Part Six

The people that are crying inside are the same ones that flip and shoot up a school or hang themselves, these things are seen as shocking when they happen. Why? They’re inevitable with phrases like “everyone has their problems” indoctrinating the minds of the vulnerable at every chance.
This idea that Depression, and it is capitalized, can be baited out and exorcised like some kind of demon in the night is wrong on the most basic level.
A notion founded in outdated ignorance and an almost deliberate misunderstanding of mental health issues has fed the cycle of hurt and heartache across the world. If we were taught that Depression was a problem in the same was that Down’s syndrome is, we would help those affected and we’d do it without a hint of resent.
Instead, the stigma of Depression doesn’t resemble the stigma found in disability, despite its debilitating features, instead resembling the stigma attached to homosexuality or Asperger’s Syndrome. Like it’s somehow a minor issue, an aspect of a person’s self rather than the governing feature.

Depression makes a person think differently, right to the foundations of himself. It’s all-absorbing, a life is ruled and ruined by it. A decision can’t be made without forethought to future episodes of misery.

Winston Churchill likened it to carrying around a big black dog, a dark burden that weighs heavily and pushes against a man’s chest, suffocating him with pure… nothing.
Sadness and misery are estimations, a roundabout way of describing the indescribable. People assume they know what it feels like, being told they haven’t felt it is like saying a new color has been discovered; unimaginable.
The blackest punch to gut, a punch of guilt, shame, hatred, anger, sadness, tiredness, apathy, demotivation and the most profound sense of doom and dread possible, all multiplied to the nth degree and wrapped around you like the dirty hands of the angriest, seediest cunt in the world; yourself.

It never leaves. The punches draw back, but you know another’s coming and you know the grip’s coming back to squeeze you again soon. Always.

Winston's Dog

I suppose my first post should be something along the lines of an introduction and explanation, so here we are!

This blog will be my diary, but written in the style of a pretentious twat. I was asked to do a series of diary entries for work purposes a few weeks ago, but since then they've become useless to my employer. I found the writing process helpful and the sending/posting process liberating, so I plan to continue here.

The style isn't false, I just write like a dickhead, but I did put more effort in for the sake of my employer. She's a writer, if you're wondering.

First things, the title. Winston's Dog is a stupid title, that's obvious, but it carries with it a euphemism popularised by Winston Churchill - that of Depression likened to the burden of a large black dog.

Speaking of a doctor whom he held in high regard, Churchill said, ""I think this man might be useful to me - if my black dog returns. He seems quite away from me now - it is such a relief. All the colours come back into the picture."

I always thought it was a beautifully miserable notion, and it's relevance to this blog will become more clear as time passes.

More eloquent Churchill quotes in the next post, until then I look forward to exploring Blogger.com a little more and seeing who else is out there.

Thanks for reading,

Chris.