I HAD A BLACK DOG, HIS NAME WAS DEPRESSION.

SourceⒸ : I had a black dog, his name was depression | World Health Organization 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XiCrniLQGYc&t=3s

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I had a black dog, his name was depression.

Whenever the black dog made an appearance, I felt empty and life just seemed to slow down.

He could surprise me with a visit for no reason, or occasion.

The black dog made me look and feel older than my years.

When the rest of the world seemed to be enjoying life, I could only see it through the black dog.

Activities that usually brought me pleasure suddenly ceased to.   

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He liked to ruin my appetite.                      

He chewed up my memory, my ability to concentrate.

Doing anything or going anywhere with the black dog required superhuman strength.

At social occasions he’d sniff out what confidence I had and chase it away.

My biggest fear was being found out.

I worried that people would judge me because of the shame and stigma of the black dog.

I was constantly worried that I’d be found out, so I invested vast amounts of energy into covering him up.

Keeping up an emotional lie is exhausting.  

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Black dog could make me think and say negative things.

He could make me irritable and difficult to be around.

He would take my love and bury my intimacy.

He loved nothing more than to wake me up with highly repetitive and negative thinking.

He also liked to remind me how exhausted I was going to be the next day.

Having a black dog in your life isn’t so much about feeling a bit down, sad or blue – at its worst it’s about being devoid of feeling all together.

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As I got older, the black dog got bigger, and he started hanging around all the time.