Alternate Theories: Malfunctioning Amygdala

Came across this thread while, oddly enough, searching for documentation on the effects of sunshine on the brain. Note this section:

"It's a quick and dirty response," says Pitman. "The amygdala triggers a rapid fear response to allow the body to take evasive action." Simultaneously to the "quick and dirty" response, other paths take signals from the thalamus to higher areas of the brain for more considered analysis of whether the stimuli represent a threat. "If, for example, the curve turns out to be a piece of hosepipe in the grass, then the prefrontal cortex reins in the amygdala response," Pitman says.

But if the stimuli turn out to represent a genuine threat, adrenalin and noradrenalin trigger a cascade of reactions in the amygdala, which then instructs the hippocampus - the brain's memory centre - to process the memory of those fear-inducing stimuli in a special way, imprinting them deeper than usual. "This stress-induced memory boost is a mechanism that evolved for survival," says Chris Brewin, a PTSD specialist at the Traumatic Stress Clinic in London. "Something very threatening needs to be remembered, so in the future, you're primed for action immediately."

Over the next few months, any stimulus similar to those experienced in the original trauma - even harmless ones - can trigger an exaggerated stress response in the amygdala. After a while most people learn that these stimuli are not a threat, and their brains make new pathways that override the old one, though they don't erase it. This process is called extinction. However, in some people - up to 30 per cent of those who directly experience a bombing, for example - the extinction mechanism doesn't work and the prefrontal cortex consistently fails to reign in the amygdala. The result is PTSD.

I've received a diagnosis of PTSD before, as a result of early trauma. There is a saying that depression is 'learned helplessness'. Perhaps if that helplessness was learned as a reaction to the early trauma, the malfunctioning amygdala, may be an aggravator of depression.

Something to think about.

Resources

Came across this during my ongoing search for clues for the reasons behind my persistent (yet admittedly reduced) depression. It says it's "for those with anxiety disorders", but the very first article listed is about Magnetic therapy and depression. This is going in my Favorites>Depression file.

Quick Seretonin Hit

This is late, but I need something to smile at today because my meds are sputtering due to fluctuating hormone levels. Or so I think. Anyway, this story should do it. I'm not sure why, but heartwarming animal stories are enough to lift my mood a couple of tics.

And to augment the story...here is a picture



I like imaging what the baby hippo must have been thinking:

"Big....roundish....sort of wrinkled. It'll work."

Random Correction

In an earlier post I said that Oprah gives me the willies, mostly because she appears to be coated in a clear, brittle shell. Since having a lunch with new co-workers...during which I could almost feel the existence of my own shell...I've rethought that statement.

Oprah's public persona gives me the willies.

It's entirely possible that she is an unpretentious, non-declarative, warm, vulnerable person in private but I wouldn't know because the only time I see, read or hear her are during snippets of her TV show...which I rarely (okay, once) watch...or her opening and closing magazine blurbs...which I don't read. So it's my admittedly minimal exposure to her public presence that strikes me as off.

And hopefully this will be the last mention of Oprah...public or private person...ever.

Thanks A Lot, Eve

I mentioned in an earlier post that my meds appeared to be sputtering for some unknown disturbing reason. After realizing that I was starting my last week of birth control, I hit up Google for a search on "luteal phase" (the fancy schmancy term for the time between ovulation and menses) and depression and found this website, among others, that pretty much confirmed my suspicion that the luteal phase was responsible for the decrease in effectiveness of my meds.

I've been roughly following the diet listed at that site along with diligently taking my multivitamins (with the addition of multiple fish oil capsules) with improved, albeit spotty, results. My next phase of attack would be to either split the Adderall dose from one 60mg dose in the morning to a 45am-15 late am dose, or separate the Adderall dose from the Effexor. Whatever works.

The Eve blame is a reference to the punishment she got for the apple business. I'm convinced that whole "multiply your pain in childbirth" clause covered a lot more than the actual labor part. But that's just me.

Quick Update

I have in mind one of those movies or old cartoons in which a character is flying a plane and hears the engine start to fail. That sputter-catch-sputter-catch sound is analogous to my mood over the past two days, and probably my blood-plasma levels of Adderall and Effexor as well.

One morning I'll respond predictably to my 60mg Adderall dose...warm euphoria, multiple intuitive moments, an optimistic view of the coming day...only to wake the next with a persistent grey emotional pallor that never quite goes away. Or the variences occur within a single day, the most unsettling experience of all.

Today is a grey morning in spite of the sun. There is a dull emotional pain somewhere in my chest. I don't quite know what to do other than treat myself as though I were fragile (minimal stress, plenty of carbs, lots of creative work done while watching pointless television) and hope it will pass.

Not Belonging To Life

The other day this leapt out of the pages of O and smacked me in the face.

They say
there is a rift in the human soul
which was not constructed to belong
entirely to life
-Louise Gluck

For some idiosyncratic reason this calls to mind my theory that the depressive brain is an evolutionary glitch that, minus modern pharmaceuticals, would have killed off those possessing it in order to protect future generations of homo sapiens.

