The Story Of The Blues (Part One)

I wanted to write about some aspects of depression that aren’t discussed quite so often – but I found it too complicated, and too upsetting. By cutting what I want to say into three upcoming blogs – about Waste, Guilt, Other People – I hope I’ll get it out. Of course, no-one is making you read, if you think them self-indulgent… 

THE FIRST THING I’d say about having depression is that it’s a terrible waste of time.

And, sometimes, it feels that I have wasted most of my life fighting it.

I visited a therapist for the first time when I was about 21, and having panic attacks. Now I’m 53 and continuing to see a shrink once a week.

I still get panic attacks sometimes, but these days I suffer more from full blown, I’m a waste–of-space depression. So, clearly, I’m not sorted out yet. 

In all of those 32 years since I first rocked up in a consulting room, I reckon that I have experienced more bad days than good. 

But I have tried to fight this illness, and in many ways this struggle has come to define my life.

Continue reading “The Story Of The Blues (Part One)”