She's A Cheater

My wife is a cheater. She cheated me Tuesday. Again. In the three (+) decades we've been married, she's cheated many times. According to some researchers, women are far more likely to cheat than men.

It all started Tuesday morning. I got out of bed, ate breakfast, watched the news, showered, shaved, checked my email, and prepared for work. When it was time to leave, I picked up my briefcase, went downstairs, and dug in my pocket for my car keys. They weren't there. I went all over the house, looking for my keys. Upstairs, downstairs. Upstairs and downstairs again.

I was going to be late for work, and Teresa couldn't help me because she was on the phone. Finally, in desperation, I decided to look in the car. I thought that maybe I had left them in the ignition. When I opened the house door, there were my keys, hanging from the door knob. Quickly, I grabbed them, ran for the car and headed for work.

When I came home that afternoon, she asked me where I found my keys. I said, "Oh, they were downstairs." She shined her desk lamp into my eyes. "You found them in the door knob, didn't you?" I squirmed. "What makes you think that?" "Because I heard your keys jingling when you took them out of the lock." Then I said, "That's just cheating!! It's not fair that your hearing is so good." Yep! My wife is a cheater. I can't get away with anything.

We men have been put at an unfair disadvantage. God created women with superior hearing faculties. It has been scientifically proven. Women have better hearing than men. Some researchers say that it is four times better. Long before any research was done, I had already reached my own conclusions about this. Think about it. In your family, who is always hearing those noises that the car is making? Who hears the teenagers sneaking in? Who hears the refrigerator door opening? Who hears the pin drop?

I used to wonder why this was so. One day, as I was meditating on the greater questions of life, I realized why women hear so well. It's because that is the way that God intentionally designed them. When the hungry baby cries at night, someone has to get up. The child has to be fed. So, what sense does it make for the Daddy to hear the baby? He doesn't have any milk. Not naturally anyway. Ever since the beginning, Mommy was given the milk, so it's only reasonable to expect her to get up and feed the baby. That's why her hearing is so good. Unfortunately, Daddy sometimes has to pay the price for this plan. Occasionally, he is heard saying or doing something that would be safer left unheard.

So, what does all of this have to do with depression? Well, just because a person hears better than another (male or female), it doesn't necessarily follow that he/she will listen better. Listening is more difficult than hearing. We've all encountered people who were poor listeners, and we've been tempted to say, "Excuse me for talking while you're interrupting." If you are talking to someone who is depressed, and their input into the conversation is minimal, then you have to be an especially good listener, so that you will not only hear what they say, but also what they don't say.

Here are some Tips For Communication

01-People who are depressed don't talk much, so listen well. You must listen carefully so that you will be able to understand, comprehend and evaluate. As Job said, "Listen carefully to my words; let your ears take in what I say (Job 13:17)."

02-There are good times and bad times to talk, so be ready to take advantage of the best "mood times" to discuss things.

03-Make an offer to listen. "Whenever you feel like talking, I'll be ready to listen."

04-Don't complain about the lack of communication. Talk to family or friends who will meet your need for conversation.

05-Accept the fact that much of what you say will not be heard. Whatever part of the brain processes auditory sounds doesn't always engage when a person is depressed. They hear, but they don't hear. Sometimes, words heard don't really connect with understanding and retention.

06-Make an effort to improve your skills as a listener. These are skills that can be acquired, and great advice is found on the Internet. Listen twice before speaking once. "He who answers before listening, that is his folly and shame (Proverbs 18:13)."

07-Saying, "You never listen to me" will diminish the depressive's motivation for conversation.

08-Don't wait until you are upset to talk. If you are angry or irritated, allow some time to cool off, but don't stuff your anger and fail to communicate your feelings.

09-Be knowledgeable about depression, and understand that it is very difficult for people with a depressive mood disorder to listen back to what you are saying, and comprehend what you are trying to communicate.

10-Butter your tongue with love. Remember, during times of frustration, that you are not adversaries. You are simply two people connected at the heart, who are sometimes disconnected at the ear.

Yes, my wife is a cheater, but at least there is one person in this family who can hear the phone ring, and take time to listen to her "Ding-A-Ling."


["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]
sandtward@alltel.net

Born To Be Wild

My wife tells me that I have been in rebellion. According to her, I've been resisting her efforts to bring my life into order and rational response to her advice. It all started over my taking my sleeping medication twice, because I couldn't remember taking it once. Consequently, I missed a day of work due to being too sleepy to walk, much less drive.

Her plan was for me to put my meds in a pill box, so I would always know when to take them. The plan met my approval, so I did as advised. The problem began when I had gone through a weeks worth of meds, and then didn't feel like filling up the box again. I just didn't feel like it. I wasn't in the mood to organize my medications. I probably would have, in a few days, but at that specific time, I...did...not...want...to...do...it!

Then the order came down. "Fill up that pill box or else!!" Well, it wasn't put exactly that way, but that's the way I heard it. Sometimes things are said like that, and sometimes that is just the way that I hear them.

I'll admit that I have always had a problem with authority. Perhaps it's just that I resist dominance. I mean, I've never (with one exception) clashed with a police officer. I, for the most part, got along with my superior officers in the military. I obeyed my parents, until I left home. I only got one spanking at school. So, in my mind, there is really not an issue with authority, but I am resistant to any form of control.

By definition, I can't be, as my wife thinks, in rebellion. According to Webster, "rebellion is open opposition to a person or thing in a position of authority or dominance." So, it follows that she would have to have some authority over me, in order for me to rebel against it. No authority, no rebellion. Simple, isn't it?

Here's the real issue. When you have Bipolar Disorder, you yearn for self-determination. More than anything else, you want to be in control of your own destiny and your own decisions. Even regarding something as insignificant as taking your medications. It may seem juvenile to some, but I don't want someone else (not even my wife) telling me what to do. I am highly resistant to any perceived form of control. I respond well to asking, and I listen to persuasion, but I'm deaf to "telling." And I don't want to be told, asked, or persuaded, over and over again. An occasional, softly spoken reminder (pretty please, with sugar on top), might be acceptable. I don't know. It would largely depend on what kind of "mood" I'm in, I suppose.

For some reason, I've always felt a kinship with the little boy who had a conflict with his mother. He had been misbehaving (in her mind), and so she sat him down in a chair in the corner. In a moment, he was up and playing. She took him by the arm, and put in in the chair again. He stood up. Finally, she marched him back to the corner, and told him very firmly that he was to sit in that chair and not get up until she gave him permission. After a minute or so of silence, he said, "Mama, I might be sitting down on the outside, but I'm standing up on the inside."

It's really an issue of Physics. Newton's Third Law is that "for every action (control), there is an equal (or greater) and opposite reaction (rebellion)." Hmmm. Let me rethink this.

