Here is a little poem I wrote. Apologies for the dark content but it does sum up my feelings and experience of depression.
The black dog is my constant companion;
he is never far from me.
Whether he is lurking in the shadows,
or walking at my side.
He brings with him doom and gloom,
much sadness, hopelessness,
despair and tears.
The black dog has broken me.
He has extinguished my inner strength,
fight and resolve,
and left behind a frightened, fatigued shell of a woman,
who exists and just survives this life.
Whenever a glimmer of hope appears,
he barks and snarls,
then chases it away,
leaving a crestfallen broken woman.
The black dog makes each day
a constant battle to survive,
teetering on a knife edge,
wondering when the final fall to oblivion will occur.
Each day is feared,
will it be a day of suffering and strife
or a day of indifference?
Will it end with me in one piece or smashed to smithereens?
Unless the black dog has ever resided with you,
you will not understand these words - my feelings.
You will be a member of the "pull-yourself-together" brigade,
who dismisses or denies the existence of mental illnesses.
I would not wish a visit from the black dog on anyone.
He takes away your interests and hobbies;
your friends and passions,
and leaves behind numbness, worthlessness and uselessness.
He robs you of sleep and creates an overactive mind.
He allows your subconscious to run riot
and disturb the little rest you get
with surreal and terrifying dreams.
The black dog affects its sufferers differently,
but definitely has his favourites.
Those he returns to, time after time,
destroying their life and family.
Thanks for reading.