Churchill's Black Dog

I'm somewhat enamored of Churchill's reference to his depression as the "black dog."

Sometimes it feels like the dog has hold of me and I can't shake it. All the times when I lack the ability to meet the responsibilities of this life...bills, work, love, kindness...I keep wondering when the sham cover of my inadequacies will be blown and when I'll be found out for being the incredibly weak, sad and terrified man I sometimes am in my head. Every day I feel like I just don't have it...I want to turn to my wife and collapse or pray for help and then I know that is not what she or the family needs from me. I need to give them strength and comfort, to never be rattled, to be the tent pole in a family that has been deprived of support for a long time. When I crack, it rattles them because they need me to be the one they can count on.

I want so badly to be the man they need and deserve, but they have chosen so poorly. Most men soldier on under the burdens of their duty and I feel like all I do is whine and feel sorry for myself. I don't know what to do somedays or who to turn to because everyone needs me to be tough and I'm barely up to pretending that is who I am. From my childhood on, when the going got tough, I looked for excuses to quit.

And today, I am always overriding that thought - that it would be so much easier to give up. I can't because people depend on me, because it is my role to be the one who does the jobs I've sought, who is the husband and father, who is, finally, the grown man who takes care of things.

But I fight that voice every day that wants to quit.

And then everyone at work seems to need a father figure, someone to handle basic complexities of work or personal life and I feel buffeted by explosion after explosion.

And I listen to "Carry That Weight" and "Man's Job" and other songs to remind me that I am not alone or unique. That it is my job to deal with this and we all have the fear of our own inadequacies in us.

And then I sit down with Quicken and I want to quit somehow and run away.

And of course I never would, that life is too full and wondrous and I cannot and would not ever do anything so infantile and selfish...but I wish sometimes there was someone who would take the cup from me. And then I am ashamed to even use that term for passing on a sacrifice when that was so complete a sacrifice and I am just being sad and weak.

And last weekend I saw some black dogs like the ones I used to have and love. And my heart broke and I knew i was near tears but once again I had to be better than I am because that weakness is too much to share.

So sometimes, I sit out here by myself and listen to sad music until the black dog's grip subsides and even I get sick of my weakness and I feel the strength come back.

I suppose we all have these moments or days or weeks when we feel weak or lacking. I just wish I was the man my family deserves.