Subduing the Black Dog.

This year has been interesting, to say the least. Chaotic and very scary at times.The Black Dog has been present more than I would have liked. He's a sneaky bastard, that Black Dog. And he doesn't miss a trick. He looks for a chink in your armour and waits for the perfect opportunity to strike at your heart and your soul.

The materialisation of the Black Dog is always unexpected. Which makes him a formidable foe. My latest encounter with him seemed to come out of nowhere and very quickly reduced my ability to cope with life to zero. And then, after a rapid descent into my own personal hell, my recovery has been protracted and frustrating and bumpy. Because the Black Dog doesn't release his hold without a bloody good tussle. So, I've experienced multiple  roadblocks and detours on this road to wrestle back control of my mental health.

Finally (but don't tell the Black Dog), I feel like me again. I have worked with a fantastic and persistent  psychologist and a warm, witty and compassionate psychiatrist. My medication has been overhauled and my coping mechanisms are functioning reasonably well, more or less.

The best sign that I am mentally well is that I have recovered my sense of humour. It certainly went AWOL for a while. For me, that's the scariest facet of my brand of recurrent depression. When my humour vanishes, I know I'm in real trouble. I need my sense of humour!

This is because not much else has altered in our lives. After having a major tantrum about Michael's smoking, I burned a nearly full packet of cigarettes. That went really well. I also relinquished control of the fags for a day. After Michael smoked a dozen in a day, I took them back. I told him he couldn't be trusted and had no self-control. To his credit, he didn't disagree.

Vanessa's DSP Participation Plan requirements continue to irk me. She is working full time at her Honours in History course. When she is not studying, she volunteers in the History Department, so she becomes known for her intelligence and enthusiasm. I want Centrelink to recognise these aspects of her life as meeting her "compulsory activities", so she can continue to receive her DSP and be left alone. She actually wants to fulfil her obligations and become a taxpayer by completing the necessary qualifications to get into academic teaching. How hard is that to comprehend?

Alex, our autistic superstar, is pretty happy at present. He has gained PAID employment two shifts a week at the Friendship Cafe in Midland. He absolutely loves working there. He is still struggling to make ends meet as two-thirds of his DSP is swallowed by private rent. I had to renew his lease as Homeswest, our public housing flagship, has nothing available, in spite of the fact Alex has been on the Priority Waiting List for over two years. Ladies and gentlemen, what do you reckon his chances are of getting accommodation when his lease expires in five months...?

Callum, adored middle child, lost his management job at Zing Cafe, the day after Mothers' Day. So did everyone else working there. Choice, just choice. So, he is currently on the hunt for a new position. If you require a smooth, unflappable, tactful and clean cut young man working as a manager in your restaurant or cafe, give me a hoy!

Luckily, I have rediscovered laughter. And the funny side of life. Laughter makes the unbearable bearable, the lunacy of government departments become surmountable hurdles and provides me with the necessary courage to engage the enemy, whatever and whoever that may be. And laughter connects us all.

The Black Dog will look for his chance to derail my life again at some stage. Of that, I have no doubt.  Before and after, I will continue to keep him at bay by laughing at him too.

 The Black Dog's modus operandi 

means you have to work out recovery strategies

that work for you!