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Breaking Bipolar

While many people with bipolar disorder have and continue to be treated with antidepressants along with many other medications, there is a controversy in the medical community as to whether this is an appropriate approach. In bipolar disorder there is some risk of antidepressants inducing mania or perhaps worsening rapid-cycling. But is this true? What evidence is there that antidepressants work in bipolar disorder? What evidence is there that they will make bipolar disorder worse? What do you do if you can’t take an antidepressant?
I recently received a comment regarding bipolar medication, its development and the mental health care system in general. The commenter accuses the mental health community of being corrupt and asks, “Why are we forced to take such bad bipolar medicines?”
Alternative treatments for bipolar disorder, and any mental illness, abound. People will advise you to do anything from cut gluten out of your diet, to take an herbal cocktail to cleans your aura. I, myself, have seen a few alternative health care practitioners and tried a few of their treatments. And while I didn't personally find any benefit, and I don't find most of these treatments credible, if you are going to try a bipolar treatment outside of medicine, there is one major rule to follow.
I’m not a fan of New Year’s resolutions. I generally find them phony, unreasonable and dead by the second week of January. I feel if you’re ready for change in your life you make change at that moment, not when a ball drop tells you to. That being said, people insist on making New Year’s resolutions anyway. It’s a psychological and societal time of renewal and a life reset that people choose to mark with promises. So if you’re bipolar, what kind of New Year’s resolutions might be helpful?
Congratulations; if you’re reading this you’ve survived the holidays, or most of them anyway. You’re past the late-night wrapping sessions, the overindulgence in eggnog and the stuffing that you never like but every year are forced into eating anyway. Huzah. But if you’re a bipolar like me, you’ve found that all that forced merriment has left you feeling hollow, tired and depressed, so it’s time to take action to get back to your pre-holiday self.
I’m spending this Christmas back in the town where I grew up, sleeping in my mother’s guest room. I have to be there a week. A week with parents and siblings. A week of turkey and tiny oranges. A week of me silently begging to go home. But I understand that holiday obligations are, well, obligatory, so I do have some methods for trying to survive it.
I was inspired today by Seth Godin’s blog article Lady Gaga and Me. In it, he makes the point that writers needn’t worry about all the people who don’t like them because really, they should only worry about all those who do. I understand this as I’m a writer, and there are people who don’t like my writing; which is OK, because there are many who do. The same goes for bipolar treatments. Some people are just never going to agree with your chosen bipolar treatment plan no matter what you do.
Epileptics often get what is known as an aura before they have a seizure. An aura is a sensation like hearing voices or seeing colored lights or experiencing numbness. An aura might be present a few seconds or a few minutes before the seizure depending on the person. It’s an early warning sign of a brain misfire. Similarly, I experience signs, an aura if you will, of upcoming hypomanias.
OK, so I admit it, I haven’t spent a whole lot of time thinking about gender’s relationship to depression. I know the basic pieces of information: more women are diagnosed with depression than men, and more women attempt suicide while more men actually commit suicide. But there is a lot to understand beyond that. Did you know that men are up to 15 times more likely to commit suicide than women?
When we were children, for most of us, Christmas was magical. You got to tear into shiny wrapping paper and discover the most amazing and wondrous gifts inside. There was a Santa Claus who confirmed we had been good all year long. There was a Christmas tree reaching to the sky and cookies and candies abounded. Our four-year-old, six-year-old, eight-year-old minds didn’t see the faults, cracks, bills and squabbles. All we remember is the Barbies, remote-control cars and cookies for Santa. And so it should be. Those memories, even if mostly embellishments of imagination, are great to hold onto. The problem is, for some reason, we spend our entire adult lives trying to recreate the magic that never existed in the first place.