Bipolar Girl Blog

A Bipolar Girl Living with a Narcissistic Husband

Monday, October 30, 2006

Looking for the bipolar cure

Is anyone else looking for the cure? I thought I had one about a week ago or so. But it was short lived. I am back to the same aggravated, depressed, irritable funk I have been in for the last 12 months. I keep looking but the only thing I have learned in the process is that there are quite a few things out there that are not a cure. Here is a list of some of them….

1.) Collecting jewelry
2.) Hoarding Martha Stewart Living Magazines which date back to 1995
3.) Pink hair
4.) Flip Flops
5.) Monk Music
6.) Buddhism
7.) Praying daily to St. Jude
8.) Obsessing over high school boyfriends (Lord, knows had a married that one things would have be different)
9.) Mehndi
10.) Red Bull
11.) Double Shots
12.) Ephedra
13.) Instant Messenger at 2am
14.) Double dosing meds
15.) Telling your best friend everything...


Does anyone have the answer? I looking for something other than Special K or whatever the cool kids call it now. It needs to be legal and it needs to last. This bullshit is killing me. I need to feel good about something and I need it to last.

Dementia Worse Than my 84 Year old Dead Grandmother

Sometimes I am certain I am losing my mind. I wonder if I have the early onset of Alzheimer’s. Maybe I need to buy that Brain Age crap or take some gingko biloba. I do things like put my cell phone in the refrigerator or throw my car keys in the trash.

I am the queen of the wardrobe malfunction. One time I wore my pants inside out to an interview. Looking down as I crossed my legs I suddenly noticed the seams of my pants. From that point forward I could not focus on what was being said to me. When the interview was over I walked out of the room in somewhat of a backwards motion with my hands glued to my sides. It goes without saying it was a shiesty as hell organization because the next day they offered me a job. Yes, I took the job. But I quit soon after. Who would hire someone who wears their paints inside out? And why would I want to work for those kinds of people?

Several years ago I wore two different shoes to work, one black chunky healed loafer and one brown square toed lace-up chunky heal shoe. It was only after three hours into work that I tripped over what I presume was an air pocket (because there was nothing visibly there to trip over) and noticed I was wearing two different shoes.

Earlier this year I picked up my son from school with a pair of capri’s on that had a huge hole in the back. Prior to that I had been to the store and the post office, but no one bothered to say “dear, your ass is hanging out.”

When we arrived home my son started laughing at me. When I asked him why, he said, “Mom, I can see your panties.”

Last Sunday I wore my shirt inside out to church. I didn’t notice until half way through the day.

People always ask me how does this happen? Do I get dressed in the dark? Umm, no I can’t say that I do. It seems my mind is always somewhere else thinking about something else, and I am paying little attention to what I am putting on my body.

This lack of clear and cohesive thinking no doubt plays a large part in my inability to become gainfully employed. I have long since given up, but from time to time I toy with the idea of a job, because I would like to be a valued member of society with an occupational title. Going into the interview nuttier than a crack whore never wins me any offers. Perhaps I could collect disability. No wait, I need to incarcerated or dead before it is determined that my condition is serious enough for that. In either case both conditions would prevent from collecting anyways.

On to Career Builder. Search ...Fashion Consultant

Saturday, October 28, 2006

Love to Hate the Shrink

The first time I went to the shrinks’s office and informed her of my issued and why I had chosen to seek help, she responded by saying it appeared as though I had managed very well thus far, and while she would prescribe medication, it would not concern her if I chose not to take it. As far as she was concerned I would not be in her office if I had a more supportive partner.

I’ll be honest and say that this really pissed me off. She went on to say that some bipolars have greater difficulties which result in being hospitalized and finding themselves in trouble with the law. Because I had neither been hospitalized or in jail my situation was mild in comparison.

My grandfather was “manic depressive”. He spent himself into bankruptcy, was addicted to pain medication, drank heavily and eventually shot himself and his second wife.
My great grandfather spent half of his life in an institution where he eventually died.

Though I am not a medical professional I feel as the bipolar person sees a progression in their disease. As time goes on I see the patterns in my own father increase. He is now a heavy closet drinker, though I have no recollection of him drinking so much bas a beer when I was growing up. He has wild mood swings where he is either going to take over the world or dooms days is coming.

I struggle on a daily basis with various “desires”. On a daily basis I struggle with a desire to drink. If I had access to pain pills I would eat them like candy. When I am depressed I spend a significant time planning my own suicide- the where, the how, the timing in an effort to make sure that I can do so without being stopped and that it is discovered by my husband rather than my children.

There is a fine line in madness I do not wish to cross. On one side of the line is life and on the other side is death. Why must I go to the therapist having a failed suicide before the situation is considered more serious?

I went to the therapist because my desires grow stronger and my ability to manage life and raise my children have become increasingly difficult. I don’t want to shoot up a McDonald’s and receive my treatment in prison. Is that too much to ask?

Friday, October 27, 2006

Is Debra LeFave Bipolar? If so, what does that have to do with being a pedophile?

I am sure you are familiar with the publicity concerning Debra Lefave. Incase you have been living under a rock; she’s the Tampa teacher who pled guilty to having sex with a 14 year old student in 2004. Mrs. Lefave blames her behavior on Bipolar Disorder. Interestingly enough, another teacher convicted of the same crime, Mary Kay Letourneau had a very similar excuse for her behavior. I don’t know how other people feel about this, but personally it sickens me.

Bipolar Disorder may be the root cause of some of the stupid and thoughtless things I have done in my life, but never has it caused me to be attracted to prepubescent boys. If there is a study which links deviant behavior such pedophilia to bipolar disorder, please feel free to forward it to me. I can agree a manic state may cause someone to have irresponsible, possibly adulterous sex, but it doesn’t make teenagers objects of wanton desires.

Women like this do a disservice to those who live and deal with this disease daily. I have enough to contend with, without people thinking bipolar disorder equates to sexual predator!

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/14801562/

http://bipolar.about.com/cs/crime/a/0001_marykay.htm

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Assaulting a Cop

Assaulting a Cop

I am sure this will piss some cop off somewhere. Perhaps it will piss off a few cops. But really, why are cops assholes? As I previously stated I am married to one. Not only is he a cop, he is also a NP. Generally speaking I think this is a prerequisite to being a cop. Other women I know who are also married to cops seem to have the same problems I do. My husband likes to throw tidbits about me into conversation with his colleagues. For instance he recently told me, he told his female partner I am bipolar. What purpose does this serve? Why is it any of her business? My husband is fond of telling half truths and in some instances total lies. And he always has and agenda.

Today while we were speaking on the phone I asked him if he had the bankcard. We share one between the two of us because it is easier to keep track of money that way. He of course had the card even though he had just withdrawn money from the account the day prior. I told him I really needed the card. The children and I were going to a school event. The school was charging for food and refreshments and I had no cash. This caused a huge verbal altercation which resulted in him telling me I had another card I could use and certainly I should remember having that card, because he gave it to me right before I punched him in the back.

Yes I did punch him in the back. Multiple times in fact. And I am sure you are thinking I am some crazy abusive bitch. Well I’m not. What he leaves out of the story is this…Yesterday my husband asked for the bankcard and I explained to him I did not have it. He began screaming “you did have it you crazy bitch, how else did you buy groceries?” One would think the conversation escalated to “crazy bitch” but that’s nearly how all of our conversations start. I said I did not use the card, I had in fact written a check. For 15-20 minutes he screamed at me. He called me retarded, a crazy, crazy cunt, crazy whore- any combination of crazy you can come up with. He insisted that I find the card or he would refuse to go to work.. I looked in my purse multiple times just to make sure I had not overlooked a pocket or some crevice. He of course said “you already looked there you retarded bitch.”

Anyhow this went on and on. And I told him he really needed to check his wallet. He said he already knew it was not in there. I told him to check anyways. He checked and low and behold the card was in his wallet. He began laughing profusely but he did not apologize and then went on to say that someone must have put it in there because it was at the back of the wallet and he NEVER keeps it in the back. At this point I lost it. I punched him in the back 2-3 times and began screaming “I am so tired of you calling me names.” If I had a knife I would have been like that woman who stabbed her husband 120 times.

You see, everyday is much like that day. He is unable to find his wallet, his badge, his belt, maybe his shoes and of course it is my fault. Apparently, I moved his things and the tirade begins. The name calling is vicious and is always right in front of my children; it is rarely followed with an apology even though 99.5% of the time it is he who misplaced his things

The name calling is not reserved for private, it is often done in public as well. Another thing he is fond of doing is having one-sided conversations on the phone. I will call him and say “hey what’s up.”

He will respond with something like, “what the fuck do you mean by that?”

I will say “what are you talking about?”

And he will then respond with “I thought you were going to stop acting like this.”

Of course he is goading me into acting like a nutty bitch because at this point I am about to scream. I called to find out how he was doing and what time he will be home- should I bother make dinner for all of us?? But his demeanor and speech conveys a very adversarial conversation-one where I called to pick a fight when in reality all I wanted to do is see if I should make mac and cheese for the kids and I, or bake chicken and potatoes. And he only does when he is working he many several people.

He continues to respond to everything I say in a very inappropriate and defensive way until I am screaming at the top of my lungs because I can take it know more. I imagine at this point he is holding the phone away from his ear and mouthing- crazy bitch to his co-workers.

The funny thing is when he and I met he had an ex. And he would have similar conversations with her. I thought to myself- that must be one crazy bitch. Now I know who the crazy one is…

Why Are People On The Internet So F'ing Weird?


Why Are People On The Internet So F’ing Weird
And Why Am I So Irritable?

