Mental Illness & Health Archives

Talking About Mental Health in the Workplace

Imagine a world where you could share about your mental health challenges with your boss and coworkers, and not worry about side glances, or worse, workplace discrimination, afterward. Where sharing led to compassion and support and brought your team closer together. Where the words “career-limiting move” never crossed your mind. Where you could safely be you.

We live in a culture that has engrained some pretty whack-ass notions of what emotional strength, fragility and success look like. Even when it doesn’t serve us, it often feels less risky to pretend everything is fine, hide what’s hurting us and push through. Mental health is an awkward subject in the workplace.

An organization called The Stability Network is shifting the narrative. It sends out speakers who live with mental health conditions to tell their stories in workplaces around the world, and to demonstrate that it’s possible to have an episode, recover and continue to thrive in all manners and ways. TSN’s tag line says it all: Changing the way we talk about mental health, one story at a time.

Twenty years ago, I took a five-week medical leave from my job because of depression. My immediate teammates were amazingly supportive, but I remember feeling anxious about what the rest of the office thought about my absence, and whether I would retain the respect of my peers when I returned.

On my first day back, I heard many kind greetings, but the reason for my absence was carefully avoided. You know how when someone returns after a surgery or a heart attack, everyone has a similar story to tell? Either theirs, or someone they know? No one had a story to share with me. Stories of mental illness recovery just weren’t the kind of thing people talked about.

Unsurprisingly, I felt shame around my illness. For the next 15 years, I played my mental health cards close to my chest, until I understood that greater power came from speaking the truth. Changes in perception don’t come from statistics and reports, they come from seeing, knowing and hearing from people with lived experience. Discomfort is dispelled when the people with the lived experience make it okay to talk about it. Silence begets more silence.

I’m grateful to The Stability Network for its commitment to creating a space for mental health stories in the workplace, and in partnership with them, I’ve committed to telling mine. As a speaker for TSN, I hope to stand in front of audiences large and small and show that any dodgy vibe from me is completely attributable to the fact that I’m a Pacific Northwesterner who likes neither sushi nor salmon—utter heresy—and not because I live with Complex PTSD and depression.

If you would like to help us create a world where workplaces are supportive of people experiencing mental health challenges by inviting a speaker to yours, you can let me know, or you can click here.

When the Trauma You Thought Was Resolved Isn’t

By Laura Zera 14 Comments

In December, I turn 50. Along with the ravages that only gravity can inflict comes an acknowledgment: even at the half-century mark, I’m not finished doing the work to emotionally integrate the trauma that happened in my life when I was a kid.

I’m not completely surprised. After my essay was published in the New York Times in June (and I promise you, this is the first and last time I’m going to use that line), in addition to the hundreds of online comments, I received about as many reader emails (I’m waving at y’all who signed up to my list after that). What I heard, over and over again, was that those who had traumatic childhoods are still working on their stuff, still figuring it out, in their 60s, and 70s, and 80s.

For those of you in your 20s, 30s and 40s, please don’t let this bum you out, although it may. I was a bit overwhelmed initially by my realization. There’s a relief in knowing, though, because then you can do something about it. In so many ways, when we’re dealing with trauma, the knowing is half the battle.

For example, I went to therapy regularly from 1985 to 2002. It wasn’t until 10 years ago, however, when I was at couples therapy with the hubster, that I heard the word “trauma” applied to my childhood experience. “That must have been traumatic for you,” the therapist said, in response to an anecdote I provided. A jolt went through my body. No truer words had been spoken, and my body recognized that.

When I think back to what I talked about in those other 17 years with five or so therapists, it was mostly about how to keeping myself functioning, because sometimes, I wasn’t. I’m not sure I ever told the stories of *exactly* what happened when I was a kid. I talked about “crazy mom” and “she yelled a lot” and, later, “she’s mentally ill,” but I never got into the details. I’m not saying that details must be shared in therapy in order to access healing and integration, but when they aren’t shared, I’m wondering if it’s because there’s a “glossing over” that’s happening. A minimization.

