David's Inferno (21 page)

The most famous book on healing depression with supplements is by Dr. Patricia Slagle. It's called
The Way Up From Down
and has the subtitle:
Rid Yourself of Low Moods and Depression with This Easy-to-Follow Drug-Free Program of B Vitamins and Amino Acids
.

This book combines a brilliant explanation of how depression works with why and how certain supplements can treat it as well as pharmaceuticals. It also has (at least in our edition) 306 pages, a 34-page bibliography, and six appendices. Which makes it many things, but not “easy-to-follow.” She does have a fairly straightforward “basic program” on page 56 that can help a lot of people, but she spends the other 272 pages giving you information to help you understand and treat your specific condition. While I'm convinced that her programs can work, I would no more start slugging down amino acids and B vitamins based simply on reading her book than I would pop Cymbalta and Lamictal without a doctor's prescription and oversight. That is, if I had managed to see Dr. Slagle (or some other
experienced
expert in nutritional treatments for depression) and knew how to reach her in an emergency, I would have been more likely to consider that approach.

Again, we're talking about major depression. If you're just going through a sad period—maybe a little seasonal depression—there's no reason not to experiment with supplements. But, without contradicting that self-empowerment pep talk I gave a few pages ago, if you're in crisis mode, you might consider trying to find someone with a little experience whom you trust to hang in there with you.

I saw various bodyworkers during my sickness. I still do when I'm really wired, my muscles are really sore, and/or I'm feeling rich.

There is something immensely powerful and soothing about any kind of “laying on of hands.” It does way more than relax your muscles. It's like respite care for a restless soul.

I always looked forward to these appointments. Knowing I could
count on experiencing at least some calm at a specific day and time helped keep me going from week to week. I vividly remember the hopeful anticipation; the sense of release that came from lying on a table while one of my friends—as I considered all these practitioners—surrounded me with their own particular brand of kindness; the lightness I'd feel afterwards for a few minutes, maybe hours.

No matter how hard my bodyworkers tried, however—one went so far as to come to our house and do a two-hour session at 6
A.M
.—those treatments didn't “hold” either.

Acupuncture is the most well-known “energetic” treatment. It's done a lot to break down the barriers between traditional and complementary medicine. Millions of people use it without thinking it's all that weird. The FDA approves acupuncture needles as a medical device. And insurance companies are beginning to offer coverage.

Of all the various “whole-body” paradigms, I think acupuncture is the most elegant and intuitively comprehensible. Maybe it's because most acupuncturists have a cool chart on the wall that shows a prototypical Leonardo human with elaborate networks of meridian
lines going from point to point, crisscrossing and circulating energy throughout his various glands and organs. Anyone who's ever tingled all over has a sense of why sticking a needle into BL17 on your mid-back might help your headache go away.

Acupuncture—along with chewing on nuts, leaves, roots, and berries—is also the most time-tested medicine. Its roots stretch back to before recorded time. They must be doing something right.

It's actually never been my alternative treatment of choice. On the one hand, I'm a little too sensitive to needles (even though they really don't hurt) and, on the other hand, the effect is a little too subtle for a fast-moving worldly guy like me to appreciate. But, I have friends who've used it to manage all kinds of conditions, including chronic ones that have resisted other treatments.

The sessions did help some, however, and gave some insight into my condition and how to deal with it:

That last sentence, which implies that a prescription antidepressant can cure the cause as well as the symptoms, is an admirable and remarkable statement for an alternative practitioner to make.

Several months later, as she put the needles in, her words were like a free-verse Chinese Mother Goose rhyme, complete with commentary:

Great image. Although I have no idea how that Victorian guy was able to relax.

Researchers have proven that there's absolutely no proof that homeopathy works. Still, in America, millions of people take homeopathic remedies. In some European countries, as many as 50% of physicians—yes, M.D.s—prescribe them.

Even if all those people are victims of a network of shameless quacks (which, of course, psychiatrists have also been accused of being), you gotta figure that if homeopathy can't be proven scientifically, the remedies must be the most fabulous placebos ever invented or homeopathic practitioners are actually big-time shamans with seriously good juju, for whom the power of suggestion is child's play.

Either of which would be good enough for me.

The basic operating principle of homeopathy is that “like cures like.” In overly simplistic terms, if you have poison ivy, a homeopathic dose of poison ivy might help alleviate the symptoms. I think of it as kind of an “energetic” immunization. Although I'm not sure most homeopaths would be comfortable with that description.

When I talk about homeopathic remedies here, however, I am primarily talking about what they call “constitutionals,” as opposed to the more symptom-specific remedies in little bottles and tubes that people buy to deal with aching muscles, insect bites, teething babies, and this year's version of the plague, a.k.a. the flu.

The right constitutional isn't designed to cure any one thing. Rather, it gets so deep into the fundamental energetic causes of everything that ails you, that it can bring about a pretty radical transformation in your physical, mental, and/or emotional well-being.

I think of it like this: Some have an affinity for a particular animal or insect or plant. Some feel good when they hold a specific gem or are in a room painted a certain color. All these different substances vibrate at different levels, so maybe if you are in contact with the right one it can help you get vibrationally aligned back with yourself.

When a constitutional works … okay, fine, when someone
thinks
a constitutional has worked … it feels like a true panacea. That magic bullet.

This isn't as strange as it seems. In spite of all the relatively modern focus on observable and/or measurable phenomena—such as germs, cellular aberrations, and heredity—there's a certain undefinable something that seems to determine how, why, and when each of us gets sick in our own individual ways … an undefinable something that underlies not only how rambunctious the germs inside us are able to get but even our positive or negative thoughts, our ability to love and be loved, or what we eat.

Homeopaths look for that certain something.

A lot of people walk into their offices complaining of a chronic headache, back problem, a cough that won't stop, or manic depression so bad they didn't have any idea who was actually going to show up for the appointment. But from the homeopath's perspective, each of those symptoms is just one of a myriad of ways that you are “presenting” what really ails you.

He or she wants to know what time you wake up in the morning; if you have a history of knee problems; where it hurts; where it itches; if, how, and when your private parts have been working; your thought patterns at different times of the day; everything you can remember about your dreams; and way more than you'd like to tell anybody about your phlegm, sweat, snot, and bathroom habits. In fact, during the first appointment—which can last a couple of hours—you may wonder whether the guy is more voyeur than physician.