Shutting the Doors

Depression. The word itself evokes a dark veil of misery. There are, of course, a number of politically correct terms and a few euphemisms to infer the same meaning. The most common is the rather incongruous ‘black dog’. Surely to be followed by a soppy puppy would be a thing of joy? Admittedly, if you had allergies, that could be a problem.

I have suffered from depression for the majority of my adult life. I did not always know the reasons behind my erratic mood swings, but over time, it became apparent and eventually, it was diagnosed.

Before your eyes drift away to the ‘bookmark’ menu in search of something more cheerful to read or view, I must say that I am not going to go into detail about how and why, for that is my business, not yours. Heaven knows, I don’t want to inflict that upon you.

However, I would like to briefly touch upon the signs that I see when I begin to descend into the wallowing moods.

There are signs with my diet. It could go either way. I will either start binging on naughty foods like pizza or marmalade sandwiches, or I lose my appetite all together.

*I begin pushing people away. Not too far, just far enough so they are slightly out of reach. I will avoid contact and, if that isn’t possible, I will avoid discussions that are too close to comfort – hence my often inconsequential ramblings. (This is often proven by my belief that a witty one-liner is a perfect foil to fend off the most earnest of interrogators.)

*I begin shutting the doors, walling myself up in the comfort of my own abode and I’ll even unplug the telephone. Shut away from the havoc and inconsistencies of the world outside, I feel trapped, yet safe, like a survivor in a nuclear bunker, post-war.

*I begin thinking about minimising the clutter of my life. I imagine selling my possessions of simply giving them away in an altruistic act.

*I go to bed. I climb into the womb of slumber and retreat into a world of fantasy within my dreams. These night retreats begin earlier and earlier and last longer and longer.

These warning signs do not always arrive en masse and they don’t always appear in any particular order, but occasionally, one or two will creep up behind me and I shan’t notice until it’s too late.

When my conscience has done its duty and made good use of the Crow’s Nest, I can see the storm approaching. Often, there is sufficient time to steer the ship away, but other times, it’s a case of batten down the hatches and ride it out. (I shan’t stretch the maritime analogy further, I promise.)

I have a number of methods to combat the persistent Labrador (See? It sounds far too cute to be bad!)

1) I get out of the house. Yes, sometimes this means shopping. A jolly good purchase can definitely be the right medicine. Money can’t buy you complete happiness, but if it can raise a smile, who is to knock it?

2) I make calls to friends. Speaking to them over the phone or in person is a wonderful medication. It may feel daunting prior to the moment, but it can be a huge release once that initial roadblock has been hurdled.

3) I try to stop beating myself up and give my self some positive feedback. I am my own worst critic and I frequently flagellate my ego with torrents of mental abuse highlighting my own flaws and inadequacies. This is, obviously, bordering on the mental. So, in retaliation I force myself to praise those things which I perceive to be the better parts of my soul and being.

4) I watch something I love. It may be Victoria Wood As Seen on TV, a Fred and Ginger film from the ‘30s or Clue: The Movie. A bit of comedy or a ‘feel-good’ movie can do wonders – if you’re comfy with a big mug of tea and a packet of yummy biscuits, by your side, then all the better!

5) I read one of my 'comfort' reads - an Agatha Christie or a Dick Francis. Sometimes something familiar and easy to read can whisk you away to a better place - albeit full of murders and crippled horses.

6) I count my blessings. Those who are insensitive to depression may callously think we who suffer should just ‘get over it’. If only it were that simple. However, placing yourself in context with the rest of the world can bring a little light to your doldrums.

These steps I take are not almighty cures, they are merely safety buffers.

The BBC just aired an episode of Doctor Who, penned by Richard Curtis, which touched upon the subject of depression. Given its family tea-time slot, it wasn’t particularly in depth or heavy-handed about it. However, it did highlight the effect depression can have on people and purposefully showed that there are no easy answers.


For more information, please take a look at the following websites.

www.beyondblue.org.au/

www.blackdoginstitute.org.au/