I love dogs. All dogs. Big, little, good, bad. I am passionate about dogs and I don’t understand why there are entire channels devoted to food and shopping, which, when you think about it, is kind of messed up. But no dog channel.

“Dog” my main man

I believe in the healing power of dogs. My dearly-departed weimaraner, Belle, dragged my butt out of bed on long walks when I was in my last deep depression.

In the middle of the night, when I could not sleep, she was there saying, “Hey, since you can’t sleep, let’s go for a walk!” She slept beside me. Watched me and waited for me to get better. She didn’t give up on me.

Now, watching The Dog Whisperer, I am learning about my energy. I have hypomania – bipolar II. Even before I was diagnosed 7 years ago, I knew I had what is known as “a strong personality.”

When I am manic, I can walk into a room and folks lean back in their chairs or take a step back, like they were hit by a strong, unexpected wind. I feel like a racehorse in the starting gate, wild-eyed, pawing at the dirt – “Open the frickin’ gate!”

I never really paid much attention to the effect my energy had on others but The Dog Whisperer is teaching me. “Calm and assertive,” Cesar Millan says. Do you have any idea how hard “calm and assertive” is for someone with bipolar disorder? The assertive part I can do. No problem. But simultaneously being calm AND assertive – that’s the pinnacle of enlightenment for folks with a bipolar disorder.

I probably wouldn’t give a damn about “calm and assertive” if I had not seen the astounding effect is has when The Dog Whisperer does it. Every episode I am shown how a dog reacts to its owner’s anxiety, fear, anger and affection and then how an owner reacts to her dog’s anxiety, fear, anger and affection and so on and so on…

London, former hater of ironing-boards

The Dog Whisperer arrives on the scene and explains how the energy thrown off by the owner affects the dog.  Then he starts throwing off calm and assertive energy and the frickin’ dog behaves! It’s like the dog is some kind of psychic sponge and soaks up his calm and assertive energy. Be mindful of the energy you are throwing around, The Dog Whisperer says.

I was skeptical until I tried it on my dogs. It worked instantly. As soon as I threw out some calm assertive energy the bulldog stopped attacking the ironing board – which is kind of unfortunate because I hate ironing and I used the bulldog’s demonic behavior as an excuse not to iron.

Then I tried the calm and assertive thing when I come home from work. That’s when my dogs do their happy-happy-joy-joy break-dance. One night, instead of bursting in like a high-school cheerleader, I walked in the door without a word. No touch. No talk. No eye contact.  Calm and assertive.The dogs politely wagged and followed me into the kitchen, where I calmly poured myself an iced-tea and asked them how their day was.

Now I am practicing the calm and assertive thing on people. I inventory my energy and adjust it if necessary. Last week I had a big loud guy tell me how he used to be afraid of me. I was shocked, because I falsely see myself as such a sweet pea. But he was right. I’m sure I did scare the sh#t out of a lot people.

I think this is what psychologists call “cognitive behavioral therapy” and it probably costs a lot to learn on their couches. It’s a lot easier – and cheaper – to do in my living room with The Dog Whisperer, my pooches and the remote control.

Unfortunately, right now I have to go. I need to iron a shirt and get to work. Thanks, Dog Whisperer.

If you recall, back in January the president signed a package of 23 executive orders – called “Now is the time” – in response to the horrific shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School. All but four of those addressed gun control.  The other four pertained to mental health. One of those specifically addressed parity and the need to “finalize requirements for private health insurance plans to cover mental health services.”

According to executive order #22:

“The Administration intends to issue next month the final rule defining these essential heath benefits and implementing requirements for these plans to cover mental health benefits at parity with medical and surgical benefits.”

“Next month”was February. It’s now June and we still don’t have final rules. What part of “next month“ does the president not understand?

The rules are vital. They not only provide guidance but also penalties for insurance companies that fail to provide the same level of care for mental illnesses that they do for physical illnesses. That means co-pays, deductibles, hospital stays and preventative care. Without the rules, the law has no teeth.

The ball is in the president’s court. He must issue draft rules, which must then be published in the Federal Register, followed by a public comment period and then issuance of final rules. Even if he proposed draft rules today, that procedure would take at least until the end of the year.

Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius responded yesterday to questions about the parity rules by saying the administration would likely issue the draft rules by the end of the year. Kennedy then stood and delivered an impassioned plea to not only release the draft rules but ensure that they contain “public discolure requirements…so we can measure whether they are complying.”

“What would be essential in the final rule is the public disclosure requirements so we know when an insurance company is medically necessary decisions, they treat the brain like they would treat the heart if there was a heart attack or cancer if someone had cancer,” Kennedy said. In other words, we need to be able to “measure equal treatment with public disclosure.”

