Tears of a Clown

I’m thinking about kicking a black dog.

Now, before you go all RSPCA at me, let me clarify: I’ve been putting a lot of thought, time, and effort into how to get rid of Depression.

If you’ve ever been diagnosed with it, you will know that I’m talking about more than feeling peeved you didn’t get invited to that party, or upset that you had a fight with your other half, or even frustrated and worn out by this whole parenting thing. No, I’m talking a deep-seated feeling of inadequacy, lack of motivation or any sense of achievement, or a sorrow that you cannot seem to shake if you allow yourself to stop and think about it.

On the outside you might seem as happy as chirpy as ever. Or if somewhat subdued, not totally withdrawn. You might still be getting up out of bed, going to work, going through the motions as a wife and mother, and adding something to the world each day. You might be doing it all with a smile on your dial. Furthermore, you might even be the one that others have always relied on to lift them up when they’re feeling low.

But inside, you know you’re faking it.

It’s called The Black Dog. And let me tell you, there are way better pets.

First time I faced Depression was when one of my best friends was killed right before my horrified eyes by a speeding driver. I was 14 years old and I don’t know that I’ve ever truly shaken that one off. Ironically (which I’ve only just now realised), this time it’s also due to a driver- but this one was apparently putting on her lipstick as she drove, and slammed into the back of our car when the line of traffic in front came to a stop. I was injured, my kids were injured, and my car has never been the same since.

Long story short: I lost my job, we almost lost the house, and I gained a Black Dog.

But still I had a support group to run, a camp to organise, committees to attend, causes to champion, friendships to nurture, a husband and children to care for… so I forced myself into motion and tried hard to turn that frown upside down. Because, after all, no one likes a whinger do they.

So here’s where “Smokey” Robinson comes in, with that song. OK, so the inspiration’s a little off, he got the idea from an opera- ‘Pagliacci’- which is about clowns who hide their hurt and anger behind painted-on smiles. But it’s the same concept- pretending to be happier than you feel.

*But don't let my glad expression,
Give you the wrong impression.
Really, I'm sad, (Sad, sad, sad, sad.)
I'm sadder than sad. (I hurt so bad.)

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not at the stage where we need to hide the sleeping pills or anything (in fact I wouldn’t get any sleep without them, I’m sure), but it’s really tough some days. Especially when life seems to be just hunky-dory for everyone else on this big fat planet.

But I’ve got to keep going, don’t I, for the kids, for my Beloved, and for myself. And if I can find a little something each day to make me LOL, then I’m looking for it (bonus points if it’s a ROFLMAO)!

So forgive me if this blog seems a tad melodramatic, or not as ‘up’ as some of the others I’ve done. No doubt it’ll take me even longer this time before I decide whether to post it or not. But maybe it’ll touch someone else who’s got that bloody Black Dog for company at the moment, and if there’s one thing that usually brightens my life, it’s making someone else’s a bit better.

In the meantime, I’ll keep trying to give myself some more laugh lines.

And so, just as “Smokey” gave a nod to an opera in his lyrics, I tip my hat at you and your hit song Mr Robinson, for summing up how so many feel:

*Just like Pagliacci did, I try to keep my sadness hid.
Smiling in the public eye,
But in my lonely room I cry.
The tears of a clown, When there's no one around.

Now...where’s my makeup?

Jx
©2009

*Tears of a Clown, 1967, Tamla/Motown label, Written by Stevie Wonder, Hank Cosby, and William "Smokey" Robinson