I just received an instant message from a user name I did not recognize. I hesitated to respond because something told me it was probably a loon. Going against my better judgment I answered the IM. Someone, I have no idea if they were male or female, kept asking me if I were Nepali??? What the hell does that mean. Am I from Nepal??The messages were very cryptic, which is a nice way of saying the writer did not have command of the English language.

Why does this make me so pissy? Well first of all, I think my doc needs to up the dosage on my meds. Secondly this is not my first encounter with people e-mailing me or IM’ing me under the guise they are looking for an international penpal when what they are really looking for is some kind of e-mail/IM/internet sex show. Listen jackasses, if that’s what you want you better deposit 75 bucks in my paypal account, because my lip service does not come for free. Besides, isn’t there plenty of free porn on the internet already?

WHY PEOPLE? WHY?

P.S.- This picture is courtesy of hussy me, who is patiently awaiting your hot sultry e-mails.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Beautiful Beautiful Poetry

I love poetry. I don't know what else to say. I love poetry.

My Favorite Site
www.bornmagazine.org

My Favorite Poems
http://www.bornmagazine.org/projects/half/
http://www.bornmagazine.org/projects/lover/
http://www.bornmagazine.org/projects/memories/
http://www.bornmagazine.org/projects/nwife/
http://www.bornmagazine.org/projects/7reasons/

Why Nice Guys Finish Last

Why Nice Guys Finish Last


Several years ago I had a conversation with one of my former co-workers concerning why nice guys always finish last. He had been dating two women at the same time and was far more interested in one over the other. He explained that he went out of his way to be particularly nice to the girl he liked. When she was sick he brought her homemade chicken noodle soup. He would often buy her flowers, make her dinner and buy her little tokens of his affection. But she treated him with indifference. She would comment as to what a nice guy he was but that did not translate into real romantic interest.

On the other hand the second girl called him constantly. She continually asked that they spend more time together. She would often do things for him that went largely unappreciated. He said he honestly did not want to see the second girl anymore, but no matter how rude or unresponsive he was she would just try harder.

I explained to him I was about to give him a golden nugget of wisdom that probably most women would never give him. I also explained that this information was mainly true for women who were 20 somethings. Women in general have low self esteem. I, myself, have low self-esteem-but not so low I can’t admit to it :) We like to feel special. Now this would seem to conflict with why nice guys finish last, but to fully understand my theory you must realize that nice guys don’t make girls feel special.

Nice guys are called nice guys because it is assumed with great certainty they are nice to everyone. They have many women “friends” because they act as stand ins. Nice guys listen to all of your problems, they do nice things for you-like bring you chicken soup. The fact of the matter is that they treat each woman with this same brand of kindness and treating all of us the same does not equate to being special. When you meet a “nice guy” you know it was not your charm, nor ravishing beauty which inspired his kindness but rather it is simply part of his make-up.

Women are drawn to men whom they feel they have won over. It gives them a sense of being worthy. I told him if he wanted the first girl to like him he would need to start being stand-offish. I suggested he not call her again and wait for her to call him. I told him not to ask her out anymore and if she asked him to do something he was to act like he had plans but he would see if he could work her in-maybe, maybe not. I told him to act like this for 4-6 weeks. Over that course of time he would begin to see a difference in her attitude. Once that occurred he could go back to his old “nice guy” self.

He of course did not believe this. And being a moron he even told her about my theory. She of course was appalled that another woman would say such a thing. I am sure she thought I was some sort of sexist nazi bitch. She said that would never work on her or any other woman, and it was unfathomable that I would say such a thing.

I told her it did not matter what she said, just do it anyways and see what she does. No woman in her right mind is going to vocally agree with me. Aren’t we all supposed to be strong and liberated?? So he did just what I told him to do. Within a week or two she was calling him. She was asking him to come over. She wanted to go out every weekend, and if he said he already had plans, that was okay with her, he could come over after that. He told me the change in her was dramatic, in fact the attention she was now giving him was almost annoying.

Young women are very child-like in some regards. We want to win a prize. As a child there is nothing you hate more than to participate in a contest where ultimately everyone receives a prize simply on the basis of participation. As you grow older you grow tired of games. The problem is, by the time we are smart enough to know better we are already deeply entwined in bad relationships.

I see this in myself and my circumstances identical in many regards as the story I told above. When I met my husband he was very charming. I enjoyed his company and could not believe the lengths he went to go out of his way for me. But on the topic of actual feelings, I was somewhat indifferent. He was almost too nice. Months into the relationship he changed and changed dramatically. Unlike my friend he never went back to his “nice guy” self. I spent years trying to recreate those first few months because I needed to be validated. I needed to know I was worth the adoration. I needed him to return to his nice guy self because I was worth it.

It is hard taking an honest look at yourself. It goes back to my previous post of perceived self and actual self. I have a face I present to the outside world. That woman is often outragous, outspoken and very strong minded. When people meet my husband they can not reconcile how I am married to that man. The fact of the matter is, maybe I am not who I appear to be…

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Prozac You're Killing Me !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Prozac You’re Killing Me!!!!!!!!!


There has been some great debate over whether or not antidepressants have the capacity to take a bipolar person from a depressed state to a manic state. I believe this does in fact happen.


http://www.psycheducation.org/bipolar/controversy.htm


Prior to my diagnoses I went to the therapist seeking assistance for depression. They were always quick to refer to my family doctor who would then prescribe Prozac, Zoloft, whatever of the drug du jour was that year.

My first experience with Prozac was when I was 19 years old. I had been had spiraling downhill for several months. I had changed colleges. I went from being an A student to a C and D student. I drank 5-6 nights a week. I often woke up in the morning and began drinking again to brush the hangover off. I stopped going to class altogether and only bothered to arrive when a test was being given.

Nothing seemed to make me feel better so I began taking stimulants. Stimulants have always been a problem for me, especially when I am depressed because, I want the energy levels I have when I am “high”. I will do or take anything just to get that energy back. Many moons ago, I could buy ephedrine in bottles of 1000. They sold them at a waterbed store on campus at Ohio State. As luck would have it, they often had buy one get one free specials. On any given day I would take 20 or more of them, usually all at once. My lips and scalp would tingle, and sometimes I would throw up blood, but it didn’t stop me.

Although stimulants help combat part of the problem-fatigue (maybe it isn’t fatigue but it certainly feels like it if you are coming off a 2-3 month high) It does nothing to elevate your mood. So now you are an extremely depressed person who is hyper active. What else could I possibly do to get out of this funk? I started shopping. I racked up well over 10k in credit card debt (actually closer to 20K). I spent 8k just on Victoria’s Secret Catalogue. I went out to eat on a nightly basis and always took friends with me. Just put it on the card… I went out to the bars and ran tabs for my friends and I and I just put it on the card…But it didn’t make me feel better. After I starting getting the bills I began to feel even worse.

I might have been feeling like crap but little did I know things were about to get worse. In less than a year’s time my three living grandparents died, my little sister was in the hospital with pneumonia and my old sister had a lump in her breast. I could not relax, think one cohesive thought, I did not sleep well, and I did not eat. I distinctly remember mornings where I would eat 1-2 pieces of shredded wheat and then I could eat no more because I was certain I would throw-up. Those one or two pieces got me through the day with a few cups or coffee along the way.

I knew I could not continue on like this. I was about to flunk out of college completely. So I decided to use OSU’s mental health services, and from that meeting got my very own prescription to life long happiness-just kidding. The doctor explained it would take 6 weeks before the drug fully took effect. So I began to take them and await the results. Within 3-4 days I found myself borderline psychotic. I had gone from depressed to seriously manic. My mind was racing to a degree I was incapable of functioning. I did not sleep. In fact I dare say I went nearly a week where I slept 2 hours or less each day. The only other word I can use to describe my condition is wired. It was as though I had a constant stream of Doubleshots, or meth, or I don’t know what running through my veins. I was angry and irritable, which is much actually much kinder than what I really felt and that was something more along the lines of murderous rage. I remember lying on the floor screaming and crying at 3am because I could not take the intensity I was feeling both mentally and physically. I wanted to kill myself because I wanted whatever this feeling was to stop. I called the doctor and explain in the most civil way possible that I could not continue taking Prozac because I would either end up hurting myself or someone else. He simply assured me I needed to give it a full 6 weeks. I gave it another day and stopped taking it.

Since then I have sought out a therapist during numerous episodes of depression, each time receiving an antidepressant, each time with similar results. Upon speaking with my current therapist and psychiatrist I told them on no uncertain terms would I take an antidepressant, because the effects of doing so are worse then the depression itself. Some people do get good results from these medications. I am not one of them. If you are prescribed an antidepressant and find it makes you feel worse, do not hesitate to call a medical professional. You know yourself better than anyone. There is no sense in enduring a 6 week drug induced hell.

Ahhh...My Husband Is Finally Out Of The House

Ahhhh..My Husband Is Out Of The House

My husband had a few days off which makes it virtually impossible to write. He is completely unaware that I have this blog and if he happened to find out, I would be calling on the kindness of strangers to take myself and my children in.

My mother came to visit on Sunday and spent the night. When she came in the house she greeted my husband and asked him how he was doing. He could not help but reply, “I’m fine, but your daughter’s lazy.” It has taken many years for my mother to not fall into this trap. Finally she responded to him by telling him not to say mean things about her children.

I suppose I have said it before, but I will say it again. Someone who is NPD spends a great deal of time convincing anyone and everyone who will listen that their spouse has a plethora of shortcomings and requires some sort of intervention. For years my husband would call upon my mother for “help.” You see I am mean, down right cruel, lazy, a horrible mother and worst of all a horrible wife. He always manages to tell very contrived stories about something horrible I did. For years I had to listen to him tell my mother that I was filthy and how he was the only person who ever bothered to clean the house. This of course resulted in me being lectured by my mother as to how important it is that I keep the house up daily and I was not raised to act and live like a pig.

