There is a beast that brings pain and fear into our lives. It slinks into the corners of our relationship, and lurks in the recesses of our minds. We sense it’s fearsome gaze, unblinking in it’s intensity, hot breath raising the hair on the back of our necks, as it slowly creeps up on the unsuspecting prey that is our relationship.
It slithers relentlessly between us, stalking silently around our lives and as it passes, frustration and impatience and misunderstanding follows, like a miasma of grey fog. Subtle and ethereal, the effects are difficult to see, ghostlike and hidden.
So insidious is the beast that we become accustomed to its presence without realising. It’s lair, painstakingly dug into the fabric that is our family, becomes the new and accepted normal. In turn we mimic the characteristics of the beast – we snarl, we snap. Irritation and intolerance grow.
Only by understanding the nature of beast can we track it to it’s lair and fight back. Only by facing our fear, naming the beast, can we force it out.
Beast! We name you Depression.
Such a simple name, for such a complex and confusing beast. Latched like a vampire onto a loved one, sucking away the humour and energy that was essentially them, it is difficult to pinpoint when the changes began. By the time we can say for sure that they are no longer themselves, how long have they already been fighting?
And then, how long after we could see the problem did we have to wait before they too could say “I need help”.
We see you, beast. In seeing you, we can reach out for help, and force you back into a smaller hunting ground. Snarling – pouncing still from your corner – but gradually calming. You made the mood in our home dark and low – and from your perch on our loved one you influenced us all.
And now, we will fight back.