For our next stop on the Bipolar Express, we are… getting help.

Yep. When I began this journey, it was all about DIY fixes. At the time, I identified as an addict. What I didn’t realize at the time, however, is that my “addiction” was just an obsession based permutation of other disorders I had. These were obsessions that could be mitigated – but only if addressed. Instead of ever doing that, I’d scour the store for hours, seeking out anything to abate the pain in my brain, body, and soul. And they helped. (You’ve read many of them already.) However, most of them only helped for a short while and only solved the symptoms, not the underlying chemical imbalance or the trauma that exacerbated it.

But when I fell in love with another troubled soul, we knew we were in trouble.

So, we resolved pretty early to go to couples counseling.

We knew by our second month in that we couldn’t avoid it. Neither of us had the blueprints for what a healthy relationship looked like. Our parents had been awful to each other all the time. I didn’t know what it looked like to make a man feel needed (having always done things for myself) or how to discern between respect versus submissiveness with a male. (Submissive I am not.) And he didn’t understand that my needs were unique – and not necessarily what he was good at giving. That I wouldn’t tolerate hypocrisy or dishonesty. That I needed some freedom and my own identity. That I required ownership and accountability for every wrongdoing. On my end, I was full of insecurities and fears about infidelity or being controlled; my bipolar symptoms didn’t help this either, because I was constantly under either a “doom filter” or a crazed mania where everything was peachy keen. On his end, he had a great many standards he expected me to uphold – but wouldn’t uphold himself. A quiet rage he’d hold in (long fuse with a big bomb). And a great many changes he required of me (that made me wonder if he had liked, much less loved, any part of me in the first place since all of the changes were in direct opposition to who I was and what I had always done). Long story short, when things were good, they were straight fire (as the chilrun say). But when they were bad? A dumpster fire.

So we chose to go to therapy. Now, I’d put off therapy for even myself (despite knowing I needed it) for years because I didn’t want to have to drive somewhere, sit in an office, or pay a massive office visit fee. Plus, everything closes by the time I’m off work. Plus-plus, it would interfere with my MMA training, rest days, and social engagements. (Real good with priorities, I know…) But, once a relationship I really wanted to work was in jeapordy, I was willing. So, I began to do the research for us. The agreement was that he’d pay the copay for us and I’d find someone who we both felt comfy with and set the appointment. As I began my hunt, I discovered something amazing.

Something called… Thriveworks.

Okay, so, I can’t say enough good things about this site.

The first thing I noticed was how easily navigable it is. No giving away all your info and credit card before seeing who’s available at what times or guessing if they’ll be a good fit. You enter your parameters (like gender of therapist, times, telehealth, insurance, etc.) and a whole list pops up. It shows who’s available. It shows what times. It says what insurance they take. It says what they specialize in. You can see their photo, a profile, their credentials. It’s all there. No guessing if you’re about to waste your time or money whatsoever. Then, not only did these therapists take both of our insurances, but they also offered (as mentioned above) Zoom appointments. And, not only that, but some of them offered weekends and other times I could do that I couldn’t get at conventional clinics.

What I loved about this was multi-leveled. First, I was saving money on gas. No driving to or from. Second, there was no white coat syndrome of waiting in an office like I’m about to go get interrogated or executed; no wondering if I’ll see someone I know. Third, I’m in my own home (which can work on two levels; one is that it’s more comfortable because it’s familiar ground, while the other is that it’s the same place I have a lot of my anxious thoughts that I tend to forget about/not share once I’m out of that environmental context and in a strange office and can’t be reminded of all the bills I have to pay that are stacked on the counter just behind the phone I’m holding my Zoom meeting on.)