I believe that a lot of trauma survivors unconsciously minimize what happened to them. It may be because of dissociation, or shame, or as a coping mechanism for pain. The end result, though, is that our bodies know what happened, and that it was some serious shit, even if our minds are all like, “yeah, so, then Mom stalked me for two years, but whatever, it didn’t stop me from doing anything I wanted to do.” Our bodies will respond in myriad ways. I’ve had back pain for three years that no well-trained and highly paid professional has been able to figure out. How’s your body doing?

While annoying, my back pain is actually the lesser of my concern. I’ve also still got fight-flight-freeze responses to even teeny-tiny things, and that kind of ongoing stress-hormone release is just not good, especially when it’s been repeating for 50 YEARS. (Frig, how did that happen?) The stress response wears down the immune system, and has the potential to cause big problems. Something tells me I’m not the only trauma survivor in this catamaran.

So happy birthday to me, I’m back in therapy, and I might soon be booking a little holiday to EMDR land, because I’ve heard firsthand from friends and peers that it’s an effective therapy for PTSD and complex PTSD. And survivors of horrible childhoods, if you’ve never heard of complex PTSD before, please click this Wiki link. Again, I was late to the party in learning about what it is and how it differs from PTSD, but holy smokes, it really fits the bill.

I’m also reading Bessel van der Kolk’s groundbreaking book The Body Keeps the Score. I’d used a couple of chapters in it as part of my research for a piece I wrote on neurofeedback a couple of years ago, but this time I’m going cover to cover. I highly recommend this book. It’s like a best friend that totally gets you. I could almost hug it. Maybe I will tomorrow.

Have you had any a-ha moments about trauma, how to integrate it, and why for fill-in-the-blank years you’ve downplayed the trauma of your childhood experience as less than Cleaver-like but not fully Carrie-ish?

We Have “Awareness” Months Because We Need Them

By Laura Zera 6 Comments

It’s one sleep since the end of Mental Health Awareness Month and the beginning of Pride Month. As we transition between these two important markers, I’m remembering all the times I’ve heard comments from people to the effect of, “I don’t care what they have/what they are. I just don’t need to know about it.”

It’s okay, this “do whatever you want in the privacy of your own home” approach. It’s miles better than the “lynch anyone who is different” approach. But it’s a viewpoint that comes from a place of never having had to fight against exclusion or discrimination. And my quick response has become this: put yourself in our shoes. Imagine what it’s like to have to hide who you are, every day, everywhere, because you’ll be punished by some sector of society if you don’t. That’s why we talk about mental health in May and LGBTQ rights in June every year. We’re not oversharing and being show-boaty. We’re fighting for our lives. That’s not a dramatic overstatement.

A few spin-off thoughts and somewhat-related notes.

My nephew alerted me to the fact that one day, we may be going on a magic mushroom trip to cure depression, a treatment I’m more than willing to be a study participant for, in case anyone is looking for guinea pigs.

I’m coming out soon about having depression and fronting as a high-functioning adult in a very big publication that will possibly be read by every potential future employer of mine, so we’ll see how that goes. I’ll share it on June 22.

Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about how to help children who are in vulnerable situations – troubled families with dysfunctional parents. If we don’t help the kids, they become adults who, best case, develop resilience (after a ton of work), or, worst case, major health issues (and never live their best lives), or sometimes both. The Hart family murders has been a trigger for me, because it was preventable. I don’t have the answers, but I’d like to hear ideas and anecdotes from anyone who has experience in the space of working with children from troubled families, and how to help them without necessarily removing them from their family.

How ‘bout that gene testing? Is 23andMe setting itself up to be a next-wave health diagnosis and treatment tool? It’s certainly been a discovery process for me, once I uploaded the raw data from their site into a couple of third-party sites. This is where it gets parsed into readable reports with much more info than what you get in the canned 23andMe reports. And this is where I discovered I have a double mutation of the MTHFR gene, something that’s linked to — drumroll, please – anxiety and depression. My learning from that, including treatment protocols, will be part of a future blog post.

