A Wet Dog by Your Side - An HSP Tale About the Depression Journey by Linn Rydahl

Guest article by Linn Rydahl

Depression has many synonyms and symbols. While I was depressed, I heard about “the black dog that follows you” and for me, that was fitting since I grew up with two black Newfoundlands. I remember how big and scary they could be and how heavy their presence was (Note: they were lovely dogs). That’s why I call my depression: a wet dog because wet fur on a dog is sticky and smelly. The dog will come closer and closer, and you want nothing else than to back away.  

It’s similar to shower curtains that slowly come closer and attach themselves to your bare skin. You shiver and quickly remove them. In a way, depression is like that. It slowly sneaks up on you, then it jumps in to attack when you least expect it. 

The crash

Depression can come slowly like a dripping tap or quickly like a tornado. My depression came in both ways, I wouldn’t say my depression was quick, but my crash was. I don’t remember when it started. Looking back, I can see how things were added to an already overflown bucket of “shoulds” and “have tos”.

I was on high alert 24/7. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't get out of my limbic system and slow down. Things broke, relationships cracked, deadlines rushed closer, and my memory faded. The world runs around you, like blurry shadows of busy people. You try to keep up but you are held back by an invisible force. You know time is ticking, but it is also standing still. 

As my limbic system continued to scream, stuck in a tornado I couldn’t get out of, I could feel it draining me. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t make myself pause and relax. My instinct said, “run, run as fast as you can”. My core security had been cracked and wherever I went I felt stared at, judged, and shamed. Nothing I did was good enough. I had destroyed every chance I had for a good life. I didn’t deserve it anymore. And this is when I stopped eating. 

I can really recommend Julie Bjelland’s brain training course. Thanks to that one, I already had an understanding of the limbic system and could see how alert I was. Even if I didn’t manage to stop it, it was a support to know, because I could make sense of what my body was doing. 

As I got more knowledge I realized that depression seems to hit you in two different ways: you either start binge eating, or you stop eating. I stopped. I knew I should eat… but I couldn’t. I knew I needed to eat… but I didn’t deserve it. 

One morning, I spent 3 hours in bed trying to push myself to get up. “Come on, you can do it. Up we go…” Nothing happened. The “push through” button didn’t work anymore. I got frustrated and visualized new ways to get me going. The supporting cheerleader in my head changed to rough hands pulling at me. When that didn’t work, a whip was brought out… but still I didn’t move.

It is amazing how when we reach the bottom, realize how strong our mind was, and how far we pushed. It was that day I made a phone call and through tears heard myself say: “I think I might be depressed.” This wasn’t when the depression hit, no it had slowly come as my body burned itself out. This was the day my mind and body said no and crashed.

The darkness

Depression is an illness that messes with your mind. Unlike a broken bone it’s not visible, and if you are leaning toward perfectionism, you can keep pushing yourself because the symptoms look like you are being “lazy”. You are not. That black hole you feel in your gut, the massive mental power it takes to do something so small as grabbing a glass to drink, that is not you being “lazy”. That is your mind drenched in depression which fights you with every single step. 

With depression comes tiredness that is hard to explain. It can’t be removed by a good night’s sleep. It’s close to burnout, but it includes shame and guilt. Other people don’t have to push you down, you do it yourself every day.  

Your brain turns against you. Questioning everything. Depending on what has happened it can turn into different types of monsters. And depending on who you are as a person, you react differently to it. Maybe you become apathetic, maybe you shut off from all your friends, or maybe you cry non-stop. 

Walking through depression with friends and family is hard, walking alone is harder. I listened to the advice people gave me. “Shoulds” triggered me into panic attacks and every piece of advice I didn’t take felt like me refusing to get better. People without knowledge threw out ideas of what was wrong with me. Ideas that my mind took and spun into endless nightmares. I was lost and confused in my own mind. A mind I didn’t trust anymore.

My blessing was in the form of a kitten. He both pushed me to move and hugged me to feel safe. I could shield myself with him. He could re-teach me to be in the now. Of watching a flower or a Christmas decoration on the tree. Being there, being now. Without “who you were” and without “who you will be”. 