Fourth, aside from saving gas cash, the drive there and back takes up time when you do it in an office. This means I would need a later appointment – which most offices don’t often have. (Everyone and their mother wants that time slot.)  I just live ten minutes from home, though. That means, if I’m off at three, I can get home for my 3:30 call easily – and take my dog out quickly beforehand. Fifth, sometimes on weekdays (which is the only time most clinics offer appointments), I’m in no place to communicate the innerworkings of my mind. I’m mentally dead. My job has just beaten my identity out of me for eight straight hours. (I work in healthcare, just like these poor people who have to listen to my issues.) With Thriveworks, I can schedule an appointment an hour after training on a Saturday morning, when I’m in my mind and body and feeling articulate and rested enough to communicate my thoughts more clearly; when I feel like I matter enough to take care of myself.

It’s just about near perfect.

Sadly, Thriveworks couldn’t save our relationship. (That’s a convo for another kinda site, but long story short: I honestly feel like people need their own space to be heard – not a singular appointment where two people are sat next to one another, ignoring eachother, and tattling to a therapist who isn’t even listening because it probably reminds her of her bickering kids.) That said, if it hadn’t been for that (failed) relationship, I would have never found this magical site to get the help I so desperately needed. I started seeing both a psychiastrist and a counselor nearly immediately. And, while I didn’t end up taking anything prescription from my psych, the medication she offered caused me to start my research quest. When I realized I wasn’t willing to suffer those side effects, it ultimately led to me looking up and hunting down the perfect over the counter mood stabilizer which transformed my entire internal chemistry for the better. I wake up looking forward to living now, versus dreading it. I don’t have to fake being nice. I feel like a real person. I would say “I feel like me again”, but I don’t remember ever feeling this… okay. This secure. This safe to interact with the world around me. To handle reality on its own terms. I wouldn’t have accomplished any of that without seeking help first. So, as I sit here, sad about my breakup, I remember everything happens for a reason.

And perhaps the reason for meeting my ex – was to lead me here.

So I could meet myself.

The next stop on our bipolar express?

Another thing we should either halt or put a harness on:

Alcohol.

We just covered sugar and why it’s a healthless devil we should exorcise from our diet. How it affects our bipolar disorder just as much as our bodies. (Especially when added to a caffeinated latte.) And now… we’ll cover another vice that’s difficult for many to avoid: alcohol. Now, I list this (and sugar) under “stuff to stop”. What I mean, though, is: stop if you need to. Moderate if you can. (Being honest with yourself about what “moderation” means.) I say this as a wine lover myself. But I say it as a wine lover who quit all chemicals, including pharmaceutical prescriptions for five years and only resumed enjoying wine once I’d learned the meaning of balance. I say it as a wine lover to knows when to quit. Knows how to abstain for extended periods without issue. Knows her limit. I didn’t always – but I learned and now it’s easy to say no or cut myself off.

Usually.

I’m human and I have days, like anyone, where I do overdo it.

Then I spend day number next (and next… and maybe next) recovering. Not just physically, mind you, either. It’s like a half week long emotional as well as somatic hangover. I’m depressed. Hopeless. Devoid of motivation. Don’t want to work. Crabby with my patients and coworkers. Terrible to my partner (when I have one). Remiss on my chores, tasks, and errands that are absolutely necessary. I do the bare minimum and abscond to my hovel in between commitments. This is something that gets normalized via memes that laugh it off as a human experience. Everyone jokes about how “after 30, it takes a full week to recover from a night out”. To a degree, it’s true. But, I’ve found that when I can moderate – and make a glass last a little longer, then I A.) don’t have to limit myself to when I go out, B.) don’t take as long to recover, and C.) don’t necessarily generate a potentially detrimental episode. That’s strictly speaking for me. Some people are straight up emotionally allergic to the stuff.

I’ve just learned, with time, that a couple of glasses of wine is more than plenty for me and my disorder. Because, at the end of the day, alcohol is a depressant, indeed. Sure, I can deal with it when it’s just me, handling life on my own. If I’m suffering from a fun weekend, NBD. I just hide in my cave, watching reruns of some comfort show while my soul tries to wander back to my body, all the while avoiding conversation or human contact, with the exception of text messages where I can fake a personality. (Great way to live, am I right?) But that was my “end of the week reward”, ya know? I wasn’t gonna give that up.

