At the Teeth of the Black Dog

Eric Leohner
Aug 23, 2017 · 6 min read

This isn’t going to be a happy essay. Nor is it supposed to be. No, this is going to deal with a rather crushing obverse to the desired life: the Black Dog.

The British Isles overflow with folklore and mystery. Within the little group of islands that once conquered most of the world sits a mythological labyrinth. And these stories could fill up vaults about all areas of human experience. But right now we’re going to look at one specific piece of this treasure trove.

A ghost, a symbol of death, of fear and terror, the Black Dog is something that stalks the soul. He walks the border of life and lifelessness. The glowing eyes of the beast resonate through the forests and countryside. He’s out to curse you, to crush you, to kill you.

Always just behind your back, there he awaits. This constant, unrelenting, oppressive force.

This isn’t about any metaphysical dog though. The Black Dog has become a euphemism for a much more prominent plague. But it’s one no less tortuous and horrible.

The Black Dog is Over Me

The Black Dog is that quintessential death of the spirit: depression.

I can’t tell you why some people are particularly predisposed to depression. But this modern chronic endemic stems deeply. Whatever biological and evolutionary reason for the flourish of depression still remains a medical mystery.

But biology and evolution don’t matter here. It exists either way. The best course of action is to deal with it. And not just to deal with it, but to overcome it.

It’s difficult. All I can give you is my experience and view of the world.

One October years ago I was smitten by despair. Everything was anguish. And while this sounds melodramatic as I write it, having lived it I know it was anything but.

I could not sleep. I could not eat. I fruitlessly tried to put some crackers in my mouth and move my teeth. My stomach writhed. It did not want anything. A few crumbs were all I could manage.

Any sort of work was far more than a chore. Any effort taxed me through and through. And there was no purpose to any of my actions. Vitality reduced to a shell.

Run, Run, Run

Quite literally, I ran. For whatever reason, running was the only reasonably tolerable action I could do. Not because it was easy. Not because I’m a runner. Far from it. I have terrible knees and shouldn’t be running. But it was all I could do.

I ran because it took up time. Despondency and pain didn’t matter. All I wanted was something to fill this void. And running didn’t do it.

What running did was fill the space between two points in time.

I would wake up in the morning and run for 5 to 10 miles. And I’d come home and exist. I’d try to do productive things. I couldn’t. I’d go off to work, and I’d do what I could. And I’d exist. That’s it.

The afternoon would come, and I’d run another 5 to 10 miles. And evening, too, sometimes. Sometimes at night. But it was all I could do. It ate up time.

Over the course of two weeks, I ran over 200 miles. Eventually, somehow, the curse broke. My knees ached and my body screamed at me. All the same, I’d outrun the Black Dog.

Outrunning the Black Dog

Just because you outrun the Black Dog doesn’t mean he’s not still around. Though I survived the two weeks of hell, that wasn’t some magical end to it. It lingered. Only I had just become functional.

I could piece together parts of life and somehow string them together into coherent days.

That’s how life goes. You manage to collect events and time and eventually create a meaningful whole. Or you try to.

It’s not easy. It’s even harder with the Black Dog at your back.

It’s a curious affair though. You never outrun him. Once you’ve seen him, you’ll never forget what he looks like or that feeling he gives you. You never forget that he’s with you until you’re dead.

But this isn’t about outrunning him.

At the Teeth of the Black Dog

You accomplish absolutely nothing when you run from something. All you do is give it all the more reason to pursue you. You give it the chase, and it thrives on that. The Black Dog is no different.

Running winds up being the easiest option. All you have to do is put your feet to the ground and go. And you hope you’re fast enough.

Stop.

Running is not a solution.

Turn to face the beast. Though you might have to stare down death incarnate, meet your eyes with his.

His razor teeth will mangle you. His sanguine eyes will pierce you. His humid breath will drown you. But face him all the same.

He won’t give way and he won’t stand down. There is no way you’re coming out of this unscathed.

But you have changed the game. You have made a conscious decision on your terms. Where nature and self-preservation yell at you flight, you grind your feet into the ground and choose fight.

The game is yours now.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking this means you’ve won or that you have the upper hand. You don’t. You still have an opponent and there is still a game to play. What you’ve done is shift the winds.

The beast is to your face now and not your back.

You see him for everything he really is. His jet fur and radiant eyes. You see his teeth ready to bite. And they will bite.

But now you’ve made your play into destiny. Yell to yourself, yell as loudly as you need to reach yourself, as you face him this is what I need!

Throw out your despair, your hopelessness, and your discouragement. Bring love to this moment. This is a moment that changes your desinty. This is your moment. The beast, though a player, is now a piece in your game.

Although this might be the most brutal and crushing thing you ever do, change your mentality. Look at it as an opportunity. It is an opportunity to overcome, to endure, and to live.

Face this as a disaster you will survive. And any disaster you overcome is ultimately an improvement in yourself. This moment shapes your life and your destiny. And while it might seem like hell, it is an opportunity for you to grow.

To the Ends of the Earth

I cannot end this with some delightful conclusion where the Black Dog fades into the scenery.

He is a continuous opponent in life.

To say I’ve never grappled with him before or after my experience above would be an egregious lie. I wrestle with him all the time. There are times when I have half a mind to jump off a bridge. But I don’t. Because everything is an experience and an opportunity I can learn and grow from. Everything I survive will only be an improvement in my character and myself.

I’ve accepted that the Black Dog will be there. But where he once had me running, he now walks alongside me. He’s there. I know he’s there. But he’s a piece of my destiny.

And while he often walks quietly, sometimes the wind blows the right way and he goes to bite. And his teeth will still sink into my flesh. But I thrust him away and stare him down.

He no longer guides my destiny. I know he’s there. I know he’ll bite. But every time he does, I take the suffering as a lesson. I face it with love. My fate is there, and I embrace it.

Whatever your Black Dog might be, don’t run from it. Open yourself to it. Learn from it. Let the experience increase your stature and improve your life.

Accept that it’s there. But make the game yours. Once you’ve done that, you’ll find there is now courage and power where there once was only despair.

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Written by

Writer, traveller, adventurer, linguist. Constantly pursuing a life worth living. ericleohner@gmail.com

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