Category Archives: wellness

optimizing my brain

It has become fashionable, the past few years, to attempt to “hack” one’s brain.  This is an attempt to get one’s brain to run better, faster, smarter.  It is also a great way to sell something called “nootropics“, a futuristic, Orphan Black-esque term for a new wave of vitamins (mostly amino acids and vitamin B derivatives) that are supposed to aid with such “hacking”.

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This is your brain…ON THE FUTURE

I believe, to an extent, that there is some brain “hacking” that can be done, although I do not love the term.  To me, it smacks of Silicon Valley bro-ness, the kind of toxic masculinity that has made the tech industry deeply awful for women.  I prefer to think of it as brain optimization, rather than hacking, as optimizing my brain is really about understanding the 2+ pounds of electricity and protein that lives inside my skull, that contains everything I am.  If I can better understand the mechanisms that govern the electrical impulses that make up my thoughts, then can I get a better grip on the efficiency of those thoughts?

I recently read Stealing Fire, a book on the use of substances or other methods of altering one’s brain for extraordinary results.  While it does focus extensively on the use of mind-altering drugs, it counts everyday substances in that category, everything from coffee to prescription medications. We may not all be using ketamine for out of body experiences, but most of us are using some form of chemical to alter our brains.  It was an interesting perspective, much more on the metaphysical plane, putting the quest for brain control and mind altering more into the realm of philosophy (“I think, therefore I am” sort of meta-ness), telling a universal human story rather than limiting the results to th emore prosaic productivity boost that “brain hacking” promises.  “Stealing Fire” was a more grandiose picture of mankind’s ongoing quest to lift up our mental and spiritual energy through physical substance (see also: Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas), and it contextualized the “brain hacking” trend as really just being a small corner of that quest.

My own quest falls somewhere in between the metaphysical and the mundane, as it’s directly related to the mental and spiritual effects of having a chronic depressive condition.  For the decade plus that I took Wellbutrin, from 2005 until, well, six weeks ago, I grappled with its effects on my actual being.  Was being on this substance altering who I was, in any way?  My ultimate answer to that question was that not only did that particular non-SSRI antidepressant not change who I was, it actually allowed me to be the person I was meant to be.  It was a substance that unlocked my brain.  The Wellbutrin reduced the paralyzing depression that had previously impacted my ability to live my life on a consistent basis.   Problem solved, I thought, at the time, as I went on to build my life, meeting my husband, building my career, moving to Brooklyn, building the Scout organization, building my friend circle – my life is extensive, expansive, and has few limits on how much I can do in it.

Reducing the impact of the biological condition of depression actually brought forth who I am as a person, allowing me to explore my own mental and spiritual state without the intervening detriment of poor mental health.

The problem is that the substance I relied on to make me, well, me, wasn’t consistent.  My depression flare-ups became longer and increased in frequency over time.  When I changed my body’s response to food by switching to a Paleo food lifestyle in 2013 , the condition improved again.  And over time, rather than change my dosage, I began to try to identify more and more ways that weren’t the Wellbutrin that would net similar results to the antidepressant: cardio or HIIT exercise, being in sunlight, not drinking, avoiding grains and dairy, avoiding sugar, getting a good night’s sleep, meditation, journaling, etc.  Some of the tools made more difference than others, but overall, I began to understand what had an impact on my brain, and began to understand the links between the mental, the physical, and the spiritual.

All these physical, mental and spiritual factors are interconnected, and we cannot separate them if we wish to be whole and happy.

And then I finally faced reality.  The antidepressants I had been taking weren’t working.  They likely hadn’t worked for some time.  In fact, in November, my brain wouldn’t recognize the anti-depressants or the caffeine I added to them each day,   I thought I had Lyme disease, I was so exhausted, until I finally cut back on caffeine, added some nootropics, and felt better for a while.  I made it through the winter, and then as soon as we hit the March equinox, I went off the substance I had been using for thirteen years to alter my brain chemistry.

Needless to say, it was unpleasant.  The first few weeks, I could only stay awake until 2pm.  Twenty-five years of caffeine reliance plus thirteen years of using a stimulant as a basic part of my brain chemistry did not allow me to remain at one 8oz cup of coffee per day.  Instead, I felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut, drooping and looking for the system that had pulled me through my life.  I started eating for energy, as working from home gives me endless access to snacks, many of them of the higher carbohydrate variety from Ben’s snack assortment.  I could barely drag myself to the gym or through workouts, I was so tired, yet I couldn’t sleep at night. It was a textbook withdrawal.

Two weeks of this and I was almost in tears at the lack of productivity and the lost time.  A month in, and I sprained my ankle and had to weigh in at the doctor on my visit and realize, it wasn’t just that I’d lost time, I’d gained almost ten pounds of weight that would have to come back off if I was to fit in my client visit suit or my tick-proof camp pants ever again.  This isn’t just about vanity or societal pressure, but about not having to replace my utilitarian clothing in a larger size.