As you can imagine that is a very frustrating situation because I do clean. The greater issue is what my husband does after I clean. My husband is fond of throwing his wrappers on the floor. I often feel like I live in one of those bars where they offer peanuts instead of pretzels- shells all over the floor. Power Bar wrappers, chip bags, drink cans whatever he has eaten that day can be found on the floor near or within the vicinity of his reclining chair. If my husband spills his coffee, he leaves the spill. When my husband makes PB & J’s he leaves the congealed jelly all over the counter. If he makes popcorn, half the bag and half its contents can be found on the floor.

Why does he do this you ask? Well when I do clean the house, it is never cleaned to his satisfaction. There is always something I missed. Had he done the cleaning he would have done it better. And since it is not truly clean by his standards, who gives a shit if he throws his trash on the floor?? Maybe I will do a better job next time if he keeps throwing trash on the floor. At least this is what he tells me.

After becoming VERY tired of his behavior and very tired of my mother’s lectures I decided to do something about it. One Sunday both my mother and father came to visit. The house was pristine. The following day I had to go to work, and when I returned home the house looked like someone had thrown a 10 kegger while I was out. I decided to take pictures of all the crap that was strewn all over the place and send them to my mother. “This is what the house looked like when you came. This is what the house looked like after you left.” She of course was appalled and finally began to realize my husband is a liar.

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret this union. His own friends have asked me when I am going to leave him. I simply shrug and say I don’t know. I am always trying to formulate the perfect plan. That hasn’t worked out for me as you tell. I would have to say that any relationship between someone with BPD and Narcissistic Personality Disorder is probably the worst union under the sun. I spend enough time questioning my own sanity without having to be married to someone who goes out of their way to tell me I am a worthless and a crackpot.

Much like a perpetrating of domestic violence an NPD will modify his behavior if he feels threatened. A person married to a physically violent person would call this the “honeymoon” period.. An NPD does essentially the same thing. He modifies his behavior until he believes the threat has passed.. This creates an emotional roller coaster for the person involved with the NPD. It has taken me years to realize that my husband is an NPD. I know this may sound very strange but it was incredibly freeing when I came to the realization.

There is no cure for NPD, it can not be suppressed through medication. Therapy does little or anything for an NPD because A.) they do not believe they have a problem and B.) do not regard the therapist as an authority ( they do not regard anyone as an authority).
Once I understood my husband is a narcissist, I realized there was nothing I could do to “fix” him, and it was finally time to focus on fixing myself.

If you believe you are involved with an NPD you may want to seek out support.. http://groups.msn.com/NARCISSISTICPERSONALITYDISORDER
It’s important that you begin to value yourself again and understand you are not the problem.

Monday, October 23, 2006

Inositol, something to consider


In a previous post I included an article from Discover magazine which examines the possibility that bipolar disorder can be treated with natural remedies. Again, I want to repeat I am not a doctor or in no way affiliated with the medical profession but I have read on numerous occasions that inositol is quite effective in lessening the anxiety those with BPD feel. There are many people who swear by it, but like anything else it is good to consult with a medical professional before adding inositol to your diet. The inosital I purchase comes in powder form. The dosing is a bit difficult because what is required is determined by what your own body is lacking. It is really a matter of trial and error. If you are interested in using inositol to lessen your anxiety you will find it is difficult to find in bulk. One place that sells it is Bulknutrition. You can find it at http://www.bulknutrition.com/p1506_Inositol_1Fast400.html. You may want to refer my previous http://bi-polar-girl-blog.blogspot.com/2006/10/vitamins-and-bipolar-discover-magazine.html which will give some insight into dosing.

Bipolar Isn't An Excuse, It's Simply A Reason

Bipolar Isn’t An Excuse, It’s Simply A Reason


The other day I was on a forum concerning bipolar disorder. There seemed to be a great deal of debate as to whether or not Bipolar is simply an excise for people to act out or perhaps act up. One party said that a bipolar person’s brain does not allow them to be aware of there manic state and therefore they have no control over their actions.


I am not a doctor, a therapist or anything of the like. The only thing I am an expert of is my own life. So, please don’t tell anyone Dr. Alex said this or Dr. Alex said that. I am simply sharing my perspective with you. I am sure there are plenty who would disagree with me. Prior to being diagnosed with bipolar I attributed my mood swings to being an artist. It wasn’t an excuse but I felt it was my personality type. Now that I am fully clear of what I am, I can tell you I am aware of my swings and I know they are simply not a matter of personality.


The Difference Between Excuse and Reason: When I am feeling high (my word for manic) I know I am manic and I am willing and able to ride that wave as far it takes me. When I feel that way there is a certain disconnect in my brain. Yes I know what I am doing is wrong. It isn’t a good idea to go on a shopping spree if it means you won’t be able to make the mortgage. It was probably not a good idea to dye my hair pink this past summer. The poem I wrote about in an earlier post, while cleansing, was not probably the best idea to submit for publication (because sometime in life it might come back to haunt me) When I am manic I have an I don’t give a shit attitude about everything. I don’t care what you think about my hair being pink. I don’t care if the mortgage gets paid. I don’t care if somehow, someway my husband finds out about the poem. Do I understand the repercussions but being overly confident I figure I can handle anything that comes my way. What I am trying to say is that the reality of life and the laws and social expectations surrounding it are not somehow suspended in time for a bipolar going through a manic state. The reason I act in such a fashion is because I am bipolar BUT it does not excuse any of it.


Signs and symptoms of a manic episode of bipolar disorder

happy, expansive, optimistic mood (feeling “high,” feeling better than ever)

alternative mood: irritable, angry, aggressive, provocative, intrusive

impaired judgment; reckless; unpredictable – IS IT IMPAIRED???

excessive involvement in pleasurable or high risk activities, such as sex, drug or alcohol use, or

spending sprees


high physical and mental energy; increased productivity; excited; a feeling of high intelligence and creativity


extremely talkative, rapid thoughts


decreased need for sleep, less ability to sleep


inflated self-importance; in some, delusions or hallucinations


extremely sociable


inability to concentrate; distracted; restless, impulsive


no perception that the mood and behaviors are abnormal


A person in the manic phase of bipolar disorder rarely seeks help; the person may feel good and not recognize that anything is wrong.


Signs and symptoms of a depressive episode of bipolar disorder


profound sadness, hopelessness, pessimism; crying spells
low self-esteem, worthlessness


“flat” mood: apathetic, indifferent; lack of interest or pleasure in most activities


fatigue, lethargy: decreased energy and activity; difficulty getting out of bed in the morning
decreased sexuality


restless, irritable, angry, worried, anxious, guilty


fewer thoughts and less talking; slower thinking and talking


difficulty in concentrating, making decisions, and remembering


social withdrawal; diminished ability to give and feel love


drug or alcohol use


change in appetite; weight gain or loss; loss of interest in food, even if eating more


change in sleep patterns: sleeping more or less than usual


suicidal thoughts, plans, or attempts; life seems devoid of pleasure

I would love to here from someone else what their experiences have been…

Saturday, October 21, 2006

My Husband Is A Big Dick

My husband is a dick, perhaps the biggest dick whoever lived. I would encourage any woman to gay if she by way of some drug or mental programming is able to.
The other day he brought home flowers and chocolates for me. Of course the last time he did that was when he was having an affair. I had just received a call from my OBGYN telling me I had cervical cancer. Few people realize that cervical cancer is often caused by HPV which also happens to be an STD. You can find out more by clicking this link…
http://www.cdc.gov/std/HPV/STDFact-HPV.htm

Not to go off on a tangent but I love those new HPV commercial where they say over and over again… “Cervical cancer caused by a virus?? I didn’t know that.” Why aren’t all those women saying, “Cervical cancer caused by my husband? I didn’t know that.” It’s a virus you get from a penis, not from sneezing and then shaking hands.

Anyhow, as you can imagine I was a bit distressed at the time but my OBGYN insisted that I could have had the virus for years and it could have been dormant. Lord knows I couldn’t have gotten from my loving husband. He came home, handed me the flowers and then within minutes said, “I don’t love you anymore, I’m in love with someone else.” He then proceeded to tell me he was simply saying that because that is what I wanted from him, a confession. He left the house and spent the night elsewhere. He said he had to think.

I had suspected something was going on. I had for a long time. But there was part of me that did not care. That part of me wanted him to just leave. As luck would have it he would turn over a new I found Jesus leaf, and it wasn’t until nearly a year later that I found out he had been having an affair.

The funny thing is I prayed to God to reveal the truth to me. I told him I needed to decide whether I was going to stay or go. I prayed for this numerous times certain if there was something to find out God would make it known. He sure did. God is such a little smartass. He let me know 3 weeks after I was laid off from my job. And again, I made another stupid, stupid, stupid mistake. I made it out of fear. And everyday I regret it.

I have read innumerable books since then –looking for solutions or action plans on how to live my life without sinking a hatchet in my husband’s back. I have a few of them listed here http://astore.amazon.com/bipolargirl-20 I really enjoy anything by Carolyn Myss. She is not a shrink or anything of the such but she has a way of giving you introspect. She has a website which I visit often www.myss.com. If you navigate through it you will find a visual meditation. I don’t know if it is for everyone. But it helps me.

I should be going to bed, but I’ll be back to bitch later…

Friday, October 20, 2006

Hodge Podge of Posts and I Can’t Stop

I have been feeling pretty good lately. I can’t say I am on a full fledged high but I have had a lot more energy and I have been spending more time getting more things done. I have been spending a great deal of time writing and drawing and reading. I have been averaging 5 -6 hours of sleep and I keep on going.