Oh, about the meds. I have faithfully taken them, without benefit of the pill box, but in a day or so I will refill the box. After I see if my wife is ready to submit to my authority.

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

Oh, My Aching Head!!

It could have happened any time. It might have first happened when I was 10. My Dad was always in a hurry, which meant that I was always in a hurry. When I was about 10 years old, I became interested in building an airplane or rocket. By then, I had given up the idea of flying like Superman, and had turned to more rational methods of flight. One day, I was in the backyard building a plane from crate boxes, and my Dad yelled, "If you are going with me to town, you had better hurry." So, I quickly ran to the tool shed, opened the door, threw the hammer up on the work bench, and slammed the door. That's when the pain went...all...over...my body. You see, in my haste I had slammed the door on my head.

It might have happened because my Mom finger-thumped me on the head for misbehaving. Maybe it was when I rolled my car, or when I had a pool stick broken on my noggin. It might have occurred when my fiance (now my wife) saw a horse throw me head first into a hard oak fence.

I guess the genesis of my problem doesn't matter, but the truth is, I have difficulty with thinking. Yesterday, I couldn't perform simple math functions required by my job. When I was about 30, I had some tests done to find out why I was having so many migraine headaches. One test indicated that I had some impairment in my left frontal lobe. A Cat scan showed an abnormality in the same area. A second test revealed nothing. Finally, I was sent to a clinical psychologist who told me, "Stormy, I believe that you have had some minor brain damage at some point in your life." This confirmed what some smart alecks used to say about me being "one card short of a full deck."

While even minor head trauma can cause some cognitive impairment (do some research), my problem probably originated with my teenage onset of Bipolar Disorder (BPD). In a recent Reuters News Service report, researchers at Dalhousie University have concluded that teenagers with depression may have abnormal brain structure. Imaging studies showed that adolescents with major depression tend to have a small hippocampus. This is the part of the brain associated with motivation, emotion and memory formation. Major stress and trauma, both depression triggers, can also cause the shrinkage.

Another study reported on July 20, 2007, announced that researchers at the University of Edinburgh have found that BPD is associated with a reduction in brain tissue and proves that the changes get progressively worse with each relapse. They discovered that the loss of grey matter tissue is concentrated in areas of the brain which control memory, face recognition and coordination. The researchers learned that the amount of brain tissue that's lost is greater in people who have had multiple episodes of illness and is associated with a decline in some areas of mental ability.

The above information had already been suggested by other studies. That is the reason that this writer has concluded that it is extremely important to bring depression under control, and by any and all means to reduce or stop the repetitive episodes of chronic clinical depression. One might say that the cognitive dysfunction that I have experienced might have been caused by minor brain trauma, but my belief is that it is most likely a result of many years of cycling into and out of depression.

Then again, it might be a result of too much "finger-thumping."

***********************

Benita Chick, of Hong Kong, has asked that I inform others of her site for fell0w-sufferers in that country. Her address is http://hkmentalhealthsupport.org/

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

Lie Like A Dog

In my life, I've had more dogs, than dogs have fleas. I'm sure I'm forgetting some, but the breeds I can remember are: Rat Terrier, Pit Bull, Beagle, Blue Tick Hound, Black and Tan Hound, Newfoundland, Bloodhound, Boston Terrier, Schnauzer, English Sheep Dog, Saint Bernard, Chihuahua, Australian Shepherd, as well as various and sundry Mutts.

Maybe that's why I'm well acquainted with the saying, "You lie like a dog," which is a type of a pun. "You lie (tell an untruth) like a dog (lies down)." I know that I told everyone that I would be posting a new blog every Friday, but I didn't. I was halfway to Tulsa to meet my son, when I remembered that I hadn't written a blog. I did tell an untruth, but I didn't lie.

According to the Bible, "pseudos (lie)" is an intentional and deliberate falsehood, spoken to deceive another. Therefore, my legal expert (me) holds that I did not technically tell a lie. I fully intended to do what I promised, but I just plain forgot. I have discovered some new information about the problems that people who have Bipolar Disorder have with memory.

I will share that with you on Friday, if I don't forget "like a dog."

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

Depressed To Death

Most Christians spend their whole life getting ready to die. Death is one appointment that we all have to keep. To the rest of the world, Christianity takes an illogical and scary position on this subject. Non-Christians can not understand why we are able to face death without fear.

Listen to the apostle Paul, "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.....having the desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is very much better (Philippians 1:21, 23)." Living for Christ prepares us to be with Christ. I've always like the story about the old Scotsman, who on his death-bed said, "If I die, I will be with Jesus, and if I live, Jesus will be with me." This is the attitude that enables us to face depression in this life, and to be ready for heaven in the next life.

While I'm not afraid of death, I am concerned about dying. There's a distinction between the two. Death is the point at which I will step out of this world, and step into the arms of Jesus. Death lasts less than 1/1,000,000 of a millisecond. Dying is the process that precedes death. It can last a day, a week, a month, a year or longer. If prolonged, dying can be as ugly as Hell, literally.

I spent the last two weeks of my Dad's life at his bedside. I got to see, up close and personal, the ugliness of dying. The heritage of Satan. Prior to becoming a Christian, my father spent years drinking alcohol and smoking tobacco. You may not know it, but there is a synergistic effect when you combine the two. Synergism occurs when the total effect is greater than the sum of the individual effects. One plus (+) one =three. Your body is destroyed at a more rapid rate when you combine the elements of alcohol and tobacco. My Dad died of cancer of the lungs and brain.

When my Dad passed away, I found that I was left with a phobia of dying. I feared that I would one day find myself dying with the loss of dignity that I saw in my father. Pain I can endure, but pity and embarrassment would break my heart. It has continued to be an occasional, but earnest, prayer that I would be allowed to die with dignity. Perhaps as a reward for a life of depression.

More like my mother's experience. Mom had always had good health. Even in her eighties, she was mobile, lively and happy. On the day prior to her death, I had taken her to her doctor, and he gave her the results of some tests that had been made. He said that she had cancer markers in her blood.

I knew what she was thinking. She and I both remembered how awful my father's dying had been. She wanted to avoid that, as did I. I will never forget our conversation. Mom said, "Stormy, I don't want to die with cancer. I wish I could just go to bed and never wake up." I replied, "Mama, that's the way that all of us want to go, but that just doesn't happen very often." "I know," she said, "but I don't want to die like your Dad did."

Since my mother lived in an apartment a few blocks from me, I usually called her every day to see how she was doing. Sometimes I would just drop by to talk. The day after her doctor's appointment, I received a call from my aunt Dofa. She said that she had called Mama several times and didn't get an answer.