So now I have to not only hack my brain to run without antidepressants, but also have to “hack” my own EXTREMELY STUBBORN biology to lose the weight.  Which is a whole other entry as well.

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Yep, this about sums it up.  Thanks @lacomtessejamie

And I have to recognize that despite all this “hacking” or “optimization”, or whatever I wish to call it, there are going to be days when I just…can’t.  Last night, I had a rough day “at” work, in that I made a major misunderstanding on one of my new accounts in how I interpreted an agenda topic as related to the client’s business.  I also failed to move outside the house, choosing instead to rest my ankle.  I was also tired by 4pm as a result, and I just felt hopeless.  How am I supposed to live my life, I thought, if I can’t stay awake until 4pm even with a good night’s sleep, if I have an ankle that will seemingly NEVER HEAL, if I can’t even understand the job I am supposed to be good at

There are always going to be days in which I feel like I can’t.  And it’s going to be hard to change that and say, I can, without having a stimulant to get me all hyped up and enthusiastic.

So now, what I have to work on, is getting up every day and saying, “I can,” and pushing myself through the work that will optimize my brain to replace the load of stimulants that I cranked through it since I was a twentysomething junior digital media buyer living in Venice Beach.  I am a different person now: I acquired several additional layers of person along the way, including a husband and son.  I built a life in which many people rely on me: my friends, my colleagues, my community.  I built that life using a brain I used a commercial antidepressant to optimize.  Now I have to achieve the same results without that medication.

Most of the time, I feel like this is a story where the moral is that the Wellbutrin didn’t actually work, and therefore was really only a “magic rock” kind of thing: I did this all by myself and the antidepressant was believing in myself all along!  And then I’m tired at 4pm or can’t sleep CLOWN’LL EAT ME and think, why did I give up the stimulants that gave me the energy to push through this, even if they weren’t actually fixing the problem I took them to fix?

The answer is, because those antidepressants, while they worked great to correct my perception of my condition, weren’t fixing the actual problem that causes my depression.  I have a genetic biological condition that alters my brain chemistry enough to impact my mental state.  The NRI was just pushing me through that condition by effectively overriding it.  The most recent research on depression suggests it is more akin to a flare up of a biological condition than just a matter of “being sad”.  Taking a stimulant every single day may have forced my brain to remain in an upbeat state by altering my brain chemistry and increasing the amount of norepinephrine floating around in it, but it doesn’t fix the underlying physical flare-up that caused that mental state to occur in the first place.

And that physical aspect of the condition – that I can optimize.  For that, I can take physical, real-space actions to reduce the impact on my mental health.  That’s where all this brain “hacking”, optimization, whatever one wants to call it – that’s where it comes in.  It’s a quest for the “true self” on a higher level, but on a day to day basis, it’s “what actions can I take to keep my brain in a healthy state where it will crank out client presentations and not sink into a state of despair?

And that – that is another entry, for another day.  Probably tomorrow.  Because one of the bright sides to being benched with the ankle this week, is that I have extra commute time to re-invest in writing blog posts – one of the other many things I’ve identified that makes my brain a little happier.  A few days of writing, a return to a solid meditation practice, it’ll all help optimize my brain.

don’t touch it, don’t look at it

I can’t remember which of my childhood stories that’s from, but it’s from something my mother found hilarious enough to quote whenever she was trying to get me to allow her to apply an aloe vera leaf to a scraped appendage.    It’s how I feel now when I massage in the various ointments I’m applying to my foot.  I started applying a CBD oil based pain relief cream as well as an arnica ointment for bruising and swelling three times daily.  It’s getting easier, but I’m still unable to walk more than a few blocks without setting myself back days of recovery:

May 1st, May 2nd, Mayy 7th.  Swelling down overall but still present at ankle.  No amount of hippie remedies will fix that overnight.

This has been insanely frustrating because spring showed up in NYC literally overnight last week…and then jumped straight to summer.  And then bounced back to spring.  It’s pleasant outside, the trees are in that beautiful light green early leaf, and all the blossoms are out everywhere:

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Prospect Avenue between 8th and Prospect Park West, May 7th

I did get out for almost a “normal” Sunday yesterday: Paul and I went to visit a home that had a bathroom reno completed by contractors we are hiring for our own bathroom renovation project.  We re-did the kitchen in 2016, now we’re re-doing the bathroom.  We’re adulting!  However, this required walking an extra half-mile around Windsor Terrace to get to and from the visited home – even with car service, a “suspicious package” related street closure (read: very likely a burrito wrapped in tinfoil) meant walking an extra quarter-mile on either side of the town-home we were visiting.  By the time we got home, my foot was swelling and the pain in my ankle was reaching a very insistent whining pitch, so I went back to sitting on the couch with my foot on a chair, which seems to be a position from which I can still do things while placating my ankle.