I am sure some of the people reading this blog wonder why I write it. I take about being bipolar and I go off course and then I talk about bipolar again. My life is vast and has multiple layers. I am not just bipolar I am a lot of other things, including a mother, a wife, a daughter, sister.

I look at this blog as therapy for me. When I was younger I kept a journal and I wrote in it daily, often multiple times a day. It gave me a venue to express myself when I had nowhere else to go. I have spent the last 36 years of my life falling and picking myself back up again. I am so dreadfully tired of it. I once had great ambitions and dreams for my life. It is hard to look back at my failures knowing I was running full steam a head only to hit a brick wall. And I hit that brick wall over and over again. I compare myself to my friends and family, and they have the benefit of what seems to be indefinite momentum. I never dreamed my life would be what it is now, and I am honestly disappointed by my progress.

One of the most difficult things about being bipolar is the lack of support I have. Even prior to the diagnosis I never felt I had the understanding of friends and family. Furthermore it is incredibly scary to share your thoughts and feelings with others because you are not sure that those you confide in will help you- which is truly why you are reaching out- or if they will use what you tell them against you.

For example, several months ago I heard a story on the news where I mother shot herself and her two small children. My inclination is to be sad, appalled perhaps even confused. How can a mother kill her own children I thought to myself if her life seemed so hopeless why did she not simple kill herself?

About six weeks ago I was dreadfully depressed, so much so I contemplated setting the house on fire with myself and my children in it. It is a horrifying line to cross when you fully understand the desperation of the woman who shot herself and her children. It is only within the deepest and darkest crevices of ones mind where you can fully comprehend her fear and hopelessness. Why the children too? You wonder how they will live through the embarrassment of what you have done. You ask what kind of life can they expect to have if you follow through on such a plan. Who can you trust to care for them when you are gone. And most of all you fear that they have what you have, and they will share in this common hell.

When I feel this way I make an appointment with my shrink and express to him exactly how I am feeling. I try to put those feelings into perspective. I try to remember that the ugliest of feelings pass. Most of all I tell my shrink because he does not judge me- at least does not appear to and makes me feel accountable. In my mind if someone knows I can’t follow through on it.

Now that I am certain of what I am and who I am, I have chosen to accept it. I am moving forward and I am going to continue to seek treatment through medication and therapy because I refuse to lose any more years of my life to BPD. I have the world so much more to offer. I think most of all I have been inspired by the Gospel of Thomas, Verse 70 “ If you bring forth what you have within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will kill you.”

This is my journey. You are welcome to join me. I promise it won’t always make sense.

Are you Bipolar??

If you have been struggling with symptoms associated with bipolar disorder it's important that you investigate into your personal situation further. Bipolar Disorder has a reported 15-20 percent suicide rate, so it should not be taken lightly. Check out the links below.


http://www.newyorkmetro.com/nymetro/health/features/n_9986/

Assessment

http://www.dbsalliance.org/questionnaire/screening.asp

An Emotional Affair Part II


"Laney" as I call him, and I have been speaking off and on for roughly 6 years now. My feelings for him much like my bipolar cycle. There have been occasions in the past where things heat up again and I think maybe it will go back to being what it once was. And one minute he has all the time in the world for me and the next he treats me as though I am bothersome, too high maintenance and too time consuming to deal with. I have spent much of our supposed relationship at his beckon call. I joke with him and say I am his life coach- for lack of a better word because he always comes to me with his problems, and is always looking for direction when it comes to his personal and professional life. He on the other hand is rather elusive when I need him. His children are sick, he has appointments or previous engagements which keep him from giving me more than snippets of conversation.

There is part of me that hates him and another part which romanticism all the things I thought ideal and could have been several years ago.

Approximately 2 years ago, when I was taking another stab at college, he found himself needing me again. The calling became constant, I became his phone whore on command and when I told him I thought we should stop speaking he began to threaten me again by claiming he would call my husband. This time his threat did not endear me. It was no longer complimentary but instead controlling. I spend much of my life being controlled in some fashion or another-mainly by my husband. I decided he too would not have that kind of power in my life. So I wrote a rather risque poem and submitted to the university's quarterly writing journal. I thought if nothing else I could send a copy of it to his wife if he continued to threaten me. The poem is not accurate in the sense that we had sex but it plants the seed, and at the time I thought it only appropriate that I dole out to him the same medicine he has given to me.

The Things He Said

Perhaps I should call your wife
Breathless
Almost speechless
Moaning, groaning writhing on the floor

Pay no mind
Your marriage is over

Maybe I should call your son's mother, your lover, your one time best friend
And let her know who it is that you really love
Maybe I should let her know all the stars in heaven shine in between my thighs
And my lips are more intoxicating than Solomon's wine

Hand in the receiver
Waiting to receive
I have been waiting for a very long time
Head cocked, hand cramped
No more dial tone
Just dead

I've been waiting to hear from her
Waiting on a call from her
Breathless
Almost speechless
Moaning, groaning, writhing on the floor

Pay no mind
This torrid intrigue is over

She just fucked my boyfriend
Who happens to be her husband
Maybe she will let me know all of the earths honey flows between her thighs
And her lips are sweeter than Cleopatra's honey

And then we shall finally agree
We are both in love with a liar
Reckless and loveless we lie speechless on the floor

It was months before it was published and long before it was, he and I had stopped speaking once again. I don't think I would have sent it to his wife, but it sure felt good thinking that I could.

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Thursday, October 19, 2006

I Might Be Bipolar But I'm Not Some Crazy Bitch!

This is why I hate being Bipolar…

http://psychcentral.com/ask-the-therapist/2006/09/09/is-my-ex-wife-suffering-from-bipolar-disorder-if-not-then-what


People often confuse Bipolar with schizophrenia. They see the “bi” and simply believe this is an indication of multiple personality syndrome or something such as schizophrenia.

Bipolar disorder is often misdiagnosed and while we live in a culture that claims to have a pill for all that ails you, people who have other issues are neatly pigeon holed into a category that does not suit them.

Some studies indicate that Bipolar disorder runs in families. I believe this to be true. My father is Bipolar and my grandfather was as well. Knowing this you would think I would have concluded that I had problems early on. This was never discussed in our home. In fact I never knew my grandfather because he committed a murder suicide (killed his second wife and then himself) in 1961. Growing up I was told that my grandfather died while my father was young.

My bouts with cycling began as a teenager. I can recall numerous times while depressed that I asked my mother for help. She of course did not want acknowledge my issues and summed them up as dramatics. To acknowledge the issue is to acknowledge you have a less than perfect child. That is hard for any parent to do.

Growing up I accepted the cycles as being part of my unique personality and as a young adult I was not about to be labeled as “crazy”. Bipolar disorder is such a difficult thing to explain to someone who does not have it. I often suffer from racing thoughts. Depending on where I’m at mentally it means I am either an over productive creative genius or it means I am totally inept and unable to follow through on anything to completion.

This summer I dyed my hair pink. I’m in my thirties and I have children. Everyone asked me why. I did it because I thought it would make me feel better. The same way I decide that spending thousands of dollars on jewelry will make me feel better. There are so many aspects about Bipolar that are different yet the same-at least for me. When I feel great I want to do crazy things. For instance I once decided I only wanted to wear Indian clothing so that’s all I bought. For a while I bought a lot of very strange jewelry and then I collected hats. What’s Bipolar about that? When I do these things in my mind it is the physical manifestation of my new self- my new stay up all night writing poetry, painting, drawing self. For a few weeks maybe even 2-3 months there is a new and improved Alex in town and her level of creativity and intelligence far exceeds that of old Alex. New Alex is very self assured, very together, can do anything, can be anything because she has so much backbone-you know it by looking at her because what kind of crazy everyday white bitch dresses like she’s Japanese and just doesn’t care about what other people think? This feeling of euphoria is better than drugs, better than love, so good I wish I could bottle it.

Then the depression rolls in…and sometimes it lasts and it lasts. I start wondering how I am going to get myself out of it. And so I begin to engage in the very same activities I did when I was manic –like doing so will bring that wonderful euphoric feeling back. If I had pink hair I would feel like that other Alex. It doesn’t work but I keep trying because I need that high so desperately.

There are two selves inside each of us. There is the person we perceive ourselves to be and then there is our true self. I want to be the brilliant Alex. I want to be her all the time. I want to believe that is who I really am. It hurts to think I just might be average….

Here’s some other links on Bipolar and the creative behaviors that come with it.

http://serendip.brynmawr.edu/bb/neuro/neuro98/202s98-paper3/Krishna3.html

http://pn.psychiatryonline.org/cgi/content/full/40/22/23

There are so many other sites that can help give you a better understanding of who you are and why. I will add them from time to time.

So for the tangent but I hate coming across people asking if their loved ones are Bipolar when they are showing signs of severe psychotic behavior.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

An Emotional Affair Part I


Several years ago while working I found myself in an emotional affair. Some people argue it is just as bad as the physical thing but for me its like that Howard Jones song..."You can dip your foot in the pool, but you can't have a swim." I must be honest and say I resent the fact it did not go farther.

At the time my husband and I had recently moved to a small town for employment reasons-for him of course-not me. I had no friends or family there and no desire to move, but he promised that making the move would be the greatest thing that ever happened to us. I continued to protest the idea. To add to my aversion I was 7 months pregnant and did not want to move away from my obgyn. One day while working my husband called me and told me the job was no longer up for discussion. He had taken the job, we were moving and that was final. He further went on to say that if I did not move he would leave me because to not move was to deny him his happiness. I submitted to the move. Looking back it is the dumbest thing I ever did.