I drove the four blocks to my mother's home, and walked inside. I called out, but heard nothing. I walked through the house, and looked out into her backyard, but I couldn't find her. I thought that maybe she was visiting with her neighbor. Finally, I went into her bedroom, and I found her lying on the floor. She was dead, but she had the most peaceful smile on her face. Really!! Evidently, Mama got her wish. I thought, "I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish she got tonight."

As you see, my parents had distinctly different manners of dying. But now, in death, they both fully understand the meaning of Paul when he wrote, "Therefore, being always of good courage, and knowing that while we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord--for we walk by faith, not by sight--we are of good courage,I say, and prefer rather to be absent from the body and to be at home with the Lord (2 Corinthians 5:6-8)."

So what does all of this have to do with depression? Just this. Heaven is a place prepared for people who are prepared for heaven. Like the Scotsman, we should be able to say, "If I die, I will be with Jesus, and if I live ( in depression), Jesus will be with me."

Even depressed Christians are radical thinkers, at least as viewed by the rest of the world. "Therefore, we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day (2 Corinthians 5:16)." While we struggle with depression and our personal phobias, we are still a prepared people preparing ourselves for heaven. "Therefore, we also have as our ambition, whether at home or absent, to be pleasing to Him (2 Cor.5:9)."

While we may be always depressed, we can still be confident that our manner of dying and the day of our death, are two things that are firmly and gently in the hands of God. "The Lord is near. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:5-7)."

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

ATTENTION!!

From this date forward, I will be posting a blog on each Friday. That way, you will know the exact day (mostly) that you can expect an update. I appreciate so much the encouragement that I have received from you, and I hope to continue to hear from you.

My primary reason for the new schedule is that my mood is generally better toward the end of the week. I'm sure that you will understand. That's what this site is all about. Providing an environment where we can encourage, strengthen, show understanding, and support one another through our difficult times.

I love and appreciate you all. Keep your eyes on Jesus.


["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]
sandtward@alltel.net

Yada Yada

They do it. All the time. You've probably seen them do it. I know I have. Even at church they do it, and they have no shame whatsoever. Now, some people claim that they are no worse than the males of the species, but my experience tells me otherwise. In fact, when I was a teenager and moved to a small town, one of them wanted to do it with me all of the time, and wouldn't take No!" for an answer.

It happens so often, that their behavior has become a joke. "A teen aged girl had been talking on the phone for 1/2 hour, and then she hung up. 'Wow,' said her father, 'That was really short. You usually talk for 2 hours. What happened?' 'Wrong number,' said the girl."

Teen aged girls and even preteens spend a lot of time talking. They talk at school, they talk on the phone, they text-message each other, and now, they use social networking to stay in touch. What a boy can say with "Yeah," a girl can say with 30 additional words. Boys don't pass notes, girls do. Boys don't win text-messaging contests, girls do. They get a lot of practice. "Yada, yada." That's why girls and women complain that we males don't talk much. By comparison, we are strong silent types for sure.

An article by Jennifer Warner and reported by CBS News, made this statement. "Teen aged girls who bond over gripe sessions and sharing each other's problems may be doing more harm than good emotionally. A new study shows that friendships based on complaining about each other's problems may raise anxiety levels among teen girls and potentially increase the risk of depression."

Amanda J. Rose, PhD, associate professor of psychology at the University of Missouri Columbia says, "These findings are interesting because girls' intentions when discussing problems may be to give and seek positive support. However, these conversations appear to contribute to increased depression."

Researchers say the study shows talking excessively with another person about struggles, such as rehashing and dwelling on negative feelings associated with them, can have both benefits and risks for people dealing with difficult issues. But boys of the same age didn't seem to suffer the same negative emotional effects of letting it all out. Probably because their disclosures consisted of an exchange of "Bummer" and "Yeah."

If you have a teenager in your household, you might want to track the amount of time spent communicating with her best friends. As already mentioned, time spent is higher than ever before. Teen girls are talking all of the time. In ways never dreamed of in the days of their mothers. When you consider all of the time talking at home, at school, at the mall, on the cell phone, through text-messages, and on their sites at YouTube, MySpace, FaceBook, MyYearbook, Piczo, Imeem, Bebo, and Tagged, it would probably astound the average parent or even teacher. And then, you have to consider the blogs, forums and chat rooms.

Juvenile depression is a reality. Now, parents and school counselors and medical professionals have to take into consideration this new dynamic. In addition to the negative exposure that teens find on the Internet, you have to factor in what could be negative exposure to friends. Technology is creating new addictions, and baring your soul may soon become one of them. I'm going to coin a new phrase. "Yada Yada Depression."

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

Head Bone Connects To The Body Bone

Do you remember the chorus to the children's song, "Dem Bones?" "The foot bone connected to the leg bone, The leg bone connected to the knee bone, The knee bone connected to the thigh bone, The thigh bone connected to the back bone, The back bone connected to the neck bone, The neck bone connected to the head bone, Oh, hear the word of the Lord!"

For me, bones and pain have been intricately connected. My broken bones include toes, ankle, ribs, sternum, fingers, thumb, wrist, elbow, nose and hip. Dem bones gonna hurt, when dey broke!! Add to that, three major operations (elbow, back and hip), several scars over 4 inches, twenty years worth of migraine headaches, and you can see that pain has long been a companion of mine. Like depression. In my particular case, though, I don't believe that there was always a direct connection. Perhaps some times, but mostly not.

The medical community has pretty much accepted the fact of a connection between the "head bone" and chronic pain. The discussion of this phenomena has caused a division of psychiatrists and pain management professionals into "egg" and "chicken" parties. There seem to be people from both professions in both groups. The major question is, "What comes first? Depression or pain?" The answer appears to be, "Yes."

The more open minded doctors and researchers see that, depending on the particular patient, either pain and depression can be a result of the other. In some cases, chronic pain (lasting more than 3 months) can cause depression to develop in the patient. Makes sense to me. I know that one year when I had daily migraines (5 out of 7 days), the pain alone was depressing. Severe pain that can't be escaped or alleviated just naturally causes a person to become depressed.

What is less obvious, though, is the manner in which depression might cause someone to develop (or feel) chronic pain. In a Newsweek article (10/27/07), James Bakalar writes that "depressed people suffer three times their share of chronic pain (and people in pain are at high risk for depression). Some studies suggest that if physicians tested all pain patients for mood problems, they might discover 60 percent of all undiagnosed depression. If you're struggling with either problem, there's a good chance you're suffering from both of them."

The connection between sensory pain and emotional pain is rooted in the nervous system. Both are governed by the same neurotransmitters (serotonin, norepinephrine, and substance P), and both are processed in the same parts of the brain. When the circuitry is working properly, pain and depression are self-limiting.

