A version of this was first posted as a Facebook note in 2009.
Nothing in this post should be construed as medical or medicinal advice.
The term “black dog” was used by Winston Churchill to describe
depression and, though it predates the British prime minister, is the
sum total of familiarity most seem have with it. Regardless of who
coined it, “black dog” is as apt a descriptor of the frustrating
experience of depression as there is. Ask anyone who deals with it
regularly.
At this point in my life I cannot even remember when I started
dealing with depressive episodes. (I do not use the phrase “suffering
from depression”; it just does not seem to fit me.) I’m pretty certain
that it has not always been a part of my life, though it may have been
unrecognized earlier on. For the last few years, however, there are
three or four times each year that it hits.
It is funny when you start talking about being depressed and
experience the reactions of those around. The responses can range from
the spiritual (“Pray more.”), to the physical (“Are you getting outside
enough?”) to the ludicrous (“Just pull out of it.”)
One can no more “just pull out of” a depressive episode than they can “just pull” the moon out of its orbit.
This note is the result of my own observations and experiences over the last couple of years. Continue at Marty Duren
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