The Visitors

Dealing with bouts of depression

Often, I’m too busy to court my gloom but when ‘Gloom’ arrives, he shows up with a suitcase, wants to fucking stay. 

He loves the school holidays. It’s summer after all, so he reckons he deserves a vacation too - inside my head. 

Relate?

That’s right, you’re going about your business, all ordinary, when you catch a glimpse of the unannounced, doom tourist about to cross your threshold.

Like Edward Scissorhands’ bleaker brother, he has the aura of period dramas, wears black and carries a pocket watch - a bit steam punk -so that when he arrives, you’ll be sure to count every miserable minute.

“Oh bloody hell, not Gloom! How on earth did you get in?”

You ask the familiar figure. “I’ve not been playing any sad music, I’ve been eating well, looking myself …I HAVE!”

Because that’s what those of us prone to these visits do. We tighten our ‘security system’. Prepare.

But Gloom needs only a crack and he’s in there like one of those big bastard spiders, and what’s more, he never travels alone.

I feel myself quiver, a jelly, as the red fluid I recognise as me - liquid and vibrant - starts to thicken. 

‘Gloom’ always brings a couple of mates along - ‘cause that’s the sort of freeloader he is. Misery loves company, right?

Like a downer version of the seven dwarves, some have the same names. Dopey, Grumpy and Sleepy are definitely in the mix, but they are joined by a couple of additional characters. 

Maybe they call on you too?

I particularly hate the one I call ‘Pointless’.

Everything my snappy little Snow White thinks of, he retorts “What’s the point?”

Perhaps you recognise this character yourself.

Even little things you want to do, like talk to friends, he pipes up that it’s pointless because you’ve nothing to say that anyone would want to hear! Why would anyone find you interesting, funny, relevant?

The Visitors have claimed your front room and have managed to banish you to your own cellar.

So, you stay in your silence. 

And on it goes.

Why would anyone want to see your social media post?

Why bother cooking “just for you”?

Why get dressed? 

Then ‘Guilt’ arrives. Oh joy!

In a world that’s built on ‘should’, you begin to chastise yourself. What the hell’s up with you? 

You have food, shelter, health…..things aren’t *that* bad are they?  

FFS! Think of Tommy from Facebook who had to sell his autistic child’s beloved cockapoo therapy puppy to fund his brother’s seventh spine op that DIDNT WORK!

And you think you’re hard done by ‘cause you’re buying bullet beans instead of Heinz?

Yep. ‘Guilt’ is on to you quicker than a fly on a starving baby’s eye in an Oxfam advert.

You skulk about with a face that wouldn’t look out of place in a painting from an 80’s dining room. (Remember the *cursed* one they said caused house fires?)

If you had a sad eyed dog, he would offer you his paw at this point. In fact, if you do, maybe he does. Or then again, maybe he just wants feeding….Hmm….

“Shit, did I even feed the dog? No because I’m too wrapped up in myself, aren’t I? Fuck! I’m soooo shit!”

Cue more tears…

So, with this crowd of party poopers circling your mind like ravens, it feels as if there’s no room for you, the person with ideas and dreams. Remember them?

How long are these visitors staying? You need your brain back!

Well, here’s the thing.

They never tell you, do they?

People tell you to ‘cheer up’, ‘it might never happen’, ‘turn your frown upside down’ and whatever other poundshop pearls they wanna hurl your way. 

“Give your head a wobble” you hear, and you try…..you really do… but how when you’re already setting?

The ‘talk to someone’ trend annoys me. This idea that if you are feeling down, speaking to someone will always do the trick.

The way virtue signallers have it plastered all over their Facebook.  Oh shit really?  Well fuck me!  I never knew the Samaritans existed! Said no-one ever.

And let’s face it, often those with it all over their social media are the people you’d least want to talk to.

Yes, Kaz - of course I’d LOVE to talk to you, you ABSOLUTE SOUL OF DISCRETION….

I know it helps some people but it is certainly not a “catch all”and it delegates the responsibility of government to not provide adequate mental health services rather nicely doesn’t it?

And now we have these groups for men ‘cause fellas don’t show feelings so they need special groups *just for them*. Apparently.

What next?  “Wheelchair worriers”, “Downs Syndrome and Down” “Pissed off People of Colour”, “Listless and Lesbian”?

Let’s work with the common ground we all have. We’re all people!  I believe this culture of fragmentation exists to further divide!

Some people will feel better for talking to people, others won’t. Some may need medical intervention. Some need time and space.

One solution does not fit all but we’d certainly all benefit from 

• A compassionate government that doesn’t keep drowning us with manufactured crises, unnecessary medical interventions and higher bills

• Kindness - in its least bullshit sense of the word - before it was hijacked by plastic hippies, opportunists and social media darlings

• Friendly faces

Truth is, your ‘visitors’ will leave if and when they’re ready. 

I find distraction helps me, as does seeing friends. For you it might be something else.

Sometimes we have to go within to transcend. I have this card called ‘Sweat lodge’ and looking at it reminds me of the concept of sweating something out. Sitting with it. Honouring the cycle.

If this is you right now, observe ‘The Visitors’ but do not scold them.

Talk to others if you need to, but know that the right ones will still be there if you want to stay in your cave a little longer.

You’re not pointless.

These are feelings and they will pass.

Even if you feel like a piece of crap, know that even flies eventually move on to fresh shit, right? 

‘The Visitors’ will tire of you.

Make them feel unwelcome by saying kind things to yourself, eating well and taking exercise.

And remember, some of the most magnificent trifles have been founded upon a very wobbly jelly.