Black Dog? No, Black Hole

How do I describe my feelings? Am I depressed or just generally ‘down’?
I’m not entirely sure, but I’m not particularly sparkling company at the moment.

The Black Hole hovers somewhere behind my right shoulder and on a bad day, I get sucked into it.
There was once a time when I fell deeply into this depressive state and it took some three years to feel strength and courage and unguarded spontaneity again.
I don’t quite understand why I have fallen into the hole this time.
I injured my left knee, which has been causing problems all year. I injure one of my knees most years, so I should be used to this by now.
I remember saying ‘this is great. I’ve got through the summer without injury’ and of course, my knee went haywire soon after this.
The injury was especially traumatic this time – a sprain of the cruciate ligaments, which blocked the messages to the brain, leaving me literally legless.
One second I was walking and then next I was on the floor and it was as though my leg wasn’t there.
This shouldn’t have caused me any emotional stress, but somewhere deep within my brain, it sucked me into the black hole.
I kept thinking ‘I’m going to fall. I could fall now, I must be careful’ over and over again and somehow the mantra got into my conscious and unconscious thoughts, waking me through the night and making me gasp with fear.
I described it as being something like one of ‘The West Wing’ storylines, where Josh, one of the main characters, went through post-traumatic stress after being shot.
He gets treatment, but after the first session, he encounters another character, Leo – his boss, sitting in a chair in the lobby, he asks why Leo is there.
Leo explains through this story.
There’s a man who has fallen into a deep pit. He can’t get out and calls out to those passing to help. A priest offers prayer, another person offers no advice, but asks how the man fell into the hole. Finally a friend walks past and he jumps down into the hole.
‘Why did you do that? Now we’re both stuck in this hole!
‘Well,’ says his friend, ‘I’ve been there and I know the way out.’
Finding my way out of this hole, which resembles a well, rather than a sci-fi black hole, is going to be difficult.
I would like to find my way out and I’d like those who I love to reach in and help me out. I’ve rarely been so lost. This time, I have wanted to turn my face to the wall.
I’m stuck in this hole. I can see the daylight above.
I know that I don’t want to act on my low mood, but I can’t see the way out.

I discovered that I have an allergy to two sweeteners, Sorbitol and Malitol and if I eat sugar-free sweets, then I feel as though I have asthma after eating sweets with these sweeteners. I wonder if the depression is linked?
I decided to give myself a week and if I still felt depressed, then I’d go and talk to a doctor about it.
Time to do some research and work out how to explain myself to a GP.
I’m wondering if the act of writing this down may make things better? I do hope so.

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10 Responses to Black Dog? No, Black Hole

  1. Sugarplum Valkyrie says:

    Reaching in honey, reaching in. Sing… anything, and anyhow, but keep singing. Sing along to all those choral works – loudly. Breathe. Treat yourself and have the odd sweet with real sugar – avoid the artificial sweenteners – bad, bad, bad. Look for those with xylitol – it’s a natural sweetener – I’ll do some searching here and post if I find any. Hugs, X

  2. jayblewes says:

    I will thanks. I wrote this to try to exorcise the feelings and you never know, they might just disappear. A good day is one where the black hole is way behind me and I can’t sense its presence. This sounds mad, but it’s true – and the other warning sign is when the music (always J S Bach) starts up – the first movement of St M Passion is a bad sign.
    I’m sitting here now listening to Piers and co and I’m developing a great admiration for Angela East. She’s as good as Piers and I don’t even like the cello.
    Again thanks – and huge hugs to you

  3. Karen says:

    My arms aren’t very long, but they are at your disposal mi querida amiga. If you reach up while I’m reaching in, we might manage? xxx

    • jayblewes says:

      Thanks so much for that and I’m feeling better already. I’m not ‘in’ the hole, well not far, so it’s easy to stay out of it with distraction and no sweeteners! Daft thing is, that the calories of the normal version of Turrón are the same as the no-sugar type.
      We are going to have a nice day tomorrow and go and pick up my Rebif at the hospital and then go and eat churros and hot chocolate and then go and buy some wine.
      Thanks so much for writing. It means a great deal.

  4. holly says:

    This could have been me writing a short while ago. I think (hope? hope is good) I am starting to crawl out of mine but it is a precarious journey, as always. I have no great wisdom to impart, but know that you are not alone and there are many people who hold you in great esteem and feel so much warmth towards you. It is so difficult to believe that people are really there for you if they are not constantly shouting from the sidelines, but they are by your side; here, now and always.
    We miss you. xxx

    • jayblewes says:

      Holly, it is really good news to read that you are feeling a bit better. I hope you are still writing and it is surprising and very nice to read your comments about esteem. Are you sure it’s me? I’m smiling as I wrote that, so I must be feeling better.
      I hope to see you (in terms of fb) really soon.
      I miss you and everyone else very much,

  5. Darren says:

    It’s a hole I’m very familiar with, but I don’t like to think of you down in here too. So as I’m tall, hop on my shoulders and I think we can climb out


    • jayblewes says:

      Stand by, Moominman, I’ll hop on your shoulders later and I’ll be back. We have anniversary/birthday (husband’s) shopping to do and I always enjoy spending cash on booze and luxury items like frozen peas and retro treats like frozen oranges filled with icecream. Later…love K

  6. Belinda Rogers says:

    The black hole is my biggest nightmare. I lived in it for years until I no longer knew I was there. It was the world, there was no other. Eventually I climbed out, how I don’t know, but I remember one day driving along and the sun hit the paddocks and everything was bathed in an incredible golden light. It was as if the dark filters fell from my eyes and for the first time in years I could see again. The intensity of the blue and gold brought tears to my eyes and I remember thinking that where such beautiful colours could exist there had to be good things in the world.

    I still remember that moment vividly and I never want to fall back into the darkness again, having tasted and enjoyed the vivid beauty that life has to offer. Once the colour re-entered my world everything brightened and I was able to open my self up to people again and experiences and the general joy of living.

    The colour and joy of the world is still here, my friend. Grab my hand and let me show you…..

    Missing you terribly and wanting you to partake of our colourful and joyous basket of fruit again soon.

    Belinda xxxx

    • jayblewes says:

      Gosh Belinda, that was a teary read and so beautiful. I’m going to grab your hand later and also hop on Darren’s shoulders. If I have problems with rejoining, I’ll let someone know.
      Missing you loads too, your comment on my fb page kept me going. It was like a lovely message in a bottle.
      I’ll see you all later.

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