Black Dog by Victoria Anderson

Black Dog by Victoria Anderson

I once heard depression being described as a black dog,
If that’s true, anxiety is a white dog.
Where one goes, the other follows in ever turning, ill fated harmony.
For every effect of depression there is a complementary effect from anxiety.

Depression is the big bad wolf that scares all your loved ones away,
Anxiety comforts you by telling you they probably hated you anyway.
Depression forces you to stay in bed all day and do nothing,
Anxiety reminds you that you did nothing of value and your important tasks are still undone.

Depression is gravity – always with you and a constant pressure,
Pulling you lower and lower into the earth until you can no longer stand.
Anxiety is magma – found at the centre of the earth when you can’t get any lower
Drowning you, burning your lungs as you struggle for breath

The dogs are needy little bitches.
They take hold slowly until you don’t even remember what okay feels like,
You don’t remember how you’re supposed to feel in situations and you’re numb for years

Then you take the step to get help,
You finally start feeling better and make so much progress
And then they grab you and pull you back kicking and screaming into the pit they came from

Then you’re right back at square one
The only difference is you remember now what it feels like to be normal
And that makes everything ten times worse

It reminds you that no matter what they’re always going to be there,
Hissing and spitting from the end of the dark cave you’ve spent years trying to claw your way out of
Waiting for when your footing’s weak to snatch you back up in its grasp.


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