So, here’s a thing - after spending eight years dozing in the corner of my mind, occasionally snorting, scratching and farting to remind me of its existence - two months ago the black dog of depression bit me on the arse again. Hard.

Mental health, sadly, remains a taboo subject for many, so hopefully this modest thread will resonate for those who feel similar, normalising emotions/sensations that for whatever reason they’ve chosen not to articulate.

For me it’s also cathartic.

Cathartic how? Well, this depression feels different to episodes I’ve previously experienced. There’s no sadness or an overwhelming sense of doom - instead it’s a white noise of nothingness.

This silent tinnitus fills my mind, screws up my sleep, decimates my ability to concentrate and renders my powers of coherent thought virtually useless.

The result is confusion, mental isolation, utter frustration and an inability to absorb the joy I normally can from my usual staples such as poring over old car magazines.

Things that would ordinarily take moments occupy an age. This thread alone has been rattling around my mind as fractured thoughts for weeks and still took a couple of ours to tap out. But now it’s part-written I’m feeling a curious sense of accomplishment.

As mentioned at the start, my own black dog - I visualise him as a pug with glassy eyes, for what it’s worth - has been loitering and occasionally nudging me for attention frequently over the past eight years.

Usually I can pacify him, tossing him a biscuit, tickling his belly and telling him he’s a good boy. I can keep him content in his bed in the corner.

Not this time.

I’ve not experienced a specific event that’s made him so bloody furious - it just seems to be one of those things - the serotonin levels in my brain unhelpfully pissing about. Knowing what it is doesn’t mean I can merely will it back away again, though.

While it is one of those things, nevertheless, I’m aware of agitating factors that have exacerbated the problem. Meds *should* be working, but aren’t yet.

So, it’s a case of waiting a bit more - for now. Hoping something changes for the better soon to drag me away from daytime telly (although there’s much to be said for ITV4’s afternoon schedule).

I’m trying to re-engage myself with things I know I enjoy, but it requires perseverance as it’s slow-going. I’ve got piles of unread magazines that I’ve yet to thumb through, which is unheard of for me.

Instead I’m endeavouring to feel normal through experiential means: driving, visiting places, going out for a coffee and seeing friends - social distancing permitting. Having a supportive employer also helps massively.

Apologies if you’ve been in touch recently and I’ve been woefully slow to reply, if at all - my memory isn’t as it was, which is rather destabilising.

Anyway, if you’ve made it this far, thank you. It’s helped me a bit aligning my thoughts.

And if you’re not all that comfy talking about your own mental health, maybe something I’ve clumsily offloaded here will sound reassuringly familiar.

2020, eh?