I also biked around Prospect Park later in the afternoon, which was glorious: after two weeks of barely being able to walk, it was like being given wings.  I had arranged to spend some time working out the 2018-2019 Brooklyn Scout planning with the Group Scoutmaster from the former 5th Brooklyn group (now known as 5th Prospect Park), while our sons played baseball at their team’s weekly game.  We got a ton of planning done, our kids’ team tied, and now we have a roadmap for our projected five groups and 200+ Scouts in the borough for the fall (This is a whole separate entry, because Scouting never stops when you are district commissioner for NYC).  To get to said “meeting”, however, I had to bike down to the baseball diamonds in the south end of the Park, and then I figured, why not just finish the loop around the Park instead of taking the bike path back up Prospect Park West.  Why not just cap off a productive afternoon by riding four miles?  So I did, and it reminded me I need to start bike training again for the Epic Ride, and also that while my ankle isn’t as strained by cycling, four miles is plenty.

However, all this activity and normalcy did not come without a price: I ended up having to flat-out lie down to reduce the swelling in my foot by the time I got home.  The swelling is the most painful thing aside from the ankle tendon itself, and having my foot swell up after days of less swelling is extremely painful.  So that was it for productivity for the day: I literally put my foot up, with an ice pack, read a true crime book, and went to bed early.  Today, it’s still painful and prone to swelling, so I’m benched again for the day.  There isn’t much else to be done, right now, until I can heal up enough that a day of light activity doesn’t set me back.

I was also worried that all this activity would add up to be worse in the long run for healing, but based on Internet reading (because we all know the Internet is the best for non-professionals to do their own health research) I think it may actually be OK.  I have setbacks in pain and swelling but that also means I’m exercising the ankle as it heals.  I also do the rehab exercises I was assigned in the hospital: drawing the alphabet twice daily with my foot, stretching it back with a towel, and balancing on my bad leg.  It may take longer to heal, but I’m hoping that it will heal with more usability, and, hopefully, without being too prone to future sprains. This may, however, be purely wishful thinking because I don’t want to have to stay inside with my foot up through a beautiful May weekend.  I could stay home, but then I’d really be missing out on life in general  – and I love my life so much and have so much going on in it that psychologically, that’s not helpful.

Thankfully, I can work from home, so now it’s 9am on Monday and I’m in my “office”, without having to walk the half mile to the subway.  This is one of the things I have gratitude for, every day: that I have a job flexible enough that I can stay home and work.  I can spend a Sunday in “normal” activity and then, since that was too much, take Monday to recover from it.  I’m thankful to have the privilege of being a knowledge worker who isn’t tied to a physical location right now.  That’s been a huge help in healing.  It may make me miserable to be inside all the time during all this spring weather, but at least I’m inside and healing, which is a privilege in itself. Just a few more days, and hopefully, my ankle and foot will be back to normal.

 

 

why am I not more indestructible?

I’m back in Brooklyn, working from home today.  I am, however, still mentally back in Canada, and being extra Victorian by drinking Royal Wedding Tea out of my Hudson’s Bay Company mug:

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I’ll have a cup of colonial inferiority complex served in some commercialized imperialism, please.

HBC related apologies aside (including apologies for Frontier), it always makes me both sad to leave my family and my homeland, and happy and excited to be back in Brooklyn.  I love Brooklyn so much, and I’m always so glad to get back to it, but I also regret that I’m not able to more spontaneously and regularly spend time with my people.

Also, this weekend’s travel did set me back more than I expected.  I was doctor cleared to travel, so I assume I just need a day at home with my foot up and a bag of TJ’s Frozen Spinach over the injury zone.  Still, this morning, I got up and realized it hurt more to walk than it has since last Wednesday…and my foot has bloated like it went on a salt binge when I wasn’t looking:

That’s yesterday on the left, today on the right.  The angles are different but my foot definitely looks puffier.  The bruising is down a bit though and it’s more…foot colored overall, but I keep underestimating how difficult this injury is going to be, and overestimating my general indestructiveness.  I am generally sturdy as hell, having inherited my father’s rugby player frame, and I’m tough to physically break as a result.  Having an injury that is taking more than a week to heal is killing me psychologically because I keep assuming I’m going to be better each day when I wake up, and then putting my foot on the floor, yowling in pain, crying in frustration, and generally refusing to accept reality.

