Many years ago, long before I knew what depression was I remember reading about some of my favourite comedians and the differences between their on-stage (or on-screen) personas and their real-life personalities. It seemed hard to imagine Spike Milligan or Robin Williams as chronic depressives, yet the fact is they both were...and their situation is far from a rarity in the world of entertainment. One of the most common anecdotes about depression tells of the young man who went to his doctor telling of the crippling sadness that was ruining his life. The doctor told him to go out that evening and see a world famous clown who was appearing in that town - "He would cheer anyone up," the doctor continued. The young man burst into tears crying that he WAS that clown...
I used to think depression was just an excuse for some people being miserable and, heaven knows, I've met enough miserable people in my life! There is at least a small part of everyone who has not suffered this illness that would like to see those complaining of depression given a good shake and told to 'pull themselves together'. Again, I know this for a fact because I used to be one of their number!
I have suffered immeasurably in the last 4 months from people who insisted they cared for and were 'concerned' for me - yet, instead of support and encouragement (and, even more lacking - the crucial attempt to understand how I was feeling or what might be best for me) I was cast off from some of the main things that helped my condition, kept me active, gave me a sense of fulfilment in life...or, in a more basic explanation, got me out of the house...for most of the time I would stay here in the safety of my 'castle' where I'm not expected to be anything other than ME and where the other people I meet love me unconditionally and understand me completely.
I felt great over the weekend! It was my birthday on Saturday - 48 but with a mind that feels 18 and a body that feels 68 - and I drove to North Wales with my two younger sons and my wonderful mum. If I was to drive rather than be (God forbid) a passenger I had to promise not to drive too fast and not to play loud rock music on the journey. So, we listened to a random selection from the old Portsmouth Songsters recordings (thanks to Lewis's iPhione shuffle feature) and we sang along to everything from Step Out to Take My Life.
Saturday evening I sang a selection of songs I'd written but finishing up with John Wetton's wonderful 'Battle Lines' as part of an excellent evening's music and on Sunday sang twice more in church services before the drive back home (during which the music ranged a little wider and the speedometer, I confess, twitched over mum's 'acceptable' once or twice! I felt good and fulfilled!
Yesterday, Monday, I was tired but, worse than that, I felt 'low'...one of those 'lows' that comes every few months that makes you not want to breathe, let alone get up or go out! As a single dad I have no option but to 'force it' - to do thing that rankles all depressives more than anything else...to 'pull yourself together', if you wish! Ieuan had to go to the doctor and all four of us had dentist check-ups. Today, I woke to what I hope and pray is the 'epicentre' of the 'low'. In the meantime, the good old doc had once more increased my anti-depression medication.
Yet, this afternoon, I was booked to entertain a group of people in Southsea and there was no way I could or would let them down so near to the event. Even as I forced myself to get ready, walked to the car and drove the few miles to the venue my mind was refusing to connect at all with the idea that, within half an hour, people would be sitting expectantly, waiting for me to entertain, challenge, inspire and have rolling in fits of laughter...what a bizarre concept that someone who felt the way I did could achieve all that?
As I sat at the back of the venue with a lovely, hot cup of tea, several people I have known for years walked past and asked how I was. "Fine," I replied, with a smile! Well, you do - don't you? Believe me, the last thing they would want was the truth or a lengthy explanation to the contrary! And soon, it was time...
I sang, I told a story. Then more...a bit about John Lennon and a much appreciated 'Imagine' then (how bizarre!) they really were guffawing and rolling with laughter to my poem about the Harvest Festival. A few more songs and a couple more poems later and time was almost up. I ended with the song that has become a bit if a 'theme tune' for me in the last few years - Joy Webb's incredible composition 'There Will be God' with my own rhapsodic arrangement with sweeping, complex piano accompaniment building to the massive crescendo of positivity as the eponymous last line is delivered, culminating in a 16 beat, fortissimo top G to emphasise the truth I know...but can't always feel!
As I said in my Facebook status a few minutes later as I sat in my car, "I needed that song today more than my audience did."
The clown had successfully hidden his tears once again. Despite how I had felt before, a combination of my own professionalism and determination, natural adrenaline and God's supernatural power got me through and (not wanting to sound at all big-headed or arrogant) thrilled the audience who went away so clearly happy.
Now, I sit at home a couple of hours after the show ended. There is still enough adrenaline coursing through my veins to have held off the return of the 'low' - so I'm not curled in a (big) ball ignoring the world but enjoying a cuddle and glass of Cream Soda with Ieuan while I type a blog and he watches 'Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs' again! I remember it will be time to prepare tea soon and that reminds me it's Tuesday and that I should be somewhere tonight - but won't be - because, as I wrote at the start of this piece, those who ought to have supported me cast me off.
So...should I watch Wales lose again tonight or is that just 'asking' for the 'low' to return? See, if I can joke about it things must be on the 'up' again! Hope so anyway!
