As the reader knows, I’ve had a persistent bout of winter depression. Not the “I’m sad and want to hurt myself” type, but the ho-hum, grumpy old man variety.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/c-QnnLudkQA
This afternoon I visited the nurse who manages my Prozac intake and walked out with a new drug: Wellbutrin.
I’ll be taking it in addition to the 60 MG of Prozac I’ve been taking for a few years now. The Prozac increases the amount of serotonin, a natural substance in the brain that helps maintain mental balance. Serotonin is a neurotransmitter, a substance that helps transmit messages from one nerve cell to another. In other words, it keeps traffic in the brain moving normally.
It has served me well, but this winter the blue moods have been tougher to shake. Enter the Wellbutrin, a drug used to treat major depression and seasonal affective disorder. It’s also used to help people quit smoking because it squashes cravings.
While the Prozac raises Serotonin levels, Wellbutrin shores up another neurotransmitter called Dopamine.
If this all sounds confusing, think of the brain as a car engine. To run properly, the engine needs the right amount of fluids, including brake fluid, transmission fluid and oil. Run low on any one of these and you got problems.
I just started taking the Wellbutrin this afternoon. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Erin is playing me an NPR broadcast about OCD. I went looking for the link to include here and tripped over another good NPR segment. This one is an interview with Traci Foust, author of “Nowhere Near Normal: A Memoir of OCD.”
I recently connected with Traci on Facebook and she’s a great resource for understanding the disorder.
While we’re on the topic, it’s also worth checking out “A Life Lived Ridiculously” by Annabelle R. Charbit, about a girl with obsessive compulsive disorder who makes the mistake of falling in love with a sociopath.
Both writings work so well because of how the authors use humor. Of course, my humor falls on the dark side, so take that comment with a grain of salt.
As for that other OCD segment on NPR, here it is. It’s about how art can be used to raise a person’s understanding of the disorder.
Me and the happy lamp Erin bought me to combat winter depression aren’t seeing eye to eye. Everyone I talk to who uses one says it works. But here’s my problem…
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/UXFUnnoSphY
As I stare at the florescent glow that’s supposed to simulate sunlight, a nagging thought dogs me: “It’s just not the same as real sunlight,” I keep telling myself.
There’s something about genuine sunlight — how it bounces off trees and houses, how it shoots through windows and lights a room — that you just can’t capture in a box.
When the happy lamp is on, it just seems like I have my face extremely close to one of those florescent ceiling lights.
I’m not blind to the fact that part of the problem is me. Knowing that it’s not the same as real sunlight, I have a hard time giving it a chance. That’s really not fair to those who have to live in the same house with me, I realize.
I bring all this up because I suspect I’m not the only one whose skepticism — or is it cynicism — gets in the way of the scientific benefits of light therapy.
Light therapy is a way to treat seasonal affective disorder (SAD) by exposure to artificial light. Seasonal affective disorder is a type of depression that occurs at a certain time each year, usually in the fall or winter.
During light therapy, you sit or work near a device called a light therapy box. The box gives off bright light that mimics natural outdoor light. Light therapy is thought to affect brain chemicals linked to mood, easing SAD symptoms. Using a light therapy box may also help with other types of depression, sleep disorders and some other conditions. Light therapy is also known as bright light therapy or phototherapy.
Reading further, I can see how I haven’t exactly been doing it right. I turn on the box and don’t keep track of time. I’m inconsistent about the time of day I use it. My mind gets caught on visuals: what I want the light to look like vs. the scientific effect. Here’s how the Mayo Clinic says to do it:
Three key elements for effective light therapy Light therapy is most effective when you have the proper combination of duration, timing and light intensity:
Duration. When you first start light therapy, your doctor may recommend treatment for shorter blocks of time, such as 15 minutes. You gradually work up to longer periods. Eventually, light therapy typically involves daily sessions ranging from 30 minutes to two hours, depending on your light box’s intensity.
Timing. For most people, light therapy is most effective when it’s done early in the morning, after you first wake up. Doing light therapy at night can disrupt your sleep. Because light therapy seems to work best in the early morning, you may need to wake up earlier than you normally would to get the most benefit from treatment. Your doctor can help you find the light therapy schedule that works best.