Treating chronic pain can often help reduce depression, and treating depression can, to some degree, reduce the magnitude or incidence of pain. The administration of antidepressants can sometimes reduce the pain felt. This is why the medical community is beginning to consider both problems in developing a successful treatment regimen. Dr. Matthew Bair, formerly of the Regenstrief Institute, says, "We believe that a treatment model that incorporates assessment and treatment of both depression and pain is desirable."

That makes sense to me. Even children know that the Head Bone is connected to the Body Bones.


["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]
sandtward@alltel.net

Good Web Sites

There are many great web sites with a wealth of information about depression and bipolar disorder. Here are a few of my favorites. If you have some good ones, email me.

01-dbsalliance.org

02-nami.org

03-nimh.nih.gov

04-mentalhelp.net

05-mayoclinic.com

06-nmha.org

07-moodswing.org

08-bipolarhome.org

09-bipolarworld.net

10-clinicaltrials.gov

11-revolutionhealth.com (ratings or reviews of drugs by patients)

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

Get A Job!!!

"Get A Job!!" Do you remember that old song by the Silhouettes? "Get a job. Sha na na na, sha na na na na. Every morning about this time, she gets me out of my bed, a-crying, 'Get a job.' After breakfast, everyday, she throws the want ads my way, and never fails to say, 'Get a job.' Sha na na na, sha na na na na."

But what if you can't get a job, or if you get a job, you can't keep it? How can people who are successfully employed understand the difficulty that having chronic depression or bipolar disorder creates for a job-seeker. How can they understand the embarrassment of having to answer that killer question, "Why did you leave your last job? And the one before that? And the one before that?" Over and over.

You can't help but wonder at what point the prospective employer will begin to think that there is a problem. Red flags waving. Knowing that he is formulating a plan to turn you away without letting you know that he will never hire you. No way. You can't really blame him. If you were the employer, in all honesty, you would see red flags too. The only difference is, you know what colored the flag red.

We live in a society where the most likely introductory question will be, "What do you do?" That's a question that I most hate to hear. I know that it's coming, and I get all stressed out while I'm waiting for it to come. I've tried to think of something safe and strategic to say. "I do mostly what I want to do." "Nothing that I can get out of." "Oh, this and that." "I read and walk and shop and fish and sleep and eat and watch TV and..." No matter what you say, the interrogators will never let you off the hook. They persist, "No, I mean what do you do for a living?" You can't even satisfy their relentless questioning by saying, "Well, I'm a mostly retired preacher."

"Mostly-retired" is a euphemism for mostly unemployed and mostly depressed and mostly feeling helpless. The reason that job seekers are advised to diligently look for employment is that counselors know that they will eventually begin to feel worthless, if they don't find a job pretty soon. For most of us, self-esteem is tied into our ranking in the employment hierarchy. If we are not a fully functioning member of the club, then we lose our self-respect. Even if we know that we would choose to work, if we only could.

You have no idea how hopeless and helpless a person feels when he can no longer use his education, his skills and his experience to benefit society and care for his family. It's frustrating and heart-breaking to say good-bye to your dreams, and to the self-fulfillment that comes with full time employment.

In a Newsweek article on men and depression, Dr. James Siepmann is described as a example of the disappointments faced by people struggling with chronic depression or BPD. "Siepmann, a family physician and father of five, gave up his medical practice in 2000 when his depression got so bad he couldn't bring himself to get dressed in the morning. Despite numerous types of treatment, he spends most of his days at home and can only muster the energy to shave once a week."

I wonder how many times he's heard his mind saying, "Physician, heal thyself." I can easily understand the disappointment he must feel. All of his education, skills and experience are no longer utilized to do what he is driven to do.

I got a late start on my formal education. Ten days after I graduated from high school, I entered the military. After spending a year and a half in Viet Nam, and over three years in the Seabees, I was discharged and returned to the Oklahoma workforce. I was twenty-one. In the next four years, I hopped from job to job, town to town, and state to state. Finally, following a divorce, I decided to start taking some college courses while I worked a full-time job. An hour here and an hour there.

I took my first undergraduate course when I was twenty-five, and my last undergrad course when I was forty-five. Twenty years of hard work, sacrifice and expense, so that I would be able to say, "I'm a college graduate!!"' I jokingly tell people that I was a slow learner, but I have had a healthy measure of pride in my accomplishment.

What I have in common with Dr. Siepmann and with others who struggle with mental illness, is the inability to use what I've learned to do, to accomplish what I've been trained to do. He can't serve as a physician, and I can't serve as a preacher. Both of us are miserable, I'm sure. It's not easy to become reconciled with the probability that you will never again be the person that you once were. I was a skilled teacher and preacher. It was something that I loved to do. I envisioned my entire life being spent as a preacher, but now that flame has been doused.

Those of you who don't wrestle with this problem, thank God that you have been blessed with employment. Really. Please try to understand the grief that the rest of us have to deal with. In my opinion, it's easier to recover from grieving over the loss of a loved one than it is to stop grieving over the loss of a dream and the loss of your self-esteem.

None of us who are unemployed or partly employed want pity, but we do need understanding, support and respect. A dream would be good, also. We just want to ...Get A Job.

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

Snake

As I say, "I'm lower than a snake's belly." (awful depressed)

A Funny

Some aspiring psychiatrists were attending their first class on emotional extremes. "Just to establish some parameters," said the professor to the student from Arkansas, "what is the opposite of joy?" "Sadness," said the student.

"And the opposite of depression?" he asked of the young lady from Oklahoma. "Elation," she replied.

"And you sir," he said to the student from Texas, "how about the opposite of woe?"
The Texan responded, "Sir, I believe that would be giddy-up."
*****************************************************************************

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

Disrespect

Many of us can remember growing up in an era when disrespect was not tolerated. My parents wouldn't allow it in the home, among friends, at school or in the community. Disrespect had direct and immediate consequences. Learning to treat others with dignity and respect was a part of the good etiquette program learned at my home. In fact, my parents often said, "If you see someone being picked on, ridiculed or shunned, then go and make a friend of that person." This is an ideal that I've tried to live up to my entire life.

Stigma is a type of disrespect that many people who are mentally ill (like me) have to deal with on a frequent basis. It comes in many forms, both subtle and overt, but it usually is manifested by prejudice, discrimination, fear, distrust, and stereotyping. Many people might avoid socializing, working, and living near to or with someone who has a mental disorder. Stigma is primarily about disrespect. Unfortunately, everyone who is guilty of it can't be spanked.

The Language of Stigma

When I began my research about this problem, I was amazed to learn how stigma has been incorporated into much of our common language. The following is a list of words and phrases frequently used to ridicule those persons who are mentally ill. Those of us who have a mood disorder may have used these words ourselves.

