The Black Dog

He slipped through the door on Friday, after spending a few days trying to sneak in through every angle. I did everything I could to fight him back. In the end, he came in, and I’m fighting to kick him out.

Winston Churchill frequently talked about his “black dog”, an old expression for depression. I have done a good job keeping mine at bay; however, even my best efforts aren’t good enough. Unfortunately, it’s part of this monster that’s always on my back, called bipolar disorder.

I can’t think of a single reason to why I’m feeling this way, although I’m sure there was at least one trigger. After all, I did talk about the change of seasons a couple of posts ago, even though the seasons haven’t changed, yet. I did go through a phase of pure exhaustion not too long ago, after going several days with little to no sleep. Aside from that, I can’t think of anything that would have caused it. All I know is that I’m miserable.

Everybody goes through their ups and downs, and everyone gets a little down and sad. But this isn’t just sadness. After all, depression is more than just being sad. It’s like a big stone that I have to drag around, and it’s tiring and frustrating. It’s the sense of feeling weighed down. The sense of feeling defeated. The feeling of complete darkness and numbness. I don’t want to go outside, and I hardly feel like talking to anyone. The only reason I do is so I can maintain some sense of sanity.

Sure, I know it’s my disorder that’s telling my mind these things, and making me feel this way. I have to keep reminding myself of that. I know there are some people who don’t understand. I know there are people with their suggestions. But before anyone can say “just shake it off,” or “Why don’t you (fill in the blanks)?”, save it. If it was really that simple, I wouldn’t be writing this post right now. If it was that easy, these moments would never even happen.

The black dog can bark real loud. He can bark so loud that you can’t hear yourself or anything else around you. The bark is so loud that it feels like it’s penetrating your brain. Right now, he’s barking pretty loudly. I’m trying desperately to drown him out, but right now it’s not successful. I know eventually I’ll get him out of here; after all, I still have a small sense of hope, and I know how this usually plays out. Even when he leaves, he will still roam nearby, waiting for the next opportunity to slip in. I just want him to leave, before I go crazy.

Until next time… (Don’t worry…I’ll be fine.)

One thought on “The Black Dog

  1. I totally understand what you mean about depression, sometimes it just comes out of nowhere and stays well beyond its welcome. My problem too is that I know it will always be back, no matter how good I may feel at the current moment..I can never fully enjoy my “good days” because history has shown I will always have that next depressive episode, regardless of the circumstances in my life and/or the gamut of medications I have tried.

    Liked by 1 person

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