[This is a follow-up to my post a month ago, which itself was a 4-year follow-up to my article “How I Overcame Bipolar II (and Saved My Own Life)”]
Looking back over the last year, both the wild ups and the recent incapacitating lows, I cannot help but conclude that, given how many writers have gone mad (or perhaps, more accurately, how many of us mad people are drawn to writing!) …. part of the writer in me was subconsciously curious about the outer limits of my own sanity. To finally find my breaking point. Not intentionally. But that’s where I went.
And now that I’ve been there, I do not wish to go back.
I’m happy to report–from this side of it (that is, the alive side)–that I finally found my own psychological and emotional limits. (And boy were they out there!) I finally got the daylights scared out of me. Which I think, on balance, is a good thing.
In the height on my mania–aided by alarming amounts of psychedelic drugs–I felt I was in direct communion with the archetype of Dionysus, the Greek god of madness, ritual ecstasy, and orgies (uh, it was one of those things… you had to be there ;) Dionysus is, as they say in some of my spiritual circles, “strong medicine.” I would now rather flirt with this archetype from a safe and sane distance.
After flying high for months, in the depths of my subsequent crash into depression, over July, August, September, October, and November, I was drained of all desire to live. Even talking to friends was a struggle. Secretly, I was only hanging in there for my parents, so as not to inflict the unspeakable horror of a child dying on them. That is what I wanted at many times during that period, a permanent end to the misery of major depression. But I felt it would have been, ultimately, a selfish act, and not the legacy I wanted to leave.
And so, I persisted through it. This was not a little bit of sadness; I was completely flattened, for the first time since my twenties. There were days when getting out of bed and cooking an omelette was my big accomplishment for the day. I was, for that period, functionally disabled. Most work ceased, and I had to live off of savings.
With the emotional support of family and friends, and with whatever little scraps of will I had remaining, I attacked the depression from every angle.
I went off recreational drugs, and have been sober from drugs and alcohol for over three months. From that, I feel clear-headed and an even-keel I have not felt in years. I am not committing to this sobriety for the rest of my life, but I plan to keep it up for a while.
At the urging of my parents, I went to a psychiatrist, and tried various medications, from lithium to Abilify to Lamictal, the latter of which I am still on.
I hated how the lithium made me feel. Flat, as if I’d been chemically lobotomizd and castrated at once, with not a creative thought in sight, and the whole of my sexuality entirely erased. With my shrink’s approval–provided I don’t provoke the mania with more recreational drug use– and under his supervision, I am weaning off the daily use of lithium, and keeping it as an emergency backup only.
I had read about the seeming miracle properties of (legal) ketamine infusions for depression–now being touted as the greatest new approach to treating depression to come along in years, with much scientific research demonstrating its fast-acting effects. (e.g., here: http://bit.ly/1MZyn2k) I showed these articles to a friend of mine who had suffered from a treatment-resistant depression for two decades. He went out and got an infusion, and overnight twenty years of depression was gone, and it stayed that way for weeks.
This was extremely promising. I tried two separate infusions of ketamine at a doctor’s office. However, two infusions did nothing for me, so I didn’t try a third. (BTW, this did not violate my sobriety. While the horse-dose of psychedelic ketamine given to me would have sent me flying into the 18th dimension of hyperreality on its own, they administer it with a benzodiazepine, which put me to sleep for the duration of the infusion.)
At the urging of my good friend Beth Elder (thank you Beth), I went to see a naturopath, who took all kinds of blood tests. She found many interesting things, all of which could theoretically could have implications for the bipolar. Apparently, I have something called a MTHFR gene mutation, which means my body has trouble with a process called methylation. I don’t really know what that means, but the upshot is, I need to take a lot of specialized B vitamins that have been “methylated,” which I am now doing.
The tests also found that (as most people are, it seems) I was severely deficient in vitamin D, so I’m taking mega-doses now. And also found, ironically–given that I’ve become a sex writer, as of late–very low free testosterone. (This may or may not be related to my testicular cancer surgery in 2009). So I’m taking DHEA to correct that. (Anyone else have any luck with any other remedies for raising free testosterone?)