I was pregnant with our first child and scared at the prospect of having to raise a child on my own. I had no idea what to expect. I knew I certainly could not afford it. It spoke volumes of how much my husband valued me, but I was too scared to do anything-which seems to be a recurring theme in my life.

We moved- or should I say I moved because he helped with absolutely nothing. Months later we had our first child and for at least a few months life was agreeable. When my son was several months old my husband began to find any and every excuse to be somewhere other than home. I suspected he was having an affair but there was part of me that did not want to know and part of me that was hoping he was and would leave me for the other woman. Having him around was unbearable. When he was home my son and I were not allowed to leave the house. Even if he were sleeping ( afternoon naps are one of his favorite things) he would expect us to stay home and watch him sleep. He told me it made him feel better knowing we were in the house with him. After he would spend the better part of the day lounging, he would get up go to work or go out for the evening. Which left little for my son and I other than dinner, bath time and bed.

I began to speak with a guy at work on a rather regular basis. My department was regionalized and he happened to work in one of the branch offices in my region. The first time I heard his voice on the phone I was utterly smitten. His wife had just had a baby and he told me the child was absolutely beautiful- just like his wife. I know you should not be moved by another man's words when they are in fact about his wife, but I was so envious. I wished my husband would say something so kind and wonderful about his own family. I couldn't help thinking 'I wish I were married to that man rather than my own husband'.

Months went by and we spoke on a daily basis. We did not get to see each other because our offices were in different states. We exchanged photos. Over time the relationship progressed. And as foolish as it sounds I was certain I was in love. When I say daily, I mean for hours each day. I spoke to him on the phone on my drive into work, my drive home from work, during work, during lunch, I often made excuses to leave the house to make phone calls.

His behavior towards me was at times very aggressive. It appeared as though he did not care who knew about the relationship. If he called, and I was not at my desk, he would call my co-workers looking for me. He would ask where the gorgeous redhead was. He would comment about his feelings to my friends. And all of this attention was an incredible rush. All of the things that he did made me feel very valued. In retrospect, I see everything differently, but at that point in time I was very "high" and I did things and saw things very differently.

E-mails and phone calls between us were very sexual in nature. I sent very compromising photos of myself, which under normal circumstances is something I would never do. He called at night and on weekends in the presence of my husband. I always made excuses for the calls. A few times I thought we should slow down or even end the relationship because I did not see in reality how it would progress without severe repercutions. When I would share my feelings with him he would threaten to call and tell my husband. Although, it should have pissed me off it in fact inflamed the passion. I did not see how he could put my marriage at risk without risking his own. And if he were willing to do so, he obviously wanted a future with me. Right?? I guess it all depends on who you're asking. High Alex? Low Alex? Or level headed Alex?

Initially it was not my intention to see him as a love interest. I intended on having an affair as a way of paying my husband back for being an uber asshole. But as time went by I deluded myself into believing this man had so much more to offer. I certainly don't need to be told how wrong I was. I am well aware of it. It is disgraceful that I would treat his wife with such disrespect, but on an emotional level he was giving me nearly everything I needed and I was so hungry for it I did not care about his wife. I only cared about myself.

We spent a year talking, e-mailing IMing. We made plans to meet eachother under the guise of a business trip but this never came to fruition. He eventually left the company and our communication slowed which I resented greatly. For months he had made comments to me which lead me to believe that there was a level of commitment to our relationship. I really hate to say it-- because even thinking about it makes me feel like a fool, but I truly believed that once we met the relationship would ultimately lead to us leaving our spouses and being together.

One day he called to give me the wonderful news that he and his wife were buying a house. I was utterly shocked because in my mind a multi 100k commitment is not something you make with a person you no longer want to be with. From there the deconstruction of the relationship increased at warp speed. I felt so betrayed. We had made innumerable promises to eachother. What was going on?

Daily calls became every other day. Every other day became once or twice a week. Once or twice a week became every couple of weeks and then it goes to the point that the calls came only when he needed his ego stroked....

From time to time things would heat up briefly but is now apparent there was never anything lasting between us. We stopped speaking over a year ago, until one day when I received an e-mail asking if we could talk. I of course said no. Our last communication is listed below. Fucking "starfish"-now that rolls across a tongue like sweet sweet honey doesn't it? Asshole...


Oh dear Alex,

I'm truly sorry you feel that way. I'm assuming you feel that way because of the length of time since we last spoke. The last impression I recv'dfrom you was that you were enduring some tough times (understandably) and did not want to speak to me for a while. I'm not sure it's even that. Who knows, you may still be fired up about me wanting to see your starfish. I apologized long ago for that lapse in good judgment. I sent an email quite some time ago and got a mail demon error. I admit it's been a while. I don't think it fair to characterize me as being a piss poor friend, howeverI learned that there's no winning an argument with you. So I'm wrong you're right. I do miss you horribly and wish I could speak with you. I'm even willing to endure you berating me, if it means I can hear from you. Please take sometime to reconsider.

Forever,
Laney

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

And Then He Threw His Whopper w/Cheese At Me


Sometimes I wish I could spend everyday drunk. It seems to me that everything pissy would seem more comical if only I were drunk.

Sunday was typical. Every Sunday my husband and I engage in our ritual faux Christian participation. We go to church and shake hands with all the other members who A.) don't know our names and B.) barely speak to us. Then we listen to a sermon about acceptance, forgiveness, not judging others...and my husband shakes his head in agreement as he listens. He smile and laughs at all of the little jokes the pastor tells and does his best to appear very enthused about the message.


Then we get in the car in route to our routine Sunday brunch. The berating begins... Now he has me in the car for 20-30 minutes and I have no choice but to listen. At this point I begin to hear about all of my failings. You see the sermons are always geared towards me. I am a horrible bitch, I don't clean, I don't cook, I barely take care of my children (his words -not mine). The conversation is laced with words like bitch, retarded bitch, cunt, and whore while my children sit in the back seat and listen. He then tells me all that he does for the family-thankless tasks is what he calls them. For instance he takes out the garbage, mows the lawn and retrieves the mail- all this in addition to holding gainful employment.

I suppose I do have a bad attitude. These thankless tasks, as he calls them, are simply part of life. I dress the children, pack lunches, take them to school, clean, do laundry, pick them up and take them to whatever extra activity they are involved in at that time. I sit down and do homework with them every night, give them baths and put them to bed. This is just a simplistic view of my day because I obviously have other things to do like drs appts, pay bills etc. No one gives me a fucking prize or special praise for doing it.

He often makes a big deal about doing little things. Especially in front of family. For instance he had to move a car seat from one car to another. He went on and on about how while I was speaking to my mother he changed out the carseat and how lucky I am to have him because other husbands apparently don't to can't change out carseats.

I have a habit of getting off track so please excuse me and simply enjoy the ride. When we arrive at the restaurant he will announce that he will stop lecturing me if I promise to change. Change what? I am not certain. I have sat in silence for 30 minutes because there is no point in fighting. Any exchange between us ends in is illogical ranting.

We enter the restaurant which happens to be a buffet. He loves to go to buffets because he can eat as much as he wants while bitching about the quality of the food and the number of fat people in the restaurant. This always makes for good family time after church.

The day progresses and we do some shopping. Later we come home and he is hungry once again. He doesn’t feel like cooking and he doesn’t feel like eating some shit I am going to make –please know I don’t curse for the sake of embellishment, I curse as it is said to me. So he asks me to go to McDonalds. His order is as follows:

2 McRibs
1 Pumpkin Shake

In the event they do not have either the McRib sandwiches or the pumpkin shakes, I am to get a Quarter Pounder for him.

I go to McDonald’s but strangely enough the parking lot is empty and there are signs in all of the windows stating they are temporarily closed. Now I am in a panic because I have no idea what to get him and I know that 40 minutes of verbal abuse will ensue. I left my cell phone at home, so it appears I am SOL. I take my chances and go to Burger King. I order him a Double Whopper w/cheese. I order a cheese burger because for some reason he prefers 2 sandwiches over a sandwich and fries. I ordered a value meal for myself and decide if on the off chance he wanted fries he could have mine. I made the fatal mistake of not order a Coke for him.

I returned home and began plating the food. He walked out into the kitchen and asked why the hell I went to Burger King. I explained McDonald’s was closed. Why then did I not go to Arby’s or Taco Bell. Hmmm…well probably because the last time we got food at Taco Bell he got sick and swore he would never eat there again. As for Arby’s, he claims it’s too expensive and the food isn’t all that great. I put his sandwiches on a plate and tell him he can have my fries. He starts screaming at me that a Double Whopper is not a Quarter Pounder. I ask him what did he expect me to do? If their closed that’s beyond my control. I asked at the end of the day, what’s the difference if he has a Double Whopper, a cheese burger, and my fries (if he cares to do so).

“What’s the difference? What’s the fucking difference you ask? The difference is I don’t have a fucking Coke. Where is my Coke? This is why you are a complete and total bitch to me. This is how I know you don’t give two shits about me at all. If you did, you would have remembered to get me a fucking Coke!”

He then picked up his plate and threw it across the room. “The dog can have that shit now. I’m not hungry.”

For the rest of the evening he did not speak to me. I go to the cabinet and pop double doses of everything I have – I know that’s incredibly stupid but I just want something to make life a little easier to deal with. I want it to happen quickly and I want it to last.

I spend all my free time trying to figure out how I will ever get away from this asshole. He constantly tells to go ahead and leave because he will get the kids. Afterall, I am unemployed and bi-polar. I know there are a lot of stay at home moms who get custody of their children, but he loves to tell anyone who will listen that I’m crazy and on meds.

I am bipolar that’s correct. But I don’t hear voices, there are no pink spotted bunnies in my dining room. I have no criminal history and have never neglected my children. The fact of the matter is, he’s a cop and I don’t trust the son of a bitch as far as I can throw him…

P.S.- Why can't Roy like redheads???????????

