Black Dog

*Draft*

I've spent my fair share of time with the emotional dejection we usually describe as depression. Oh yes, I had a real good go at it and for far too long.

The first thing requiring understanding is that being depressed is extremely hard work. It's a full-time occupation. Slackers need not apply, this is no nine to five position. It requires your unwavering attention, from eyes-open in the morning to eyes-shut late at night.  I suspect a master's thesis requires less commitment.

 Everything that you read and hear about it is true. The imagery of the black dog, the dark clouds; the feeling of helplessness; an inability to see a way forward. Worse, though, is the experience of feeling nothing at all. A standard day to day social interaction becomes a chore. The chance conversation with a stranger. The ordering of a coffee. The purchase of a good or service. All are a minefield to the emotionally dejected. Being weighed down by negativity does not assist with the niceties of greeting and small talk. It becomes a case of getting in and getting out while hoping for the least amount of conversation. It got to the point where I would dread being asked how I was, as I couldn't of course tell the truth - that's not part of the socially accepted contract. We always say we are 'well' or 'fine'. It is bad manners to reveal otherwise.

It's easier to hide it from friends and family. You become a master of emotional disguise. Or you simply lie. Living alone helps. When you withdraw from the social scene you can plead tiredness or play at being a homebody. In fact this tactical withdrawal is one of the simpler exercises you will face. Once you master that and establish your solitude you are free to play with the dejection and surrender to the voices in your head. Except that you don't. You do nothing. You are essentially paralysed, rooted to the chair or the couch or the bed. Whether you're being entertained by TV, music or a book, nothing really penetrates. The horrible status quo never changes. The misery is endless.

What they don't tell you is what you must face at the final hurdle. When the door to your soul re-opens and the sunlight finally returns. When the frost begins to melt. When the birds fly back and break again into song. Relapse.

It's not over 'til it's over..