My final thought. We’re in fraught times in parts of the world. Lead with love. Even when you want to punch someone. I bought slippers to remind myself.

Your thoughts? I don’t like to have the last word.

One Person’s Mediocrity is Another’s Happy Place

By Laura Zera 10 Comments

I found a really compelling post from Danielle LaPorte in my inbox yesterday called “The Courageous Minority.” It talks about why settling for mediocrity over fulfillment is poison for your soul. I totally agree. Totally. Love love love Danielle LaPorte. I’m also LaPorte’s target audience. And as a person with a mood disorder who survived a traumatic childhood, I want to take a moment and do a few add-ons to what she says about mediocrity, and to consider the non-linear association between “safe” and “mediocre.”

Danielle’s post opens with this:

Most people will proceed as planned. They’ll stay quiet, suppress their doubts with rationality. They’ll make the choice to save money, save face, not rock the boat. Don’t want to disappoint people. There’s a lot on the line. I said I would, so I should.

Safe. The road to mediocre is always really…safe.

And in terms of fulfillment, ‘safe’ is really, really dangerous.

The vital rallying cry here is that if you feel like you’re not living your best life, then pay attention to that feeling and do something about it. Don’t play safe. Life’s too short to play safe. But, and, however!!! There are also times when you need to play safe, and so don’t beat yourself up about that, either. I say this as a person who is highly ambitious with a perfectionist drive, rooted in the message of “you’re not enough.” I have been through phases where I shat on myself for not being more courageous, even when I was as courageous as I could emotionally manage at the time. Yuck. As Tom Petty says, “don’t do me like that.”

One thing that strikes me as a large factor in courageous-move-making is TIMING. Sometimes it takes a while – three months, three years – to plan a big change. Sometimes you can only juggle one change at a time, and so other things get backburnered while you replant your feet and get steady (or steadier) again. The key is to keep what you want (to risk or change) on your radar. Don’t backburner it on your neighbor’s stove so that you lose sight of it, and start taking small steps toward it, even if you’re not ready to swing the whole deal.

Another thing is SUPPORT. Before you launch into change or risk-taking, line up your support structure, whether that be cash savings, or a back-up place to live, or engaging your posse of friends and family. Courageous people are rarely courageous all by themselves. I was reading how Mark Zuckerberg was recently awarded a Harvard degree, because as a student, he dropped out to run his new project, Facebook. It’s true that few groundbreaking things happen without big risks. It’s also easier to take big risks when you have a big support system. Obviously not everyone is going to have the resources Zuckerberg had when he opted to quit Harvard and roll the dice, but that doesn’t mean groundbreakers have to come from a place of privilege. Don’t forget about the side doors. Go around the gatekeepers. And if you don’t have obvious resources, be resourceful to find your resources. Ahhhhh. Gotcha.

Finally, whatever you decide to do, or not do, when it comes to risk-taking and change, BE TRUE TO YOU. Some people fly on the safe side, and will always do so, and if your feelings are telling you it’s all good, then it’s all good. I remember going through a DISC personality test about 22 years ago, where there are four types identified: Dominant (Active Task-Oriented), Influential (Active People-Oriented), Steady (Passive People-Oriented) and Conscientious (Passive Task-Oriented). None of those types are bad “ratings,” and people in the “conscientious” group may always be happiest in their safe zone. If that’s you, honor yourself. That’s not mediocrity! And think of this: if everyone was a “D” or an “I,” we’d be in a world of chaos! That said, if you are an “S” or “C” and your happy place starts to chafe, please don’t wait until you have a festering blister to explore what that chafing is about.

Finally, I’ll say that the one thing I don’t fully adore from Danielle’s post is the title. I don’t believe courageous people are in the minority. I think that a lot of things we do every day take immense courage and add to our fulfillment. Standing up to a bully. Trusting a stranger. Caring for an ailing child or parent. Parallel parking on a hill. Allowing someone into your heart. Big acts of courage are more obvious than small ones, but give yourself credit for both.

Danielle and I are both Canadian, so it’s only fitting that I leave you with one of Canada’s national treasures: The Tragically Hip, singing their song “Courage.”

