State-Dependent Learning Or: Looks Like I'll Be Taking These Meds For A Long While

I'm currently struggling towards an MCSE for Windows Server 2003; my second exam is scheduled for 9am this Monday. While slogging through the study guide I overheard this story on Weekend America, specifically this part:

He was doing poorly in school. But he perked up in his psychology class when his teacher brought up the concept of state-dependent learning.

Basically, that means if you learn something when you're intoxicated, you'll remember it better when you're intoxicated. One day Sam raised his hand and asked, "Wait, so does that mean if I study when I'm drunk, I should take the test drunk?" The other kids laughed, but Sam was dead serious. He did a little research and decided, yes, that's exactly what it means.

I've been taking my antidepressant cocktail for a while now...long before I started studying towards my MCSE. I know for a fact that the AdderallXR portion of my dose has a close to immediate effect on the way my brain functions; I know this because of the way that I feel and think when the drug is on board. I'm thisclose to resigning myself to the fact I'll be taking antidepressants for the rest of my life, but now I wonder if I'm stuck with this particular cocktail as well. If I switch the drugs...essentially switching my brain chemistry...will my ability to recall all I've learned, while on this particular cocktail, degrade? Disintegrate?

Sam spent a lot of time in the library. And getting tutored by teachers. Remember state-dependent learning? Sam had been intoxicated when he'd learned how to be a college student, even a high school student. Reading, writing, studying -- he had to re-learn all of it sober. He says his proofreading skills still aren't where they used to be when he was high.

This unnerves me more than a little.

ADDENDUM: Recipe For Depression

A couple of interesting 'side dishes' from yesterday's posted recipe:

1. Screaming nightmares
2. Digestive problems (gas, constipation, etc.)
3. Inability to stay asleep.

All of which I experienced last night.

Recipe For Depression

1. Start with chronic intermittent pain
2. Add unpredictable hormone shifts
   
3. Radically alter daily schedule
4. Remove all familiar comforts.
5. Lather, rinse, repeat for x number of days.

Example: Pain from a dying tooth nerve during the luteal phase of a monthly cycle, plus six added blocks to the daily walk and two train rides, combined with technical class (aka all-day information cram-fest) minus half an hour therapeutic art work on both ends of the day.

The above is three days of me this week, which is why yesterday's post picture is a dead-bang representation of how I feel. This morning had all sorts of fledgling ideas about how I was going to counteract the stress brought about by this craziness but that was then when my system had meds in it and this is now and my brain is depleted.

Time to revert to the basics: crawl into bed and curl up under the covers.

Fractured

I did this piece a while ago, but it's a perfect representation of my state of mind since Tuesday. Explaining will have to wait until tomorrow.

There Are Others...

I was looking for something else completely unrelated when I came across this: The Splintered Mind by Douglas Cootey. His brain chemistry affliction veers off in a different direction than mine (Depression --> ADHD as opposed to Depression --> Suicidal Ideation) but the advice still applies (see Ten Things To Do To Fight Off Depression as an excellent example) and his posts are well written, fascinating glances into a unique mind.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to subscribe to the feed...

PSA: Serenity. Specifically, The Collector's Edition

If you're sickened by the mashed up, reheated crap that the networks have been feeding the public since the writer's strike started and you need something sharp, fresh and shiny to tide you over for the next few weeks or so until your favorite shows start up again, the only thing for you to do is to crack open a new tab on your browser, pull out your credit card (or have your PayPal info handy), and hit up this link: Serenity: The Collector's Edition. But before you do, there's one small catch.

I'm not stupid; there are as many blogs out on the internet now as there are unknown stars in the sky and there's a slim to none chance that this one is on any sort of radar. But if you happen to have stumbled and fallen on this post, you are in one of several camps: Someone with normal brain chemistry who hasn't seen the prematurely cancelled Firefly, someone with normal brain chemistry who has, someone with depression skewed brain chemistry who hasn't seen the ignobly cancelled Firefly, and someone with depression skewed brain chemistry who has.

