2001-02-09 - 21:19 MST

February 9, 2001

The Black Dog

I think that is how Winston Churchill referred to his periodic bouts of depression.

For me, depression is wrapped deep into February which is clothed in gray raiment with frigid snowflakes sifting chill over the world, a door opens and closes occasionally and congeals the blood of my mental heart. I have it and know it. I have the medication to control it and use it. But I fight the Black Dog even so.

In February we have gone past the pretty snows and the times that the light snow is blown off the street by passing traffic or burned away by tires if there is no wind. Then in February and March the real winter seems to descend on Denver. If we are going to have winter it will be then.

So, I keep the lights on, curtains closed so as not to see the bleak, white ground catch additional snow.

Now, I do what I used to do as a kid. I seek interesting things to think about and do, maybe read books, watch an occasional TV program (usually I get disgruntled) and turn that off. BTW any one ever seen the term "gruntled" used ?

There is always something to spend time on using the web. Various learning systems to use, fascinating things to see, museums to explore. And then there is the interaction with others who do diaries or journals. Sometimes it is quite passive, other times it is a happy two way street with leafy trees filtering the sunshine where we meet a friend or two and communicate while enjoying life.

I spend a lot of time just being close to Heather and basking in her personality and her love. Sometimes we are doing something together, sometimes we are each doing our own thing in companionable silence.

Very often I will be at the Webtv and casting the net for things of interest when she will come in and ask something or want a bit of help, or maybe just to talk for awhile. Having a cup of tea and watching the noon news on TV, which I usually can't abide for long. Occasional sessions of good natured teasing lighten the day.

It helps me to see how other people cope with their own problems and realize that what I cope with is absolutely nothing compared to the crushing weight they bear on slender shoulders. It seems to bring out a sort of incentive to compete and force myself into a more cheerful mood. It takes my mind off myself and centers it on other peoples affairs. Not that I have any hand in their life, other than making a comment now and then which I am sure will be cheerfully ignored most of the time.

Today Columbine was discussing the complications of the Chinese language, it reminded me how the Vietnamese I worked with sang their language, in a way. But, the meaning of the words said depended on the pitch used. For instance to use a gross example it would be like me saying piano in a low tone and it would mean the beloved instrument we all know, but if sang at a higher pitch might be a deadly insulting word. Hard for this round eye to conceive. But they do it so easily, and understand each other quite well.

Every which way I turn there is something to pique my interest, some new thing to learn about.

There is a news service, I guess you would call it, called, "Forgotten History," that I get each week. Today it dealt with the "Enigma," machine that was used to produce what was thought to be unbreakable code. According to the article the system was breached in 1932 and the information gathered by the Allies tilted things in our favor and I think shortened the war by quite a bit.

Of course there are the old standby's, Solitaire and crossword puzzles too.

Toward the end of the day, my battle is poured out into my keyboard, and others are then bored. C'est la guerre. But I have once again fought a winning battle with The Black Dog . . . . . .

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