Images via Creative Commons license, with “Courage” artwork by Wendy at the Create to Heal blog.

On Depression, Getting Published, and Not Giving Up

By Laura Zera 22 Comments

I haven’t posted much lately, but it’s not just my blog to which my recent rut of doom has extended. Depression doesn’t judge or pick favorites. It squashes everything – gym time, social outings, work motivation, romanticalness and creativity. It asphyxiates joy. It really sucks.

This isn’t a sad blog post, I promise. But I do have a few things I want to say to those who are going through depression at this exact second.

I know how hard it is to believe things will get better. Hold on to the idea-pillow that how you feel right now is not how you will feel forever. Take comfort by reflecting on who you really are—seek evidence from your past–and that you will return to your old self. One day, it will be easier again, and you will laugh, and greet strangers, and have energy, and think, “life is astounding and awesome.”

At the same time, life is a gig that requires stubborn persistence, both to get through depression, and to realize dreams. You must repeat the word “persistence” to yourself at least 106 times a day until it takes a permanent seat at your dinner sofa.

Two examples where persistence actually worked the fuck out

At the end of 2016, I wrote I was doubling my medication dose to try and get over the depression hump. It worked for a short while, and then it didn’t and I felt like a steaming pile of self-loathing shit. But if there’s one thing I’ve realized in all these years of paying attention to my mood, it’s that OHMYGOD, human beings are complicated.

Our parts are so interconnected that a twitch can tip something out of balance. It’s a never-ending puzzle, waiting for us to piece it together. Some days, this feels like an adventure, which is when you strike while the iron is hot, and other days, an affliction, which is when you nap.

Recently, iron hot, I laid down cash for gene testing. Lo and behold, I have a specific (A1298C) gene mutation that severely limits my body’s ability to metabolize folate, an essential B vitamin. It’s also linked to depression and nervous system issues. Long story short, I started taking a prescription dose (7.5 mg) of L-methyfolate (the active form of folate), which is actually used for treatment-resistant depression. After only a few days, my mood and energy have shifted enormously. And this has occurred because my naturopathic doctor hung in there, and I held on to the baby-blanket-ragged faith that there was more to discover about neurodiverse me.

Now for the depressed writer (I know a lot of you personally): I have an essay about a life-altering encounter that I’ve been working on for years. I wrote the first draft in early 2013. I wrote the second draft in 2014. I finally submitted it in January 2015. It was rejected. I tried news magazines and they said it was too literary. I tried literary magazines and they said it wasn’t deep enough. Last August, I had an editor at one lit mag offer to read it a second time if I made (his suggested) revisions. I gave it a shot; he rejected it again. Some writing friends critiqued the essay and I did more revisions. I submitted it to more places and received more rejections. Then I met the editor in person at a conference, and he offered to read it a third time. I worked on it for another month and sent it off to him, the essay’s twelfth submission in all.

It was accepted (and will be published in April). It was accepted because I didn’t give up on it.

My dopamine-deprived pals, the thing to note here is that my internal monologue is often that I’m not good enough for what it is that I desire. I can easily be the person who takes her toys and clears out of the sandbox if things don’t go her way. I did it in 1995 when I wanted an international development job in Vancouver and couldn’t find one. I did it again in 2007 when I wanted an international microfinance job in Seattle and came in second for two different roles. Gave up. Shut it down. Moved on.

Except the thing is, you never really move on. If that thing you want is part of your heart and soul, it will stick harder than the double-sided tape on Jennifer Lopez’s boobs during the 2000 Grammy Awards.

If you have a peach pit of faith in something, despite the “stated” odds, or a feeling that as crazy as your particular notion seems, it is meant to be, hang on to it. Hang the fuck on. Feed it and stoke it and dress it in a warm, fuzzy kangaroo onesie so it never leaves. Do not give up. Please. To give up on it is to give up on you.

