For those of you suffering from depression,
You're not alone.
Here's a personal story from someone who understands,
Who's been there and found a path out.
I hope it shines a light of hope for you.
For those of you who don't suffer from depression,
Who can't really appreciate how it is,
Here's a personal story that may shine a light on understanding its insidious nature.
This is Liz's story.
According to colour.
Red and yellow and pink and green,
Purple and orange and blue.
I can sing a rainbow,
Sing a rainbow,
Sing a rainbow too.
Bah,
Humbug.
You can take your rainbow colours and shove them where the sun doesn't shine.
That is where I exist.
In a confined bubble,
Swathed in blackness.
An inescapable bubble.
Once upon a time,
My world was vast,
Bright and cheerful.
Dreams were created,
Goals were set,
Adventures planned and explored,
Bathed in the gold and brilliance of courage and shiny new beginnings.
Not now,
Not anymore.
Now my world feels smaller,
Limiting,
And I feel stuck alone inside a clawing black cloud that swirls around me.
I seek some light,
The bright inside my bubble,
But there is only black.
Or sometimes dark grey.
It is hard to function in here,
So I pull away from the world and others in it.
I know it's not healthy to be alone,
But I want to be.
It seems to fit in with the darkness.
Despite the best efforts of glowing pink kindness,
I don't want to be with others,
So I withdraw further.
It's hard to explain the bubble to others.
The strong,
Haloed in suffragette purple grab my arms through the blackness and try to heave me out.
The righteous navy blue stand by and lecture,
Advise and coerce,
But cannot pull me out.
It seems all manner of goodwill and intent doesn't work,
Nor help me.
I turn to gracious green mother nature for help,
But my bubble refuses to expand in her direction.
I sob until I fall asleep.
Time relentlessly marches forward.
I slog through murky cold black.
I can't leave the house anymore.
Others visit and offer outings,
Gentle walks,
Flowers and ice cream.
Ice cream was my favourite food in the whole wide world,
But the container remains unopened in the freezer.
Others don't seem to understand that even my letterbox seems too far away from my bubble.
I sob and sleep,
Learning that sleep is the best mini-escape for me.
For this reason,
I sleep often,
Sometimes deeply.
One deep sleep,
I saw something shiny moving in the swirling black.
Trying to focus,
I stared in the direction that the shiny movement came from.
Thick black clouds swirled vigorously around me,
Sensing a shift in the bubble,
Trying to smother me tighter.
With a deep breath in,
I stepped into my space and held it,
Waiting to glimpse silver again.
A silver stick or baton of some sort.
During the 1980s,
Pink Floyd's album Another Brick in the Wall depicted a row of marching silver hammers in the video of the song We Don't Need No Education.
A single marching silver hammer is the best way I can describe the stick-like baton that I saw working its way towards me through my blackness.
As it marched,
The shiny silver baton pushed the clouds back and away from me,
Dispelling them altogether.
I felt a heaviness lift from me,
As though I was swimming up to the surface from a heavy sedation.
The surface burst and I woke with a gasp,
Startled by the thing that saved me.
It seemed incomprehensible that I had an ally after long months confined in the dark.
The ally was my tool,
A shiny silver baton that I could use to hit away rejection,
Despair,
Loneliness,
Confusion and longing.
All the feelings that had formed the black bubble and held me tight within it.
The pathway out was long and winding,
But I made it with the help of my fierce,
Shining silver ally.
I still adore ice cream,
And these days my favourite colour is silver.
So,
Whoever you are,
Wherever you are,
Take care,
Stay safe,
Believe there's a path for you.
Namaste.
