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The Black Dog Thread

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richerthanyou:
Could anything be better that listening to the song Black Dog as an actual Black Dog walks into the room?

I don't think so.

-Rich

Hawkmumbler:

--- Quote from: Jim_Campbell on 28 January, 2016, 07:06:59 AM ---There was a large black dog in my local pub last night. Cheered me up no end. Ironically, it seems black dogs are an excellent antidote to the Black Dog.

Cheers

Jim

--- End quote ---
Dogs are in general very theraputic to be around, cats as well. When my two cockers aren't running around like bedlam they're such chilled personalities to just sit and pet when the big bad cloud of anxiety creeps back in.

Prodigal2:
I was recently mugged (for attention) by a boxer pup while out on a black dog stroll. The loveliest, ugly little pooch in the world. You couldn't help but laugh.

TordelBack:
Okay, I give in.

I've resisted medication for so many years now, reasoning that I'd be better learning to manage depressive episodes myself than have to depend on a chemical prop, something I've always have a fear of. And to an extent it's been working, I'm better at recognising the signs and communicating them, and trying to at least batten down the hatches before I go under, and serious episodes seem to be further apart and shorter.

But this past few weeks, despite being aware of my rapid descent, and identifying no clear cause whatsoever, I've just kept sliding. I've managed to remain civil to my loved ones, I haven't snapped at anyone,  I've dragged myself into work six days a week and staggered around, but everything else, EVERYTHING else has been a nightmare.  I've been unable to complete the simplest task (including two important contracts that I've now totally screwed) to deal with bills, phonecalls and emails, to prepare a meal, to be remotely supportive or helpful  to friends and family or even respond to them,  to stop feeling like a sucking black pit in my thorax is devouring me every single minute, sleeping or waking. I am effectively dead inside, a lumbering barely-functioning zombie that smiles and says 'good morning' and chats cheerily about the weather (or the Prog) even though everything behind my eyes is a howling wasteland and I'm as much use to those around me as dead battery.

I'm trying every coping mechanism I have ever heard of, or have had any success with in the past, and all it does is turn me into a Potemkin village of a person. I think, finally, I need to go down the chemical route, but I can't even seem to manage tackling that.

Allowing that no-one here is a doctor or an expert, and I'm not going to act on anyone's advice, what are my likely options here once (if) I do approach my GP? What sort of drugs are prescribed these days, and what do they do?

Jim_Campbell:

--- Quote from: Tordelback on 28 January, 2016, 12:20:41 PM ---Allowing that no-one here is a doctor or an expert, and I'm not going to act on anyone's advice, what are my likely options here once (if) I do approach my GP? What sort of drugs are prescribed these days, and what do they do?
--- End quote ---

You may be waaay past this point, or you may already be using them, but have you tried St Johns Wort tablets? It's not quackery, I promise. I have a friend who's an industrial chemist by trade and refused to try them for years, believing prescription remedies were the only realistic answer (but also refusing to take those as well!) but when I finally persuaded (OK, bullied) him into trying them, his partner commented on the improvement within 24 hours.

It certainly won't do you any harm, and it may take the edge off a little.

Cheers

Jim

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