I was totally despairing earlier today and then I put on a Spotify mix and perked up.  It’s actually incredible the psychological benefits that a good playlist has:

An hour of music and bullet journal work later and I was actually reasonably cheerful and ready to take on my to-do list.  These are the kind of psychological tools I find useful.  And with my mind in a better state, and my task list in order, I was able to find some additional perspective.  It’s going to require patience to get past this injury. I know, this shouldn’t be a revelation, but I always feel like I just don’t have time, a constant refrain in my head, my own Jesse-Spano-on-caffeine-pills mentality I have to breathe and fight back with actual logic.

The whole situation sucks.  I can be grateful that it’s only a sprain and not a fracture; I can be grateful that this isn’t a torn ligament or worse.  I can be grateful that I don’t have it nearly as bad as, say, my mother, who literally shattered the bones in her lower leg and still can’t put weight on it after almost three months.  Compared to that, complaining about my moderate to severely sprained ankle is kind of being a whiny bitch.  Even with context though, it’s difficult to have this injury right now, when I want to be outside, when I was making progress with fitness, when I was looking forward so much to spring.

 

an attitude of gratitude

I have so much to be grateful for today, not least of which are these guys:

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I’m actually in Toronto right now so I have a lot to be grateful for.  My family are here.  My sister has made a beautiful home away from home for us, literally considering my family’s comfort and wellbeing in building her own family’s house.  We’re grateful to be made to feel so at loved & at home here every time we visit.

I’m also here to visit and cheer up my mother, who has been trapped inside with hew own injury, a broken lower leg, since February.  I’m grateful to have my mother still with us, and grateful to have a strong bond with her.  My sister and I are both close with our mom, another relationship we’re lucky to have.

I’m also grateful for the family I have here to visit: my sister and I have a good relationship as adults, and I adore her daughters, my nieces, who are like little sisters to Ben (grateful for that, too).  They’re beautiful, brilliant, strong, free creatures, each of whom displays emotions and intelligence in equally high amounts.  My brother-in-law is a wonderful guy who is just fun to hang out with, as well as a great husband and father.  My sister has a beautiful family, inside and out, and I’m so grateful to be only two hours away.

I’m listing out all this gratitude right now because it’s just hard to feel grateful for all these blessings when my foot looks like it lost a bar fight to someone a lot meaner:

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From last night: my foot looks like a bloated drunk who got severely beaten up

I’m really trying for gratitude here, in the form of, “I’m grateful I’ve never had an injury worse than this”, but it hurts today after all the activity and exertion yesterday and I can’t go down stairs properly and anything that isn’t being trapped in bed with my foot up causes the fluids to rush back in a very painful way.

Still, the practice of gratitude does make me feel slightly better.  Over the past year, I started using the Best SELF Journal: a daily entry in which I start and finish my day by listing 3 things I’m grateful for.  Sounds like something out of an archived Well and Good article (“The Buzzy Reason These wellness Gurus Start Their Day with Gratitude – And How You Can Too”).  It is, however, a legitimately proven tactic to improve mental wellbeing, so I have added it to my mental toolkit to deal with my depression.

Gratitude may not make up for missing out on physical activity, which is on the list of the Big Things That REALLY Help With Depression.  Walking or running outside are big needle movers for mental wellbeing.  It’s therefore extremely tempting not to be grateful for anything when I’m on Day 5 of hobbling about and don’t know how long this is going to take because I can run again without fear of messing my foot back up.  The challenge is pushing past that self-pity and finding ways to be grateful that are not depending on my physical status.

 

eeyore syndrome

And good morning everyone!

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I’m up and moving this morning, after a LOT of sleep.  It’s been a challenging few days, sleep wise.  It started on Sunday when I had a wonderful time at a friend’s dinner potluck, but a wonderful time that went on too late.  Then on Monday, I had a client dinner, resulting another late evening.  Both nights involved alcohol, both nights were spent someplace that was Not the Gym.  Both nights were absolutely the right decisions to make, but due to alcohol, sugar and lack of exercise, each night’s activity resulted in less sleep, and cost me quite a bit of quality sleep.  By last night, Tuesday, I was dozing sitting up at 7pm, and then, after a dose of Doc Parsley’s Sleep Remedy, slept for almost ten hours from 9pm to 7am.

Unfortunately, I still haven’t been on plan enough the last few days to keep me from being under a little black raincloud this morning.  I have to manage my brain like a finely tuned machine or else I’m prone to what I call “cartoon Eeyore syndrome”:

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That cloud makes it difficult to respond appropriately to external input.  Missing email replies go directly to IRRATIONAL RAGE.  Changes in plans go directly to NOT GOING EITHER.  Inability to get to the gym results in WHY BOTHER ANYWAYS.