(1) Around the bend; going bananas; batty; bonkers; certifiable; cracked; crazy; cuckoo; delusional; demented; deranged; disturbed; harebrained; haywire; his elevator doesn't go all of the way to the top; insane; irrational; loco.

(2) Loony; lunatic, mad; madness; maniac; men in little white coats; put you in a straight-jacket; he's mental; nuts; nutty; off your rocker; of unsound mind; he's paranoid; psycho; psychotic; schizo; raving mad; retard; screwy; screw loose; he's touched; wacko.

If you circled all of the above that you were familiar with, how many would it be? Society and we have become so used to these words that we don't even consider how hurtful and disrespectful they are.

On the bright side, on April 29th, 2002, President Bush created the New Freedom Commission on Mental Health, and declared, "Our country must make a commitment. Americans with mental illness deserve our understanding and they deserve excellent care." In addition to this commission, there is a Mental Health National Anti-Stigma Campaign sponsored by the government agency of the Department of Health and Human Services. This campaign is focused on motivating "a societal change towards social acceptance and decreasing the negative attitudes that surround mental illness."

In my opinion, stigma is a result of several factors. It is due to ignorance (lack of knowledge), fear, embarrassment, a sense of superiority, pride and disrespect. One of my personal goals is to provide encouragement, opportunities, and direction that will enable us and others to gain the knowledge necessary to understand depression and bipolar disorder. A lack of knowledge produces a lack of understanding. It has been demonstrated over and over again that a failure to understand something will often result in fear and disrespect.

Even when I've talked to church groups, I have often been approached by people who are embarrassed and reluctant to discuss the subject of mental health, especially if it is related to someone close to them. Embarrassment might even cause them to become angry and deny the reality of mental illness.

As I mentioned above, disrespect is now a national problem. We see it demonstrated by the interaction of adults, children in school, employers, and the community's attitude toward law enforcement officials and government representatives. I believe that our media makes a major contribution to these attitudes in their portrayal of parents, presidents and police persons. This all carries over into how the general public treats those of us who have some form of mental illness.

The Product of Stigma

We are not able to measure the harm that stigma causes, but in talking with others and measuring my own response, I have found that it results in (1) feelings of shame, (2) hurt, (3) fear, (4) isolation, (5) a feeling of being misunderstood, (6) loneliness and (7) secrecy. Of all of these things, I believe that we are most often self-stigmatized by secrecy. As long as we feel that mental illness is something shameful, and we make every effort to hide it from our acquaintances, we will continue to be subject to the painful effects of stigma.

How To Combat Stigma

Would you be surprised to learn that while this problem is discussed even on the Presidential level, little is written about what to do about it. Nationally, the solution is to educate (I agree) the general public, protect our rights through legislation, and force insurance companies to treat mental health problems in the same way that they would treat physical health problems. All of this is good, but what can we do about stigma?

I would suggest the following: (1) educate everyone who will listen to you. Education produces understanding, and hopefully, compassion. (2) Be assertive. There is no reason why we have to allow others to ridicule us publicly or treat us with disrespect. Assertiveness is not easy to learn. It has taken me many years, but there are some good books that will advise you on how to develop this in your life. (3) Get rid of shame, through counseling, if necessary. We have nothing to be ashamed of. We acquired this health problem through no fault of our own. (4) Do not hide your struggles. Secrecy is not the solution to stigma. The more you hide, the more disrespect you earn. Life is miserable when you have to keep a secret.

Ultimately, stigma creates a barrier to a happier life for millions of people. One in five people will have a serious struggle with depression or bipolar disorder at some time in their life. Unfortunately, of that group, only one in four will seek treatment. That is primarily because of stigma. I believe that the battle we face is not just for ourselves, but also for these others who are not living as happily and productively as they might, if they would only get the help available to them.

My friends, in my opinion, the better that we understand stigma and how to fight it, the better the rest of the world will come to understand us.

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On a personal note, I have been deeply depressed for the last week. I'm using this mornings "window of opportunity" to write this blog. When I get behind, please don't give up on me, I will always return as quickly as possible.
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["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]
sandtward@alltel.net

Another Place

The first time it happened, I was about four years old. My parents were on a drive, and I was standing up in the back seat. My Dad told me several times to sit down, but I wouldn't listen. Finally, in order to teach me a lesson, he slowed down and tapped the brakes. Predictably, I fell in the floorboard of the car. Boy, was I mad. I said, "Stop this car and let me out!" Well, he did and I started walking down the side of the road. It was dark. I became scared. Finally, I told my parents that I would sit down, if they would let me back in the car. This was the first time that I ran away from home.

The second time occurred when I was nine. My mother was going to give me a spanking (surely for no reason), and I objected. I had decided that I was too big to get spankings, so I ran out into the backyard. At the time, we had a little guest house where Mom kept her canned goods. I went out to the house, packed up several jars of goodies (fruit) in a burlap feed sack, and headed for our neighbor's woods. It was the middle of the day, summertime, and all was well until I had eaten everything in the jars. About sundown, I started to get hungry and began to wonder what I was going to do with my life, now that I was on my own. I couldn't come up with any good plans. Home started to look more appealing, so finally I gave up on my plan to run away. That decision came with consequences. When I went back home, all of the doors were locked. I wanted to come in, but I couldn't get in because of my mean old mother. I beat on the back door. My mother said, "What do you want?" "I want to come in." "If you are ready to come home, you will have to take your spanking." I was faced with a tough mother and tough decision. I decided to wait until I was a little older to run away.

I was fourteen, when I ran away for the third time. My Dad and I had a bad argument. He was bossing me around and I didn't like it. I was too old to be bossed around. So, I decided to run away from home. I packed some clothes, grabbed my money and started walking. We lived about ten miles from the nearest town, so I cut across several pastures to save distance. When I reached the highway, I hitched my way to town. When I arrived, my Dad was sitting at the grocery store in his pickup. After talking for awhile, we decided to agree to disagree, and I went back home.

The fourth time I left home, I was a senior in high school and was eighteen. My Dad and I again had a really serious confrontation. We almost came to blows. I owned my own car then, so I told my Mom that I was leaving before we got into a fight. By this age, I was already beginning to exhibit signs and characteristics of Type One Bipolar Disorder. This time, my plan to run away was successful. I had money in the bank, got a part-time job and rented a teeny tiny apartment. I lived there for several months, until I enlisted in the Navy (again, running away) and graduated from high school (barely).

This pattern has pretty much existed throughout my life. One of the characteristics of Bipolar Disorder is a strong desire to run away from problems, and sometimes, people. We also run away from pain. We'll go anywhere, but usually we are drawn to some place that we've dreamed of living. Another place is always a better place.

