Everyday Mindfulness

Hello there.
For the first instalment of "The Thought That Counts", I've chosen a section from Richard Gilpin's wonderful book, "Mindfulness For Black Dogs & Blue Days", one of the finest books I've ever read about mindfulness or depression.
This is from a section of the book entitled "Identifying Your Dark Companion":
"Finding an image, or images, that symbolise your depression is a useful exercise for working skilfully to overcome it. Take time to contemplate the thoughts and feelings you associate with your darkest times.
"What comes to mind when you think of depression? What colours, sounds and textures do you associate with it? Tune into the atmosphere of your mind. Allow images or metaphors to emerge, gently prompted by your enquiry. Resist any urge to rationalise, explain or interpret. What arises does not have to 'make sense' to anyone else. It only has to convey your experience.
"This draws upon your innate creativity and, more importantly, provides some information that will allow you to begin developing a different kind of relationship with depression - one of enhanced recognition and greater objectivity.
"Getting to know your depression in different ways lies at the heart of a mindful approach to it. You don't have to like it but you do have to know it. If you can develop a more acute sense of when depression is 'on your back' (or, even better, about to spring), then you will be better placed to deal with it."

When I first read Gilpin's book last year, I was in the midst of the most gruelling depression, the kind that feels as though it's here to stay and will never go away. Those words made me start to relate to my depression in a new way. In the past I knew only how to run from it or how to fight it - neither approach ever did me much good. Gilpin's words inspired me to think about my depression mindfully. This proved to be a crucial turning point in my life.
Of course, mindfulness is not the only recourse when one is being pursued by Churchill's ferocious black dog. It may not be the ultimate answer for everybody. What I would gently argue is that being mindful about depression at least allows one the necessary mental space to reason the best way ahead. Just having that glimmer of objectivity about how one is feeling can make all the difference: perhaps the difference between feeling completely overwhelmed and feeling clear-headed enough to make the right decisions for the sake of one's health and general well-being. Just being a little mindful can maybe make one realise that there's actually a way through what feels like a full existential crisis, that renewal is a distinct possibility.
In the above section, Gilpin is asking us to listen to the darkness in our hearts. Just that, just that simple act of listening to our minds and bodies can be the start of a process that reconnects us with the joy of life. Just that.

I really like the idea of visualising what the depression looks like, examining rather than trying to ignore something like depression can be very painful but ultimately powerful.

When I first tried visualising a ferocious black dog, the only image that sprang to mind was my black spaniel Banjo, who isn't remotely ferocious. The fact that the ferocious black dog was transformed into a cute wee spaniel helped me a lot though. I started to understand that the most threatening part of my depression was the part that I was imagining. By engaging with my feelings mindfully and compassionately, the threat began to subside. Over time that dog seemed a lot less ferocious to me. After a couple of months he was rolling over and asking for his tummy to be tickled.
I'm mindful of the fact that not everybody's experience will be the same. Sometimes when depression creeps up, it can make one feel utterly hopeless and it can feel that there's nowhere to turn and no-one to turn to. If being mindful gives one the space in which to act (talk to friends, book appointment with GP, explore the possibilities of therapy, medication etc.) that can be a huge step forward.
Again, I'm not suggesting that mindfulness is always the answer. Sometimes it can be part of the answer. Anything that lets a little light in is to be cherished when we are "in Saturn". (As Richard Gilpin writes in his book, Renaissance scholars would refer to a depressed person as "a child of Saturn", a planet traditionally seen as cold and distant.)

I have found in the past that trying to understand why I have felt depressed has sometimes helped me to accept and deal with the difficult feelings, defuses them almost.
This idea of visualising it feels very useful though and I was interested to note that despite giving the idea thought there isn't one visual idea I can come up with. I have always really liked the 'black dog' though, feels very apt. I wish I had known about mindfulness when I have severe post traumatic stress following the birth of my youngest daughter, connecting with my feelings would have helped me heal a lot more quickly.

"I wish I had known about mindfulness when..."

If everyone on this forum was given five pounds every time they entertained that very thought, I reckon we'd all be a lot wealthier than we are right now! Whenever I find myself thinking that, I tell myself off, remind myself I'm not being mindful. The thought still pops up though. It's such a tantalising thought.

I suppose it's natural when you find something that can be so transformative not to wish you'd had the knowledge during darker times but I do agree totally

JonW wrote:"I wish I had known about mindfulness when..."

If everyone on this forum was given five pounds every time they entertained that very thought, I reckon we'd all be a lot wealthier than we are right now! Whenever I find myself thinking that, I tell myself off, remind myself I'm not being mindful. The thought still pops up though. It's such a tantalising thought.

*nods* I think back to the times in my past when I have been lost to the future and I just laugh at how ridiculous it all was.

Beautifully put, Gareth.