Training my black dog
My favourite metaphor for depression is Winston Churchill’s. He called it his “black dog.” Something that follows you. Something to fend off. Something to which you are allergic- and medication offers relief of symptoms. Depression comes in all shapes and sizes. It’s hard to assess correctly at first glance. It seems obvious that it’s some kind of handicap or even a physical disease. But a chemical imbalance? Something that can’t be precisely quantified or proven? That’s a difficult argument to make to someone who isn’t experiencing it.