Beginnings

This is a blog about depression, shamelessly influenced by a million other health blogs. That should serve as a warning to anyone who happens upon it in case they're expecting something uplifting, life-affirming and positive. None of those attributes really apply in my case since depression hits me like a sudden shower of rain. Not the friendly, comforting rain that taps against the window when you're safe and cosy indoors, but the stream of water which descends without warning and within the space of two minutes reduces you to a sodden wreck. I'm making this public in the hope that expressing myself as precisely as I can is a positive thing and in the equal hope that it might help someone else who feels the same not feel quite so lonely.

The first question I wanted to ponder was at what point in my life the depression started. I can remember being moody and upset as a young child but that tended to be related to anxiety about specific events which could be identified and rationalised. Later on, as I became a teenager, it came on because of things my schoolmates had said or done which made me feel inadequate or somehow "other". I use that word because I can't quite satisfactorily define the feeling beyond saying that it was a feeling of being completely alienated from the rest of the world and the people within it. I'll no doubt come back to that later. But again there was always a specific cause/effect chain which could be identified and, to some extent, nullified through some kind of reflective process. I think it was in my early twenties that the depression that continues to plague me first made an appearance.

It's hard to adequately explain to someone who doesn't have this kind of depression just how it feels. I can be going along in my own little world, feeling perfectly fine - I don't like using words like "happy" or "content" because I'm not sure what they mean - and then a dark cloud appears on the horizon of consciousness. I gradually become aware of the black fringe on this margin and try to deny its existence but all the denial does is allow the depression to assert itself and move further in. It is at this point that I would, if I could, stop it in its tracks and send it back to whatever hell it came from. But I just can't and the sense of the black cloud slowly overcomes everything else, a darkness overlaying the light. Once it's there, it only shifts when it wants to shift and no attempts on my part have any effect.

The impact this has on me is twofold. Firstly, it makes it impossible for me to think of anything except the black cloud which has appeared and won't disappear. Every other activity is impacted and every single potential for a moment of pleasure or joy is spoiled because it is filtered through the overwhelming feeling. Secondly, it makes me excessively inward looking and suspicious, feeling as if no-one has ever felt as bad as I do and thinking that everyone who knows me must find me just as tedious company as I find myself. Inevitably, this is a self-fulfilling prophecy and the more I become convinced that people dislike me, the harder to like I become.  I can sometimes see it in peoples eyes that "he's off again" and I try desperately not to communicate my feelings but they seem to have a habit of somehow slipping out. This becomes another thing to add to the black cloud and confirms to me that I am, fundamentally, not worth a great deal.

So, at the moment the cloud is still here. It descended on Tuesday during my day off, possibly because I was out of my working routine and it had chance to sneak into the back of my mind. I say possibly because if I knew for certain it would be easy to defeat it. Unfortunately, it also sometimes comes sailing in when I'm at work so that can't be the only explanation. But certainly, Tuesday was heavy and humid and I was already a bit flustered with the weather - hot and wet which, as I believe Max Miller said, is very nice if you're with a lady but not so good if you're in the jungle. I was also at a bit of a loose end. I have an awful lot of things I could do but a sense of lassitude hits me on days off and I seem to have endless options, none of which are remotely appealing. I try to plan a schedule to fill my free time but for some reason I hadn't made any plans apart from seeing my mother. As a result, Tuesday was spent slowly sensing the aforementioned cloud drifting into my mind and slowly expanding to fill the copious space available.  The evening was a bit better as I had some sympathetic comments on Facebook and I had a small job to do which engaged my attention for an hour or so. It was also mercifully cooler so I could sleep. Wednesday wasn't too bad as work flew by swiftly and there were pleasant people to talk to and a lot of laughter.

Today, however, the feeling has taken over again and I've become convinced that I am boring the people who know me just as much as I am boring myself. Like most of these feelings, it comes from the black dog, the dark master, the fucker in my head - whatever you want to call it. Just please understand that it's not me looking for validation or attention or simply being negative. However briefly the feeling lasts, it is completely sincere and completely believed.

Amusingly, as a side-note, the spell checker on Blogger doesn't recognise the words "blog" or "blogger".