T gether
Joey Pants: How I Found Serenity Page 11
A voice f or health a n d rec overy
www.together.us.com
New York Edition
What’s Wrong With My Brain?
Inside Mind over milkshakes
Addiction causes physical changes in the brain, which cause compulsiveness, bad decisions, relapses. New imaging technology helps us see how.
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Persuading someone you love................................ 3 A soldier’s journey..........23 The dangers of bath salts............................. 8 When beauty becomes a beast............... 13 The first year of recovery Page 10
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By Suzanne Riss
n 12-step meetings people are always saying, “After five years, you get your marbles back. After ten, you remember how to use them.” You also hear, “Don’t make any major decisions in your first year of recovery.” Some say it’s more like your first two years. People in recovery often recognize that something mysterious is going on with their brains. They’re forgetful. They have trouble concentrating. They don’t think clearly. Now doctors and scientists are gaining insight into what’s going on. They know that an addicted brain undergoes physical changes. And they know that the brain’s plasticity -- its ability to change -- allows it to heal over time. Now they can chart some of these changes using SPECT scan images, which can identify differences in blood flow in a normal brain and an addicted brain. This information, according to some
This 3-D image shows the brain of an alcoholic. At the top of the image is the prefrontal cortex. The holes there indicate decreased blood flow. This decreased blow flow is also evident in the parietal and temporal lobes. This decreased blood flow means these parts of the brain are not working as they should. Image: Hanley Center
doctors and addiction specialists, can help them develop more effective treatment plans, allowing them to prescribe different medication that can compensate for the portion of the brain that has too much or too little activity. Those who use the scans say they deliver, at long last, a way to examine the target organ for the disease of addiction—the brain. “If you’re not looking at the brain, you’re guessing and prescribing treatment based on symptoms,” says Dr. Daniel Amen, a pioneer in brain imaging. A physician, psychiatrist, brain imaging specialist and the CEO and medical director of Amen Clinic in Newport Beach, Calif., Amen has been using the scans for more than 20 years to target treatment for addicts and “help patients understand they’re dealing with brain illnesses rather than character problems.” Though the biomedical community now agrees that addiction is a chronic brain
The Man Who Carried the Dark Lantern I find myself sitting in rooms filled with bromides, slogans, clichés, isms, and the other people broken by the people who let the Demon ride them By Gerard Van der Leun The man that wandereth out of the way of understanding shall remain in the congregation of the dead. -- Proverbs 21:16
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January/February 2012
atching an ancient demon return to take control of someone you love and begin to kill them slowly with euphoria is a hard witness to bear alone. They’ll all tell you you have no power to stop it, but that cannot be true. Surely somewhere in the mountainous library of studies written about the Demon there’s a magic spell, an incantation, a potion, a pill, a recipe for rescue. You find yourself, as you always have, turning to books where, most certainly you’ve told yourself, all answers lie. But this particular library is, you will find when you go there, vast, unmapped and illuminated in the manner of Milton’s Hell,
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace, flamed; yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible, and the card catalogue has long since been ripped from the drawers and scattered madly about the floor by others seeking the same secret. Still, I stumbled about blind in this dark place which held no braille, nor could I have read it if it had. Like untold millions of others before me, I became disoriented deep in the towering labyrinth of stacks obsessively organized in perfect manic randomness. At some point I reached out and plucked a book at random from this chaos, but since I held no light it could not be read, and I probably would not have understood its language could I have seen the text. Useless, I dropped it as so many others before me had dropped their randomly grabbed books. It
didn’t matter, in the end, how many books were dropped or thrown onto the heaps, there were always more being written and tossed in from all sides. Each, in the dark, as useless as the centuries of books that had come before.
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n a short time, I became utterly lost. Then I could neither find what I had gone into the library for, nor could I find my way out. In my frantic quest to save what could not be saved, I had gone deep into the far corridors far beyond any faint glimmer and lost the way back. I felt the fear that cavers feel when, in a tight space far below the surface, their helmet lights fade and die and the weight of absolute darkness presses hard all around
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