That old black magic

"In addition to my other numerous acquaintances, I have one more intimate confidant . . . My depression is the most faithful mistress I have known — no wonder, then, that I return the love."
Soren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) Danish philosopher

Though I’ve read a bit of Kierkegaard – generally when in the grip of The Black Dog – I had not come across this thought until today when it popped up in something I was reading. Yesterday was one with a fairly high level of depression for me. Maybe this was due to the feisty doctor and what I saw as her dismissive attitude. She agreed that the erratic ticker increased the risk of stroke but, poor thing, could have no knowledge of how much I fear that very disease which can lead to one being a wilted cabbage relying on machines. I seek to be more positive than merely saying that we will wait and see what happens. How will I consult with her in a month’s time if I am brain dead and physically immobile?

I have had Black Dog moments since I was in my mid-twenties. I think I know what started them. They come and they go like some sine pattern. They seem to come when I start to brood about the very fact of depression and go when I start something that diverts my mind. In that way they are exactly as the Dane describes them. They do attract. As a sort of challenge. If I dive in that deep and weed-filled pool, will I surface? Perhaps they are allied in some way to my addiction to adrenaline that causes me to go down the fight road far more often than choosing flight and beating a diplomatic retreat. My faithful devotion is not abated by exhortations to ‘snap out of it’. It needs me to change a mind-set to put the dog back in the kennel. I know that. I know how to do it. Inasmuch as I keep my despondent state to myself, I have no benefit of sympathy or understanding.

Well, that’s enough of that I think. I have to go and listen to some of my Leonard Cohen records and keep my chin up.

Title of this has reminded me of time when Norma and I were in London to see some stage play or other. She decided to get some chocolates whilst I was parking the car. Newspaper shop she went into was run by very very big and shiny black African man - filed incisor teeth and everything. She asked, 'Do you have Black Magic?' We paid for them and ran away.