Trust Me, I’m Dr. Ozzy

Dr. Ozzy’s Trivia Quiz: Personal Skills

Find the answers—and tote up your score—here

1. How do you say hello to close friend in Northern Mozambique?

a) Kiss them on the nose

b) Shake your fist at head level and shout, “Wooshay! Wooshay!”

c) Clap three times

2. According to the etiquette people at Debrett’s, what shouldn’t you “glance longingly” at during dinner?

a) The best-looking person at the table

b) Your wife’s tits

c) Your iPhone

3. How many friends does the average person have on Facebook?

a) 130

b) 95

c) 260

4. What did a New Zealand bank manager do in 2006 that made him Worst Boss of the Year?

a) Ordered female tellers to show at least three inches of cleavage

b) Had his staff tied up and robbed

c) Banned toilet breaks during office hours

5. When the workers at a Lithuanian-owned car dealership in Atlanta, USA, asked for a raise, what did the boss do?

a) Shoot them

b) Kill himself

c) Sue them for emotional distress

The Jelly Between Your Ears 9

It Ain’t Easy, Being Mental

Most of us spend more time washing the dishes than we do taking care of our mental health. It’s unbelievable, when you think about it, ’cos of all the things that can go wrong with us, “not feeling yourself” is right up there with the worst. It ain’t exactly rare, either. According to real doctors,[6] one in four people come down with some kind of major freak-out at some point in their lives. The trouble is, even today, people don’t like to talk about it. I mean, when you go to work in the morning and the boss says, “How are you?” no-one wants to go, “Oh, I’m feeling a bit mentally ill today, actually.” You’d end up in a padded room, wearing pyjamas with no fucking sleeves.

Luckily, you can always come to Dr. Ozzy for advice. I’ve been through just about everything you can imagine: depression, panic attacks, drug abuse, cries for help, alcohol abuse, obsessive compulsive disorder… you name it, man. And the one thing I’ve learned: no matter how much you don’t want to, you’ve gotta talk about it. Go to your GP. See a therapist. Confide in friends (although it’s usually better to find someone who ain’t biased). If you keep your problems bottled up instead, they’ll only get worse over time. Having said all that, if you grew up in England when I did, the whole idea of talking about anything is a fucking joke. If someone had any kind of anxiety or depression when I was a kid, it was called a “nervous breakdown”—and people only ever mentioned it in hushed voices, behind closed doors. But times have changed. Treatments have improved. And people are beginning to realise that everyone has issues, and everyone needs to get them out in the open if they want to move on. So that’s what this chapter is about: coming clean, clearing the air, and hopefully taking the first step towards getting real help from someone who ain’t me.

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

My friends have started to tell me that I’m way too paranoid—about my boss, my girlfriend, the government… you name it. Isn’t a bit of paranoia good for you, though?

Jamie, New York

No. Being paranoid’s a terrible way to live. For example: every so often when I get on a plane, I convince myself that it’s doomed, and that everyone’s gonna die. So I spend the whole twelve hours in the air sweating and trying to stop my heart jumping out of my ribcage… which is a total waste of time, ’cos my panic attack ain’t exactly gonna stop a bomb going off, or the autopilot breaking down. I mean, I suppose you could argue that being a worrier makes you more likely to live longer, but if you’re feeling paranoid 24/7, what kind of life are you living anyway? It ain’t comfortable for the people around you, either—especially not if you’re giving your girlfriend the Gestapo treatment every time she comes home. Listen to your mates and chill out, man.

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

Can you finally explain why is it so bloody hard for men to cry?

Abigail, Wexham

It’s not that it’s hard, it’s just that we don’t particularly enjoy it. I mean, yeah, every now and again—like once a decade—a good old cry clears the air. But it ain’t something your average bloke wants to do on a regular basis, ’cos it’s exhausting. Women, on the other hand, can’t seem to get enough of it. For example: my wife insists on going to see these awful films—“slurpies,” I call ’em—where you spend the whole time feeling like your gran’s just died. I can still remember the last one I was dragged to: The Notebook. By the time the credits rolled, I was just about having a nervous breakdown—then I thought to myself, “Why am I sitting here, in darkened room, feeling all unnecessarily choked up?” When I looked over at Sharon, she was even more puffy- faced and snotty than I was. Then she goes, “Oooh, wasn’t that brilliant, Ozzy?” At moments like that, I think that men and women might as well be from different universes.

Hi Dr. Ozzy:

I suffer from a condition known as bipolar, which makes me impulsive and harm people when I don’t mean to. It started when my father began drinking a case of beer every night. He would get rowdy and mean and drive me to school when he was drunk. Now he’s divorcing my sweet mom. Could this be the cause of my problems?

Christina, Texas

I strongly suggest you find a good therapist. And by that I mean someone who has in-depth knowledge of bipolar—not your local GP, who’ll probably tell you to take an aspirin and sleep it off. I’m not bipolar myself, but I’ve