Riding With The Black Dog
This week found me on another attempt at dragging my arse out of the funk I find myself in. I drove into Derbyshire’s Peak District a few days ago, I took my bike and a camera and rode about 30 km amongst the stunning scenery on the Monsal Trail. I enjoyed it, but it didn't make a single difference to how I felt. I had planned to finish staining a wooden stool I've renovated for my dad and get some more book editing done, but with the weather being so nice I thought it would be better to be out.
It's very easy for me to stay in and it takes me some considerable effort to get away from the house at the moment. I needed to do it.
The low mood is not deep enough to stop me in my tracks but enough to make me limit my reach. I'm still able to work, I'm feeding myself and I'm getting by, except I'm doing it on a reduced level. Like a computer with a fault, I'm in safe mode.
It's called ‘Black Dog’ because it's like having a sullen dog with you, sapping your energy for life, wherever you are, it's there. According to ‘psychcentral.com’ it's a term that's been around since 65 B.C. as the Roman poet Horace referred to it. It was also used by Winston Churchill to describe his own state of mind. It's inspired so many things over the years, like ‘Hurt’ by Johnny Cash, he describes the feelings of depression perfectly. Or, ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’ by Green Day, where they talk about walking a ‘lonely road’. Oddly, after a bit of internet digging, I discovered that the song ‘Black Dog’ by Led Zeppelin is actually inspired by a Black Labrador that roamed around the recording studio, although it is also a lament to a lost relationship. And I’m sure we all remember the movie ‘It's a Wonderful Life’ a man's struggle with life as his business folds.
There's no getting through to me in this state, normal life, raising my game enough to work and communicate with those I work with as best as I can is exhausting. Work is an hour away in the car and I've been micro-sleeping at the wheel this week, willing myself to get home before I have an accident. Five minutes from home yesterday, I was sitting in the car at traffic lights and I fell asleep. Just a few seconds, but I knew I had. I get home, eat what I can be bothered to prepare, and go to bed, often before 9 p.m.
People with low mood or depression symptoms are said to have a chemical imbalance in the brain and often antidepressants can be prescribed to correct this. What is not clear though is when the imbalance starts, is it before the depression or does the depression make the changes? Difficult childhood experiences can make a person more susceptible to depression, and these “experiences” are often quoted as being; abuse, neglect, a traumatic event, or the loss of a family member.
If these events happen to a self-aware childhood brain then working out the issues to help a person with a mood disorder later in life is more straightforward. But what if the trauma happens to an infant brain? Firstly, the sufferer won't have any memory of that trauma, this can cause confusion for the person as the triggers are far less obvious, meaning the depression comes seemingly from nowhere. Secondly, how does a person go about combatting their mood disorder if there are no obvious triggers? It makes the counseling journey much more difficult and is like sorting through a box of spare coat buttons looking for the right one.
So how does it affect me? I’m tired as I've said, I'm quiet, I try to include myself in conversation at work but it's often too difficult to follow, I lose concentration and I give up, choosing to sit and zone out instead. The workload over the last couple of days has been tough, one job after the other with very little time for any breaks, I feel myself slipping further and further back into myself.
I have very little patience, I don't get angry, I don't ‘get’ anything, It's all just passing me by, and I let it. If I feel my patience slipping, I get away instead. Not that I have the energy to feel anything, it makes me feel empty. Like a cleaned-off whiteboard, all the words have been wiped away but you can still see the faint ghosts of letters. Holding conversations when I Feel empty and numb is difficult because I fail to react to the other person. Often I just want them to stop talking or go away, so I make my replies short or nonchalant, giving the other nowhere to go with the interaction so they give up. I don't laugh, I don't cry, I don't emote, nothing, it's all gone. I avoid people, physically and mentally because I can't be bothered to engage.
Moving is hard too. My job as a maintenance engineer in the food industry is very physical. I have to squeeze into tight gaps, lay on the floor, move and lift heavy stuff around, or climb things. Doing this stuff when even a conversation is tiring, becomes a huge strain.
I think that generally, I'm trying to limit stimulation to a level that feels manageable. When I'm at home, I can sit doing nothing for hours. No TV, no music, Not reading or attempting to write. There are jobs to do, like cleaning and washing and they get ignored.
I think some of what I’m feeling has a lot to do with me recently starting counselling. I’m doing it so that I can explore my adoption and my life so that I might find out where all my mental health issues are coming from. It's well known that people often get worse before they get better, but I have to say I am surprised at just how much I'm affected by conversations with my therapist. Even things I think about often, the well trodden cognitive pathways seem to carry so much more weight under therapy conditions.
After recently completing a course on mental health awareness, I know all the signs and symptoms of a depressed state, I also know the sort of treatments and self-help activities that are recommended to chase the black dog away. Such as exercising, meditation, and breathing, eating well, sleeping properly, and talking about it with others. I’m armed with the tools I need to get myself onto the happy side of the Fence, I just need to convince ‘Brian the brain’ that it's worth it.
A couple of days ago had the privilege of talking with a friend (yes, I have one!). He gave me the space to speak about, and share my state of mind with him and in turn, he shared his struggle with PTSD after an RAF role he held in Afghanistan. He sent me a link to a video on YouTube about depression and the black dog. He thought might be helpful. I've shared it below.
https://youtu.be/XiCrniLQGYc
While I was on that bike ride in the Peak District I took around 200 photographs. The trail follows an old train line that cut5rs through the landscape and the scenery on either side of the trail is expansive and beautiful, with rolling hills, steep drops, climbs, farm buildings, and small groups of country cottages dotted throughout. It’s an amazing landscape to treat your eyes to. However, I chose to photograph the small details of the trail instead. Light through leaves and patterns in rock, details of bridges, and metalwork
. My photography mimicked my brain, painstakingly picking through that box of buttons instead of looking at the bigger picture. You can see the final photos of the trip on my Flickr page here.
Image: © Andy Wallis
