Tag: depression

June 24th – A terrible, terrible day; bad news locally made social media and managing the main blog fraught with difficulty, and in the evening, I just had to switch off everything and walk away.

I found solace in spannering the bike and taking a ride around a late-night, somnambulant Brownhills to get some shopping from Tesco, which doesn’t close until midnight, and late hours Tesco is always an otherworldly, odd experience.

The TZ90 I’m currently using – having returned the Canon deeply unimpressed – is much better in low light that the TZ80 and I’m much happier with it as a camera than I thought I would be. There’s hope for the Lumix superzoom compacts yet, it would seem.

At points this day, I could quite happily have taken a torch to my entire online existence, as if it never happened; sometimes running the kind of local blog I do gets more serious than one would ever imagine. 

But a run out on the bike and some healthy distance made me feel better, and I started Sunday refreshed.

October 19th – The last time I was in this spot at this time of day was Friday, when I was feeling black and down. Today, I stopped in the chill air and looked to the retreating sun.

I got out the camera, recorded the sunset over my town, the place I love, then remounted and headed off into the light.

I feel so much better today. If only I could remain in light.

October 18th – I also liked how beautiful Walsall Wood was on this greyest of grey Sundays. The trees around the Brookland Road junction look superb – and the church of St. John, this evening with lights on for a service -looked great with the turning leaves in the background.

I felt much better today. I got stuff actually done. Once the black dog settles in it can be the very devil to shift, and at this time of year I’m always susceptible. But in truth, the light nights will return, a new year and new spring will dawn, and I’ll feel the warmth again.

In the meantime, I’ll learn to love the darkness. Sometimes it’s your friend. But it’s like doing a deal with the devil.

There’s a lot of cold, a lot of rough weather and a lot of darkness to come before the next spring.

April 4th – Riding a bike is a cyclic antidepressant, and riding one once a day keeps the black dog at bay. I was sad, really sad, but something on the way home cheered me right up. A young heron, fishing by Clayhanger Bridge on the canal. I can’t ever recall seeing one here before, but I love these comical, dishevelled fishers. He was hungry, and young enough not to be skittish. He tolerated me taking photos for ages. He made me remember what I was doing, and what I was about. 

I adore herons. Such complex, fascinating birds.

It’s taken me all weekend to pluck up the balls to write this sequence.

December 21st – From here, it’s going to be OK. Everything will work out, and the battle of the last few months has finally been won.

From 5:11pm this evening, the darkness has been overcome, and every day from now on the daylight will lengthen in a sinusoidal patten until midsummer.

Today was the solstice, and from this point forward, imperceptibly at first, the days will lengthen and open out. There will still be dark, cold days to come, but the madness of the closing-in days has passed. My depression that deepens with the clock change in October will now lift. 

From here, Christmas, then a new year. A couple of cold dark months, then spring. The budding, the flowering, the warmth. The season’s mechanism continues, slowly, inexorably, and I am in it’s thrall.

Every year, I feel this so much more keenly. I need to feel it, to feel the good days. But oh, the blessed absence of light…

Chasewater was choppy, and grey. The fine sunset I’d hoped to catch didn’t come. But it didn’t matter. Darkness must now retreat. Begone.