In the short term

Another of the gifts that depression has given me is a chronic case of short-termism. What do I mean by that? I refer to my inability to focus properly on the longer term aspects of life because the short term keeps getting dominated by the black dog, and any attempt to plan the longer term gets sharply and rudely snapped into the here and now.

Take tonight as an example. For the last few days I have been on something of a high, content in my own way and getting a kick out of existence. That's usually a harbinger of a looming crash. And so here I am, writing my blog becoming more and more aware of an attack of depression settling in. Apart from the process of putting words to thoughts here, my entire concentration is upon depression. How deep are we going this time? How long will I be there? Why is this happening now, what was the trigger? And how do I counter it, what weaponry is to hand? In fact I just stopped writing for a few minutes to think over those very things. So, as you can imagine, this sort of short term thinking wipes out anything longer term. Next month, next year might as well be next century right now.

If I do manage to shake off the immediate long enough to think about the longer term, the black dog has other tricks to pull. The denigration and mockery of dreams. Who do I think I am to dream of this or that? The black dog wants it to be known that he is my sole focus and raison d'etre, the permanent war against depression is all that I need to sustain me. Or so the black dog would have it. The harder I try to dream, the more unreasonable and wicked the counter attack - the certainty of failure is thrown in my face, for so it will always be with me, he says. Why plan for a great romance, I don't love myself so why would she? Is that really the black dog talking, or have I slipped into my old habits of self-doubt? Either way I am thinking of the dog, and even those examples of long term thinking have quickly subsided in the gathering gloom.

It has not always been this way. I used to dream, I used to plan things in 1, 5 and 10 year segments. And then I failed just once to follow through. The black dog never forgets a weakness he can expose, every plan became that plan, the one I didn't follow through. It is repulsive to be this way, I deserve better and, more importantly, the people I care about deserve better. The thing is, if I managed to gain the upper hand and start planning the future again, I honestly don't know what Dave I want to be. Dave the adventurer, Dave the lover, Dave the carer? There is so much untapped potential, but to tell you the truth, the black dog knows, and now you will know, that I am almost as terrified at the prospect of fulfilling potential and I am of never managing to do so. I am just a little bit scared that if I spend too long in the longer term I will lose myself there as a place that will always be better than now.

As I have said before, many many times, depression is a wicked and cruel illness.