Saturday, October 14, 2006

It's Hard Being a Sad Little Bitch


When I was younger I acted like a jackass when the mood suited me. As a bipolar individual the mood was not always in my favor. But when it was I would say and do just about anything. I did not know I was bipolar. I have always been an artistic individual and I attributed my behavior to being an artist and a thespian. I assumed everyone wanted to act as I acted but they simply did not possess my thick skin or back bone for that matter. I mean doesn’t every sober girl want to flash their tits at people?

When I got older and began working in a professional environment I tried to curb my behavior because I was smart enough to know tit flashing is the kind of stuff that gets most people fired. This of course did not mean I could not dance on my desk or do somersaults down the hallways. I carried a toy water gun and would often fall to the ground and roll as I walked past co-workers. Oh I know they wanted to do it to---didn’t they? If anything I was very entertaining. I was the one to come to when you needed something said or done but you did not have to hutzpah to do it yourself. That’s when I was feeling good. It is during these crazy times you have more energy both physically and mentally. I swear I am a creative genius, I can do just about anything.

For one reason or another other people find these qualities very attractive. They like hanging out with the idiot who acts like a rock star. But when your down, they don’t like you quite as much. When you are feeling your worst your depression is exacerbated by the fact your so called friends fail to see your value as a human friend or otherwise when you are not busy at work providing them with fodder for water cooler tales.

Cycling into depression is a horrible feeling. I may assume there are people who get far more depressed than I. Or maybe they experience it in different ways. I have one girlfriend who recently confided in me that when depressed she stays in bed for days wearing depends so she simply has no reason to leave the bed. It’s not like that for me. When I am feeling depressed I am preoccupied with suicide. I make preparations –if only in my head. Everything seems absolutely hopeless. Its during these times I have my greatest setbacks. I have left college three times now. Credit wise I am a senior but I am really nowhere close to graduating – I ‘m not attending school now. I am starting to wonder if doing so is pointless.

It creeps up on you in such a way yet you know that it is coming. When I am what I consider to be level I do very well in school. I am also able to manage school with home with not near as much difficulty. But one day you go to class and I find a million thoughts racing in my head. Everything outside seems to be noise pollution. I struggle to listen to the professor. I am listening but I really don’t hear what he or she is saying. I become overly concerned with my classmates. It is fair to say I am paranoid. The anxiety is so great it is difficult to sit through class but I am certain the longer I sit the more reason my classmates will have to talk about me after class. In reality I am old enough to be their mother. They don’t give a rats ass about me or what I do. But the fear I feel at that point in time is very physical. You go to class the next day and the next day hoping it gets better. Pretty soon you skip out every other day. Skip certain classes altogether and then you just don’t go at all. The sadness is overwhelming and perpetuating. People will tell you that there are triggers for the highs and lows. I know sometimes that is the case. But sometimes for reasons I simply do not know I cycle back and forth. I might not have a real reason to be depressed. But I feel that way none the less, and by the time I leave school I do have the reason I was lacking to begin with. Years will go by and I'll try again-maybe.

Friday, October 13, 2006

I'm the greatest thing I've ever seen....


Back on track....

My husband is textbook NPD. How does one recognize a NPD? Here is a list of some of their many traits.

1. Exaggerated sense of importance. Their employer could not function without them. The house hold would not run without them. They will lead others to believe they do all of the work because others in their life are too incompetent to do what needs to be done.

2. He/she believes they are special. You can not begin to relate to them because you simply do not have the mental capacity to do so. My husband often states he simply "tolerates" everyone else because he has no choice but to co-exist with ineptitude.

3. They are delusional in the sense they believe they can do anything anyone else can do. There is no authority in their lives or anyone whose opinion they might hold in high regard. He would not see a brain surgeon as someone more intelligent than himself but rather someone more privileged than himself.

4. Requires endless admiration. My husband insists on being told he is an excellent provider, a fantastic husband, incredibly good looking on a daily basis. He often asks if my friends comment on my catch and say anything that would lead me to believe they are jealous of my fine husband. You will often find him looking at himself in the mirror. Although he insists on so much, he is the last to give compliments for any reason.

5. My husband feels entitled. He does not believe he should have to wait in line at a bank, restaurant, store etc. If asked to wait he is very vocal as to how much better he is than the rest of the garbage in the establishment, and in fact makes 3 times more money than any other customer or patron. He expects to be treated better. We are if anything middle class, so it increases my embarrassment tenfold when he speaks of his 50k income as if he were millionaire.

6.He lacks empathy for me or any other human being for that matter. He is one of those individuals who is always one upping everyone else. You could tell him you have cancer and he would say something like he wishes he had cancer because instead he had 18 years of living with miserable parents. He much rather be dying than having the horrid memories of his battle axe mother. He has a way of turning any subject matter into a conversation about himself.

I may comment that our neighbor boy is attending a wrestling tournament and somehow the mere mention of this puts my husband in competition with the 17 year old who lives next door. Don't you know he use to wrestle? He was the best wrestler in his class and he could kick our teenage neighbor's ass if he wanted to. I constantly tell him everything is not about him. If I comment on a work of art I do not want to hear him tell me how he could do better. If I say someone has a beautiful voice I don' want to hear how he could sing better. In his mind he could do anything in the world better than anyone else in the world if only he had rich parents who would have paid to send him to a prestigious college.

7. He treats everyone like garbage. I often find myself slowly quietly walking out of restaurants or stores because I am embarrassed by his behavior. He is very vocal, almost always causing a scene. He is an equal opportunist bigot and has no problem verbalizing his hatred towards the human race.

People who I meet, and later meet my husband often remark that they cannot believe I am married to this man. I honestly have no idea how I married this man. I can tell you that this union has eroded my sense of self and self worth.

My independence was not taken from me overnight. It is slow. It is methodical. It is such a burden walking around with two monkeys on your back.

Vitamins and BiPolar Discover Magazine

Off my original course a bit, but I read this article last summer and found it rather interesting. I am not certain if there is anything to it. I, myself, tried taking inositol with little luck. Maybe it will be of help to someone else.


Vitamin Cure
Can common nutrients curb violent tendencies and dispel clinical depression?
By Susan Freinkel Photography by Dan Winters
DISCOVER Vol. 26 No. 05 May 2005 Biology & Medicine




Mental Machinery

The brain and other complex mechanisms of the human nervous system rely on 40 or so basic nutrients to run smoothly. The lack of any one—be it zinc or magnesium, chromium or folic acid—can cause a malfunction, leading to depression, irritability, or worse.When pigs are penned in close quarters, some become so irritable they savage their pen mates’ ears and tails, a problem farmers call ear-and-tail-biting syndrome. David Hardy, a Canadian hog-feed salesman from the farmlands of southern Alberta, knew that behavior well. Years of experience had taught him something else: All it takes to calm disturbed pigs down is a good dose of vitamins and minerals in their feed.

That came to Hardy’s mind one November evening in 1995 when an acquaintance, Tony Stephan, began confiding his troubles. His wife, Deborah, had killed herself the year before after struggling with manic depression and losing her father to suicide. Now two of his 10 children seemed headed down the same road: Twenty-two-year-old Autumn was in a psychiatric hospital and 15-year-old Joseph had become angry and aggressive. He had been diagnosed as bipolar, a term for manic depression, but even with medication he was prone to outbursts so violent that the rest of the family feared for their lives.

The boy’s irritability sounded familiar to Hardy. I don’t know a whole lot about mental illness, Hardy told Stephan, but I’ve seen similar behavior in the hog barn, and it’s easy to cure.

So the two men set out to create a human version of Hardy’s pig formula. They bought bottles of vitamins and minerals from local health-food stores and spent nights at Stephan’s kitchen table concocting a mixture. On January 20, 1996, they gave Joseph the first bitter-tasting dose. Within a few days, Joseph felt better than he had in months. After 30 days, all the symptoms of his illness were gone.

Stephan next turned to Autumn, whose mental state had been steadily deteriorating for years. Now she was psychotic, convinced she had a gaping hole in her chest from which demons emerged. Just released from the hospital where she’d been on suicide watch, Autumn required 24-hour supervision to ensure she didn’t hurt either herself or her 3-year-old son.

Stephan forced her to take the nutritional formula. After just two days of treatment, her rapid swings between mania and depression stopped. After four days her hallucinations vanished. “I remember saying, ‘Oh my gosh, my hole is gone,’ ” she recalls. By week’s end, she felt well enough to quit all but one of her five medications.

Nine years later, both Autumn and Joseph remain symptom free, medication free, and devoted to taking what they call “the nutrients” each day. Autumn Stringam, her married name, is an articulate woman with bright eyes who revels in being a full-time mother to her son and the three daughters she’s had since getting well. “I don’t feel I’m cured,” she says. “I feel I’ve got something that allows me to manage and have a normal, functional life—maybe even better than functional.”



It’s easy to write off the Stephans’ treatment as just one more crackpot cure in a field rife with fraud and false hope. The supplement they took has yet to be proved in large clinical trials, while scientists who have studied it have been caught in the cross fire between converts, willing to take the supplement on faith and anecdotal evidence alone, and skeptics who look askance at all alternative medicine. Yet the idea of treating mental disorders with supplements makes sense, experts in the field say. Micronutrients help build and sustain the brain’s architecture and fuel its biochemistry. They are critical in countless ways to the working of cells throughout the body, including the brain. “We need 40 essential micronutrients in our diet—vitamins, minerals, and essential fatty acids,” says Bruce Ames, a biochemist at the Children’s Hospital Oakland Research Institute. Ames has explored the impact of zinc and iron on brain cells. “If you don’t have enough of one, you’re fouling up your biochemistry.”

