When the Drearies Do Attack and a Siege of the Sads Begins by Mark Shenton

Depression is a lonely experience; but you are not alone.

One of the most powerful things I've discovered in my life living with depression is that there's comfort to be found in owning your depression — and sharing it with the world. Not, I hasten to add, to seek comfort — well-meaning people will often supply "helpful" suggestions to try to mitigate the pain (as if you hadn't thought of them yourself) or (worse) platitudes — "it's not as bad as all that;" "cheer yourself up!", you've heard it all before and more. No, what I mean is standing up and being counted: It Affects Me, Too.

By that simple act, you reach out to fellow sufferers and they know that they are not alone, either.

It takes one to know one, goes the famous saying; but it also takes an experience of depression yourself to know what someone else is going through.

Not that this will supply a solution. Each of us, when cocooned in our own fog of depression, won't be able to see the blue sky that lies beyond it. But fellow sufferers know, as no one else, just what that feels like.

I have suffered depressions since I was a teenager, and have had no idea what the source of them had ever been — but I knew exactly the day they arrived, and also the day they departed. Somewhere in the time in-between, I have never stopped looking for a solution: whether therapy (often), medication (sometimes), or changing my personal circumstances (always) — whether my home, lover or job.

But guess what? None of those seemed to fix it long-term. Somehow a new trigger would occur and the depression would return.

My last depression ran for a seemingly overwhelming 21 months. I tried the usual strategies: I resumed working with a therapist, I went back on Citalopram. I got out of the relationship I was in.

But still it lingered… and lingered. I even embarked on a new, much happier relationship — but it still didn't cure it. (No one else can ever come in and solve your own emptiness, can they?)

Then a friend made a suggestion — a helpful one, for a change. He had benefited greatly from attending a 12-step fellowship, and saw a pattern in my own behaviour that he thought might qualify me to go there, too. I realised he was right. And two summers ago, I started attending meetings. I started working with a sponsor, but I could usually only get to the meetings once a week, whereas they always recommend you get to at least three a week.


The Christmas before last, I was in New York for an extended period where there is a very active fellowship right near Times Square — I always love that line in Guys and Dolls, my favourite of all musicals that is set on the very streets around there, about being on the devil's own streets in the devil's own city, and New York always used to be the playground for my demons.

Well, on the very same city block where I regularly used to "act out" (to use the 12-step terminology), I went to meetings every single day for a month — including on Christmas Day itself. About two weeks in, the fog suddenly lifted. I was with people who knew exactly what I felt and experienced and were struggling with some of the same issues, whether they were straight or gay, male or female. Some had recovered, but still came to meetings. It gave me hope.

One of the difficulties some people have with 12 Step programmes is the idea embodied within them of surrendering to a Higher Power, particularly if you are not religiously inclined. But though there is a lot of talk of God in meetings, I have chosen for myself that the Higher Power is the meetings themselves. I find the rooms deeply spiritual: a place of healing, where we come freely and of our own choice, and without any organisational hierarchies, to share our stories and work towards changing our lives.

One of my other favourite musicals is Pippin, and there's a song that one character sings:

    When the drearies do attack
    And a siege of the sads begins
    I just throw these noble shoulders back
    And lift these noble chins
    Give me a man who is handsome and strong
    Someone who's stalwart and steady
    Give me a night that's romantic and long
    And give me a month to get ready

She's seeking her answer in sex. I've found that the answer isn't there, but amongst a community of fellow sufferers. And that's why I'm writing this. You are not alone, either. #itaffectsme