I am the world's best armchair adventurer and traveler. My favorite section of the library is in the 917 section. That's where all of the books about interesting places are located. I love to read about Australia, or China, or Borneo, or Africa, or the Southwest, or...well, any place other than the place where I presently am. I get a bad "itch" to be somewhere else. Some place more intriguing and exciting and mysterious.

As I've mentioned before, 90% of all "bipolar" marriages end in divorce. Over the years, the closest that Teresa and I have come to divorce, was when I was experiencing mental anguish and just wanted to be someplace else. I wasn't wanting to leave her as much as I was wanting to get away from my pain of the moment. Perhaps I felt that she didn't really love me (how silly), and that she would be better off without me, so I began dreaming of a better place. Somewhere in the world where I could go off by myself, live like a hermit, avoid responsibility, hide out from society, and live until I die or the pain goes away.

Today, I know that "another place" doesn't exist. I understand my mental illness better, and I know that when I am feeling pain, it's because of my bipolar disorder, not because of any person(my wife) or any perceived problem. My "running away" fantasies are a clue to my mental state. These thoughts are only controlled by my greatest effort. I know theoretically that I'm beginning to fall prey to "stinkin' thinkin,' but my mind continually whispers that life is safer, happier, more exciting and less painful in another place. My wife, bless her heart, also understands and is sensitive to my moods, so she warns me and advises me and helps me to keep my head on straight.

Today, I know that running away is not an option. The place I'm in, is the place I need to be. With my wife, surrounded by friends and supported by a church family who loves me. For the moment, I don't want to be in "another place." This place is just fine. For today.

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

Slip Sliding Away

The message of Simon and Garfunkel's song has nothing to do with how I feel, but the title does. In the last week, I had noticed that I was starting to have trouble finding the words that I needed to communicate my thoughts. It's like playing with the toy where you have to find the right peg to fit the right hole, but in my case none of them seem to fit. I try the square peg, then the triangle peg, and then the rectangle peg, and none of them will go into the round hole. I'm aware of that much, so I look around for the round peg and it just can't be found, then I return to trying the other pegs. Nothing fits and I know it. I never fully lose the power to know that I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could.

It's almost as though you walk into your living room, and all of the furniture is gone. You know it's gone, but you don't remember why it's gone. The wife and kids come home from the mall, and she says, "What did you do with all of the furniture?" You reply, "I don't know. It was here just a minute ago, but now I don't know where to find it."

A preacher friend of mine told me yesterday that he couldn't imagine what it would be like to have difficulty thinking. Lucky him. I woke up this morning, after the week's cognitive struggles, to find myself depressed. Again.

I should have known that it was coming. The problem with the words should have told me that I was "slip sliding away." Losing my mental grip. I always try to hold to the positive view that maybe this time it will be different. Maybe this will just be a temporary glitch in the program. My history tells me that it's not likely, but in this case, self-deception becomes a survival technique. Holding carrots in front of horses is no different from dreams in front of depressives. Sometimes, I wish that I was truly in "La-La Land," where you are blissfully ignorant of what your problems are.

I was supposed to co-preach a lesson on depression this Sunday, but now that's not going to happen. My sermon will have to become an announcement. We will be starting our support group in a couple of weeks. You would think that if I could write, I could preach, but that's not true. When I write, there are no time constraints, and no listening audience. I can take as long as I want to finish my blog, and there's no one there to watch me or distract me or to fall asleep.

I don't know how long it will take me to get a new grip on my thoughts and my mood, but I will return as soon as I'm able. Meanwhile...I'll be Slip Sliding Away.

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

Lessons Of The Garden

There are some benefits to being an only child, but let me assure you, the benefits come with a cost. When you are an only child, you are the one who has to do all of the grunt work. I carried out the trash, raked the leaves, mowed the lawn, pulled weeds, fed the cows and horses, washed dishes, cleaned the stalls of manure, and every other task that didn't require any technical skills.

If you have brothers and sisters, and somebody breaks the lamp, you can always say, "He did it!" But...when you are the only child, you are also the only one whose name is on the list of suspects. Who are you going to blame? Your evil twin?

There are some benefits, though. My parents put in a garden every year. Spring was always an exciting time for me, because I knew that soon we would have good things to eat, just popping out of the ground. Especially tomatoes. I loved them, and my parents would plant some cherry tomatoes just for me. I had permission to eat all of them that I wanted, and I can remember loading up my pockets, going to my tree-house and gorging myself on those little red delights.

If you remember your Bible, you will also remember that there was a snake in the Garden of Eden. He was called the Tempter, for good reason. I discovered temptation first in my Mom and Dad's garden. One year my Dad planted a miniature apple tree, and the next year it had an apple on it. Just one. I wanted to eat that apple so badly, that my father had to warn me repeatedly to leave it alone so that it could ripen. My Dad went out to check on the garden one day, and he found that the little green apple had a bite taken out of it. It was still on the tree, but tooth marks could clearly be seen.

My name was at the head of the list of suspects. Dad said, "Stormy, I thought I told you to leave that apple alone." "Dad, you said not to pull the apple, and I didn't. I just tasted it a little bit." Well, I had to pay for that bite, and believe me, it wasn't worth the price. Some of life's hardest lessons are learned in the garden.

Jesus learned some hard lessons in the Garden of Gethsemane. First of all, He was reminded of something that we often forget. He was fully and completely human. He was also fully and completely God, but it was His humanity that was put to the test in the garden. "Since the children (God's) have flesh and blood, He too shared in their humanity... For this reason He had to be made like His brothers in every way, in order that He might become a merciful and faithful high priest...(Hebrews 2:14, 17)."

Jesus bore the titles "Son of God," and "Son of Man." In Biblical Greek, the word "son" is huios, and it means to have the nature or character of someone or something. Therefore, Jesus had both the nature of God and the nature of mankind. He was "...made like His brothers in every way...(Heb.2:17)."

When we read about the life of Christ, we see Him described as a man who got hungry and could be tempted (Matthew 4:1f). He became tired (John 4:46) and thirsty (John 19:28). He could feel compassion (Matthew 9:36), anger (Mark 3:5), disappointment (Mark 8:17-21), brotherly love (John 11:1-3), exasperation (Matthew 17:17), indignation Mark 10:13), astonishment (Matthew 8:10) and grief (John 11:33-35). Jesus had family (Mark 6:3) and friends (John 11:1-3,11) and close companions (Mark 13:3). Our Lord, in His humanity, was exactly like us.

There was a time in the Garden of Gethsemane, though, when His emotions became almost overwhelming. "Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane...He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then He said to them, 'My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death' (Matthew 26:36-38)." Mark's account says that the Lord was deeply distressed (Mark 14:33). Luke records that Jesus "....being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground (Luke 22:44)."

