I have struggled with depression over the last 20 years. Of course, in the beginning, I had no idea that I was depressed until I found myself in the hospital being watched 24/7. My first depression crept up on me, I was tired, disinterested and felt progressively worse, everything just seemed too difficult and the next thing I knew I was suicidal.
After experiencing depression one learns what to avoid and what to do to keep the symptoms at bay. One also learns that sometimes medication is needed to win the battle. I attribute my survival to experience, good professional advice, the proper meds and hard work. I can usually tell now when I'm being hounded by that "black dog" before he can get his teeth in.
A few weeks ago I was going through a change in medications that involved nasty pain, more than I should have suffered. The pain became severe and I could not get out to ride and I had a neighbour walking my dog. Time out of doors is an essential ingredient in my anti-depression routine. Then my cat, my littlest sweetest pet was diagnosed with renal failure. During this time of physical and emotional suffering, accessing useful health care and support was becoming problematic. I have many doctors and support people but some of my primary health care providers weren't even available, let alone helpful in any way.
I found myself getting weepy. But the piece of the puzzle that solved it for me was the road kill. I adore animals. I can't bear to see an animal suffering; furry, scaley, slimey or otherwise. Years ago I made a promise to myself. "I will not look at the roadkill". If I see it up ahead I don't look, I am sorry for the creature but I have to keep driving and let it go.
I have to let it go, when I find myself looking at road kill, I am comiting, a telling transgression. I am indulging the dark side. After the roadkill, the floodgates open and I find myself crying for all the pets in my life that have died or will die. I move on then to my father who died five years ago and from there it just spirals down out of control. At these times, all of life is death, pain and misery, blah blah blah. When it has been established that the world is an intolerable barren wasteland, I turn inward. My life is awful, I will always be in pain, I will always be sick, I am lonely and I will always be lonely, wah wah wah.
I think the road kill is a metaphor for the whole deal. When I look up ahead and I say "what a shame or that's too bad" but I carry on, life is ok. But when I look at the road kill it's no longer a strange possum of little circumstance, it's a little black and white cat. I had a black and white cat growing up. So now, I'm on to the family of the present cat, wondering where their little pet has gone. Some little girl crying at some dinner table. I wonder about the little cat's last moment. Indulgent wallowing. I can't afford to indulge the dark side.
The rules are simple. Obeying them is sometimes difficult. Usually when I look down my metaphorical road and I identify myself as roadkill. I can give in, straining my self to see the sorry state of me up the road or I can look at my behaviour and realize that I am in the early stages, approaching the wallow. Or I can look inwards to my sense of self and reality, continue to breath and go on. Depression doesn't go away quickly or easily but if it's mending rather than festering that's something.
It has taken me a long time and many violent altercations with the black dog to learn these simple things. I don't forget them too often because I know where that leads. I am also highly motivated because nothing I've ever encountered hurts more than depression. So as I drive down the road, I tell myself "eyes up, watch the road and never, ever look at the road kill."
2 comments:
That was brilliant. Never look at the roadkill. Wonderful way of putting it.
How super ! How simple and how profound...never look at the roadkill. S,Morgan
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