|Near Corteconcepción, Huelva|
Well, it has certainly been quite a while since I trundled through this part of my digital demesne. Depression is an insidious thing. It creeps up on you and wraps its tendrils around your being like a fog in a story by HP Lovecraft. And like Lovecraft’s charaters, there’s little you can do. At first you are unaware of this existentially threatening animophage, then you’re paralysed and tend, at leat at first, to
surrender as the abyss claims you.
|Percy Moo, the Foundling Teckel|
Then you go to the GP, get your Prozac and wait for three weeks until the meds kick in and you’re your jaunty old self again. But… are you the same? Is your animus free of the tendrils? Or, have their bonds been loosened just enough for you not to feel them?
Carmelo, the Cheeky Chappie
Probably this latter, for as you get used to the med.s, the corners start to get dusty and the dark begins to gather, thicken and congeal in them once more.
Solution? Different, stronger, depression-inducing drugs to alleviate your depression (WTF????). I shit you not . High-octane homeopathy - a bit cheaper and less quackery involved, however.
Please don't get me started on homeopaths and their willing victims - they're as despicable as cyclists. Both tribes tend to sneer at the rest of humanity for not belonging to their particular brand of holier-than-thou New Age misanthropy. As the late, great Terry Pratchett said about the bi-wheeled hordes: "My experience in Amsterdam is that cyclists ride where the hell they like and aim in a state of rage at all pedestrians while ringing their bell loudly, the concept of avoiding people being foreign to them. My dream holiday would be: a) a ticket to Amsterdam, b) immunity from prosecution and c) a baseball bat". For Amsterdam, read: "the cycle-friendly, pedestrian-persecuting town that it's my misfortune to be in at this moment".
But I digress.
|Holy Prozac Batman!!! You stop|
taking the pills???
"Life" begins to get even worse for a while, but one day you take your dog for a walk and you realise that you are both smiling and that perhaps the best type of chemical aids are your own endorphins.
|Carmelo & My Dark Lady|
You realise that not only has living with yourself been rather poo, it’s also been poo for those around you and you can’t but thank your Dark Lady, your children and your dogs for putting up with you while you’ve been morosely wallowing around in figurative poo for months. So thank you all for putting up with me and for dragging me along with you when all I wanted to do was sit on the sofa drink tea and listen to Radio 4 – which I hasten to add are all noble, legitimate pastimes per se, but when indulged in, forsaking all others, can be quite debilitating.
|The Churchill car insurance|
dog. I think he looks more like
Jeremy Clarkson. And on that
bombshell, ladies and gentlemen...
It helps enormously, though, to be surrounded by people to help you keep on the track. Oh yes.
A footnote: A while ago I got some feedback about my Nutbrown Elephant Pie Funnel post from Peter Craig in Australia, also a victim of the Melancholia. Strange how these things happen. Here's his take on the pie funnel. Thanks, Pete for granting me permission to use it.
|Peter Craig's rendition of the Nutbrown Elephant Pie Funnel|