Intensity. The intensity of the light box is recorded in lux, which is a measure of the amount of light you receive at a specific distance from a light source. Light boxes for light therapy usually produce between 2,500 lux and 10,000 lux. The intensity of your light box affect how far you sit from it and the length of time you need to use it. The 10,000 lux light boxes usually require 30-minute sessions, while the 2,500 lux light boxes may require 2-hour sessions.
Finding time for light therapy Light therapy requires time and consistency. You may be tempted to skip sessions or quit altogether because you don’t want to spend time sitting by a light box. But light therapy doesn’t have to be boring. It can be time well spent.
You can set your light box on a table or desk in your home or in your office. That enables you to read, use a computer, write, watch television, talk on the phone or eat while undergoing light therapy. Some light boxes are even available as visors that you can wear, although their effectiveness isn’t proven.
Getting the most out of light therapy Light therapy isn’t effective for everyone. But you can take steps to get the most out of your light therapy and help make it a success, including:
Be consistent. Sticking to a daily routine of light therapy sessions can help ensure that you maintain improvements over time. If you simply can’t do light therapy every day, take a day or two off, but monitor your mood and other symptoms — you may have to find a way to fit in light therapy every day.
Time it right. If you interrupt light therapy during the winter months or stop too soon in the spring when you think you’re improving, your symptoms could return.
Get the right light box. Do some research and talk to your doctor before purchasing a light therapy box. That way you can be sure your light box is safe, the right brightness and that its style and features make it convenient to use.
Include other treatment. If your symptoms don’t improve enough with light therapy, you may need additional treatment. Talk to your doctor about other treatment options, such as psychotherapy or antidepressants.
I got a call from my mother this morning. She says she’s been reading every post in this blog and that she’s very worried about me.
“You have a beautiful wife, two healthy kids and a wonderful job, yet I read your blog and see someone who is very unhappy and disturbed,” she told me. Incredibly, she was worried that I might try to hurt myself someday.
Nothing is further from the truth. Which brings me to this post.
She commented on my last post, suggesting I’m still suffering the effects of massive doses of Prednisone during childhood. She wrote:
“When you were really sick in the hospital you were put on one of the highest doses of prednisone they give. Low doses make people have ocd tendencies while on the drug. High doses are 100 times magnified. Thus your many loud memmories. Ask any doctor what this drug can do. Having said that I will note that we are all very happy you came through the physical problems. However I think this drug is still making you sick. Even though you have not taken it for a very long time. I have taken moderate to high doses (not nearly what you took) and came home from the hospital like a crazy just let out of the mental hospital. I cannot even imagine what it did to you. But I am not convinced that this drug ends with the end of the prescibed dosage.”
There’s a lot of truth in there regarding the lingering effects of Prednisone, but that’s a topic best saved for the next post.
For now, I want to tell my mother that the reality of this blog is the complete opposite of what it’s really about. In an effort to set her straight, I’m asking her to read the following posts…
First, some words about how having the occasional bought of depression doesn’t mean a person is unhinged or even unhappy. Depression has it’s emotional components, but a lot of it is about basic science and brain chemistry: things that can be managed with the proper awareness and treatment.
“The Engine” where I compare mental illness and the treatments do the engine of a car.
Next, some words of encouragement I try to send people, especially kids, going through what I’ve experienced, the goal being to give them hope and inspire them to take command of their lives — not sink deeper into despair:
Finally, read these posts because they are all about me making it through the rough stuff and reaching a point where I am a much happier person who loves to experience things I used to fear:
Snowpocalypse and the Fear of Loss. The author remembers a time when fear of loss would cripple his mental capacities, and explains how he got over it — mostly.
Fear Factor. The author describes years of living in a cell built by fear, how he broke free and why there’s no turning back.
Prozac Winter. The author discovers that winter makes his depression worse and that there’s a purely scientific explanation — and solution.
Rest Redefined.The author finds that he gets the most relaxation from the things he once feared the most.
Outing Myself. The author on why he chose to “out” himself despite what other people might think.