This faith stuff isn’t easily explained. It’s a tad mysterious. It’s also our roadmap. You just have to listen for it inside you. And, yes, drive with your headlights off and your contact lenses out. I know, it’s a ridiculous, skewed, illogical test, all to learn something that you screwed up in another life. But can you name a better reason for being here?

We need you to not give up. At the end, I’ll mail you a $25 Visa gift card. I promise.

Images courtesy of Unsplash

Sometimes You Need Medication: A Response to 2016

By Laura Zera 15 Comments

This year has been an endless stream of sucker punches: every time we think it couldn’t get any worse, BAM, uppercut to the jaw. I barely have any teeth left.

No matter your political views, news sources and musical tastes, it’s hard to evade the gloom that has descended around the globe. And if you’re predisposed to or are a chronic depression sufferer like me, then these are exceptionally wonky-inducing times. Yes, wonky, which, by the way, encompasses the following:

feeling like you should do something – anything – to improve the global/local/family situation, but you are paralyzed and/or exhausted
feeling agitated but overwhelmed by global/local/family events
feeling numb, like you’re in a movie (“surreal” was Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Year for 2016, because of the serious spikes in look-ups that followed major events)
feeling like you want to hide under the bed covers until ___________ <insert year>
waking up in the middle of the night, sure that the end of the world is imminent
feeling sensory stimulation overload – too much noise, lights, smells, information
feeling like Grumpy Cat

If you’ve followed this blog, you’ll know I’ve written quite a lot about causal linkages and complementary treatments for depression: nutrition, gut microbes, yoga and meditation, neurofeedback, exercise, blue light therapy, vitamins and supplements, you name it. All good stuff. I work all these angles for my own depression.

However, sometimes you may find those treatments help you stay in minimally functioning mode, but they don’t get you over the hump and back to better living.

What hump, you ask. Ahhhh. See, this is where I lost track of the bouncing mental health ball myself until last week. The hump is the creep. Whaaaat? (I’m not messing with you, seriously.)

There’s only one creep at this party (okay, yes, there’s two…). The creep we’re talking about is the onset of a cycle of depression. Even for the most aware and experienced, sometimes you get stuck on the hump and depression creeps up.

These are the times to look at medication. If you’ve been on it before, do you need to go back on it? If you’re currently on it, do you need to adjust the dose or try something else? If you’ve never been on it, but nothing you’re trying is working and you are feeling SO WONKY, do you need to explore medication as an option?

The reason I’m posting about this is simple: I’ve been talking to doctors and therapists about my brain for 30 years, and I’ve been on antidepressants for 20. I’m pretty darn self-aware. There ain’t nothing that’s my first rodeo (except an actual rodeo). And yet, I still don’t always notice when I’m stuck on the hump. Depression can be such a creep.

A medication adjustment came up as a side conversation in a recent visit to my doctor. Not because I said I was feeling wonky. Not because I identified that I needed help. Because I ate a protein bar, went for a three-mile walk and had such a severe sugar crash in the middle, I had to summon an Uber driver to take me back to my car. (Bonus: he gave me a Snickers.) Low serotonin is linked to low blood sugar. Whaaaaat? YES. I was surprised by this, even after all of my research and I-am-my-own-guinea-pig experiments.

My doctor increased my medication dose, and a week later, I feel SO MUCH LESS WONKY.

Yoga, meditation, healthy food, supplements, exercise: yes, yes, yes, yes. Any other alternative and complementary therapies you use to combat depression: yes, yes, yes, yes. We are warriors, all of us. But even the strongest warrior can only handle so many body blows. Sometimes the most effective and compassionate solution is right in front of us and we don’t see it. And that, in a nutshell, is 2016.

Wishing you a heart-centered, joy-filled, small-humped 2017.

Much love,

Creative Commons images: Grumpy Cat by Gage Skidmore; Yosemite by Luke Pamer; warrior by Henry Hustava

When Your Mother is Crazy, What Do You Do?

By Laura Zera 8 Comments

Without fail, each month one of my site’s top search phrases is “when your mother is crazy,” or “how to deal with a crazy mom,” or something similar. (Even more popular is “does strawberry flavor come from beaver butt,” but that’s a whole other story.) It seems like there are a lot of people struggling in their relationship with a mother who has a mental illness, just like I did at one time. I’m writing this post (and stuffing it full of love) for them. For you.

