That old dog done come back
A few weeks ago, Gretel posted that she was having a hard time getting things done, because her black dog was visiting. That description of the blues didn't make sense to me at the time -- a black dog is such a friendly thing; who wouldn't want a black dog?
Last night I was reading a book that referenced Winston Churchill's depression, and how he called it a "black dog that comes into the room every night and lies down at your feet." I got it. It's familiar, the black dog. He comes back and stays with you, just plops himself down with a sigh, at regular intervals. In a sense, you even welcome him, because you know him so well.
Mid-January, yep, that's when he comes to my house. It's cold, it's dark, I've gotten through the holidays unscathed, but with no reward (yes, I got some lovely presents; that's not what I mean), and there is nothing on the horizon to look forward to. Plus, now Oz seems to be under the weather and Luca is not yet entirely well. Perfect conditions for the dog to move in. I'm able to go through the motions, get myself to work, mostly not self-medicate with food or alcohol, but, as the immortal Peggy Lee would say, "is that all there is?"
Last night I was reading a book that referenced Winston Churchill's depression, and how he called it a "black dog that comes into the room every night and lies down at your feet." I got it. It's familiar, the black dog. He comes back and stays with you, just plops himself down with a sigh, at regular intervals. In a sense, you even welcome him, because you know him so well.
Mid-January, yep, that's when he comes to my house. It's cold, it's dark, I've gotten through the holidays unscathed, but with no reward (yes, I got some lovely presents; that's not what I mean), and there is nothing on the horizon to look forward to. Plus, now Oz seems to be under the weather and Luca is not yet entirely well. Perfect conditions for the dog to move in. I'm able to go through the motions, get myself to work, mostly not self-medicate with food or alcohol, but, as the immortal Peggy Lee would say, "is that all there is?"
posted by Excellent Walker at 7:52 AM
3 Comments:
You can't let the black dog visit. We love your blog, and your excellent walking, too much for that.
Rahul
That this is all there is and that it is somehow more than it is while still being all -- this strikes me as one of the great moebius conundrums of life. This is not all, which is all. It is not. It cannot be. It is.
I love you. Shoo that ugly dog away. Shoo.
Do you know that I regularly fail the word verification test and have to wait for an easier one? It's sad.
Really sorry to hear this. Please keep blogging, it's my weekly glimpse into my favourite city. (How selfish is that?!)
I did find a way to deal with the (my) dog. Every day I think about where he is. After my recent 'visit' he's been in a field, well away from me, with a wall and gate. I've been throwing him metaphorical bones to keep him busy, although he occasionally looks up and sniffs the wind. Then I make the sun shine on the field and he rolls over for a snooze. How long this will work is another matter.
Thinking of you over here :)
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