“Black Dog”-A metaphor, popularised by Winston Churchill, for the experience of a major depressive disorder. (Wikipedia)
I am currently trying to hide from the Black Dog. It’s pretty clever. It sniffs you out, no matter where you try to hide. Anti Depressants do keep the Black Dog at bay, most of the time. But sometimes it gets so strong, it finds you anyway.
Previously when it comes searching, I hide out, lay low, don’t answer my phone, don’t talk to anyone, ride it out, it always eventually passes. Not so easy to do when you have a little one, smiling at you, needing you. So you smile back, you talk, you giggle, you sing songs, you do what you have to do. Then she goes to sleep, and you go on auto pilot. You wash what needs to be washed. You tidy what needs to be tided. You cook what needs to be cooked. Because that Black Dog may have beaten you in the past, but now there is two of you. So you fight harder. It is still there, circling. Sniffing, looking for that weakness. It wears you down, but it will not beat you. Because of her. Because of my beautiful daughter, who has saved me from surrendering to the Black Dog ever again. I know the two of us will scare it off, eventually. xx