It just… it wasn’t feeling like a reward anymore.

Especially when I finally had a romantic partner I couldn’t hide from.

Just ask either party of my last relationship (including me, my ex who hid his bipolar from me, and our therapist who we mutually ignored when she told us to limit drinking around each other). We each handled conflict with more elegance when we were sober and clear of mind. (Easily agitated, mind you, but more mindful and considerate about how to handle it – and eachother.) Once under the influence, though, all bets were off. A formerly calm conversation could easily morph into a manic panic where neither of us even had ears to hear one another anymore. For him, the mania might last for days after. For me, it was a Russian roulette where maybe I went manic as well, battled him by text, enjoyed a vitriolic volley by phone call, ran up the credit card, or just ran too much.

Then again, perhaps I’d fall into a fleece swaddled depression, neglecting every necessary task around me. I only do better “drinking alone” as a single person because I’m the type to pour a glass if I’m solo, and sip a quarter before throwing the rest out. (Thus, I never pour a full glass. Alcohol was never the object of my addiction.) In other words, I do better drinking alone because I… don’t drink alone. I do a tasting and then throw money down the drain. However, my tendency has typically been to drink more to feel comfortable around others. Even a significant other. Now, on NAC, I still enjoy my grape potations. I just don’t feel the desperate need to reach for more and more because the supplement keeps me level enough and comfortable enough in my own skin to sit and have conversations or interactions, unfiltered. No need to mask anything. No need to feel more secure. Just, enjoying myself without the worry of when my next glass is gonna come.

Okay, so what if you can’t take NAC?

And what if you are a drinker because your moods swings make you so miserable?

A.) You’re not alone. A large percentage of the bipolar population’s with you.

B.) I was the same way – socially – before I found my fix.

C.) Keep reading here to find alternative options…

By now, we’ve already hit a ton of stops on the bipolar express.

The next one, though, is stuff WE should stop. Bad habits. Ongoing vices. Things we trick ourselves into thinking are treats. (You can name at least one, don’t lie…) Yes, I’m coming for all of that. Granted, some of our “cheats” are okay – so long as we know how to (or can) moderate. But, for some of us, that’s tough. This site is called obsession of the mind. Sometimes that presents as OCD. Sometimes as addiction. And, in bipolar, it can be that period where our object of perpetual focus is the spiral we’re in. While we can’t help that we have an imbalance, we can help what we put into our bodies to avert making it worse.

And, this time, we don’t mean meds.

Today, rather, we’re covering one of the white devils called… sugar.

(Fun fact: you can’t suffer from bipolar if you’re dead from the cancer or heart attack.)

Another fun fact? I’ve long known sugar is bad for you…

But I didn’t realize I was consuming it every day for like a year plus.

That is, until I stopped drinking Starbucks. No, I wasn’t getting cafe mochas. No, I wasn’t getting fraps. None of it. I was on my holier-than-thou perch, sipping none other than matcha. Not the matcha I have now, mind you. It was the matcha infused with the premade powder at the infamous chain cafe. The way they trick you is insidious, too. What they say is “no added sugar”. Do you know what that means? Because I didn’t. All I knew was that my mania and my depression poles were getting as far apart as they were extreme. I’d go crackhead at lunch, after my latte. Then, I’d crash around 2:00. Barely functional. Falling asleep like a heroin addict on the job. It was awful. I also didn’t know this drink was to blame. Not until I quit it – in an effort to budget better.

Spoiler alert: my bank account wasn’t the only thing that got better. (So did my energy and mood.) Spoiler alert 2: “no added sugar” meant ” no additional sugar than the powder has in it”. Because this thing had TWICE the amount of MAX sugar you should have. Process that for a second. Refined sugar in any amount is no good. But there’s a max amount you should have on the rare days you do. I was exceeding it by two whole times. Every damned day. If it were the speed limit, I’d be in jail.