A few things about this topic that I know to be true:

First and foremost: You are not alone.
Your mom may not realize she has a mental illness or is behaving irrationally
It’s difficult to get a person with a mental illness diagnosed. In most states and provinces, they don’t have to get checked out unless they’re deemed a physical threat to themselves or others, and getting to that stage usually requires police intervention.
Whether your mom gets diagnosed or not, it’s a good idea for you to find a professional to talk to. Start with a family doctor or school counselor. You don’t have to share everything that’s going on if you don’t want to, just that you need a referral for a counselor. If you’re worried about money, look for a resource that is free or low cost. The National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) is a good group for support resources, and they have local chapters, too. Some organizations can offer referrals for low-fee therapy, like NW Alliance for Psychoanalytic Study and Seattle Psychoanalytic Society and Institute.
You may never get an answer to “what’s wrong with my mom?” and it’s not always black and white anyway. So, that leaves an open question hanging in the air, but it doesn’t have to stop you from living your life and planning your future.
Your mother is doing the best that she can, given her circumstances.
Even with a mental illness, your mother is an adult, and is responsible for herself. You’re not responsible for her or her actions.
Don’t let the stigma of mental illness prevent you from getting help. Also, it’s not uncommon for a child of a mentally ill parent to experience a mental illness. For example, I suffered from depression; it started when I still lived with my mother (who has psychosis). I’ve had years of therapy. Besides helping me heal from the illness, it helped me grow as a person in a zillion different ways. I consider therapy an investment in yourself.
You deserve self-care. If you have a bad day at home with your mom, take care of yourself. Go for a run. Make a painting. Watch a movie. Hug your pet.
Your mother loves you, so hold on to that. It may seem the farthest thing from the truth sometimes—or a lot of the time. But her love for you is there, deep in her heart, hidden by “the crazy.” This I know for sure.

Here’s a list of additional resources I created a few years ago, so, possibly a bit outdated, but hopefully still helpful. And for a more narrative perspective on growing up with a mentally ill mother, this essay by Jeri Walker is a gem. ♥

Photos courtesy of Unsplash

Epstein-Barr Reactivation: Is It Really Bad?

By Laura Zera 320 Comments

*Note: this post was last updated in Oct.2019 (see below).

Not long ago, I read an excerpt from Anthony William’s book Medical Medium (Hay House, 2015). The chapter, titled “Epstein-Barr Virus, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Fibromyalgia,” starts out with a bang.

“The Epstein-Barr virus (EBV) has created a secret epidemic. Out of the roughly 320 million people in the U.S., over 225 million Americans have some form of EBV.”

Before reading this book chapter, if someone had played the word association game with me and said “Epstein-Barr,” my response would have been “mono,” as in mononucleosis (and then if they said “Christmas,” I would have said “The Pogues,” but that’s another story). In relation to EBV, that’s the only response I could have given, the only association I knew. But according to Williams, that’s merely Stage Two EBV. In its other three stages, it lives on inside us, either hanging around, waiting for the opportune time to mess around, or, in its more diabolical stages, acting as the catalyst for all sorts of ailments and diseases, from tinnitus to thyroid disorders to an inflamed liver or spleen.

As the chapter title suggests, EBV has also been linked to chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia, two highly mysterious and misunderstood illnesses. As I know a few people who suffer from symptoms that have thus far been undiagnosed, I emailed the article off to them, thinking it might shine some new light. Imagine my surprise when, days later, I visited my naturopath and we went over some recent blood test results. There, in huge, glaring numbers, were the indicators of my wildly reactivated Epstein-Barr virus. In fact, the numbers were so high that it seems the bugger has been holding a party for quite some time, keeping the noise level just low enough that nobody got ‘round to calling the cops. (If you are interested in the test names, ranges and my results, I’ve listed those at the bottom of this post.)