Why Being a People Pleaser is Dumb. The author used to try very hard to please everybody and was hurt badly in the process. Here’s how he broke free and kept his soul intact.
Hopefully, you’ll walk away with a new perspective. This thing is really about overcoming obstacles and learning to put ongoing challenges in their proper place.
If you don’t feel that way after more reading, we’ll simply have to agree to disagree.
Someone recently asked if I think about my disease 24-7 and, if so, whether doing so is perilous to those around me. In this case, the disease is OCD and the addictions that go with it.
Mood music:
Let me try to take a stab at addressing that:
I don’t think my disease should define me and keep me in a box. But it’s also a major part of who I am and how I tick. Writing a blog that focuses on that probably amplifies things. But I see some necessity in it all.
Like any person with an addictive personality, I have to have it on my mind around the clock because if I stop thinking about it I forget it’s there. That’s when I get sloppy and sink into the bad behavior.
The OCD part is a little more complicated and maybe even a little contradictory.
Since OCD is largely a disease that triggers destructive over thinking, you would think that the goal is to teach yourself not to think so hard. In some respects, that is the goal. But it’s about not engaging in thinking that snags your brain like the scratch in a CD does to the laser. It’s about never forgetting that the disorder, like addiction, is nearby doing push-ups, ready to kick your ass when you get too comfortable.
I’ll admit that I’m not even close to having this stuff in balance. But to those who think I focus on my disease at the expense of all else, I disagree. The me of today is a deeply flawed animal. But go back and meet the me of five or 10 years ago and you’ll meet a monster. A wounded monster. Everyone is probably better off with me as a flawed animal. I’m less harmful that way.
That doesn’t mean I should tell everyone to fuck off and carry on with no regard for the needs of others.
I need to keep working on being a better husband, a better father, a better friend and colleague. I’m never going to be perfect. But I can be better. If I have to think about my disease 24-7 to keep getting better, so be it.
I also think it’s necessary to remember my disease so I can be be more helpful and supportive of other people dealing with their own diseases — not necessarily cancer and the like, but everything from work stress to a loss of identity.
I’ve tried hard to demolish the wall I hide behind when my mind isn’t right. But whenever I think I’ve made progress, shit happens and I find it’s taller and thicker than ever.
Mood music:
My latest mood swing has me thinking hard about how I allow this to happen. Far as I can tell, I do make progress, but then I take my eye off the wrecking ball and the wall rebuilds itself when I’m busy internalizing everything.
For all the sharing I do in this blog, sometimes it’s still ridiculously hard to open up to those closest to me. One reason is that I’m still a selfish bastard sometimes. I get so wrapped up in my work and feelings that it becomes almost impossible to see someone else’s side of things.
I also don’t like to be in a situation where there’s yelling. There was plenty of that growing up, and I tend to avoid arguments with loved ones at all costs. Putting up a wall can be a bitch for any relationship, because sooner or later bad feelings will race at that wall like a drunk behind the wheel of a Porsche and slam right into it. Some bricks in the wall crack and come loose, but by then it can be too late. Relationships are totaled.
I’m starting to believe this is a chronic condition hardened by my early history. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit here and accept it.
When I stop talking, it hurts my wife, my kids and my larger family. But how do I calm the restlessness so that I’ll stay buckled into the bulldozer with my hands firmly on the controls, pounding the wrecking ball through the wall until only dust remains?
Therapy helps, and I have that regularly. But somewhere between the therapist’s office and the rest of my life, the action plan goes missing.
Maybe the problem is that I dance around it in therapy and I’m really not leaving with an action plan in hand.
Maybe the height and thickness of the wall increases and decreases on a set schedule and I just have to be more watchful. It definitely seems to grow more impenetrable at the start of winter, which is where we are now.
But maybe it’s always there, the same size and thickness, and I just happen to ignore it until someone forces me to remember its existence.
If all that sounds like bullshit, perhaps it is. I try to be as honest as possible in this blog, but let’s remember that I’m an addict and addicts are skilled at lying to themselves and others.
