Archives for Treatments

Dual-Diagnosis

Why can’t we understand the link between teens, drugs and depression?

I just read an article that suggested teens with mental illnesses should be screened for substance abuse.

To which my inner teen said, "D'uh!"

The article also suggested that treatment for  SUD and MI in teens should be integrated and not on parallel tracks.

"Double D'uh!"

I can't believe that articles like this still are written. Did we learn nothing from Curt Cobain?

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Alcoholism

How my depression nearly killed my sobriety

This month I celebrate 17 years of sobriety. Let me say that again. This month I celebrate 17 years of sobriety.

I can't believe I just said that because it seems so impossible and sounds so weird coming from my mouth.

17 years.

How the heck did that happen?

One day at a time. I also followed suggestions, especially from a doctor friend who told me about 12 years ago that I was in a major depression and needed antidepressants.
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Coping with Depression

Should I let a lovely day at the beach ruin my mental health?

I have a rash and it is messing with my head.

I have had this rash for three weeks now. Two trips to the dermatologist and a biopsy and still, its cause is unknown. It is definitely an allergic reaction but to what, no one knows. My diet, soaps, lotions, animals in my life have not changed.

Obviously, this rash is frustrating. Constant itching, little bumps and more itching. I have tried every anti-itch cream on the market and everyone's home remedies.

But here is the real problem with this rash - it has forced me to take and perhaps take away the medication I need to protect my mental health.
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Alcoholism

Government scrubs substance-abuse data but doesn’t tell researchers

What if the government decided to withhold the data it gathers on an insidious mental illness that affects nearly one in ten Americans and did not bother to tell researchers it had done so?

It happened. The data are collected by the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services. The mental illness - substance abuse.

The New England Journal of Medicine exposed these shenanigans and explained the consequences in an article published in April: Protection or Harm? Suppressing Substance-Use Data, by Austin B. Frakt and Nicholas Bagley. According to the authors, the CMS began to withhold from its data sets, called the Research Identifiable Files, any Medicare or Medicaid claim with a substance abuse diagnosis.

Why? Patient privacy concerns. Why didn't the CMS tell researchers? Good question.
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Alcoholism

My closet filled with little boxes of bad deeds

In my mind there is a closet. It has one shelf and I must stand on my tip-toes to reach the little brown boxes on it.

I don’t reach for those boxes often because what is in those boxes scares the hell out of me. Each box contains a memory of an event that I wish had never happened or that I pray never will happen.

I only pull one of those boxes down and unwrap it when I know I need to. One box hold the memory of a car accident I had while drinking more than 30 years ago. I wrapped a 1972 Gran Torino – a massive vehicle – around a telephone pole.
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General

Botox: The new antidepressant?

Halle-freakin'-lujah!

We have a couple more studies that suggest that paralyzing key facial muscles with Botox can reduce the symptoms of depression.

In a recent 24-week randomized double-blind placebo-controlled study, done by Michelle Magid, MD, clinical associate professor of psychiatry at the University of Texas, 30 participants with depressive symptoms were randomized and give injections of Botox or a placebo between the eyebrows (which happens to be exactly where I need it.)

The men were injected with 39 units of botulinum and the women were injected with 29 units. At week 12, the placebo group crossed over to treatment, and the treatment group crossed over to placebo.Participants were evaluated at weeks 0, 3, 6, 12, 15, 18, and 24. The primary outcome was a reduction from baseline of at least 50% in the 21-item Hamilton Depression Rating Scale score.

In a yet-to-be-published study in the in the Journal of Psychiatric Research, Eric Finzi, a cosmetic dermatologist, and Norman Rosenthal, a professor of psychiatry at Georgetown Medical School, randomly assigned a group of 74 patients with major depression to receive either Botox or saline injections in the forehead muscles that enable us to frown.

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Coping with Depression

‘Tis the season: Depression and seasonal-affective disorder

For those of you with depression who live in areas that are expecting life-threatening cold weather this week, I am not going to say "I feel your pain." I don't and I won't insult you by saying it.

Although I have felt your pain in my lifetime, I do not feel your pain now because I live in Florida. I also won't insult you by telling you what the weather is like in West Palm Beach right now.

I was born and raised in northwest Wisconsin and southwest Michigan. Phrases like "wind chill," "lake effect," "black ice" and "sub-zero" were part of my daily vocabulary for about five months of the year.

The only thing worse than the temperature was the sky - so uniformally gray that it looked like someone had painted it one solid color. There were no clouds per se - just one massive, flat gray cloud that covered the entire sky for as far as you could see. Nine hours separated sunrise and sunset but it would be months before you would ever see the sun again so it didn't really matter if it was day or night.
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Alcoholism

Free mental health care: Moving beyond the freeloader mentality

Every Saturday morning I refill my pink pill box: S-M-T-W-T-F-S. I have been doing this for years. Three different medications. One of this pill. One of that pill. One-and-a-half of those pills. Every morning and every night, I take my meds. It's like brushing my teeth - just something I do when I wake up and before I go to bed.

My meds. I go weeks without giving a thought to my meds. I just take them. My life is good. No more hopeless black holes or vibrating with energy like a wide-eyed racehorse pawing at the dirt in the starting gate. Nice and steady. I have grown used to it and I really, really like it.

So, when something comes along that has the potential to seriously disrupt my balance, I tend to freak out. Anxiety is the enemy. Drama is the enemy. I have made enough enemies in my life. I don't need to make anymore.

There are three things that scare the hell out of me: Sharks. Being trapped in a car after an accident and cut out with the jaws of life; unemployment. As long as I stay out of the ocean and drive safely, I'm in good shape. Right now, unemployment is beyond my control.

And I like to be in control.
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Coping with Depression

The Intersection Between Violence, Depravity, Depression and My Career

I am a newspaper reporter. In the 30 years I've been doing it, I've seen some horrific stuff - crimes and atrocities that grab headlines and break hearts. Last week I covered a case that knocked the emotional wind out of me.

I am hoping that my editors don't read this. If they do, I'm afraid they will say I'm too weak to cover these kinds of stories - which I am not. Just the opposite.

Anyone who is regularly exposed to grisly violence and depravity and tells you it doesn't affect them is either a liar or a sociopath. Yes, you can train yourself to disregard emotions and focus on your responsibilities - your job. You can wear emotional oven mitts when you have to reach in and touch the searing reality of what has happened.

But you cannot stuff your feelings or bury them forever. They are there, waiting to be acknowledged. If you ignore and deny them long enough, they will haunt you and stalk you until you either give in or become a mean, nasty, sarcastic and heartless son-of-a bitch.

It's your choice - and it is a choice. I learned that lesson the hard way. Some people will drink or take drugs to take the edge off what they have seen or heard or smelled or touched. Some will become violent themselves. Many will become depressed.

I covered criminal courts for 12 years, which meant I hunted down the by-product of rage, terror and inexplicable tragedy every day. I trolled the hallways of the courthouse every morning in search of the saddest, most horrific, bizarre and violent stories on display that day.

In south Florida, where I have worked for most of my career, that's saying something.

My mother, who lived her life in the midwest, would read my stories and say, "Things like this just don't happen in Grand Rapids." In my head I responded, "No shit."

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