So, let’s all pull out our calendars and flip to what Sebelius referred to as “the end of the year.” On my calender that’s December – as in December 2013 – exactly 5 years after Congress passed the the Paul Wellstone and Pete Domenici Mental Health Parity and Addiction Equity Act.

We will wait, as we have for nearly five years. But as you said Mr. President, “Now is the time.”

Calendar image available from Shutterstock.

Pot got me high and it was non-addictive, right? I mean, what could possibly be wrong with using a non-addictive, mind-altering drug everyday? Coke and heroin – now those drugs are addictive. You don’t want to get messed up with those drugs. But pot? It’s non-addictive. It must be fine. Just look at Snoop Dogg.

I’ve been thinking about my old non-addictive marijuana habit lately in the wake of the release of the DSM-5. Among the additions, caffeine and cannabis withdrawal. Caffeine withdrawal I totally understand. I remember the headaches and intense craving for a cup of D-squared (Dunkin’ Donuts) when I found out I was pregnant and had to go cold turkey. Caffeine withdrawal is very, very real.

But pot? How could my beloved non-addictive marijuana habit have withdrawal symptoms? I don’t recall having any withdrawal symptoms but that could be because as soon as I stopped smoking pot, I started drinking again. My non-addictive marijuana withdrawal symptoms probably got rolled into my hangovers and I totally missed them.

However, marijuana withdrawal is real. A 2012 study of 384  adult, non-treatment-seeking lifetime cannabis smokers found that 40.9% of subjects met the DSM-V criterion of ≥3 symptoms from a list of 7.

According to the DSM-V, the symptoms of withdrawal must be severe enough to cause the person substantial problems with functioning at work or in social situations – or significant impairment in functioning in other important areas. These symptoms include:

Anger, irritability or feelings of aggression

Depressed mood

Feelings of restlessness

A loss of appetite (or weight loss)

Insomnia or other sleeping problems

Feelings of anxiety or nervousness

Physical symptoms of withdrawal, such as headache, stomach pains, increased sweating, fever, chills or shakiness. To count as symptoms of withdrawal at least one of the above listed physical symptoms must be present and the severity of the symptom(s) must be great enough to cause substantial discomfort.

I haven’t smoked pot in a very long time. From what I hear, the stuff that is around now contains more tetrahydrocannabinol, THC, than it did back in the days when I was smoking non-addictive marijuana everyday.

You’re not going to have the same withdrawal symptoms as you would quitting oxycodone or crack, but there will be withdrawal symptoms. I masked mine with alcohol. Regardless, the point is that you’re fooling yourself if you think pot is non-addictive. If you use it daily, as I did, it is addictive.

If you don’t believe me, try to go a month without smoking pot, drinking alcohol or taking some other substance in its place – like Xanax or another benzo. Just 30 days. See how that feels. How hard was that?

How often did you think about getting high? How badly did you want to get high? How awkward did you feel in situations in which you normally would have been high? Have any dreams about pot? Counting down those 30 days until you could get high again?

Could be you’re addicted to non-addictive marijuana.

Man smoking marijuana image available from Shutterstock.

In my darkest, suicidal moments she is what kept me from “doing it.” I believed and actually told my therapist and doctor that if anything “happened” to her – as in death – I would be “out of here”" – as in suicide.

That is no longer true. I realized this on Mother’s Day. I truly love my daughter more than I ever dreamed I was capable of loving anyone. I would lay down my life for her without a second-thought. But I could – and would – go on if anything “happened” to her. She is not my only reason for living and I do not want to place that burden upon her.

I consider this progress. My life has evolved beyond the lonely, self-absorbed nights shared with a couple of bottles of chardonnay and the despair of depression to living with the knowledge that I have the power to control my alcoholism and depression. It is work and most of it goes on between my ears – unseen by my daughter or anyone else. But progress is not only my willingness to do the work but actually doing it. Just do it. Take the meds. Go to therapy. Make and take that phone call. Attend meetings. Ask for help. Pray.

Young woman in the city image available from Shutterstock.

Co-worker: “Hey, you’re back. Were you on vacation?”

Me: “No. I was sick.” End of conversation, I walk away, hoping there are no further questions about my illness.

Despite having gone public and written about my depression and alcoholism for 8 years, I still cringe when I take time off because of my depression. I would think nothing of discussing my ailment if it was the flu or strep throat, but admitting that I took time off to deal with my depression somehow makes me feel weak and lazy – like I’m a fraud.

Then I feel bad about feeling bad about feeling weak and lazy because I’m the one always ranting about how depression is real – it is a bona fide illness and the #1 workplace disability in the U.S.