Okay, so why did I drink it every day? Do people like sugar because it’s sweet? No. Well, maybe in part. But, if ya didn’t know: sugar is addictive. I’d find that even on days I’d promised myself not to go (even before quitting cold turkey), my body would just drive to Starbucks anyway. Like a sailor to a siren. Like a dog to a whistle. Like a junkie to a dealer’s traphouse. (Less elegant of a metaphor, I appreciate, but work with me here.) Showing up like a mindless robot to receive my daily dose of collagen eating, inflammatory, sugar that (yes!) absolutely made my bipolar symptoms worse. Especially when coupled in a cup with caffeine.

So I cut out the Trojan horse sugar, bought my own matcha, and dolled it up with a better style of sweetness: stevia. I was introduced to stevia many many moons ago. The downside? It’s insanely sweet. The upside runs tandem to that, being that you don’t need nearly as much of it to sweeten your tea, coffee, or whatever else. (The next downside running tandem to that, is that it’s tough to figure out when you’re converting a recipe from sugar and flour into stevia and gluten free baking mixes for your now ex boyfriend who you NeVeR DiD aNyThIng FoR *insert eyeroll* ) I digress. The point is, for that daily mug of whatever I’m enjoying, stevia is an absolute go to for me. (I forgot to buy some this week to keep at work, and I’m having to choke down black coffee each morning. First world problems.)

And what brand do I use?

This one…

Honestly, I like Stevia in the Raw because… well, I’ve just always used it.

That, and it comes in these single serving packets so that I don’t accidentally overdo my daily dose of sweetness in my brew. That’s nada special though. Many brands do packets like these. The difference I’ll outline isn’t between one company’s stevia and another’s. At that point, it’d all be mostly price comparisons, seeing who packs more packets into their boxes, and noticing if one company’s packets are larger than the other’s. All things I’m not willing to do for myself, much less you guys. (Sorry, not sorry.) Instead, my comparison is gonna be between these stevia packets versus other non sugar sweeteners. In those boxes, ya get the same number of packets – but need more than one. Not the case with stevia. One’ll do just fine. And the rest of the box’ll last for a very long time – keeping you from falling off the latte wagon, and back into the lap of the cackling Starbucks siren. (It’s probably also why I keep forgetting to get more for work; it only ever is on my list every couple of months.)

Okay, now that we’ve got a sugar dupe, it’s time to find subs for “the sauce”.

Next up, we’re covering alcohol…

Ah, jiu-jitsu.

The “gentle art”. As an adjacent stop on the bipolar express to other forms of exercise (including Muay Thai), jiu-jitsu is another great way to rechannel manic rage. Granted, there’s no striking in BJJ (Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu). There’s no immediate gratification of landing a blow or hearing your glove hit a pad at top speed. Grappling, on the contrary, is an investment. It’s a goal you have to work toward. Something you earn. Kind of like those medications you might have taken that you know require a while to work. And this was the hardest part for me. It takes time, patience, discipline, and work. And – much like Muay Thai, that translates to day to day interactions. In striking, the ability to maintain composure while getting hit carries over into every day life. This is so helpful for both interpersonal interactions in general – as well as for when those episodes hit.

The carryover of jiu-jitsu is instead – the patience.

(No one starts as gold medal material in BJJ. And no one feels like they’re gold medal material – even after they win one.)

And while this is important for everyone, it’s especially helpful for bipolar folk.

I live in the same world you do. Everything is at my disposal and at the speed of yesterday. I can order any product on Amazon. I can order any food with DoorDash. I can get a ride in 8 minutes with Uber. I can learn any information in the next five minutes I want to. I can reach out to anyone I’d like, by texting. It all takes five seconds. Everything is immediate. Immediate gratification. Jiu-jitsu, though? Pure patience. And that sounds good in theory – until you realize the first few months are just pure humiliation. I’m now a gold medal winner. (I’m not good, I just sucked less than my white belt opponents at the time.) But I can’t tell you how many times I quit and started up again because of the frustration of “not being good enough fast enough”. Finally, in 2021, I went all in. I competed the next year. I won twice. I was getting better. But then, right after getting my blue belt, I sustained an injury that’s put me out for quite a time. Now, it’s the game of patience all over again. But that is so underrated for those of us dealing with bipolar. When you’re going through an episode, patience helps you remember “this too shall pass”. Patience may even prevent the triggers that set off those episodes.