My doc immediately put me on some antiviral meds: one is a homeopathic immune system booster, the other is Valtrex, the herpes drug (and yes, when the pharmacy tech noticed what it was as she handed it over, she did jolt to a stop and stutter for a second. Stigma abounds, even with professionals). That was a month ago, and I expect to be on them for a while. And do I feel better? Well, that begs a different question: how did I feel to begin with?

That’s where it helps to examine what your normal looks like. If I’ve had a reactivated EBV for a while, then maybe my normal—the one I’d grown used to—is out of whack, and I could potentially expect a better and new normal. Prior to this diagnosis, I wasn’t complaining of anything seriously wrong with me, but I wasn’t jumping up and down with boundless energy, either. My common refrain was, “I feel like for someone of my age and fitness level, I should have more energy.” I had my thyroid tested, and it came out normal. I had my cortisol levels tested: also normal. All the other things on my blood panel were fine. So, can someone have a reactivated EBV piggybacking on their immune system and still be within standard testing ranges on common diagnostic tests?

As you might imagine, not everyone believes that a reactivated Epstein-Barr virus is linked to all of the maladies that William lists. (For those grounded in science, hearing about it from a book called Medical Medium, as in “Spirit tells me what’s wrong with you,” is sure to raise eyebrows.) As for the question I posed in the title of this post, I’m not even going to try to offer an answer. What I’m learning through my own personal health journey, however, is that the human body is far more complex than we give it time or credit for, and sometimes, accepting your state of wellness as being as good as it gets might be too narrow an interpretation of normal.

You’ve got just one life in this very complicated body, and if it’s been running on three cylinders for a while, it may require a long and sustained recovery period before you begin to glimpse a golden horizon. To set off on that journey, it helps if you park your skepticism (and that of others, trained professionals or not), take the time to listen, learn and notice, and see where it leads you. I’ve parked mine, and I’ll continue to treat this reactivated EBV and see what happens. I don’t expect to run a marathon, but a little more get-up-and-go would be swell. And at least the herpes drug is cheap.

As an adult, have you ever been tested or treated for EBV reactivation? And if you had it, what was it like for you?

Postscript: here are the names of the tests, the standard ranges, and my results.

EBV Ab VCA, IgM1 – Range is 0.0-35.9 U/ml – My result was negative (less than 36)
EBV Early Antigen Ab, IgG1 – Range is 0.0-8.9 U/ml – My result was 40
EBV Ab VCA, IgG1 – Range is 0.0-17.9 U/ml – My result was 140
EBV Nuclear Antigen Ab, IgG – Range is 0.0-17.9 U/ml – My result was 568

Updated Jan.5, 2017:

It has been a year since I first wrote this post, and I have a few things to add. First off, after taking an antiviral all year, my EBV numbers went up. Higher. Worse. My doctor is attributing this to the fact that I had a chronic bacterial sinus infection, sinus surgery in August and nasal valve repair surgery in Nov. It’s hard to heal a virus when your body is still being beaten up.

Also to note, in November 2016, the National Institutes of Health (NIH), a federal government organization, added Epstein-Barr virus (EBV) to its most recent update of known human carcinogens.

Updated Oct.3, 2019:

Hi folks! Since the last update, I’ve felt better, and then worse, and better, and worse. I didn’t re-test for almost two years, and my doctor continued to treat based on symptoms. As I continue to have significant fatigue, we just revamped a new treatment plan that essentially consists of four things and is based on the muscle testing that she did with me (i.e. your responses might be different). 1) I’m back on Valacyclovir, 2) I’m taking Holy Basil, 3) I’ve got an Isatis and white peony tincture, and 4) I’m back on Lauricidin.

In addition, I’m taking a new/different kind of probiotic, and continuing with spirulina.

As for test results, they went down from my last round of testing, but are still showing active EBV.

Laura’s EBV Test Results	Aug.2019


EBV Ab VCA, IgM1	<10
EBV Early Antigen Ab, IgG1	41.8
EBV Ab VCA, IgG1	135
EBV Nuclear Antigen Ab, IgG	>600