The inhabitants of A. A. Milne’s Hundred Acre Wood are, after all, meant to be tropes: they are representatives of aspects of everyone’s personality, avatars for us to map our own traits and emotions onto.  Piglet is Fear, Kanga is Maternal, Rabbit is Anxiety-through-Activity, Owl is Arrogance in Knowledge.  They seem to represent an ideal of the blank mind culminating in Winnie the Pooh.  This concept is built out in The Tao of Pooh, a book that I own and highly recommend.  Looking at that aspect of the children’s stories, I have a toolkit to identify unbalanced behavior and reactions to external causes and realize I’m skewing too far to the Eeyore instead of my normal frenetic Tigger. (BOUNCE)

So there’s a couple of ways to deal with this:

  1. Re-schedule my day so I am prioritizing the things that help my brain.  These include regular exercise, avoiding sugar/alcohol, meditation and engaging in creative activities like writing and music.  Maybe I will go for a walk!
  2. Drink more coffee…oh wait, I can’t just do that anymore because I went and cut back on coffee last year.  I can’t fix gloominess with caffeine induced cheer, and can’t caffeinate my way back into being Tigger.
  3. Once my brain has come out from under the little black rain cloud, address the things that are actually bothering me calmly and with mindfulness and intent.  Lack of email response?  Move to text or phone.  People can’t make it to an event as planned?  Breathe a few times, accept that it isn’t personal, and plan to go anyways.  Not getting to the gym?  Schedule it in and make it non-negotiable, a promise to myself.

That last one has been the biggest challenge and source of stress lately: I’m participating in a Nerd Fitness training program with a virtual trainer that I’m investing a lot of money and time into.  If I don’t follow the plan, then I’m not reaping the benefits of it, yet when it comes time to actually do an activity or make an effort, I am all like, “why bother?” and settle in to ignore it.

And even if I am being Eeyore, I still should focus on the originally concepted version of Eeyore, not the Disney movie version.  As it’s written in this blog post, Eeyore in the books is actually quite patient, self-actualized and has a great sense of humor and perspective despite the other inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Wood flaking on him:

Image is from Anna Ruth Campbell’s blog, where she breaks down and puts back together a deeper and more accurate perception of Eeyore

Like Eeyore, I will be grumpy but ultimately forgiving of everyone who ignores and forgets me by NOT REPLYING to my emails, and I will remain in my Gloomy Place as needed until I can restore balance enough to my brain to come out.  And I’ll go drink some decaf coffee anyways as a placebo, just to bring out my inner Tigger.

 

passiviTV

I have been watching more TV lately.  This started when I realized how much content I could download to my phone or Kindle to watch while in transit on the subway.  This was initially great!  I could immerse myself in television programming any day of the week, not just the one or two days when a favorite show came online.  I started picking entire series to watch, starting with Parks and Rec and adding Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.  I watched a huge chunk of the first season of Outlander while traveling to and from Toronto.  And I could keep watching all the weekly shows that come up in “real time” like Divorce, so long as I watched them on the above ground bus to work in NJ.

Then the TV watching time began to creep up.  I started watching episodes of TV at home, on an actual TV.  I would watch two or three episodes at a time.  Suddenly, entire hours were disappearing.  I would look up and realize I was looking at a screen still at 11pm or midnight, throwing off my sleep schedule and my body’s ability to stay asleep due to the light suppressing the melatonin production I need for a good night’s rest.  I’d make up for that with a melatonin pill, and then I’d wake up groggy and start compensating for that with caffeine.  Which, as I learned last fall, I can only consume in moderation as well.  TV is both a bad influence and a bad habit.

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It isn’t as if I’m watching crappy TV even!  I’m watching a lot of consistently smart, female led, well reviewed content.  CexG , for example, is an extremely smart show, digging into its characters motivations and human frailty and mental health and changing sense of identity with a great sense of compassion and insight, sometimes expressed through musical numbers.  Parks and Rec is one of the best comedies ever, mostly based on the strength of its ensemble.  Neither show relies on gender tropes to build their characters.  Neither is based on laughing at its characters, as some sitcoms consistently do.  They are both well written, compassionate programs.  But they’re also passive content, and as long as I’m sitting there consuming the content, I’m not engaging in anything else.

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Crazy Ex-Girlfriend: the only show to compare our mammary glands to the density of white dwarf stars.

It’s addicting to consume passive content.  It’s addicting to have an entire entertainment feed directly into my brain.  I have always read so much that I’m used to what Jasper Fforde called the “imaginotransference” process in the Thursday Next books.  To have multiple senses provided for me, without having to use any imagination myself, is fantastic.  It is so much richer an experience to see each nuance of a character’s facial expression, to see their setting, to hear their voice. This is why we all universally love television and movies, after all: they are a full display of storytelling that shows us a full, exacting vision, without relying on our brains to place the information in context or create our own visuals.