(Then there's those who've seen Firefly AND Serenity...or any combination thereof but you're another post)

Those of you with normal brain chemistry can do whatever you please in whichever order you please...just make sure you go out and get both (Firefly and Serenity)
or either one...whichever applies. But I put up this blog in hopes it would provide some sort of help for those suffering from depression, so it would be irresponsible of me not to hand out some caveats that would prevent a depression tilted brain from falling all the way over.

So here's the thing: If you're depressed, haven't seen Firefly, and need something that will at least may help you laugh right now, go and get Serenity The Collector's edition. I won't lie, there are some sad moments, but there are just as many ones that will make you laugh out loud. And if you can't handle the sad moments, turn on the commentary with Joss Whedon, Nathan Fillion, Ron Glass, Adam Baldwin and Summer Glau. You'll sail right through them; the commentary is rollicking and humorous pretty much all the way through.

However, if you're depressed and have seen Firefly recently, say within the last six months, go ahead and get the aforementioned collector's edition, but...and I can't stress this enough...store it away for a while before watching it. Give yourself some distance from the all the complex and confusing emotions that come from watching a brilliant series that was cut down in its prime. Because watching Serenity and the wonderful, eclectic bits that come along with the Collector's edition will make you laugh, but because you have seen Firefly and know the characters that make up that wonderful series, your heart will split in many, many places. And the pain that comes from such wounds, regardless of it's source, could be enough to send you down.

I speak from very recent experience: I rented Serenity ages ago, long before I saw Firefly. I remember I liked it a lot. About a year ago I bought Firefly: The Complete Series because it was on sale at Target and I'd heard great things about it. They were all true, and because they were it took me weeks to watch the final episode, Objects in Space (warning: spoilers). I was heartbroken that I'd come to the end of all there was of this amazing series. I knew I could always re-watch Serenity, but then that would be the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

Four days ago I held my breath and purchased Serenity The Collector's Edition. It arrived next day. I just yesterday watched the entire movie and even then I had to watch the commentary edition first, then the movie...one half at a time. In spite of those precautions, and even though my brain chemistry is on the stable-ish side, I still felt loss.

Remember Echo?

I posted about him in this last post. Well, thanks to some wonderful family he was adopted, and Pedigree was nice enough to make a commercial about it.



If Pedigree can promise they'll always do a commercial like this one, I can withstand the depressing adoption campaign beforehand.

This Says It

I'm an unashamed fan of the movie 28 Days. I won't deny it has it's flaws, (simplified story arc, various cliches) but, for me at least, the little surprises more than make up for them. There's the obvious ones: Alan Tudyk, a personal favorite from Firefly, Azura Skye, a wonderful, overlooked character actor. And then there's the guy who plays the guitar in odd places.

Originally I thought the guy was a real-life, rehab old-timer who happened to sing and play the guitar well enough that the director decided to add him as background color. Turns out he is a semi-famous, late 60's folk singer named Loudon Wainwright (link takes you to iTunes store bio). Discovering this fact was a kicker of a surprise...even more so when I realized he was responsible for the song from 28 Days that contains one of the best, nail-on-the-head description of depression I've heard.

I'd rather be dreaming than living
Living's just too hard to do
It's chances not choices
Noises not voices
A day's just a thing to get through
Living's just too hard to do

If I had the energy at this late hour I'd load the DVD so I could screenshot the guitar/forest scene to insert here, but since I don't and my powers of Google-fu are busted, I'll have to leave it out for now.

Photography As Treatment

Around December, after much agonizing and debating, I purchased a Canon A570IS for about $20 more than I originally budgeted. I originally purchased it to take pictures of figure and other drawing to upload to an online class of sorts; my phone's crappy camera was making the resolution instead of the accuracy of the drawing an issue.

