Bipolar- is not a manic -depressive psychosis. It's a deficiency-toxicity disorder. Here we witness a faecal (poo) transplant as a novel therapy as may a therapeutic detoxification.

Psychosomatic disease is becoming somatopsychic.

Notice: Not to Be Construed as Health or Medical Advice

The information contained herein is presented solely for general informational purposes and is not intended to constitute, nor should it be interpreted as, professional health or medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. It is not a substitute for the expertise, judgment, or services of a qualified, experienced, and duly trained healthcare practitioner, licensed medical professional and preferably qualified trained integrative medical professional. Readers are expressly advised to seek the counsel of such professionals for personalised guidance and treatment options pertinent to their specific health conditions prior to making any decisions or undertaking any course of action based upon the information provided.

The author disclaims any and all responsibility or liability for inaccuracies, errors, or omissions in the content, as well as for any consequences, direct or indirect, arising from the use of, or reliance upon, this information. Utilisation of this material is undertaken at the reader’s sole discretion and risk. For all matters pertaining to health and medical care, consultation with an appropriately credentialed professional is strongly recommended.

A Case History-therapeutic detoxification and nutritional repletion.

The Unbreakable Spirit: Emily's Journey Through Darkness and Light

Emily Thompson was born under a lucky star in the quaint coastal town of Seaford, Victoria, in 1965. From her earliest memories, life was a symphony of joy. As a child, she was the epitome of happiness—her laughter echoed through the family home like wind chimes on a breezy summer day. With golden curls framing her freckled face and eyes that sparkled like the ocean waves she loved to chase, Emily was the heart of her close-knit family. Her parents, Mark and Sarah, both teachers, doted on her, fostering her boundless curiosity. She excelled in school, captained the soccer team, and spent weekends volunteering at the local animal shelter, where her infectious enthusiasm inspired everyone around her. Friends called her "Sunshine" and she dreamed of becoming a marine biologist, saving the sea life she adored. By age 12, she had won statewide science fairs and even started a beach cleanup club. Life was perfect; Emily often said she felt like the happiest girl in the world, as if nothing could dim her light.

But in the summer of 1981, when Emily was 16, tragedy struck like a rogue wave. During a family vacation in the Dandenong ranges, a horrific car accident claimed the lives of her parents. Emily survived with minor physical injuries—a broken arm and some bruises—but the emotional wreckage was catastrophic. Witnessing the crash, the twisted metal, the sirens wailing in the night, haunted her dreams. She was thrust into the care of her aunt and uncle in a nearby city, but the grief was overwhelming. The once-vibrant teen withdrew into a shell of sorrow. To numb the pain, she turned to secret coping mechanisms: sneaking sips of alcohol from her uncle's liquor cabinet, starting with beer that made her feel fuzzy and detached, escalating to harder spirits. Sugar became her other crutch—bags of candy, ice cream by the tub, chocolate bars hidden under her bed. These binges provided fleeting highs, a rush of dopamine that mimicked the warmth she'd lost. But they were followed by crashes: shaky hands, pounding headaches, gut problems and deepening despair. Her grades plummeted, friendships frayed as she isolated herself, and her sports clothes gathered dust. Antibiotics become regular medications for her recurrent tonsillitis and failing immune system.

By 18, the cracks widened into a chasm. Emily suffered her first major breakdown during her first year at University. One night, after a particularly brutal binge—downing a bottle of vodka mixed with sugary sodas—she spiralled into paranoia, convinced her roommates were plotting against her. She barricaded herself in her dorm room, screaming about shadows chasing her. Paramedics arrived, and she was rushed to the emergency room, and later in hospital where doctors eventually diagnosed her with bipolar disorder with psychotic features, what was once called manic-depressive illness. The mania manifested in euphoric highs where she'd stay up for days, talking a mile a minute about grand plans to "save the world," only to plummet into depressive abysses where she couldn't get out of bed, contemplating suicide. The psychosis added terrifying hallucinations—voices whispering accusations, visions of her parents' ghosts blaming her for the accident.

The diagnosis shattered what remained of Emily's world, but the real heartbreak rippled outward. Her aunt and uncle, already grieving their siblings, watched helplessly as Emily transformed from their beloved niece into a stranger. Family gatherings became tense affairs, punctuated by Emily's unpredictable moods—manic episodes where she'd impulsively book flights she couldn't afford, or depressive slumps where she'd lash out in rage. Her younger cousin, Lily, idolised Emily but grew fearful, hiding in her room during outbursts. Friends drifted away; one by one, they stopped calling, unable to handle the chaos. Sarah's best friend from high school, Mia, tried to stay close, organising interventions, but even she burned out after Emily's accusations of betrayal during a psychotic episode. Romantically, Emily's relationships were doomed—boyfriends came and went, unable to cope with the volatility. One, a kind-hearted artist named Jake, proposed marriage during a manic high, only to leave heartbroken when Emily, in a depressive fog, accused him of infidelity and smashed his paintings. The isolation deepened her pain; Emily often wept alone, feeling like a burden, a "broken doll" no one wanted.