So, why is it that when it’s my turn at bat, I bunt? In most areas of my life I don’t give a rat’s butt about what other people think of me. I confidently do the next right thing without fear of being judged. I have no problem admitting I am a recovered alcoholic. In fact, I’m in awe and proud that I have not had a drink in nearly 15 years.

But when it comes to saying that I had to take time off work because of my depression, I feel like a dog with its tail between its legs. I feel like I’m faking it. Like somehow a fever and snot running from my nose is more legitimate than being paralyzed by hopelessness and an intense fatigue.

My mother was a farmer’s daughter and I was taught to pull myself up by my bootstraps. Suck it up. Do what needs to be done and don’t make a stink about it. A little voice in my head says, “You’ve run marathons. You can dead-lift 195 pounds. You love the tiny roar of your little 14-inch  Barbie chainsaw. Now get off your ‘effing ass and get to work. You know you’re faking this so you can get time off work.”

The logical side of my brain, which apparently is very small, says, “Look, you make a living using your brain. You’re a journalist. You must have razor sharp focus, recall and the ability to analyze events and organize your thoughts. You really think you can do that right now?”

Help me out here. Does anyone else feel this way?

*Update: Still working on the generic issue.

Coffee at the office photo available from Shutterstock

For once I did what I was told to do – called the nurse practitioner – and she helped pull me out of it. I told her I had not hit bottom and had not thought of suicide but I was definitely on my way down. Her first question: Are you on the generic*? I had to check the bottle and indeed, I was.

Before tweeking my cocktail, which has worked well for years, she wrote me a script for the brand name. If that’s the problem, you should start to feel better in a couple of days, she told me. If not, then we’ll look at changing doses. Thankfully, I did feel better after a couple of days. It still took most of the week for that foggy, thick feeling in my head to clear up. But I am feeling much, much better.

Which begs the question: What’s up with generic antidepressants? My nurse practitioner said I am her third patient who has had problems with this particular antidepressant’s generic version and her last patient ended up in the hospital. I also take Wellbutrin and found out that the FDA took a second look at the generic version of Wellbutrin XL 300 after complaints that it wasn’t working. I have an appointment coming up and want to find out if we should report this to the FDA.

The weird thing is that I had been on the generic version for awhile and didn’t have any problems. I have a mail-order prescription program through my company’s insurance program. I get a three-month supply for the ridiculously low price of $60. I had just refilled the prescription and started taking the newly filled generic about two-three weeks before I tanked.

I hadn’t felt well during those few weeks and after a little research discovered that the symptoms I experienced were similar to withdrawal symptoms. Is it possible that I got a bad batch? Or is it that my body up and decided that it didn’t like the generic anymore and wanted the real deal?

I want to to know.

* I deliberately left out the name of the drug. Last thing I need is to be sued by a pharmaceutical company.

Pills and prescription photo available from Shutterstock

I sent my boss an email and told him I would not be in today – maybe the rest of the week. I called my psych nurse – which I hardly ever do – and she said she thought it could be the generic antidepressant I’m taking. She prescribed the brand name and $152 later, we shall see if she is right.

I went back to bed. When I got up, I had slept 15 of 17 hours. I could have slept more but I dragged myself out of bed. I know the longer I lay in a dark room the worse this will be. Prone is the enemy.

I am going to try to describe that it feels like when the depression becomes debilitating. First, I am tired. It is a consuming exhaustion. All my muscles, especially those in my face feel slack. The back of my eyeballs ache. Everything – my thinking especially – is thick and heavy. It feels like you are living underwater and every movement requires effort. Life feels relentless. I just want to sit here and stare off into space, or sleep.

Driving back from the pharmacy I told myself, “this is not real. This is a chemical imbalance in your brain. This will not last. This is not what your life is about. You will feel better.”

I don’t feel any better. That’s the problem with antidepressants. You have no idea how long it will take for them to kick in or if they will ever kick in – which sucks.

My dog needs a walk and I do not want to walk him. I want to go back to bed. But I have to walk him and this is a good thing. Thank God for that mutt. I know I need to get up and move. So does he.

After that, I am going to the gym. Frankly, I would rather pluck my eyebrows with a pair of pliers because everything feels futile right now. But I know this is the right thing to do. In my last major depression – the big one 8 years ago – I went to the gym everyday. It got me out of the house and even though they were fairly lame workouts, I did them – alone – but I did them.

I’m heading out the door now. It’s time to go. I really feel like crap but it’s time to go. Time to go.