So as much as I try to justify my consumption of television, I also know I’m being lazy when I watch.  And I also know that as long as I”m watching, I’m not creating anything of my own.  I’m not blogging or writing.  I’m not practicing piano.  I’m consuming someone else’s creation, and as smart as that creation may be, the only good it does me is to be entertained by it.  I’m not thinking my own thoughts when I’m consuming passive content.  Sometimes, that’s OK, because I need a break and it’s nice to be entertained and heartwarmed by someone else’s vision of, say, Pawnee, IN: a place full of hope and positivity.  Other times, it’s just consumption, and it’s just taking up my time…and, to an extent, my energy.

Am I judging passive content?  No.  I’m judging how easy it is to be passive when consuming media.  With the infinite access to entertainment that is Netflix and its counterparts, one can access the cream of the art form of TV, the best comedies that are out there.  Even those of us with very specific comedic preferences (“Female Driven Sitcoms With Women Who Swear A Lot“) can find hundreds of hours of our preferred content on these platforms and watch those hours all at once.  Yes, I’m sure passive TV watching happened before this, but it didn’t happen to me.

I have to figure out more balance in this area.  Still, I enjoy watching these shows.  I’ve rarely watched much TV.  Doing so now opens up my ability to participate in more conversations around what makes a good vs. bad piece of video content.   And it’s also given me a whole new respect for the writers who make their visions happen in the long run.

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cutting back on caffeine IS KILLING ME

A few weeks ago, my brain hit a wall.  That is the best metaphor I can come up with,  not just because I hit a limit, but because that’s what it felt like. It felt like my brain was actually damaged. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t process information or  communicate normally.  There were times when I struggled to string words together, much less manage to go into Marketer Speak Mode, in which I use buzzwords on autopilot to sound authoratative in meetings. (“What we need is a closed digital tracking ecosystem that mirrors the customer journey,” is the kind of phrase I throw out in that mode).

This isn’t an entirely new state for my brain. I am used to a fairly bad depressive jag around November, when the days get shorter and the time change happens. Layering seasonal affective on top of existing clinical depression creates an annual drop in dopamine and serotonin that I can’t keep in check with the same practices that work the rest of the time.

This jag, however, was worse than any other year in that it was not only mentally worse,  but that it brought a whole new set of physical symptoms. I get a slight vertigo when I am in a depressive state, a light dizziness combined with a sense that the world is on a 15 degree angle.  In addition to that, I had a permanent headache that Advil couldn’t fix. And I was completely exhausted,  lethargic in a way beyond my usual seasonal affective disorder. It was bad in that it actually kept me from doing stuff.  I went so far as to be tested for Lyme, and the doctor threw a thyroid test in to boot, but no conventional test could explain the problems I was experiencing.

After ten days of this, I was also running out of hope to get through it. What if I had done something to my brain?  What if I had actually broken it and my usual methods wouldn’t work ever again?  I am used to being able to control my depression with a regime I’ve spent the past five years working on, a base of medication that covers about half the problem, and then a series of lifestyle changes that cover most of the remainder.  But with the extreme lethargy and the headaches, I wasn’t able to get enough exercise, and exercise is a huge part of my mental health regime.  What if I never got past this?

I was complaining about this to a friend, about how I felt.  I told her the physical symptoms reminded me of the times I’ve gone off caffeine suddenly, like I’d been given decaf.  I couldn’t feel the impact of the coffee I was drinking, so I kept slugging back more of it.  Similarly, I couldn’t feel the effects of my antidepressant medication.  Her response was that maybe coffee was actually the problem.  Maybe coffee was over-stressing my brain.  Maybe that was causing part of the issue?

My immediate response when someone suggests I cut back on coffee is OVER MY DEAD BODY.  I’ve been drinking coffee since I was twelve.  I asked my mom if I could start drinking it, and her response was, “It will stunt your…..oh, have a mug.”  At twelve, I wasn’t freakishly tall, but it was obvious stunting my growth would Not Be A Problem, that I was trending after my namesake, “Big Jill”, my 5’11 aunt.  My entire adult brain has therefore been formed around caffeine.  I have a long history of it that I documented twelve years ago when I tried to quit the first time.  I’ve tried quitting in the past, and found that my personality doesn’t function the same way.  Gone is my innate Canadian Tigger-ness.  Instead, I’m much more like a Kanga, a risk-averse milquetoast mom.  (Obviously the last time I did this, I had a toddler.)

However, after ten days of my brain feeling like it was alternately too big for my skull, or missing entirely, I was willing to consider options.  So I did some research.  Turns out coffee can actually damage serotonin receptors over time! It turns out it can also wear out norepinephrine receptors.  I take Burproprion, the generic Wellbutrin, which is a norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor (different than most antidepressants, which are serotonin reuptake inhibitors).  This keeps extra norepinephrine in my brain, which seems to be the missing chemical link in allowing me to function like a normal human most of the time.  Maybe by damaging the receptors with caffeine, I had actually canceled out the effects of the NRI?  Or I had made it difficult for my brain to process serotonin, eliminating a set of positive emotions entirely?  Or I had produced too much cortisol and was exaggerating the effects with coffee?  All the theories sounded like caffeine could be a factor.  Therefore, I decided to cut caffeine back and see what happened.

