself that you are sick and that you need help puts you in a vulnerable position. Once you start getting better though, it will all be worthwhile.

Statistics Canada reports that one in five Canadians will experience a mental illness in their lifetime. You may have heard this statistic a hundred times before, but I would like you to take the time to reflect on it. Statistically speaking, you, someone you know or someone you will meet will struggle with a form of mental illness. If you are suffering, please seek help. If you know someone who is suffering, please help them. Life is too precious to be spent in mental agony, and you are too important to stand for it.

Graphic by Zeze Le Lin

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