It doesn’t Woof

I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning
I was much too far out all of my life
And not waving but drowning
– Stevie Smith

I have had depression for many years, the first symptoms being in my teens. I have my suspicions as to why but I don’t want my mind to go there. Pointless, what was done cannot be undone.

I know of ‘the black dog‘ but I never associated depression with a dog. I view depression as a multi-tentacled beast which slowly, steathily reaches through my mind, carefully and efficiently strangling those parts of my mind that allow me pleasure, taste, motivation and all things good. The descent into what I can only describe as just plain existing is subtle, each strangulation unnoticed in itself until the day I wake and do not want to move, where the only sensation that can break through is pain.

My depression is chronic. Medication works until then, for reasons I do not know, it stops. The tentacles return.

You would think that after so long I would see it, feel it, know it but I honestly do not.

Yesterday though I met the dog


I had – for once – a good week at work. On Sunday I reviewed what I had done for the week and was genuinely pleased. I need to work at being better at work after 2019 and last week hit a good spot. I wasn’t high fiving myself but I was content, happy, back in the groove I want to be in.
Nothing later that day was out of the ordinary. All normal, all stable, all okay.

While sleeping Sunday night that black dog arrived

Everyone wakes up at some point, sees the time and wants that day to be cancelled. I’d bet most of those are related to alcohol, late nights and OMG I DID WHAT?
I get it, done that too.

This was – and still is – different
No late, no drink, no shame
Stop the world I want to get off
Close eyes, stay still, let it pass

I was due to work though, so I did
The dog stayed
Work was really hard to get through

The dog is still here now
And I don’t know when it will go
I don’t know how to make it go

I’ve had down days as we all do, but I can’t recall ever feeling this way this fast and this completely

If I could I would lie down, close my eyes and curl up

Existing is hard

In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning
– F. Scott Fitzgerald

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