Ten days ago, I stopped drinking my afternoon pick me up cup of coffee.  And I itched for that coffee.  I would droop at my desk in the overheated client office around 2pm, and long to be able to go down and get an almond milk latte from the in-house coffee bar.  I still need a ten minute nap at 3pm because I can’t just slug back more caffeine like I have trained myself to do so I can push through. (Note that I do not always get said ten minute nap because work).

Last week, I cut from two 12oz cups in the morning to just one 12oz cup.  This would be fine at the time, but then I’d be sleepy mid-afternoon again, and be unable to go get a pick me up cup at 2pm.  On some days, the half-life would wear off as early as 11am and I’d be sleepy before it was even lunchtime.

This week, I’m down to one 8oz cup.  One normal cup.  Granted, I went through 3 cups of organic instant decaf yesterday (partly because I was mixing MCT oil in for a snack) but I’m down to less coffee than I’ve had in twenty-five years.   This isn’t easy for me.  I’m used to combating any fatigue with coffee.    I’m used to caffeine being what powers me through my day.  Now, I’m drinking organic decaf as a placebo, which is useless.  My brain is not fooled, and it wants that steady drip of something that fights off sleepiness through its entire day.

And it may be that the coffee was the problem because I feel better.  Actually, not just better, I feel joyful.  I feel like everything in my world is fantastic (true, my life is awesome) and each and every day will be a wonderful set of experiences.  Most of all, I believe that I will have the energy and the physical ability to actually go and engage with that world instead of being physically and mentally exhausted.  It’s a night and day change from the state I was in ten days ago, where I felt like the world around me would go by and I would just count down time in it, unable to rouse myself to move, and unable to feel anything positive even if I did.

Is this all due to the caffeine cutback?  Maybe.  It could also be the L-tyrosine I started taking.  It could be that this episode just ran its course and my brain healed itself.  I know part of the headache was actually allergies – after re-visiting my morning Zyrtec, those went away almost entirely as well.  But i’m still working on cutting back caffeine just in case that’s the dominating factor.  I’ll cut down that 8oz of caffeinated coffee to decaf on Thursday…and over Thanksgiving weekend, I will actually try to go without coffee.  (This is also why I’m staying home over Thanksgiving to detox and sleep)

Still, I’m just not willing to risk resuming that old habit just yet.  I’d like to see how much better my brain gets, how much I can heal myself.  I’m not ever going to not have to deal with depression, but at least I have done the work to alleviate the symptoms most of the time, and reduced a chronic condition down to an occasional flare-up.  Cutting back on caffeine may be part of that self-care regimen that I have to accept in future.

simulated caffeine withdrawal

Last Friday, I hit a wall.  I ran out of energy.  I thought it was a depressive episode at first, triggered by hormones, a unique facet of depression that only biological females have to contend with.  Then it stretched out for a week of exhaustion, of headaches and dizziness, of a slightly elevated pulse, of a need to constantly nap or rest.  Now I’m not sure what it is, if it’s depression that has extended itself into physical symptoms or a physical condition that’s causing me to be exhausted and subsequently depressed.  Given that cardio – either running or cycling or HIIT – is a key part of my self-care and depression maintenance, it may just be that my inability to muster the energy for exercise is making the mental condition worse, feeding into the cycle.
Whatever it is, I would like it to stop so I can have my life back.  It feels like I’m in caffeine withdrawal, like someone has swapped my two cups of high octane organic coffee with decaf.  It feels like the norepinephrine and dopamine that my antidepressants are supposed to keep in my brain are missing again.  It feels like any and all stimulants, whether from the antidepressants or from caffeine, are simply missing, leaving me in a state of withdrawal and misery and exhaustion.  It feels like my batteries are drained.  Maybe I’m sick, maybe I’m depressed – I have too many x– factors to be able to tell.
I thought it was enough that I already spent hours every week trying to hack my brain and correct the chemical imbalance I was born with.  I have a problem with my brain’s wiring, an inherited depressive condition that causes a complete lack of motivation.  Superficial research indicates that this is a problem with the receptors in my brain: I do not get any sort of positive reward for tasks accomplished or for actions that should give me joy.  Hence, a sort of Eeyore-ish response of “why bother?” to every possible action.  Why accomplish anything?  Why even get out of bed if there are no positive emotions to be had for it?
This is not the best way to live my life right now.  I’d like to have my normal existence back now please.  Perhaps there is a physical reason I feel this way.  I hope it’s something I can figure out, fix, and get back to my normal existence

there must be social commentary in this workout

I went to ConBody this morning.  It’s a bootcamp workout on the Lower East Side, with a well documented story and theme around…convicts. Or ex-cons, to be exact.  The space isn’t a workout room, but a jail cell, complete with a cell door.  The wall features a mural of chain link and figures in hoodies.  The logo is a clock with barbed wire on it. The hashtag is #dothetime.  The branding is genius, and has landed a ton of press.