I’ve been eating a healthy low-glycemic index, and avoiding stimulants and almost all refined sugar. I also started a vigorous exercise regimen atwww.freeletics.com. Man, that thing kicks my ass, but it feels great, and is the first organized exercise program I’ve been on in my adult life.
I found acupuncture to give me a day of relief each treatment–and when you’re in the hole as I was, a day of relief is a blessing. The other thing, in addition to the exercise and acupuncture, that gave me almost instantaneous improvement was relatively high daily doses (50mg) of CBD, a non-psychoactive component of the cannabis plant that is the source of many of the plant’s medicinal and healing properties. There is a ton of research out now on the health benefits of CBD, including some that points to its benefit for depression and anxiety (e.g., here:http://1.usa.gov/1MZyOtq). It is legal in all 52 states without a prescription, as it has only trace THC, and can be made from industrial hemp. This is important for me as I do not wish to get high or violate my sobriety.
I’ve been staying at my folks’ place for a month while I recover, and it has been wonderful to reconnect with them so deeply (I haven’t spent so much time with them since my 20s) and to feel the depth of their concern, care and love.
I’m not sure which of these things–the lamictal, the sobriety, the vitamins, the low-glycemic diet, the acupuncture, CBD, the exercise, the field of gentle, unconditional love from my parents–or more likely, the combination and interaction of all of them… but I feel myself lifting out of this hell that has been the depression over the last five months. I’m still not out of the woods yet–I feel 80% back, but not 100%, and I do not take anything for granted–but I’m cautiously optimistic. I’m starting to feel myself again.
Provided I do recover from this, and it is looking good now–I am beginning to look back on this year and actually feel some gratitude for the whole ride.
Why?
It was a wakeup call for me.
It made me realize that, although I can beat its manifestations effectively with concentrated effort, I will always have the underlying bipolar condition, lying dormant like a snake ready to pounce up and bite when I let down my guard. It made me realize I need to take much better care of myself, to remain stable. I simply can’t party at the pace I did in the last year. I need to be on the active lookout for behaviors and activities that provoke mania (such as stuffing a shit-ton of psychedelics and weed down my throat) and avoid such things.
Another reason I’m starting to feel gratitude, is that–at age 38, which is 15 years after it started in my early twenties–I feel I have finally had my “fill” of mania for this lifetime.
I used to love the manias–the feel so wild and fun and sexy and creative–and they felt part of my “wild and crazy” identity, which felt authentic at the time, and which worked for me as a persona for my writing.
But there is now a visceral sense of “OK, I’m good on that one for this life.”
That doesn’t mean I’m about to give up writing and go become an accountant or a corporate lawyer or something. I will always seek to retain my provocative edge in my writing. But it does mean I’m looking forward to a more even-keel going forward. I’m starting to eye down my 40s, and I think this is a good transition point into a more mature, sane life.
Perhaps I needed “one last hurrah” of my manias to let them go. And boy did I get it (as you probably felt if you were reading my Facebook this spring and early summer.) I apologize if I alarmed anyone, it is not my intention to make you use up any bandwidth worrying for my safety or sanity.
But I’ve always been committed to sharing my reality in more-or-less real time, no matter how foolish I look at times. I think that is my contribution to giving us all permission to dance with the trickster and the fool at times, and to pick ourselves up and keep going after.
I am now turning my attention fully to my book launch, as “The Last Safe Investment” is coming out January 5th. For any fans of “The Education of Millionaires” out there–whichever ones are still following me after I’ve been filling my Facebook with kink, dominance and submission, and psychedelics for the past year!–you are going to love this book.
What I did for the higher education industry (and more empowering alternatives to it) in the last book, Bryan Franklin and I do for the entire personal finance industry in this book, a much more complex topic. No flimsy, opportunistic sequel here. This book took three years of intense research and head-pounding-on-screen writing, through multiple drafts and rewrites, and we’re proud to offer the finished product to you, and to jump start a rethink on our nation’s entire investing, personal finance, and retirement landscape–in the next month.
Thank you to everyone who helped me get through this period. Thank you to my parents, and thank you to all my friends, who have been so supportive during this time. And on this forum, here, thank you to all my friends and readers who have stuck with me through all the ups and downs.
Love,
Michael