Like Muay Thai, you make close friendships as well. Probably even more so. (You can’t commit violence at such close quarters without forming some sort’ve friendship.)  Again, averting loneliness while performing something self affirming (like getting better at a difficult art) is immensely helpful for those of us suffering from a disorder where depression is a factor. And, also like striking, you want the right gear. For me, there are some things I’m willing to sacrifice (like a Walmart boil and bite mouth guard) and some I’m not when I step onto the mat. My go to’s that I don’t head to the dojo without? My gi (obviously) by Fenom. Fenom is made by and for women. With their pearl weave fits and longer pants and arms, I can get just the right length and width, without all this extra fabric I’m just giving my opponent to choke me with. (More fabric means more ability for them to maneuver you.) And, aside from the functional aspect of it – let’s admit it: no female likes wearing a guy’s size where it looks like you have on a diaper with capris because the butt part is so big and the legs are so short. (Tall chick problems.) I know we’re not here to make a fashion statement. But, if I can get some cute submission jammies, I’m all about it. Fenom’s products are also made out of quality material. Where other gis I’ve bought shrink up in the wash (yes, the wash – not the dryer), this stuff is durable enough to have won me more than one competition.

(Ain’t no one getting using that gi tail to choke this chick!)

The other thing I won’t sacrifice?

Monkey tape. You want to tape your fingers before your manic depressive management classes because all that gripping and pulling leads to gnarly hand joints. I learned this the hard way. (Like everything else in jiu-jitsu, TBH.) By class three, my fingers looked like a haunted tree in a tornado. At first, I tried to go cheap. I attempted the usual cruddy tape they use to add stripes to our belts. Massive fail. Came off before drills were even over. (What? I sweat a lot.) Then, one day, I had nothing and borrowed some from a friend. This stuff was stupid sticky and lasted all class through my sweating, gripping, twisting, pulling, and flipping. My little joints were all cozy, happy, safe and – most importantly – not hurting by the end of class. After asking what it was, I hit the Amazon search bar and got my own Monkey Tape the next day. (Hey, I’m glad some things are still available by instant gratification.)

I’ve stuck with it (ah???) ever since – for every class, roll, and competition.

Keep reading for more natural ways to manage bipolar.

The next bipolar express stop looks a lot like our first…

That’s because it includes exercise – just in a more meditative form. My first post about ways to help manage bipolar symptoms praised the wonders of my loyal elliptical machine because it’s been there for me since around 2012. Rain or shine. Clean gym clothes or not. No hours of operation to consider. No one potentially stealing it from me by the time I get to it. Ready to ride within moments upon rising from sleep. (TWSS?) I absolutely love it because I have no excuses not to use it. It’s served me extremely well, and served as the perfect low impact cardio through low back injuries and dislocated shoulders alike.

That said, cross training is important.

And I found that in no better place than… trail running.

(Nothing like getting primal is some mud…)

Trail running is magical in a layer of ways.

First, there are the obvious physical benefits. Running is great for cardiovascular health. Also, running on a dirt trail is far better for the spine and joints than asphalt and concrete are. Also-also, I’m always getting the benefit of always working different muscle groups as I traverse uneven terrain with its elevations and various descents. I don’t get that on a treadmill or elliptical. Then, there’s the fact I learned early on (when I gassed out five miles into a run in a state park): I can’t ever quit early. On a treadmill or even my dear elliptical machine, I can just stop whenever I feel like it. Not so on a trail. I either have to finish up that loop, or go back the way I came. Even if I punk outta running, I still have to walk. No heading straight to the car and going over to Whole Foods to binge on “health food” that’s actually probably worse than what I’d have gotten had I gone to Hardy’s across the plaza. Caveat? Just don’t make the mistake I did when I was starting and use the wrong shoes. After a year of using gym intended kicks, I made the switch to Asics – who make an actual shoe intended for exactly the purpose of running trails.