My mind is clear about one thing right now: I’ve slid backward and need to regain my footing. The best place to start is by making a real action plan, right here, right now:
–At my next therapy appointment, I need to make my communication troubles the focus of the appointment instead of letting the therapist run down the broader checklist.
–I need to be more disciplined about using the happy lamp I’m supposed to sit in front of during the winter. Truth be told, I’ve resisted it because in the end, I look at the florescent glow and grouse to myself that it’s just not the same as real sunlight.
–I need to reassess my diet. I’m pretty disciplined about following a strict, OA-approved food plan. But I’ve had trouble getting up the mood to eat the vegetables that are a staple of the program. So I fall back on my OA-approved breakfast at other meals. I tell myself the end goal is not to binge eat and that’s true. But messing with the food could also mean I’m messing with my mind.
–I need to get better at letting people yell at me sometimes. Yelling from anyone inevitably sends me back under my mother’s roof. Maybe Ma doesn’t yell anymore but she did back then, and a raised voice goes in my ears and hits the brain like gunshots. But avoiding arguments doesn’t make problems go away. They just sit patiently in the corner waiting for the next opportunity, which is always there.
–I need to get better at talking back. This might seem strange to those who think I’m pretty good at speaking up. But that’s just in writing form. Verbally I still suck at it. I don’t want to say things that might be hurtful and, at the least, uncomfortable. But sometimes others need a talking to for their own good. I need to be more helpful in that regard.
–I need to start walking again. I used to walk compulsively, then a few years ago I stopped. Perhaps I need to work 20 or 30 minutes two or three times a week back into the mix, so I can use the time to process my thoughts. I used to use walking time to do that and I was still a mental mess. But I’ve made a lot of progress since then and maybe the walks will be more useful for organizing thoughts now that it’s not a game of spinning worries and anxieties around in my skull.
Is any of this realistic? I don’t know. But it’s time to try more radical wall-demolishing activities.
I’ve had some sharp mood swings in recent days. Now that it seems to be leveling off, I can write about it.
Mood music:
I made it through the usual Christmas blues in one piece and even enjoyed the holiday once it arrived. A week of vacation followed, and we Brenners did something we rarely do: Sit around like slugs. We needed it. We must have needed it really bad, in fact, because God sent the whole family a stomach bug to force a couple days of inactivity. I escaped the bug myself, but pretty much stayed under the quilts anyway.
The mood swings started around Thursday. I’d feel happy and at peace for a couple hours, then miserable, angry and agitated for a few hours, then back and forth. I didn’t mention it to my family, though I’m sure it was obvious. New Year’s Eve was especially brutal. I walked around in a fog all day, even as we did stuff as a family. We enjoyed a trip to the Museum of Science but much of the time my head was someplace else — someplace darker.
I carried on that way into the evening, feeling deep sadness over things I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Then, as we got further into the evening, my spirits lifted. After Duncan and my niece went to bed, Erin, Sean and I watched TV and Sean and I played a game of Battleship. It felt good.
Yesterday was a good day overall. I had enough energy to go on a housecleaning spree before church. In the afternoon Duncan and I worked on a craft involving Plaster of Paris and, while the plaster dried, we watched some Harry Potter.
I ended the day dozing off in my favorite living room chair next to the Christmas tree lights, and was feeling content about it.
A couple items worth noting:
–The worst of my mood swings coincided with some dreary weather outside. No snow, but lots of clouds and a fair amount of rain. That kind of weather always tampers with my mood.
–Yesterday, New Years Day, the sun lit up the day brilliantly. I always do better when the sun shines.
The weather is always a factor for those who are prone to depression this time of year, when the days are short and the trees are bare.
I’m feeling good this morning. All in all, it was a good, restful vacation but I’m ready to get back to the work I love. I used to dread the end of vacation, so that’s a big plus.
I cherished the time I spent with family, even if my flawed side sometimes surfaced to make a mess of things.
I’ve learned to expect this stuff at the beginning of winter. That means I’m able to recover more quickly.
Thank God for that, because nothing sucks more than a slow, downward spiral you can’t pull yourself out of.
"Darkness and Light" -- check out the "Four Lease Ranch" blog where I found this. Good stuff.
