I have met people – a rare few, it must be said – who claim never to have had a ‘down day’; never to have known a depressed moment.
That’s not my experience at all. Quite the contrary!
It’s hard to write about depression and mental illness without running the risk of seeming morose or excessively maudlin. That is particularly so in poetic form, where dark imagery can assume more than is ever intended.
While I was putting together my last book, All Will Be Well – a Journey of Faith, Love and Letting Go, I came across a poem. I wrote it on one of those ‘down’ days during my wife, Anne’s, illness.
It took the form of a children’s poem about a black dog that ran amok when neglected. ‘Doggo’ returned to normal once he was met with the normal attentions of his loving friend.
I’m sure you are aware that the ‘Black Dog’ is an expression used by Winston Churchill to describe his own depression. I guess the notion of attributing an identity to an intangible – especially a cuddly black Labrador – is a solid step towards embracing our own brokenness; making friends with the black dog!
Anne was an amazing woman. Early on in our marriage, I learnt to trust her incredible intuition. Once it saved her life and the life of one of our children. In some ways, it saved mine.
Anne had organised, without ever broaching the subject with me, for our family to accept a gift from one of those wonderful foundations that support families in need. Her choice: a family holiday or a dog. No prizes on offer here for which one she chose.
So, oblivious to her scheme, I was surprised when, one day, an officer of Guide Dogs Australia arrived at our door step with a two-year-old black Labrador named Webster!
Anne’s rationale, as ever, was sound. Our younger boys would find great solace and affection in this new addition to the family that would, hopefully, help them process their grief at the loss of their mum.
She was right. But Webster (or Websta, as Joseph called him) also became a salve for me, and he remains so.
Webster was a Guide-Dog-Reject. He was too scatty and unpredictable to be of any use supporting a blind person. In part, at least, it was that scatty, unpredictable and fun-loving behaviour that endeared this big black mutt to our family.
As I outlined in the book, there were at least two occasions during Anne’s illness where things became too much; where I became overwhelmed with life and, well, cracked.
Other than for mental health issues caused by chemical imbalances, I think the kind of thing I experienced is likely of the common variety. I pushed too hard for too long and did not heed the signs nor offer myself anything like the self-care I should have done.
Recovery was about re-establishing a routine that included exercise and a little silent time for prayer and meditation each day.
It was not an easy path at first and there is always within me a temptation to push too hard sometimes, to ignore the care of my black dog.
“On Dog Days” is now available as a children’s picture book on Amazon. It’s simple rhyme, and the beautifully simple imagery will delight any child. There’s also an opportunity for reflection for adult parent and child alike; to learn to take care of one’s emotional life.
I hope you like it!
Cheers,
Paul
Paul Russell: Musings 