A number of diseases caused by nutrient deficiency, such as scurvy, beriberi, pellagra, and pernicious anemia, display psychiatric symptoms like irritability and depression. But while severe deficiencies are rare in the developed world—when’s the last time you met someone with beriberi?—many of us fall short of getting all the nutrients we need. In 1997 a British study compared the mineral content of fruits and vegetables grown in the 1930s with the mineral content of produce grown in the 1980s. It found that several nutrients had dropped dramatically, including calcium (down nearly 30 percent), iron (down 32 percent), and magnesium (down 21 percent).

Some researchers suspect that even mild deficiencies can affect the psyche long before any physical symptoms appear. Stephen Schoenthaler, a sociologist at California State University at Stanislaus, has been exploring the link between nutrients and mental health by giving basic vitamin and mineral supplements to prison inmates and juvenile detainees. Again and again, since the early 1980s, Schoenthaler has found that when inmate nutrition improves, the number of fights, infractions, and other antisocial behavior drops by about 40 percent. In each case, he has found, the calmer atmosphere can be traced to the mellower moods of just a few hotheads. The inmates most likely to throw a punch, he has discovered, are the ones with the least nutritious diets and the lowest levels of critical nutrients.

Schoenthaler’s findings have been undermined by less than sterling research methods: His papers have failed to describe the precise methods by which he analyzed the inmates’ blood. (In January, a committee at his university recommended that he be suspended for a semester without pay for academic and scientific misconduct in later, unrelated research.) So in the late 1990s, an Oxford University physiologist named Bernard Gesch decided to put the theories to a more rigorous test. Gesch divided 231 prisoners in one of Britain’s toughest prisons into two groups. Half were given a standard vitamin and mineral supplement each day as well as fish-oil capsules and omega-6 oil from evening primrose. The other half received placebos. The results, published in 2002 in The British Journal of Psychiatry, drew headlines on both sides of the Atlantic. They were also almost identical to Schoenthaler’s. Over the course of approximately nine months, inmates taking supplements committed about 35 percent fewer antisocial acts than the group taking placebos. A few weeks after the study started, the prison warden told Gesch that the administrative report that month showed no violent incidents had occurred. “As far as he was aware, this had never happened in the history of the institution,” Gesch says.


Poor Man’s Pharmacopoeia

A number of common nutrients may help alleviate mental illness when taken in higher-than-normal doses. A few of the most promising candidates follow.

FOLIC ACID
Folic acid is a B vitamin essential to mood regulation and the development of the nervous system. Patients deficient in it appear to respond poorly to antidepressants. In one 2000 British study, 127 patients taking Prozac were also given either 500 micrograms of folic acid a day or a placebo. The folic acid group did significantly better, in particular the women, 94 percent of whom improved compared with 61 percent in the placebo group.
MAGNESIUM
It’s long been known that magnesium can act as a sedative. Some studies have also found magnesium deficiencies in patients with depression, although the evidence is inconsistent. The mineral may help other mood-stabilizing drugs work better. Researchers at the Chemical Abuse Centers in Boardman, Ohio, found that combining magnesium oxide with the drug verapamil helped control manic symptoms in patients better than a drug-placebo combination.

CHROMIUM
Several studies have suggested that chromium picolinate may help alleviate depression and improve the response to antidepressants. In one small trial at Duke University, 70 percent of the patients who were given chromium picolinate improved, while none of those given placebos got better.

INOSITOL
This sugar molecule appears to make the brain’s receptors more sensitive to serotonin, one of the chemical messengers that mediate mood. In a series of short-term placebo-controlled trials, researchers at Ben Gurion University of the Negev in Israel found that large doses of inositol—12 to 18 grams a day—helped alleviate depression, panic disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder.





The study of micronutrients and mental health is known as orthomolecular psychiatry, a term coined by two-time Nobel laureate Linus Pauling in a controversial 1968 essay. Pauling wrote that nutritional supplements, unlike psychotherapy or drugs, represent a way to provide “the optimum molecular environment for the mind.” Varying the concentrations of substances normally present in the human body, he wrote, may control mental disease even better than conventional treatments.

A
B
Micrographs courtesy of Celeste Halliwell

Canadian researchers induced brain lesions in two groups of infant rats, then dissected them as adults. In those given supplements (B) rather than placebos (A), the lesion shrank.
Today the Society for Orthomolecular Health Medicine counts about 200 American members. One of the foremost practitioners, the Canadian psychiatrist Abram Hoffer, claims to have successfully treated thousands of schizophrenics with massive doses of vitamin C and niacin. He contends the vitamins neutralize an oxidized compound that causes hallucinations when it accumulates in the brains of patients. Until recently, such treatments thrived on the power of patient lore, not scientific certainty. Nutritional therapists were generally unwilling to test their claims in well-designed controlled studies. “Even when studies were done, they just didn’t meet the standards of rigor that would make them be taken seriously,” says Charles Popper, a Harvard University psychopharmacologist who studies bipolar disorder.

In 1973 a task force of the American Psychiatric Association issued a withering indictment of orthomolecular psychiatry, concluding that “the credibility of the megavitamin proponents is low.” For the next two decades, funding for orthomolecular research was rare. Academia turned its back on the field, and industry saw no profit in it—vitamins and minerals can’t be patented like other medicines. In recent years, however, grants from the National Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine, founded in 1998, and new discoveries in brain biochemistry have prompted researchers to take a second look at nutritional therapies. The strongest evidence to date involves omega-3 fatty acids, a group of compounds abundant in fish oil of the kind Gesch gave to prisoners, as well as in the membranes of and synapses between brain cells. In a landmark 1999 study, Harvard psychiatrist Andrew Stoll found that bipolar patients who were given large doses of omega-3s did significantly better and resisted relapse longer than a matched group of patients who were given placebos.

Stoll’s findings have yet to be replicated, but other researchers have since studied omega-3s as a treatment for depression, schizophrenia, borderline personality disorder, and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD. (See “Fish Therapy,” opposite page.) “In every case, the data has been overwhelmingly positive,” Stoll says. Other research has shown correlations between low levels of various nutrients—zinc, calcium, magnesium, and B vitamins—and depression. Researchers have found that anywhere from 15 percent to 38 percent of psychiatric patients have reduced levels of folate. A 2000 study of older women found that 17 percent of those who were mildly depressed and 27 percent of those suffering severe depression were short on vitamin B12.

In an effort to winnow out confounding variables, nutritional research has long focused on single nutrients. Yet some researchers, like Stoll, have suggested that the effects of nutrients are additive—that their real strength becomes apparent only in a multinutrient formula. A formula much like the one that Tony Stephan and David Hardy first stumbled upon in a hog barn.

FISH THERAPY

Omega-3s are a family of fatty acids found in seafood and certain plants such as flax. Researchers are interested in their therapeutic potential for several reasons: Large population studies have shown a correlation between rates of seafood consumption and depression. Small studies have found patients with depression have reduced levels of these fatty acids in their blood. A variety of small clinical trials have also suggested that omega-3s (at doses ranging from one to four grams) may alleviate the symptoms of depression, schizophrenia, and bipolar disorder, as well as improve patients’ response to conventional medicines.

Some researchers speculate that fatty acids help maintain fluidity in the cellular membranes, allowing neural receptors to better detect incoming signals. Others, like Harvard psychiatrist Andrew Stoll, believe that omega-3s affect the brain in ways similar to mood-stabilizing drugs like lithium and Depakote: They tamp down excessive signaling between cells. Stoll says the compounds also reduce cellular inflammation—common in people with mental disorders—stirred up by omega-6s, another family of fatty acids. In centuries past, humans ate a great deal of wild game, greens, and other foods rich in omega-3s. Today we eat fewer omega-3s, while filling up on foods heavy with processed vegetable oils, which are high in omega-6s. The change may help account for the increased incidence of depression in the past 100 years, Stoll says.

Stoll’s colleagues say that the compounds show promise but require further research. “The problem is there’s not a lot of published evidence yet,” says Harvard psychiatrist David Mischoulon. “So it’s hard to compare this modest body of evidence against evidence for a medication like Prozac or Zoloft that has numerous studies to back it up.” —S.F.

After Stephan and Hardy’s success, they spread word of the treatment among fellow Mormons in southern Alberta. They began by whipping up batches of the formula for church members suffering all sorts of disorders, from mild depression to ADHD to schizophrenia. Then, in early 1997, they quit their jobs and began selling the formula, which they eventually named EMPowerplus (the EM stands for “essential mineral”). Their company, Truehope Nutritional Support, employs 35 people in a squat building on the edge of Hardy’s hometown, the tiny farm community of Raymond.

Stephan, 52, is stocky and energetic, with blondish-gray hair, earnest blue eyes, and a nose that skews slightly to the right as if it had been broken. Hardy, 55, is tall and lean, with square wire-rimmed glasses. It’s not hard to see him as the high school science teacher he once was. The two relate the story of their supplement with a practiced air. Both are devout Mormons who seem to believe they’ve been given a mission to alleviate mental illness. Although the supplement is not inexpensive—a month’s supply costs $69.98—Stephan and Hardy say it is expensive to manufacture, and the business barely turns a profit.

For years, they say, they tinkered with the formula, using Autumn as their guinea pig. “A lot of it was trial and error,” Stephan says. “There’s nothing out there saying that if you’re bipolar you need 50 milligrams of zinc.” The latest incarnation of the supplement contains 36 vitamins, minerals, amino acids, and antioxidants. Most are the same ingredients found in a typical multivitamin but at much higher doses. For example, a daily dose of the supplement contains a whopping 120 milligrams of vitamin E, six times the recommended daily allowance. So far, the only side effects appear to be nausea and diarrhea, but no one really knows the long-term dangers of taking high vitamin and mineral doses.

