When The Black Dog Growls. Battling Depressions Terrible Demons.

Given the numerous articles I read on beBEE regarding anxiety and depression I thought it prudent to re- share my own experiences with this most terrible of afflictions.

I agonised  for days  before  writing about my particular tortuous journey and the time of my own suffering, but I am glad I did as this piece has been reproduced hundreds of times in various journals and on line platforms across the world.

Now that I am ‘well,’ perhaps it will give comfort to some who are enduring their own agonising road to recovery.

August 2014.

Today I, along with millions of others around the world, awoke to find that Robin Williams is no longer with us. This is a sad day indeed, for the man brought  so much joy and laughter into our worlds with his manic humor coupled with acute sensitivity that he brought to so many of his cinematic roles.

I shall miss him.

I will not wax lyrical here about his genius but rather concentrate on the thing that he kept hidden from his followers for years; his battle with depression which only later in life he admitted to suffering from.

In an interview with an Australian newspaper in 2013, he spoke of the fear that he was most frightened of, the fear of fear itself. Reading this piece brought home the reality of this most awful of diseases that chooses its victims at random. Rich, poor, young, old, this affliction makes no distinctions when it comes to the selection process.

In 2010 I awoke one morning feeling a little anxious and, for the life of me could not fathom the reason why. At the time I ran a thriving advertising agency, my family life was excellent, I had a wonderful circle of friends and I was financially fairly well off. 

Anxiousness strikes us all from time to time and, in most cases disappears rather quickly however, for me the annoying symptoms persisted and if anything, got worse as the days dragged out into weeks. My answer to this setback was simply to ignore it, telling myself that it would eventually go away and that terrible feeling would be gone as if it was just a mild headache.

How wrong I was.

At the time, business wise, there was a lot going on as the company was growing at almost 40% a year and the business had never been in better shape. Somehow though, I began to lose focus and it became noticeably clear to my colleagues and staff that something was terribly amiss. I became more and more withdrawn, not only at work but at home as well. The only thing that offered an escape from this ‘thing’ that was gnawing away inside me was sleep. I began to skip meetings, heading home early or not even going to work at all, making a beeline to the ‘safety’ of my bed while the sun was still up and  then forcing myself to sleep for upwards of eighteen hours a day.

The anxiousness that I was suffering from then, without warning suddenly morphed itself into something a lot more sinister… fear, and then went one step further by introducing me to the concept of terror! At this point I could no longer face the prospect of seeing anyone, becoming a virtual hermit sheltering beneath the blankets where I fought invisible demons that raged inside my head.

It was the noise, the babel if you like that I could never switch off, like the sound of a thousand murmuring voices constantly bubbling like a pool of boiling lava.

The ‘pain’ drove me to plan my ‘exit’ for I could no longer endure the agony of this state of being, this demented existence and the ‘shame’ of suffering what was obviously a mental disorder.

Me?

Me of all people, one who was so addicted to life, had somehow succumbed to something that I simply did not understand. I was so ashamed, as on the outside I looked for all intents and purposes like any other ’normal, ‘ healthy person. I sought no help, rather I tried with all my might to conquer something I couldn’t see but, always fell Sisyphus like to the bottom of the dark mountain every time I tried to climb it.

It was a phone call from a friend with whom I hadn’t spoken to in months that prevented me from taking the path to oblivion, leaving behind a loving family and a company that supported over a hundred families. It was only at that point did I admit to myself that I was in fact very ill and needed help.

And so began the long, long road to recovery with the help of an understanding and caring psychiatrist who guided me towards the light. Along the way,  after I felt I was making progress, madness set in and my behavior began to change.

I began to drink heavily and seek out a variety of drugs that were definitely not prescription! I was hell bent on alienating myself from those who loved me the most.

There was a day however that I shall never forget when, sitting brooding at the bottom of our garden overlooking my favourite stretch of water, the fear suddenly vanished as if it had never been there at all. 

Gone, like mist burning off water when the sun comes out. It was the most liberating experience ever, akin to falling in love for the first time. I know now that the pharmaceuticals  were in fact doing their job and the chemical ’mix’ inside my brain was now somehow in balance.

To all the sufferers out there I know now what it feels like, but it is a disease that can be beaten, but it takes time to heal. For me, it has taken all of four or five years to feel ‘ normal’ again and it has to be said that it is a wonderful state to be in. I now am able to recognise the symptoms of anxiousness  and I strive to head that particular demon off at the pass, knowing that it will endeavor to permeate every being of my core.

I no longer take medication as I felt that too was a crutch and, with guidance I was able to wean myself off the pharmaceuticals which was a blessed relief.

However, I know just over there, lurking in the shadows a black dog hides and every now and again I hear a soft growl letting me know that he is not that that far away. If you too hear that dog, seek help sooner rather than later as that terrible beast  can be banished to the secure kennel where it belongs !

There are numerous organizations, forums and help centers for those who suffer from this debilitating disease and all are there to reach out to help and to them I am eternally grateful.  

Paul v Walters is the best selling author of several novels and when not cocooned in sloth and procrastination in his house in Bali, writes for several international travel and vox pop journals.

His latest offering, Asset will be released in late 2017

www.paulvwalters.com