Raven Books

New TitlesNew Titles
Recommended TitlesRecommended
LocationLocationHoursHoursAbout UsAbout Us

Best SellersBest Sellers
Book ClubsBook Clubs

Thursday 7 January 2010


"But I'm not depressed", I said in protest to my grumpy doctor as he scribbled a script for valium. Without lifting his head he said coldly, "I didn't say you were depressed, I said you had Depression".

I left the surgery feeling worse - if that were possible- than when I went in. My symptoms were odd: I couldn't easily push the pram, my legs buckled when I tried to stand up, I went through the motions like a robot with sluggish batteries. I found it very confusing; my feelings were all over the place and I had no idea what it meant to have Depression. Two valium later my left eye started to twitch. No way, I thought, I'm not having this so I flushed the rest of the bottle down the loo.

I slowly returned to the whole of my health with some better understanding of what had happened to me but when it returned, in another form with different symptoms, I, once again, had no idea what it was. My new doctor (one who believed that there were alternatives) did not put a label on what I was feeling; he merely handed me some small white homeopathic tablets with the instructions: "take as on the label and go easy on yourself". Blessed relief, it worked.

With a few more years clocked up I now know what rocks my boat, what sends me under as if to drown the life out of me, and the ability to remember that it will pass, in its own good time. And when it does, I once more get out my reading glasses and get stuck in to the delicious retreat that a good book provides. Today, the book that has me in its thrall is The Notebook, The Proof, and The Third Lie by Agota Kristof, an intriguing tale of which I will tell you nothing so as to encourage you to find out for yourself. It's fascinating so far and I'm only on page 55!

I tell you, dear reader, of my occasional dealings with the dreaded "Depression"; it comes, it goes, its grip as relentless and unyielding as a straightjacket, its wake a trail of devastation – but luckily I have a very short memory. I tell you not so as to elicit your sympathy but simply to tell those of you who occasionally succumb to this debilitating illness, that you are not alone.

Posted by Mary

Labels: , ,


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home