A bump on the path to reconciliation after five years of estrangement from my mother: Angered over posts about my childhood, she has unfriended me from Facebook.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/ZQlM59sDJVo
I wasn’t too surprised. I knew that recalling childhood as I remembered it wouldn’t sit well with her. But I was hoping — really hoping — that she would see the bigger picture I’ve been trying to present: One where I’ve turned out fine despite earlier struggles. I also hoped she would recognize my efforts to point out where I’ve been wrong and hurtful along the way.
Ah, well.
She did call to wish me a Merry Christmas, and told me she dropped me because she didn’t want certain friends and relatives to see the blog through her connection. Fair enough.
“I wish you thought about the consequences beforehand,” she said. “Or maybe you did and this is what you wanted.”
“Consequences” is one of those words that almost always means something bad — the putrid result of an ill-advised action. In this case, people seeing my mother as an abusive “Mommy Dearest” type is the consequence of writing my back story.
But in my opinion, it was necessary. Everyone struggles in life. Our history always shapes us. I had to show you all where I’ve been so you can understand where I’m going.
Sometimes my work writings crash head-on into this blog. Last week I wrote a post in CSO’s SaltedHash blog about how I thought scientists were reckless to mutate the H5N1 strain of bird flu.
While there’s the obvious security component, part of my feelings on the subject go back to my years living with fear and anxiety.
Mood music:
http://youtu.be/-q-MorIES5I
This isn’t a post to say I’ve changed my mind about this strain of bird flu being tweaked into a human scourge that, if released, would kill many, many people. It IS about listening to other people’s opinions and opening the possibility that I could change my mind if educated further.
This comes up after someone from the scientific and security community sent me this tweet:
“It does not make me re-evaluate my opinion. I still believe this was reckless; some things in nature shouldn’t be messed with.”
To that, she replied:
“Ahh okay, understood. I’ll cross your name off the list of people interested in the vaccinations then.”
Later, I found that she posted my SaltedHash post in her Facebook timeline with this comment:
“I really wish Bill Brenner would stick to writing about subjects he is actually knowledgeable about – like eating too much god or whatever.”
When someone throws barbs at me for something I write, I don’t get upset about it. If you don’t want to be disagreed with, you have no business writing opinion pieces. Also, when it looks like someone smart and sensible is flipping me off, I take notice, because whenever I express an opinion, I always understand that I could be wrong.
Some people change their minds about things out of political expediency or because they can’t bear the thought of someone calling them out in a public arena. But under the right circumstances, a person changes their mind because they remain open to other points of view and, after more research and soul searching, they come to believe their original, well-intentioned and honest view was wrong in hindsight.
I’m not at that point yet, because when it comes to H5N1 I simply don’t trust humans no matter how good their intentions.
I have no doubt scientists were as careful as possible and that security was paramount, as one article said. I also believe the scientists are acting with good intentions. They want to understand what makes this flu virus tick so we can be better at identifying mutations in the wild and developing vaccines that will save countless lives. I applaud those intentions.
But scientists are human like the rest of us, prone to make mistakes and fail to understand what they are toying with.
That’s the thing that makes me uneasy.
Is my view tainted by the raw fear I used to carry around? I’d be stupid if I failed to acknowledge the possibility.
The fear meant a lot of things. Working myself into a stupor over the safety of my wife and children. An obsession with cleanliness, which was interesting since depression always meant my personal hygiene took a dive.
In 2005, I had a long panic streak over the bird flu in Asia, which was predicted to be the next great pandemic, deadlier than the one that killed off a significant segment of the population in 1918-19.
I would read every magazine and every website tracking all these world events as if my personal safety depended on it. If a hurricane was spinning in the Atlantic, I would watch with deepening worry as it edged closer to the U.S.
When did all this stop? It’s hard to pin an exact date or year on it.
I only know it stopped.
One day the anxiety attacks stopped. Then I started to crave all the experiences I once feared. Not the terror attacks, plane crashes and pandemics, mind you, but the traveling, the public speaking and more intensified writing. One day I started craving those things with the same vigor with which I craved all the junk I polluted myself with.
