Last time you got a couple of reasons for not really blogging that much, or at least choosing the easy path and either link blogging, knocking up a quick book review or reposting reviews I've already put up for PROPAGANDA at the FPI blog.
But the main reason for the lack of what I think of as decent blogging has been the hideous black mood that has descended over me recently.
I should explain a few things first.
I am very prone to what I laughingly insist on calling "a fit of melancholia". Louise tells me to stop being so stupid and call a depression a depression. But Melancholy it is. Either that or the Black Dog, as Churchill liked to describe his depression.
This has been with me for many, many years in various forms, but over the last 5? 10? years has fallen into a pattern I can identify and, if not actually do much to stop, at least recognise, guide and partially control.
(Again, I can hear Louise snorting with indignation at that one.)
It's always the same though. Generally something simple and uncontrollable will set it off and next thing I know I'm inconsolable in my despair. I do my very best to keep the mood away from Molly and as far as I'm aware have succeeded so far. But as she gets older I'm sure she'll recognise the signs. (Oh shit, daddy's having a mood again).
The strange thing about it is that most people that know me as friends would never really recognise me as a someone likely to suffer from "fits of melancholy".
Just last week, deep in the depths of it, I was having a conversation with one of the teachers at work talking about how I seem completely unflappable and totally stress free. But it's always been like this though, work is a release from the stress and the black dog, because my worklife is deliberately chosen to be something that provides a minimal amount of stress and maximum enjoyment.
Only those who really know me have seen the worst of me, something which I'm convinced isn't a healthy way to behave, putting on this facade of stress free living whilst feeling dead inside.
Of course, this is not to say that I'm always down.
Far from it. Mostly I'm fine, enjoying life and everything in it. But every so often, something will set me off and it's down, down,down we go.
Usually you never really hear about it because I don't tend to write much about me when I am down and really don't feel like writing about being down when I'm happy again. Except this time I bit the bullet and got it down here.
Fascinating post Richard - and quite courageous.
ReplyDeleteI am a fellow sufferer of 'The Black Dog.'
I have to disagree with one thing you said - I think it can be very good therapy to 'put on a facade.'
I find that while in a depressive mood people avoid me and I avoid them. Carrying on as though everything is normal feels wrong at the time but it is the simplest way for me to pull myself out of the hole.
At least it is better than the introspective gloom that I would otherwise endure.
Best wishes - Tom Cochrane