The effects of the psychiatric drugs were a double-edged sword, amplifying the nightmare. Initially prescribed lithium for mood stabilisation, Emily experienced tremors that made her hands shake uncontrollably, turning simple tasks like writing or eating into humiliations. Antipsychotics followed, quelling the hallucinations but packing on 50 pounds in six months, exacerbating her body image issues from the sugar binges. The weight gain fuelled more depression, leading to sedatives, which left her in a zombie-like stupour, foggy and detached from reality. Side effects piled up: dry mouth that made speaking painful, constipation that required daily laxatives, and akathisia—a restless agitation that felt like ants crawling under her skin, driving her to pace endlessly. Worst were the antidepressants, which sometimes triggered manic switches, sending her into frenzied states where she'd spend rent money on frivolous shopping sprees. Over time, tolerance built, requiring higher doses or switches to cocktails of up to eight medications daily. These drugs dulled her once-sharp mind; the aspiring marine biologist could barely focus on a book, let alone her studies. Emily described it as "living in a chemical prison," where the cure felt worse than the disease.

Hospitalisations became a grim routine, marking the failures of a fractured mental health system. Over the next decade, Emily was admitted 15 times—sometimes voluntarily during suicidal ideation, often involuntarily after public breakdowns. Each stay was a dehumanising ordeal: sterile white walls, restraints during manic rages, group therapy sessions that felt superficial and rushed due to understaffing. In one hospital, overburdened nurses overlooked her allergic reaction to a new antipsychotic, leading to a severe rash and prolonged suffering. Outpatient care was a joke—therapists with caseloads of 100 patients offered 15-minute sessions, prescribing more pills without addressing root causes like her trauma or nutritional deficiencies from years of alcohol and sugar abuse. The system, Emily lamented, treated symptoms like checkboxes, ignoring the human behind them. Her family exhausted savings on private care, only to see relapses. The cycle persisted: discharge, brief stability, trigger, crash.

By her mid-30s, in 2001, Emily hit rock bottom. Jobless, living in a rundown apartment subsidised by disability checks, she overdosed on her medications during a depressive episode, whispering apologies to her parents' photos. Miraculously surviving, she was transferred to a progressive hospital in Brighton, specialising in holistic medicine. Here, the approach shifted dramatically. Her bipolar symptoms were exacerbated by nutritional imbalances—chronic inflammation from sugar addiction, gut dysbiosis from alcohol and antibiotics, and deficiencies in key minerals and fatty acids, worsened by years of poor diet and medications that depleted nutrients.

Treatment began with detoxification. Emily underwent multiple magnesium enemas—three sessions over the first two days—to replenish her severely depleted magnesium levels, which had contributed to her anxiety and muscle spasms. The process was uncomfortable, a warm, saline-like flush that left her cramping but soon eased her restlessness, like a fog lifting. Next came a four-day water-only fast, supervised closely to prevent complications. Sipping pure spring water in a serene room overlooking gardens, Emily battled withdrawal: headaches pounded like drums, nausea roiled her stomach, and vivid dreams replayed her trauma. But the fast cleared toxins, resetting her metabolism and reducing inflammation. Intravenous vitamins and minerals continued—drips of high-dose B-complex, vitamin C, zinc, magnesium and selenium—that flooded her veins with life-giving nutrients. She felt energy return, like sunlight piercing clouds; her skin cleared, tremors subsided, and for the first time in years, her mind sharpened without the pharmaceutical haze.

Reintroduction to food was gradual and mindful. Starting with bone broths and vegetable purees, we monitored reactions, eliminating triggers like gluten and dairy that inflamed her gut and brain. Blood tests revealed sensitivities to a number of foods—remnants of her sugar binges—and caffeine, which had mimicked manic symptoms. A personalised diet emerged: whole foods rich in omega-3s from wild salmon, leafy greens for folate, and fermented foods like sauerkraut for natural probiotics. Supplements bolstered this: high-potency multivitamins, extra magnesium glycinate to stabilise moods, probiotics to heal her leaky gut (damaged by alcohol and antibiotics from hospitalisations), and amino acids like tryptophan to support serotonin without drugs. Therapy integrated trauma work, uncovering how the accident had dysregulated her nervous system, compounded by nutritional voids.

The transformation was profound. Within weeks to months, Emily's symptoms vanished—no mania, no depression, no psychosis. She weaned off all medications under supervision, emerging clear-headed and vibrant. By 2002, she returned to Uni, earning her marine biology degree at 37. She reconciled with family; her aunt wept at the sight of the "old Emily-‘Sunshine’“ returning, and Lily, now a teen, found a mentor in her. Mia rekindled their friendship, and Emily even reconnected with Jake, who marvelled at her resilience. Today, in 2005, Emily runs a nonprofit, speaks at conferences on mental health and nutrition, and mentors others in similar struggles. Her story, once a tapestry of heartbreak, now inspires hope—a testament to the body's healing power when nourished, not just medicated. In her words, "I was lost in the storm, but the right light guided me home."

Click the picture below to gain access to the ABC iView episode of a patient who suffered from bipolar disorder and who recovered using a faecal transplant.

"Is this what feeling good is like"?

‘Jane Dudley’

Notice: Not to Be Construed as Health or Medical Advice

The information contained herein is presented solely for general informational purposes and is not intended to constitute, nor should it be interpreted as, professional health or medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. It is not a substitute for the expertise, judgment, or services of a qualified, experienced, and duly trained healthcare practitioner, licensed medical professional and preferably qualified trained integrative medical professional. Readers are expressly advised to seek the counsel of such professionals for personalised guidance and treatment options pertinent to their specific health conditions prior to making any decisions or undertaking any course of action based upon the information provided.

The author disclaims any and all responsibility or liability for inaccuracies, errors, or omissions in the content, as well as for any consequences, direct or indirect, arising from the use of, or reliance upon, this information. Utilisation of this material is undertaken at the reader’s sole discretion and risk. For all matters pertaining to health and medical care, consultation with an appropriately credentialed professional is strongly recommended.