(If I were smarter, I’d update them to the latest model each year – I stretch it to more like two…)

The second aspect to the wonders of trail running is totally different.

It’s what happens on the inside. When you’re running on the trail, immersed in nature, something magical happens. You recalibrate. All the noise in your brain fades away. You’re in synch with everything that’s real. Now, that might sound a little airy fairy. But, to put it simply, all I knew was that when I’d end a run… I felt better. I felt more whole. Like my soul had come back into my body. After years of running trails for reasons I didn’t even understand, and one diagnosis later, I now get it. It’s actually quite simple. Jogging in nature is the embodiment of a grounding exercise the experts tell you to do. When you’re entering an anxious state (or for people like us, hypomania or mania, maybe), you tune into the world around you.

The idea, they say, is to seek out five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. In the confines of a sterile building, it sometimes feels difficult to do this. Yes, I can see the computer. Yes, I can smell the coffee. But this is all anxiety inducing sensory input that reminds me of documentation I have to do, the patients who are late, and the smell of the coffee I need to survive the next eight hours. Out in nature, all the sensory information is pleasurable. The sunlight you can see glittering between the trees. The smell of fresh petrichor after last night’s rain. The sound of yester-storm’s rain drops falling from leaves. And because running during all of this forces you to breathe in an even and steady way, you’re also hijacking your central nervous system to be calm, while bathing your brain in serotonin (’cause you’re working out). It only recently made sense. But all along I knew. Following every trail run I’ve taken since 2014, all I knew is I left the woods feeling better.

And if you’re on the fence about giving it a go, that’s all you need to know too.

Keep reading for another wonderful workout that has helped me “combat” bipolar…

Recently, I wrote about the wonders of red light therapy.

Because this is an “obsession of the mind” site – we address a plethora of mental disorders. For me, before getting diagnosed with bipolar, all I knew was that red light seemed to chase away the blues, setting the tone for the day. Now, officially gifted with a diagnosis (helpful because now I can actually manage – instead of ignoring – it), I see red light in a different light. I won’t reinvent the wheel and explain all the benefits of red light therapy here or try to convince you of why and how it works so well for so many things. (That article is here. Read and you’ll be convinced on every level to order one for yourself.) Instead, my aim for this stop on the bipolar express is to list the parameters that have worked for me when I have used red light specifically to manage episodes.

It’s also to mention certain caveats if you’re using red light alone to mood-manage.

(I got this cheap Houzzi one off Amazon and it’s great for the price…)

First? The “dose”.

When I initially researched what time increments of RLT you should use for the best effects, it wasn’t for mental health. As mentioned in my first article for this, I was using this modality strictly for vanity reasons. (I mean yo girl can only afford so many trips to the botox doc a year, ya know?) Said dose ended up being about 20 minutes, twice a day. At first, I was being super diligent about it. I made time in the morning. I carved out time in the afternoon. Nearly immediately, both my skin and mood improved. The mood lift I wasn’t expecting. It was a nice side effect, but I figured it was just because the light reminded me of laying in the sunshine – which had always made me feel better. (But which I now avoided because, after 30 you worry about wrinkles.)

Then, when I read the research, it tracked. RLT was used for seasonal affective, depressive, and bipolar patients to mitigate symptoms. Knowing I had something on that list (but not diagnosed/certain yet), I was glad to know I was killing two parakeets with one pebble. So, I kept doing it. Until… I didn’t. Like most people, sometimes I begin a habit and fall off. I didn’t fall off my red light, but I became a little less diligent about my 20 by 2 times a day doseage. First, the time overall got reduced. Then the nighttime dose was sometimes nixed altogether. When started dating someone seriously, sometimes I wouldn’t make time for it at all. Those days weren’t so great, but I wasn’t tracking the correlation. Not until… my red light mask broke altogether.