What’s more genius is that this is a business that actually does help to get convicted felons back in the employment market.  It makes their prison time an asset, not a detriment, in their career as physical fitness instructors. It won’t get them back all their rights, but at least it gets them jobs.  The founder, Coss Marte, from everything I have read, seems a genuinely nice guy, from a family committed to social good: his brother Christopher is running for district councilman in New York on a strong community service platform (Their mom was handing out his election pamphlets after she did the class with us.  AWWWW)

Incarceration is a serious problem in this country: the US locks up more people per capita than any other country.  Two million people are estimated jailed in this country, or just under 1% of all the adults in America.

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Incarceration has been called “the new Jim Crow“: a race-biased system that perpetuates the caste system in America.  In her book on this topic, Michelle Alexander argues that incarceration is a method to keep black Americans “in their place”, a seemingly fair, equal and just system that instead is skewed towards POCs.  Not only does prison take away the freedom of a felon temporarily, but it is a permanent black mark that prevents that individual from fully exercising his rights in the future.  He may not be able to vote.  He may not be readily hired to work, resulting in economic disadvantage.

The prison system in America is known to be profitable and corrupt.  Not only do we have the for-profit corporation in a popular Netflix series, but even Margaret Atwood has written  satire about prison economics Now we may be recognizing the justice system as the new vehicle for racial sublimation.

So it is with no small amount of social irony that I, a middle class white woman, went off to do a bootcamp workout, in a room full of other middle class white people.  And it was a fine workout.  It was a bootcamp workout.  It was a hard bodyweight bootcamp workout.  And I appreciate and respect that.  I especially appreciate and respect that Coss Marte has managed to wrap up an equipment-free bodyweight bootcamp workout into a brand package that manages to be tough love and inspirational, threatening in a safe way.  He’s managed to make prison into a weight loss and transformation narrative that sells his service product for him.  He doesn’t need to buy thousand dollar bikes when he has that story to tell.

Now, ConBody has been extended into its own space at the ridiculously named Saks Fifth Avenue Wellery.  That is an even more glaring social irony.  From everything I have ever read about that neighborhood and that store, the women at the Saks location must make the girls down at the LES space I went to look like street punks.  I would bet that if they saw a ConBody instructor outside the space in a hoodie, the same UES women would clutch their pearls and eye him warily, perpetuating the same criminal stereotype bias.  Yet there’s the workout, and the same ex-cons leading it, in a space that also houses a fucking salt cave.  Is that a bright spot in the dark horrors of prejudice in America?  Or is it just a ridiculous juxtaposition?

Either way.  My quads are tired.  A 7am workout followed by a stressful day of chasing clients around their own offices is exhausting.  I’ve taken my magnesium and now I’m going to go handwrite in my private journal until I fall asleep.

And I would like to add that I did the time and then thought about rewarding myself for my “incarceration workout” with a cup of butter coffee with maca in it.  Then I realized how ridiculous I was being even thinking that sentence and got the hell out of the Lower East Side before I could spend the $7.50.  There’s being a spoiled white girl doing a jail themed workout, and then there’s going out after it to blow the same amount of money that some of my fellow New Yorkers probably have for food for the entire day on a specialty drink, and that was just one upper middle class wellness luxury item too far.

 

parallel processors

There’s a chapter in microserfs where one of the characters explains how his antidepressants affect his productivity. He describes it as upgrading one’s brain to a parallel processor computer. (My copy of microserfs, along with all my Coupland books, is in a box in my parents garage in Victoria, so I can’t quote it here). It allows him better use of his time, to get time in bulk.

That’s kind of how I feel, three weeks into my Wellbutrin experience. Like it’s rewired my brain to work differently. Time goes faster, in a good way – I’ll look up, and realize I’ve been on the elliptical trainer for ten minutes. Spinning class flew by today. Things are getting done. It’s fantastic. I’m in love with this stuff. I’m eating less, too, and have stopped craving even the occasional Marlboro Menthol Light, and have high hopes of getting back on a regular gym schedule again. I’m pretty happy so far with the drug – much more so than I ever was with the Paxil.

Anyone else have comments on the effects of this particular brand of non-SSRI anti-depressant? The only thing I’m NOT happy with is that I absolutely cannot drink on it. I sober up almost immediately, and then just get depressed the next day. Not worth it. Likely better for me, just a lot less fun.