Beyond Blue: December 2006 Archives

Yesterday David cried for two hours because the state of Maine didn't say anything as he assembled his talking puzzle of the United States.

"It's not working!" he screamed as he threw the first thirteen colonies across the room.

"What did he have to eat today?" asked Eric.

"Christmas cookies and a candy cane," I replied. "We're sticking to the four food groups [from the movie "Elf"]: candy, candy canes, candy corn, and syrup."

Lucky for me, I get to see how my brain would behave if it were a five-year-old boy. David's extreme meltdowns signal to me that we both need to return to the land of green legumes and brown grains.

Because too much sugar can be toxic to our sensitive chemistries.

Over the Thanksgiving holiday, I went five days without working out, and four without consuming a fruit or vegetable. During the nine-hour drive home from Ohio, I could feel the neurotransmitters in my brain packing their bags for a vacation in Florida.

"Wait! Wait!" I pleaded. "Don't go!" As soon as we landed in Annapolis I went grocery shopping--walking the perimeter of the store, where the good foods (produce and meats) are found--and I strapped on my running shoes because I wanted to say hello to my endorphins and ask them how their Thanksgiving was. I vowed to my serotonin, norepinephrine, and dopamine that I'd do a better job at Christmas. I'd resist the candy canes, splurge on grapefruits, and exercise five times a week.

But Saint Nick came with his yule logs and German butter cookies, and I couldn't deprive the kids of an afternoon of making gingerbread boys and Christmas-tree cookies--even if butter, sugar, and white flour were the three ingredients. The feel-good chemicals in my brain got fed up again, and we're currently in the midst of negotiation talks.

My diet has always been an important part of my recovery from depression. Two years ago I worked with a naturopath on compiling a list of vitamins and minerals that would contribute toward mental health, that knew how to convince my neurotransmitters to stay. On top of my mood stabilizer and antidepressants, I also take vitamin C, B-complex, vitamin E, a multi-vitamin, glucosamine-chondrotin, magnesium, calcium, vitamin D, folic acid, and a load of omega-3 supplements. It takes me the same amount of time to swallow all my morning pills as it takes Eric to fry our breakfast eggs and set the table. But it's certainly worth the time. Because some of us (like David and me) really are what we eat.

In her national bestseller "Potatoes Not Prozac," Kathleen DesMaisons offers a seven-step dietary plan for sugar-sensitive people like me. I've tried to implement her suggestions into my diet because, as a recovering drunk and depressive, sugar can throw me into an emotional mess that gets downright ugly. A diet rich in fiber and protein is crucial to my mental health--but for me, it's prozac AND potatoes.

Here's what DesMaisons proposes:

* Keep a food journal. The journal keeps you in relationship to your body. It reminds you of the connection between what you eat and how you feel.

* Maintain your blood sugar level. Stay steady and clear. Always have breakfast. Eat three meals a day at regular intervals. Eat brown things (whole grains, beans, potatoes, and roots), green things (broccoli and other green vegetables), and yellow things (squash and other yellow vegetables). Choose foods with the least sugars and the most fiber.

* Enhance your serotonin level. Eat protein at each meal. Make sure that enough tryptophan is swimming around in your blood. Have a complex carbohydrate (without any protein) three hours after your protein meal to boost tryptophan into your brain. The baked potato as a nightcap is a powerful tool.

* Enhance your beta-endorphin level. Reduce or eliminate sugars and white things to minimize the beta-endorphin priming that comes with a hit of sugars. Make life changes to enhance behaviors and activities (meditation, exercise, music, orgasm, yoga, prayer, dancing) that evoke or support the production of your own beta-endorphin in a steady and consistent way.

I found this article, "Mental Health: You Are What You Eat," on the BBC website. It offers some ways to eat your way to mental health. It's important to note, however, that severe depression needs to be treated medically. A healthy diet benefits all depressives; however, some people (like me) will always need drugs.

I finally found a book on the human body I can understand! Last night I wanted to read Katherine the story of Baby Jesus again to squeeze the most religion out of these days around Christmas since I fall short on the other 360 days of the year.

But she pulled out "The Voyage of the Micronauts: A Book About the Human Body." I don’t know where the book came from, but it's about four microscopic freaky-looking aliens from the planet Xeno who land on an eight-year-old soccer player named Freddy. They tour the outside and inside of Freddy's body. With each voyage to a new organ I couldn't help but be fascinated by our human body and all its functions: how a knee scrape heals itself, how we sweat to cool down, how food gets digested, and how messages are sent to the brain. Nine pages into it Katherine fell asleep, but I kept reading and learning.

Every year for Christmas I send poinsettias to a few special people in my life, and I buy a few for our home (which die quickly because I forget to water them). I always think about the legend of this Christmas flower because, when I was the children's book editor for Paulist Press, I worked on a beautiful book by Brian Cavanaugh (illustrated by Dennis Rockhill) called "Miracle of the Poinsettia."

It goes like this: a young girl named Maria wanted to make a special gift to present to the Baby Jesus (part of the creche) with the other children at the church celebration on Christmas Eve. She tried to weave a blanket, but her yarns became entangled. Christmas Eve came and she had nothing to give.

"I tried and tried to make something beautiful," she cried, "but instead I ruined it."

"Maria," a voice said, "the Baby Jesus will love whatever you give because it comes from your heart."

She decided to fill her arms with weeds from the tall grass outside the church and offer those. When she arrived at the church and saw all the other lavish gifts, she became embarrassed of her offertory. She tried to hide behind a pillar, but the priest saw her and invited her forward.

When Maria reached the Christmas crèche, she bowed her head in prayer and let the weeds fall out of her manto.

"Look at those glorious flowers!" cried the crowd. Now each weed was topped with a vibrant red star. Even the ones outside.

Maria's love had created a miracle.

I tell the story of the poinsettia because it describes what has happened to me with "Beyond Blue." At the low point of my depression, I was convinced that I had absolutely nothing to offer the world: that my husband...

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I almost blew it today. I almost told David there was no Santa Claus, or Tooth Fairy, or Easter Bunny. The practical, cynical, depressed side of my brain (the left) challenged the creative, optimistic, slightly manic side (the right) to...

Here's the full text of "Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus," which articulates for me why we have to believe, love, and hope even when our cynical and depressed brains don't want to: "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa...

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Speaking of beautiful verses, I wept today, like I always do, when I heard my very favorite Christmas song, "O Holy Night." The combination of its gorgeous lyrics and affective melody seep into the hardened parts of my heart in...

After I informed my college roommate and good friend that her goddaughter, my daughter, had been demoted from an angel to a star in the Christmas pageant, this is what she wrote back:"Please tell my goddaughter that a star is...

You sure do learn a lot about a person's personality and temperament when you assemble a gingerbread house. And even more when you make 14 of them. I'm thinking about patenting this activity as a tool for diagnosing the different...

My old self is definitely back, because only she would be foolish enough to volunteer to organize David's Christmas party. I'm investing in life again, which is truly a miracle. Last year I missed the Christmas party because I was...

Now here's an image worth a holiday chuckle: a dozen naked women in the gym locker room rushing to get their pants on to the tune of "Jingle Bells." "I wish they would just kill the music," one woman says,...

Three-year-old Katherine was demoted from an angel to a star in her preschool Christmas pageant. It called to mind the pangs of devastation I felt in the fifth grade when I lost out to Marci Simons for the part of...

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