And here comes the caveat.

I don’t want to say that the mask is “addictive”.

But I will say… I couldn’t order another one fast enough.

The effects of its sudden absence were almost immediate.

Oddly enough, I had somehow become very dependent on it. I was doing it every day, so I took it for granted and didn’t realize just how much I’d come to rely on it as a mood regulator – until suddenly I didn’t have it anymore. The entirety of the next three days felt like moving through a gripping cognitive fog. My body seized up. My brain wasn’t processing. Everything had a dark filter. I didn’t train. I didn’t want to see my boyfriend. And then I got sick. Was part of it psychological? Possibly. But the same thing happened later (once Spring came along and it was sunnier outside and my serotonin was flowing again). Even though I was fully aware I didn’t have my mask, I went through my day nice and normally, sans an episode of any kind. So, I honestly believe that if you’re using this exclusively to regular mood, you may become dependent on it. And, if you suddenly stop it, it *may* trigger a three day long depressive episode. This is just my experience with it, though, and it shouldn’t deter you from using it. The benefits are too many to give up my red light, trust me. All I’m saying’s that you just may wanna look into supplemental options to use alongside it if you’re like me and don’t have the time to do 20 minutes of this twice each day.

Buckle up for more Bipolar Express stops soon…

So, perhaps tea isn’t your jam.

Or maybe you just need a daytime mind quieter you can still function with. This was the issue I faced, at least, when I was looking for ways to combat the daytime craziness that was my brain during PTA school. Kava was awesome. Holy Basil was awesome. But both needed to be reserved for decompression time. I couldn’t study or listen to a lecture with system full of either. I needed a daytime remedy as well as a bedtime one; because going through school with undiagnosed bipolar II was a harrowing experience. A good deal of the time, I isolated – my episodes rendering me unable to interact, much less partake in a study group of any kind. The entirety of those two years was a struggle. There was a struggle to combat my own mind. There was the struggle to stay awake when the depressive episodes hit. My whole journey to earn my degree was hard won. But something that helped make it easier (aside from copious support from loved ones) was a supplement I discovered along the way:

Suntheanine.

This stuff’s interesting because it’s a natural sedative – but it doesn’t induce sleep.

If you’re going to bed anyway, it can help permit for sleep. However, what it does is level out the brain’s serotonin and dopamine levels. It’s a favorite among bipolar bears like myself because it works both ends of the spectrum. It helps relieve anxiety, yes. But it also lowers cortisol – mitigating mania as well. I remember popping one of these on my way to 8:00 A.M. lecture, when I was speeding on the EZ pass, coursing with cortisol and stressed about the test I was absolutely not ready for. (The one I take is a delicious fruity chewable – not some horse suppository sized Leviathan you hafta gag down.) By the time I arrived to school, though, I was mentally ready.

I was ready to face the day. More tranquil.

And what I wasn’t – was sleepy.

(Not me absolutely slaying the “Oxford Debates” after my magic tablets…)

It was a nice balance.

This stuff still left me awake enough to endure the monotonous morning lecture of “Dr. K.” (who got fired one year too late – right after I graduated  – for being an all around terrible person. And perhaps for being a terrible instructor who couldn’t teach her way out of a piece of Kleenex.) The sight of her alone was enough to spike your cortisol. But, equipped with my Sun-theanine, I was ready to deal with all her BS. I was calm enough to process information. Relaxed enough to read exam questions thoroughly. You get the idea. So, what made it different than its night-time cousins I had in my tea cup? Simply put – it’s the amino acid found in green tea leaves. (The same stuff I used to stay awake without getting the coffee jitters.)  It’s still an OTC option I champion as a go-to for anyone seeking a quick fix. I just haven’t needed it since starting my all encompassing supplement I can’t shut up about.

Okay, so we’ve covered a couple of non-pharmaceutical options.

But what if you’re not into “taking stuff”?

What if you want even more natural options?

Let’s revisit one we read about as a mood booster – which can also help with bipolar symptoms...