News of the supplement has spread quickly through the Internet and patient support groups. Hardy says at least 6,000 people have used the supplement for psychiatric problems, and a few thousand more have tried it for other central nervous system disorders such as multiple sclerosis, Parkinson’s disease, cerebral palsy, and stress. Like many alternative therapies, the supplement has generated tales of dramatic results, but Stephan and Hardy know that they need solid research to prove its effects.

Several years ago, they began contacting scientists, including Bonnie Kaplan, a research psychologist at the University of Calgary, and Harvard’s Charles Popper, inviting them to study their mixture. The scientists had essentially the same response. “I told them to take their snake oils somewhere else,” as Kaplan later recalled to a reporter. Popper was so leery of the pair after his first meeting that he hid the bottle of the supplement they gave him under his coat as he walked back to his office: “I was afraid someone was going to see me with the stuff.”

Kaplan finally agreed to meet with Hardy and Stephan in 1996. Impressed by their sincerity, she decided to offer the formula to a handful of patients who had not responded to conventional treatments. Kaplan first tried the supplement on two boys with wildly shifting moods and explosive tempers. One was so obsessed with violent fantasies that he could not go more than 20 seconds without thinking about guns. After he started taking the supplement, Kaplan later wrote in a case study, his obsessions and his explosive rage diminished. When he quit the supplements, the obsessions and anger returned. Back on the supplements again, the symptoms retreated.

Those results were encouraging enough that within a few months Kaplan started a small clinical study of 11 bipolar patients who had not been able to control their illness with conventional medications. After six months of treatment, each of the 11 showed improvement in both their depression and mania. Most were able to cut down on their medications, and some quit using them altogether.

In 2000 Kaplan accompanied Hardy and Stephan to Harvard’s McLean Hospital to talk with other scientists. Popper was skeptical, despite Kaplan’s credentials. That night, however, he got a call from a colleague whose son had suddenly developed bipolar disorder and was throwing violent tantrums daily. Popper reluctantly offered him the sample bottle of the supplement that Hardy and Stephan had given him, figuring it couldn’t hurt. He did not believe it would help. Four days later, the father called to tell him the tantrums were gone. “The kid wasn’t even irritable,” Popper recalls. “We don’t have anything in psychiatry that can do that.”





Like Kaplan, Popper gradually began giving the formula to bipolar patients who had not done well on psychotropic drugs. The supplement not only worked for 80 percent of the patients, it also took effect far more quickly than conventional drugs for many of them. After testing the supplement for six months and seeing improvements in some two dozen patients, Popper decided he had something noteworthy enough to share with colleagues. In 2001 he and Kaplan each published articles in The Journal of Clinical Psychiatry describing their findings and encouraging further research. “What if some psychiatric patients could be treated with inexpensive vitamins and minerals rather than expensive patented pharmaceuticals?” Popper wrote. It was a strikingly optimistic statement about a discredited idea. “I knew going public would raise a lot of eyebrows, that I was putting my career on the line,” Popper says. “But I was convinced.”


BRAIN POWER

If preliminary studies hold true, vitamin supplements may suffice to flip a switch in the mind, curing mental illnesses without recourse to drugs.


One reason that orthomolecular psychiatry was treated with such derision in the 1960s and early ’70s was that biologists had only a faint understanding of the physical effects that nutrients had on the brain. In the past two decades, however, researchers have begun to gain a better understanding of the brain’s biochemical machinery. Psychiatrists now know that nutrients are the brain’s backstage crew, endlessly constructing and maintaining cellular set designs, directing players to their marks. They also play important roles in the creation of chemical messengers thought to mediate mood, such as serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. Zinc is a particularly versatile player, involved in more than 300 enzymatic reactions; when zinc goes missing, a cell’s DNA and its repair machinery can be damaged.

Neuroscientist Bryan Kolb, at the Canadian Centre for Behavioural Neuroscience in Lethbridge, Alberta, has explored how brain cells are affected by drugs, hormones, and injury. When Stephan and Hardy first approached him in 1997, he politely declined to start up a study. He had little psychiatric expertise, he explained, and his usual experimental subjects had four legs and long tails.

Two years ago, Kolb decided to take another look. In an effort to tease out a biochemical pathway that might account for the clinical effects that Kaplan, Popper, and others had described, he ran a series of rat studies. First, he inflicted injuries in two parts of infant rats’ brains: the frontal lobe, which controls motor function and the ability to plan and execute tasks, and the parietal lobe, which influences spatial functions. Half the group then got a diet spiked with a supplement similar to EMPowerplus and half got plain rat chow. When Kolb put them through a series of cognitive and spatial-ability tests, the vitamin-charged rats did markedly better than the control group.

Kolb noticed something else about the supplement-fed rats: “They were unbelievably calm.” Lab rats usually flinch and squeal when identification tags are stapled onto their ears, he says. “These rats acted like nothing had happened.” Kolb then autopsied the rats’ brains: The formula-fed rats had bigger brains than the chow-fed rats. In areas near where he’d inflicted lesions, the dendrites of the existing cells—the long, tentacled parts of neurons that conduct electrical impulses—had sprouted new branches, each ending with hundreds of new synapses. (In an earlier study, Kolb had found that the amino acid choline could also stimulate dendritic growth. But the results weren’t as pronounced.)

Kolb can’t say if such neural connections could alleviate mental illness. Schizophrenia may be associated with structural abnormalities in the brain, but so far that’s not thought to be the case in mood disorders like depression or bipolar disorder. Whatever the mechanism, Kolb says, he’s persuaded that “the diet can clearly alter brain function.”



Of course, not everyone with a vitamin deficiency grows violent or sinks into a clinical depression. So why might a nutritional supplement help only some people? Kaplan has a possible explanation: Some of us have “inborn errors of metabolism.” We are born with unusual nutritional requirements that can affect our mental function. Mental illness appears to be partly heritable (bipolar disorder, for one, runs in families), yet no one has discovered a gene for the disease. Perhaps, Kaplan speculates, what’s passed down is a gene that affects the metabolic pathways influenced by various nutrients. Some people may simply inherit a metabolism that demands higher-than-normal amounts of vitamins and minerals. “What’s optimal for me may not be optimal for someone with a mental illness,” Kaplan said at a meeting of the American Psychiatric Association in 2003. “I’ve been blessed with a stable mood, and I could probably eat a terrible diet and not have any problems. Others may need additional supplementation.”

The next research step should be a controlled randomized trial of how bipolar patients taking supplements fare compared with those taking a placebo. Such studies are the gold standard for testing drugs and supplements. But Kaplan and Popper’s efforts have been stalled by controversy. The two scientists have been under attack by a group led by Terry Polevoy, a dermatologist in Kitchener, Ontario, who runs a Web site called HealthWatcher.net. A onetime devotee of holistic therapies, Polevoy now crusades against alternative treatments he considers scams. For the past four years, he and his colleagues have accused Stephan and Hardy of irresponsibly marketing an unproven remedy. The employees that take the company’s orders have no medical training, Polevoy points out, yet they’re told to encourage customers, many of them mentally ill, to stop using traditional medicines and rely exclusively on the supplement. “People have been injured by taking this stuff,” Polevoy says. In one well-publicized case, a schizophrenic man quit his medications in order to take the supplement and wound up psychotic, in jail, and facing assault charges.

Hardy and Stephan, in turn, accuse Polevoy of being a front man for the pharmaceutical industry, a charge Polevoy denies. “I may go to a few meetings a year hosted by pharmaceutical companies,” Polevoy says, “but I’m not paid.”

After Kaplan and Popper published accounts of their experiences with the formula, Polevoy charged the scientists with conducting experimental research on patients without proper institutional review. The allegations triggered lengthy investigations by the scientists’ academic institutions, as well as by Canadian and U.S. health authorities. Kaplan and Popper were ultimately cleared of any improprieties, but the ordeal left both so gun shy that they stopped talking publicly about the supplement. (Kaplan declined to be interviewed for this story. Neither she nor any of the other scientists mentioned in this story have any financial ties to the supplement.)

Both scientists have had a tough time securing government support for their psychiatric research. EMPowerplus has yet to be approved for sale in Canada, and Health Canada, the agency that regulates food and drugs in that country, has sued Truehope for advertising the product to Canadians who might wish to import it. “The manufacturer has not provided us with scientific evidence that the drug is safe and effective,” says Jirina Vlk, a spokeswoman for the agency. Hardy and Stephan, in turn, have sued Health Canada for blocking shipments at the border. Health Canada initially denied Kaplan permission to pursue a randomized study of the supplement in 100 bipolar patients, although Kaplan already had funding from the Alberta government. That decision was reversed in 2004, after the agency established a new division dedicated to overseeing supplements and natural health products.

Meanwhile in the United States, Popper and Kaplan recently secured approval from the Food and Drug Administration to conduct an even larger clinical study of the supplement. Other scientists think this is long overdue. “It’s something that needs to be investigated,” says L. Eugene Arnold, a psychiatrist at Ohio State University who plans to explore the use of zinc to treat ADHD. “There’s no point in people arguing about whether it works or not without getting some data to get the answer.” Arnold is no advocate of alternative treatments for mood disorders, but he thinks it’s reasonable to suspect that vitamins and minerals might have an effect. The standard treatment for bipolar disorder is lithium, he points out. “And what is that but a mineral?”

For Hardy and Stephan, the long wait for scientific validation has been frustrating. But they are patient. “It’s like any new discovery—acceptance is slow to come,” Stephan says. “But that will change. It will come.”


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