In darker words, treatments for depression don't treat, but only delay the inevitable self-destruction of the depressive mind.

I Am Not Catholic

But I attended mass today. Actually for the past two weeks but I don't count last week because the enormous amount of infant vocalizations made it near impossible to pay attention.

Now at this point I consider myself a wrestling Christian. You know that Old Testament story where Jacob wrestled with God and didn't quit until God wrenched his hip? I'm past the hip and I'm still grappling. Why are monogamous homosexual relationships wrong? Is hell a place of eternal torture or do you get consumed completely and are no more? Can the bible be trusted? I'm fairly sure that this mental grappling only serves as a catalyst for depressive episodes.

This morning, however, in the towering vaulted sanctuary area, between the tall stained glass windows, all those thorny questions and depressive feelings fell aside and my brain was lifted up by gentle, careful hands, placed and wrapped in the neurochemical equivalent of a warm blanket. There was Something Bigger there and while I was within those walls I could just exist and let It sort stuff out. I didn't want to leave. I stayed for a good fifteen minutes after everyone had left and that was a good fifteen minutes after the mass was over.

I wish there was a way to package that and release it whenever my mood starts to head south. I know there's meditation, in which I could visualize a sanctuary-like space, but I've never been good at being unaware of my surroundings, and I don't think it would compare well to actually being in such a place.

Needless to say I will be going back. Perhaps repeated exposure to the sanctuarial, benevolently spiritual environment will imprint on my mind, thus allowing the feeling of existing in that space to stay with me during the times I am not there.

Addendum

Just for the record, Oprah gives me the willies. I know she comes across to most people as warm and generous and all, but to me the whole deal appears to be covered in a hard, clear plastic coating...giving her a brittle appearance.

However, in spite of the fact that she's on every single cover, Oprah doesn't write all of the magazine. And whomever puts it together usually includes a lot of good articles from a lot of different people. So that's why it functions as my mental sorbet, so to speak. As does Vogue, Elle, Glamour and occasionally, W.

Also, I don't read the opening and closing article in O magazine...both of which are written by her.

Off With Their Heads!!!

This will be quick, as I am in the middle of three seperate and extremely complex projects at once and I need to stay focused on at least one of them because my brain sorbet (as is late and the InStyle I snatched from Target out of desperation just isn't cutting it.

I'm scrapping the genetics angle in regards to my Adderall problem. Mostly because I'm realizing that to research it is one thing, to prove it is quite another...something that would require money that I do not have. I'm going to cave and call the 24-hour pharmacist and see if she has any insights on the bioavailabilty front.

Meanwhile I'm off on another tack...the possibility that the Adderall isn't lasting because I'm overtaxing my grey matter. I'm working on a bunch of paintings in a medium that is completely new to me (oils), i'm working on my spring line of jewelry and, because I'm frustrated by the lack of Pocket PC blogging clients available, I'm simultaneously learning the nuts and bolts of .NET Compact Framework (plus Visual Studio 2003, Pocket PC 2003 SDK, etc., etc.) and developing an application based on it. I don't know if there's any scientific data to back it up, but it will be most interesting to ferret it out.

Off to hack away at Visual Studio.

I've Got A Theory, Part II

The story so far? Possible GI alkalinity and the possibility that I am extremely sensitive to emotional contagion.

The latest results of my internet scavenging, prompted by a desire to figure out why Adderall doesn't linger in my system as it should, are complex to say the least. A tip from a forum led to an investigation of pharmocokinetics, specifically the population-specific variations of a certain liver enzyme of the P450 group. This enzyme, CYP2D6, is primarily responsible for drug metabolism and, interestingly enough, can vary in effecacy among ethnic populations depending on the particular type or types present.

Basically, one type of CYP2D6 is seen in poor metabolizers, another is seen in normal metabolizers, and multiples are seen in ultra-rapid metabolizers.

Being an ultra-rapid metabolizer would explain why Adderall practically disappears in my system, but there's the teeny-tiny fact that a significant percentage of the ethnic population to which I belong are poor metabolizers and that ultra-rapid metabolizers are rare in said population.

I did find some articles about a new variant of a different drug metabolizing liver enzyme that was specific to my ethnic profile, but details were lacking and I was getting lost in the scientific terminology.

Maybe a search just in MedPub would unearth more.

I've Got A Theory

Obscure Buffy The Vampire Slayer references aside, I've got yet another theory to add to my exploratory list, that of emotional contagion. If I am one of those people that can easily contract moods from others, it would explain the afternoon slump, and the wearing off of the Adderall.

Oh and sorry about the link, apparently O Magazine doesn't carry all of their articles online. The blurb should supply enough info, but if not, this link should supply plenty of background information.

Sleuthing

Latest project? Unearthing the physiological abnormality within me that results in rapid metabolization of Adderall.

My money is on stress hormones, with an overabundance of some neurochemical as a close second. I'll update as I find info.