cautious - Rated 
Having a Black dog myself I found the book very good on facing up to the recognition of such a state of depression.It highlights very well the fundamental problem[s].However, I simply don't believe in the fairy tale ending. Firstly it is not an option between Happiness/death. Happiness is such an effervercent concept and simply not reality.In my experience it is about solid ground work.Happiness is momentary. To imagine another human being can wave a magic wand and dispel all internal problems is 'pie in the sky' In other words, the Black Dog cannot be shot, simply acknowledged and the pain eased through self help therapies.
Worthy but not engrossing - Rated 
I bought mine from a charity shop and the previous reader - clearly someone who suffers from depression - had written all over it, as she obviously had been touched very deeply and found it very true. Sadly, I only got halfway through. I'm not sure why, but it felt a bit like a reader for mental health students and I didn't feel engaged (empathy?) with the author, although of course I felt for her. I really feel I ought to recommend it, but...
Or at least give it a decent haircut darling - Rated 
Winston Churchill called his depression the "black dog", hence the title. Despite the fact that one of the most famous figures of the 20th century suffered from this disease and was open enough about it that his term for it is widely known, sufferers from depression still seem to feel that it is a "hidden" problem and that the afflicted are condemned to social ostracism and outdated, ineffective treatments.
At least, Sally Brampton does. Sympathetic as I am to her struggle with her illness, there is such a strong element of "how could this happen to me?" running through this book, that I was tempted at points to shout at it "because you are a narcissistic, self-absorbed, career woman who has suddenly realised that her life is pointless". But shouting at books makes my husband look at me oddly, so instead, I gritted my teeth and allowed Ms Brampton to tell me about her glittering career and famous friends, be rude about hapless strangers who have said the wrong thing at dinner parties (where "wrong" means not taking Ms Brampton as seriously as she would like) and plant daggers firmly between the shoulders of her poor parents, who are, of course, to blame for the horrible mess she finds herself in. As someone with family members who suffer from the severest form of this illness, I have not always been a massive fan of the psychiatric profession, but even so found myself empathising with the professionals unlucky enough to encounter Ms Brampton during her journey through the disease.
Depression has many causes, some organic, some genetic, some situational, but often I believe, hits us at points in our life when reality makes our fantasy view of ourselves unsustainable. The bigger the gap between fantasy and reality, the more severe the depression. No surprise then, that Sally Brampton made her living in fashion journalism, where suppressing reality is the basic currency. If you want to read about how to tackle depression, shut this damn book and read Dorothy Rowe instead.
A must if you or someone close to you suffers with depression - Rated 
If you suffer with depression or know someone who does, I highly recommend this book.
It says everything that you can only try to explain to someone when you suffer with depression. Its so hard to really get a glimps into the mind of someone who suffers from this illness and it will explain so much if you are trying to help someone through a difficult time or you suffer yourself and desperately want those close to you to understand.
Well worth a read, excellently written.
Reactive not clinical - Rated
Sally B starts by listing all the good things in her life: married to a man she's in love with, has a daughter and a successful career as a writer. If she had then claimed to be depressed I would have agreed with her diagnosis of clinical depression - if you're clinically depressed, everything is ok but you're still miserable. We then discover that at the time of writing she has recovered.
I would argue that her depression was reactive and won't return unless the relationship with Tom breaks down again. Prior to this, she wasn't a depressive but a functioning alcoholic, doing a job she was patently no longer cut out for (editing Red after many years of working as a free-lance writer from home). She admits to hating public speaking, so it's not wonder she loathed the pressures related to being an editor.
When she gets sacked from Red and her marriage breaks up, but Tom won't commit, Sally starts combining vast quantities of Xanax, Valium, sleeping-pills, alcohol and SSRI anti-depressants. This toxic tonic has accidentally killed other people, including most recently Heath Ledger. All the symptoms she then describes are, arguably, not those of clinical depression but the side effects of this potentially lethal combination - shaking hands, colours looking brighter, getting freaked in supermarkets, feeling as if you can't breathe and someone is choking you. The symptoms of all the drugs & drink combined actually create their own disease.
Sally also claims she can't 'read or write.' Nor could most people, living in what she admits is a condition of 'permanent drunkedness.' She doesn't have to work, so just gets worse and worse, her Fort Knox of a liver even shaking off suicide attempts (significantly, these occur after Tom has left her).
I really felt for Sally, but Elle magazine, which she used to edit, was in the forefront of research on addiction to various pharmaceuticals and I was surprised at her ignorance - not knowing that various anti-depressants were addictive, for instance, or understanding the effects of combining anti-anxiety meds with drink and sleeping pills.
I believe Sally will be fine as long as Tom stays with her and she stays off the drink, so she doesn't need to worry about the black dog returning of its own accord, as it would with a clinical depressive, regardless of circumstances.
I did enjoy the book, but the whole time I was reading it I kept thinking - how could she be so well-read, so well-informed, and NOT KNOW about the effects of combining drink, anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills with SSRI depressants? Why didn't any of the doctors tell her? And, my God, is she lucky with that liver, though I hope she's got it checked out for damage.
|