Unfortunately, soon after my purchase I wiped out on the way to work and injured my knee. Being unable to work-out led to a build up of anxiety...particularly during the liminal times when my meds were still making their way to my brain...which led to an inability to sit still which pretty much axed any attempts at figure or observation drawing. Such practise requires stretches of painstaking observation and incremental work, both of which became impossible when I literally could not stop moving. Then, to add insult to injury, I started being exhausted all the time, effectively killing off the free time I had for doing the oil pastel work that had been my primary non-pharmaceutical method of boosting my serotonin.

I felt guilty about purchasing such an expensive (to me, anything that comes near $100 is expensive) camera and not using it so I started taking it with me on my walks to and from work and photographing things that caught my eye. Casual shots rapidly led to posting for advice (I frequent a forum that has a sub-forum on A/V topics) and now I have an alternative means of creating art when I cannot sit still and an online album of work.









There's something intoxicating about being able to point a small piece of machinery at something I see and, with a minor amount of fiddling, capture a perfect replica. It's like an emergency serotonin hit, a supplement to the slower serotonergic response produced by long sessions with sticky, bright oil pastels. And a wonderful substitute to the times when I am too exhausted to tackle even that.

Dog For A Day

We got our dog from the city pound, probably the saddest place on earth. For the first few months he was in our home, he'd pee nervously at anything that made him, well, nervous, he'd shake uncontrollably at odd times and during an unprecedented loud argument between my husband and I, I looked down and saw him frantically attempting to squeeze himself under the bed.

That particular moment broke my heart.

He's been with us for years now and is both an amazing lesson in resiliency and a steady stream of antidepressant for me. There are many times, such as the moment the following picture was taken, that I wish I could be him, even for just a minute, so I could experience the wonderful freedom of truly living in the moment.



Not a care in the world, nor caring if the world sees him. Must be exhilarating.

More Mood Enhancers

Because I just came back from the dentist and a specialist...neither of whom can determine the exact tooth that is the locus of intermittent jaw pain...both of whom basically said, 'wait until it's making you grovel', here is a picture of a
Boston Terrier for anyone else who has forces beyond their control aggravating an already difficult condition, aka depression.

The link is in case this inline picture doesn't work

You Know What They Say About Christians...

...they're the only ones who shoot their wounded.

Overheard by the husband while at a Corner Bakery yesterday morning:

"That guy just has no faith. He doesn't even believe that God could work a miracle if he goes off his depression meds."

They're lucky that my husband was there and not me. He bit his tongue to keep from walking over and confronting them, whereas I would've saved the blood.

As the author from Undercurrents says, far better than I ever could:

"Shut up!! Shut up!! Unless you've been lost in this particular section of Hell yourself, don't you dare try to give me directions!!"

Literary Group Therapy

Depression is a solitary disease; there are few people with the stomach and the stamina to cultivate a close relationship with someone suffering from it, and those afflicted spend the majority of their energy towards maintaining as normal a life as possible.

Close relationships among depressives is therefore somewhat of a paradox. The next best thing, at least for me, is reading the memoirs of the depressed. A late Christmas gift ($100 gift certificate from Borders) gave me the opportunity to expand my social circle, as it were, and the least I can do is pass along links to the wealth.

Undercurrents: A Life Beneath The Surface
Good for people like me who find themselves in the sometimes overwhelming position of juggling a full-time, rigorous career, depression and a family. In other words, a book for "high-functioning depressives"

The Beast: A Journey Through Depression
I'm still reading this one, but it is excellent so far, if a little dated.

The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression
The gold standard. Part memoir, part exploration of the disease, this book is a gold mine of both information on and ancedotes about the disease. I've probably mentioned it before somewhere in this blog, the title of which having been inspired by it.

Prozac Nation: Young And Depressed In America
I can't relate too much to the narrator of this novel, she's obviously an extrovert that suffers from depression whereas I am the exact opposite, but unlike the first two memoirs this is a thick, juicy book, full of pages (at least this paperback version is) and even though I usually zip through books it took a while for me to wade through.