When we look at the definitions for these Greek words, we begin to understand how difficult this time, just prior to His crucifixion, was for Jesus. He was "deeply grieved" (lupeo-extremely sorrowful), and "distressed" (ademoneo-almost overwhelmed with burden of mind), and "troubled" (ekthambeo-terrified), and "anguished" (agonia-in agony of mind; suffering severe mental struggles and emotions). All of these very human responses to mental stress contributed to His feelings of abandonment, as He cried from the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken Me (Matthew 27:46)?"

Now it should be clear that Jesus has also had to deal with sadness and distress and mental anguish, to the point of feeling almost completely overwhelmed. This is why our Lord so well understands how it feels for us when we are depressed. He has been there Himself. Jesus is familiar with our struggles, for He was the Son of Man, and from these examples of His humanity we draw comfort and the strength to endure our most difficult times.

It's true, friends. Jesus knows and Jesus cares.

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God (2 Corinthians 1:3f)."

So, pass it on.

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

Have You Heard The One About....?

Most all of us have been abused by a "joke" beginning with "Have you heard the one about two_____who entered a bar and ...?" An informal survey of Google humor would show hundreds of jokes about drinking and drunkenness. The use of alcohol is no laughing matter, especially when it is linked with bipolar disorder and unipolar depression.

Just in the general population, those who follow such trends know that alcohol use is directly related to 40% of all violent crimes, 40% of fatal traffic accidents, 75% of spousal abuse cases, and just about every criminal activity and accidental death imaginable. You don't have to be a "good" Christian to oppose the use of alcohol. Not even a thinking and responsible citizen would encourage its use.

I could tell you personal stories about my drinking and subsequent behavior that would scorch the hair off of your head. Most all of my shameful memories are linked to drinking. Up until I became a Christian at the age of 27, alcohol ruled my life. I had been a heavy drinker since the age of fifteen. It was at that time that I started having serious problems with manic behavior and depression. Mental health professionals would not find that to be surprising at all. They know that symptoms of bipolar disorder frequently emerge during periods of chronic drinking or during withdrawal.

People with bipolar disorder are five times more likely to develop alcohol dependence than the rest of the population. Comorbid bipolar disorder and alcohol use is commonly associated with poor medication compliance, heightened severity of bipolar symptoms and poor treatment outcomes.

There is evidence of familial transmission of both alcohol abuse and bipolar disorder, suggesting that a family history of bipolar disorder or alcohol abuse can be important risk factors for these conditions. There have been alcohol addicts on both sides of my family. This is especially true of my father's side, where many of my relatives are (or have been) alcoholics.

In addition to people with BPD, those suffering from unipolar depression often abuse alcohol. I can vividly remember that vicious cycle. You feel depressed and so you self-medicate with alcohol, thinking that it will make you feel better. Then when you sober up, you feel even more depressed, so you drink to forget how depressed you were before you began drinking to relieve your depression. Sound confusing? It is perplexing behavior to those who watch it happening to someone they love. Alcohol is itself a depressant and people who are depressed shouldn't drink it.

If you suffer from mental illness of any type and you drink, you are just pouring gasoline on your fiery problem. You, or someone who loves you, should inform your mental health professional of your use of alcohol (or other drug). Evidence suggests that 25% of people who commit suicide are dependent (mentally or physically) on alcohol and 50% have alcohol in their blood when they die.

Friends, this is a serious issue. The question is, "Are you serious about dealing with your mental illness in the most effective way possible?" If you are, then you will need to take a long hard look at your involvement with alcohol. I am certain that if my drinking patterns had continued the way they were, I would not be alive today. That's why I think that sobriety, a more stable mood, and a happier life go hand-in-hand.

"Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has strife? Who has needless bruises? Who has bloodshot eyes? Those who linger over wine...(Proverbs 23:29f)."

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

sandtward@alltel.net

Look It Up!!

I got a haircut last week and no one (besides my wife) has said a thing about it. I don't know why. My barber calls it a "Caesar cut." I don't know if that's because I look like a salad, or a roman emperor. There are many things I don't know.

You might say that in a lot of ways, I'm an agnostic. That word comes from the Greek term a-gnosis, without knowledge. An agnostic is a not-knower. That much I do know, or at least I think I know. Some mornings I get up not knowing much, but at least I know that I don't know. That's better than being a person who thinks he knows it all, while the rest of us know that he doesn't.

You may have heard that "a little knowledge is a dangerous thing." That's actually a misquote of Alexander Pope's Essay on Criticism (ca.1709), in which he says "A little learning is a dangerous thing..." When I teach a Bible class, I will often start by saying, "Much of what we know, just isn't so." And I have a Dictionary of Misinformation to prove it. I believe that there's nothing more dangerous than ignorance. Some may even be so bold as to say that if you are ignorant, you might justifiably be called an ignoramus. I don't know about that. That's pretty strong language.

I was taught (and now teach) that the key to learning is repetition, repetition, repetition. My teachers were not the first to come up with that idea. The apostle Peter wrote, "So I will always remind you of these things, even though you know them and are firmly established in the truth you now have. I think it is right to refresh your memory as long as I live in the tent of this body...And I will make every effort to see that after my departure you will always be able to remember these things (2 Peter 1:12-15)." You see. Repetition, repetition, repetition.

I'm aware that I've mentioned before how important it is to educate yourself about mental illness, specifically depression and bipolar disorder. As Peter said, "I will always be ready to remind you of these things." Now, when I say educate yourself, I mean that you have to assume responsibility for acquiring knowledge of these things (and others). It's not likely that anyone else is going to teach you, so you will have to teach yourself.

My Dad only had an eighth grade education. In his generation, that was about the equivalent to having a high school diploma. Even though he eventually became an electrician, he frequently impressed me with the extent of his knowledge about a variety of subjects. One of my strongest memories is of him sitting in his chair reading, with a dictionary on the floor beside him. When I would be reading my own books, and would run across a word that I didn't know the meaning of, I would say, "Dad, what does this word mean?" His reply was always the same. "Look it up."

That was his method of teaching me to teach myself. It worked for him, and it has worked for me. We have had the same philosophy about self-education. As a child, one of the best presents I ever received was a set of encyclopedias. I nearly always had one volume in my hand, one in my bedroom and another in the bathroom (yes, I do). Even now, I keep at the ready my dictionary, thesaurus, personal library of reference books and more importantly, my computer. I'm a person who wants to know. Now, not only I, but all of us have a world of knowledge at our fingertips. If we don't know much about depression and BPD, it's because we don't want to know. We have at hand books, magazines, pamphlets, DVDs, support groups, and the WWW. There is no excuse for ignorance. Don't be an ignoramus.