Therapy — years of it — and Prozac definitely played a role. So did my deepening Faith.
But while news that H5N1 was mutated in a lab didn’t send me into panic like it would have six years ago, I still remembered everything I read about what this thing could do as a human, airborn virus. The reaction resulted in that SaltedHash post I linked to at the beginning of this post.
The person who called it “hasty” and not the stuff of a knowledgeable writer is looking at this with all the potential good of the research in mind. I welcome the opportunity to be proven wrong.
If I am wrong about this, I’ll be the happiest idiot on the planet and I’ll say so publicly.
As a clinical OCD case, I always have an eye out for articles on how OCD works and what the triggers are. I’m several years into managing my case, but you’re never past the point of learning new things.
First, the news that brings me to this post, courtesy of NBC affiliate WMGT-TV:
When Jason Dudinec suddenly started washing his hands and touching things ritually, his parents knew something wasn’t right.
The Obsessive Compulsive Disorder symptoms came on suddenly and seemed to worsen.
A neurologist diagnosed Jason with a condition called PANDAS, short for Pediatric Autoimmune Neuropsychiatric Disorders Associated with Streptococcal Infections.
Jason’s strep infection affected a part of his brain that “turned on” OCD and other behavioral issues.
His mother, Jennifer, says when her son received penicillin for a sinus infection shortly after, the symptoms subsided.
When he received a steroid boost for his asthma they stopped all together.
Now they only reappear when he’s exposed to strep.
According to Dr. Max Wiznitzer, a pediatric neurologist at Rainbow Babies and Children’s Hospital, PANDAS can cause behaviors such as:
The catch is the symptoms come on suddenly and must be associated with a strep infection.
It affects children between 3 and 10 years old and in some cases may fade once they reach adulthood.
Dr. Wiznitzer says PANDAS is extremely rare, and while most people have been exposed to strep, few have the biology to contract PANDAS.
He adds, that while the National Institutes of Mental Health recognize PANDAS, not all scientists agree that it’s an actual condition.
I don’t doubt the science and reality behind this. It’s good information to have. But for those who are inclined to freak out over the possibility that their loved will “catch” OCD, consider this: If you have any hint of mental disorder within you, just about anything can be the trigger. You need to be aware of that, but you shouldn’t panic over it, either.
The following is my opinion, based on a life of experience and observation. It is not built on any scientific research, just so you read on with the proper perspective:
One consistent takeaway I get from everything I read: If you have a disorder buried inside you, just about anything will trigger it. Just like anything can trigger you if you have it in you to commit murder.
I think there are shards of truth in all of this. But I think the reasons are more simple than the things you might find under a microscope in the lab.
I think the biggest and most brutal triggers for any mental disorder go back to personal history.
For me, the childhood disease, loss of a sibling to asthma and best friend to suicide, the nasty divorce of my parents, etc., filled me with a worldview and fears that eventually hardened into my own brand of OCD.
I think it’s the same for someone who grows up to be a serial killer. Charles Manson‘s mother abandoned him repeatedly and was a bad seed herself, robbing banks and going through men like tissues. Ronald DeFeo was convicted of murdering his entire family in the case that inspired “The Amityville Horror,” and by many accounts his was a household of vicious abuse, particularly at the hands of his father.
History is the cause that triggers the effect. The action that triggers the reaction. And with the seeds planted, just about anything can bring it to the surface.
If you’re inclined to be an obsessive, paranoid person, catching strep will bring out all your germ-based fears and actions. The article that inspired this post is based on more chemical and biological factors, but it all fits into the larger puzzle.
If you grow up to be like Charles Manson, just about anything — in his case, The Beatles White Album — will compel you to do murderous things.
In the end, though, I don’t think you can blame the music. They had the evil in them and something was going to bring it out sooner or later.
I thank God that it was OCD embedded in me and not something more sinister. OCD makes me do things compulsively and causes worry that spins out of control. But it’s never compelled me to kill anyone. That’s never been in me.
The examples I’ve mentioned are extreme when stacked next to the article about strep and OCD. But these are the things the article made me think of all the same.
As for that other OCD segment on NPR, 