Depression image available from Shutterstock

“Using positron emission tomography, or PET, the researchers tested 49 men with two scans, one in which they tasted beer and the second in which they tasted Gatorade. They were looking for evidence of increased levels of dopamine, a brain neurotransmitter. The scans showed significantly more dopamine activity following the taste of beer than the sports drink. Moreover, the effect was significantly greater among participants with a family history of alcoholism.”

Research has already linked dopamine to drug and alcohol use but apparently this is the “first experiment in humans to show that the taste of an alcoholic drink alone, without any intoxicating effect from the alcohol, can elicit this dopamine activity in the brain’s reward centers,” said David A. Kareken, Ph.D., professor of neurology at the IU School of Medicine and the deputy director of the Indiana Alcohol Research Center.

How did they do this study: Forty-nine men tasted their preferred beer and Gatorade.  Small amounts of the beer and Gatorade were sprayed into the their mouths. The amounts were so small – 15 milliliters over 15 minutes – that the men could taste the beer without causing a detectable blood-alcohol level.

Here’s the really interesting part for us alcoholics: “The stronger effect in participants with close alcoholic relatives suggests that the release of dopamine in response to such alcohol-related cues may be an inherited risk factor for alcoholism, Dr. Kareken said.” Results of the study were published online Monday by the journal Neuropsychopharmacology, the official publication of the American College of Neuropsychopharmacology.

Here’s the really interesting part for for us women alcoholics: The study wasn’t done on women. Maybe the results would be the same. However, 54-years on this planet has taught me that  a woman’s brain work differently than a man’s brain.

Could you do the study again on women and perhaps using Chardonnay and hot chocolate? Or champagne and  lemonade?

I have to wonder how much of a role psychology played in this study. For a man, his favorite beer is likely to evoke memories of steak on the barbecue or watching the Green Bay Packers crush the Pittsburgh Steelers in Super Bowl XLV (Go Packers!). I know that released some dopamine in my brain. Gatorade, on the other hand, reminds me of sweat, a pounding heart and getting my ass kicked at spin class. An endorphin rush, yes, but dopamine? I think not.

Spray some chardonnay in the back of my throat (which isn’t going to happen because I’ve been sober almost 15 years), and I’m going to think a candle-light bath with Billie Holiday singing  in the background. Spritz some champagne in my mouth and I’m going to think wedding toasts and New Year’s Eve.

So, what I’m wondering is…couldn’t the memory of a taste associated with a pleasant or unpleasant event skew the results?

I’m an alcoholic but beer was not my preferred libation of choice – although I did train my dog to jump up and grab a lime off our lime tree for my Corona. I can sit here, too, and get a rush thinking about sipping hot chocolate high in the mountains while taking a break from skiing.

I don’t know if any of this really matters. It’s just something that’s been bugging me since I read about this study. I’m still a recovered alcoholic no matter.

The important thing is that there are researchers out there trying to figure out how the brains of addicts and alcoholics work – research that has been overlooked for many, many years. So God bless the researchers who did this study. Keep at it. Maybe someday you can figure out what causes these terrible illnesses.

In the meantime, Go Packers!

Beer photo available from Shutterstock

In times like these, we need – really need – to do something. Not just anything, but something that will help yourself and others. It’s just the way we are programmed, especially if you have been through some horrific event before. Some people have special prayers they say during tragedies. Others talk about it incessantly. And some people charge their cellphones. It’s an emotional security blanket.

For me, it’s batteries. AAA, AA, C, D – any battery that will illuminate a flashlight in those dark, powerless nights after a hurricane. I have been through several hurricanes. They scare the hell out of me. When my home is at the end of projected paths The Weather Channel starts drawing while the storm is still hundreds of miles away, I buy batteries.

Makes me feel better.

I don’t hoard batteries. I just have a lot of batteries in my freezer. There is still plenty of room for frozen pizza and those mysterious lumps of something once-edible that are wrapped in aluminum foil. But the door of the freezer is home to my collection of batteries. They not only give me peace of mind, they also make me very popular on Christmas morning.

For me, it’s important to have an emotional security blanket. It calms my anxiety, which makes me a more pleasant human being and prevents me from being swallowed by my hypomania. I don’t feel quite so helpless – before and after something horrible happens. Having a fully-charged cellphone means I can make my calls and then let someone else make their calls. Having batteries means those long, dark, powerless nights after a hurricane won’t be quite so scary for me – and the person I share my batteries with.

For me, anxiety and helplessness equal depression or mania. Of course, I need perspective. I could very easily fill my freezer with batteries, which would mean no more frozen pizza and throwing out the mystery lumps wrapped in aluminum foil. I need to feel I could help myself – and others – in the wake of horrific events.

I need my emotional security blanket – and frozen pizza.

Battery image available from Shutterstock

Keypad image available from Shutterstock