This is another of my attempts to motivate you to "get in the know." Educate yourself. Look it up. And give other people the benefit and the blessing of your knowledge.

"The heart of the discerning acquires knowledge; the ears of the wise seek it out (Proverbs 18:15)."


["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

Bathtime

At our house, there are several repetitive conversations. Before we get to that, though, I've noticed that one general difference in men and women is how they wash their bodies clean. Women, for the most part, take baths. Men, for the most part, take showers. What I can't understand is why a woman would want to sit in that old dirty bath water when they could just as easily wash it down the drain? Yuck! I suppose they might say that they aren't as dirty as we men are, and therefore, they don't really have dirty water. I say, "Pooh!"

Everyone should admit that showers are more sanitary, refreshing, and conducive to a healthy society. I know, because I shower, and I would never consider sitting in dirty water. I'm a responsible member of society, and as such, it is my moral obligation to urge showering upon every human bean in our overly crowded, grungy and grimy, messy and mucky, yea, even scummy and scuzzy world.

Which brings me back to a conversational deadlock. My office is somewhat near to the upstairs bathroom. It's the place where all of the dirt (hopefully) goes down the drain. The other night, in an attempt to maintain the ties that bind, I asked Teresa a question (I was just trying to keep open the lines of communication). She followed with this one. "I don't know why you insist on talking to me when I'm taking a bath (in dirty water)." I quickly rejoined, "I don't know why you insist on taking a bath while I'm trying to talk to you." There are times in every marriage when men have to take the intellectual highroad of facetiousness. Like now.

There are some questions that will never satisfactorily be answered, but there is one question that I'm frequently asked, and I will try to answer it today. "What resources would you recommend to people struggling with depression or BPD?"

I've not read every book on the subject, but I have read every book that came to hand. In my personal library, I have 19 volumes and several pamphlets that deal with some aspect of mental illness. Some of those are very helpful, and some just take up space. I have also read everything that is available at the public library, every place that I have lived. So, all in all, I've probably read 50+ books on mental health issues.

Using an Okie/Arkie method of citing, here are some that I would recommend. (1) The Depression Sourcebook by Brian Quinn (this helped me self-diagnose my BPD); (2) The Feeling Good Handbook by David Burns (excellent for psychological depression); (3) The Lies We Believe by Frank Minirth and others; (4) Dealing With Depression Naturally by Syd Baumel (with caution); (5) Bipolar Disorder Survival Guide by David Miklowitz (very good); (6) Love Is A Choice by Frank Minirth and others; (7) The Natural Health Bible by Steven Bratman; (8) New Hope for People With Bipolar Disorder by Jan Fawcett; (9) Worry-Free Living by Frank Minirth and others; (10) Mosby's Nursing Drug Reference (in words you can understand); (11) Prescription For Nutritional Healing by Phyllis Balch; (12) Surviving Manic Depression by E. Fuller Torrey.

There are many other good books out there. I would check first at the local library, and then I would read all of the reviews on Amazon.com. Then you will be better able to decide what you want to purchase for your own library.

Coming Soon: I will share with you some websites that I have found to be helpful.

On a sadder note, another one of our members lost a son to suicide this week. This is what motivates me to be involved in this ministry. That, and my own personal needs. If you and I can help even one person, it will all be worth the time and effort. Get the word out. Do what you can to support hurting people.


["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

Good News/Bad News

A church of Christ preacher made an announcement to his local congregation. He said, "I have some good news and some bad news. This last week, I baptized seven people in the river. The bad news is that I lost two of them in the swift current."

It's unfortunate that so much of the news today, even the good news, is mixed. Frankly, as a bipolar sufferer, I'm always a little hesitant to talk about the positive things that I have happening, for fear that I will in turn have to announce that the situation has changed. That's an issue that people who have BPD (or chronic depression) have to deal with. Is what I'm now experiencing a permanent condition, or will it prove to be temporary?

Over six weeks ago, I mentioned a recent study and consequent debate that challenged the historical approach to treating BPD. March 30, 2007-"According to the Systematic Treatment Enhancement Program for Bipolar Disorder, a large placebo-controlled trial of community-dwelling patients with bipolar depression who were receiving mood stabilizers, adjunctive antidepressant therapy did not reduce symptoms of depression, neither did it increase the risk for mania."

"One group of experts was saying, 'When you get depressed, you should add an antidepressant,' and another group of experts was saying, 'When you get depressed, if you do a really good job with a mood stabilizer, you don't need an antidepressant.'

"This study proved that the latter group (the anti-antidepressant group) was correct, and that it is perfectly reasonable to treat patients without the addition of an antidepressant, as long as you are doing a good job with mood stabilizers."

Studies and conferences of this nature sometimes only add to a BPD patient's confusion. We might say, "If the medical professionals can't agree, who can we turn to for advice about the proper treatment of our disease?" This question only serves to emphasize how important it is for us to play a proactive role in reaching a conclusion about how to best stabilize our condition.

Shortly after I read this article, I spoke with my psychiatrist and passed on this information. You might remember that I had been having an increasingly serious problem with rapid-cycling. My moods were beginning to make a radical change at least twice weekly. Each time I swung into the depressed part of the cycle, I became almost incapacitated. My depressions were horrible. Also, I was becoming terribly discouraged.

My psychiatrist and I decided that it was worth taking a chance on this new approach to BPD. Since I was taking Wellbutrin for depression, I was able to immediately discontinue its use, and increase the level of Lamictal, my mood stabilizer. We increased the Lamictal dosage from 300 mgs to 400.

Within two days my depression began to lift. When I say "lift," I do not mean that it ceased to exist. The most encouraging change was that I was no longer rapid-cycling. On a scale of 1-10, with 5 being a stabilized mood, I went from a depression level of 2 to a level of 4-5. The question is always "How long will this last?"

The caveat is that this treatment approach might work for me, but not for you. As you know, everyone has a metabolism and a brain unique to them. The biochemical structure of our brain changes over time, so that what is effective at one point in time, may not be effective at another point.

Because of these things, I want to temper this "good news," by warning you to seek the advice of your medical professional before making a change in your medications. This is always the wisest course to take.

You might wonder if I would ever go against my doctor's advice. At this stage in my illness, because of the historical problems I've had with treatment-resistant depression, I might take a risk that I would not advise others to take. From my personal point of view, I dont' have much to lose and possibly much to gain. I promise to periodically tell you how I'm doing.

May God bless you. I'll talk to you again, soon.

["I'm so low, I could do a ten minute free-fall off the edge of a dime."]

Busy, Busy

The last few days have been like a whirlwind. I have some encouraging news to share with you, but I will have to wait until tomorrow. Until then, you have my best wishes and prayers for your health and well-being.