The walk forward

It was (and still is) a hard walk, with thorns and rocks everywhere. You fumble in the dark. Hoping you are moving forward. Something hits you and you stumble back down. You might not see how hard you fight and the progress you make. You certainly don’t believe what people tell you. But every fall is a bit easier to stand up from. You might not see it, crying for 3 hours in bed, but it might be 1 minute less than yesterday. Tomorrow it might be 5 minutes less. Progress is slow and almost invisible when you fight your battles. But it is there. 

Then you start seeing a light, it's faded, almost like a smoke cloud, but it's different from before and you carefully linger on the word "hope" in your mind but don't dare to hold onto it in case it's an illusion. You step out into the fog. You are so slow and everyone around you is so fast. They speed around you with goals, while you feel confused over which way to go. 

Many told me "this too shall pass" or "it won't feel like this forever". I know others have talked about this shift that happens, like a light switch that suddenly turns on. 

It doesn't happen that suddenly, but it is that sudden that you realize it. It takes a second and yet a lifetime before that light switch turns on. It's a slow process. No one sees it. Especially not you. 

The days stay good more often than they are bad. But you are too busy breathing a sigh of relief to realize what it means. Your friends and family might notice. Some might even comment on it. You, yourself, don't dare to utter the words "I am good" because it feels like a curse, and something will come and drag you back down if you say it. But slowly you will dare to think it... and then say it. 

For me, my depression was like a forest fire. It swept in with terror and panic. It had the foundation that I was bad and bad at being an adult. Everything shut down inside me. It was like my brain closed off my past so I couldn't see it. I couldn't double-check who I was. It became a slow process of figuring out which voices around me were true. Who knew me? I trusted everyone... trusted they knew who I really was... But you know, no one knows you as good as yourself. 

After a while, a new voice appeared. From deep within it came with clarity the other voices didn't have. This was me, myself, I was slowly returning. Digging myself out. Removing old and new "ideas" of who I was. Who I thought I was and especially who others thought I was. 

Perhaps the switch began to move the day I managed to stop a panic attack by counting colors (more info below). Or maybe when I decided not to do the suggestions others told me. Suddenly, the light was on and my inner self said: "We do us. We know what is important to us."

In a way, it took depression for me to realize some of the most important things in my life. It took me weeks of crying to realize what I missed in my burned-down brain. To feel the emptiness where my creativity had been. I made one, only one, rule: "Do one creative thing every day". Nothing else. Everything else would be flexible because I knew if I could get that creative flood going again everything else would fall back into a newer, better place. 

Maybe the light turned on the night I realized that I was aware of myself dreaming again? Or perhaps the day my brain was making up a dialog between two fictional characters I just made up? I don’t know. Perhaps when my colleagues said: “Oh, Linn is making jokes again”, or when I realized how much I love to laugh.

There are still bad days. There are still days when I am crying in a corner or fighting a panic attack. But it’s less often. I have slowly pulled myself back into my hobbies. Noticing when they build up anxiety and pausing. Slowly dipping my toe in the water and making sure I am secure before pushing on. 

There are still days when my mind replays the nightmares or when “what is the point” seems to overwhelm me. Those days are still there. But I know that I can go forward and support myself. Place my hand on my heart and whisper, “You are okay. It is okay”. Or mumble “you don’t have to do anything” when deadlines are piling up. 

Maybe the light begins with just a flicker, and the longer we walk the stronger it will shine. It shines when we walk as ourselves. When we realize that we are the ones others love too. 

I do wish no one had to go through depression. It's a horrible journey, and so lonely even if you have people around you. The worst is that you know you are alone because it's your brain and you that need to dig yourself out, no one can help with that. Realizing that you’re in the middle of the depression tornado is devastating. 

You aren’t alone. Gracie King has created a group in the Sensitive Empowerment Community. For me, being in this community was a huge support and with Gracie’s group we can talk more openly about depression and how to support each other.

My counting colors tool:

I heard about the “Count 3 things” when I was in deep darkness. Pick out 3 things you can see, hear and feel. This made me more anxious and stressed. It didn’t work, but the idea of counting was positive for me. Together with my therapist, I came up with counting colors (because I am a visual person, I love colors, and they give me peace). “Counting colors” became a power tool for me. Not only that I had built it myself, but it also was personal so I remembered it, and it worked. Sure, I felt crazy sitting on the edge of my bathtub going “Green, Blue, Green, Brown”, but when I found “Yellow” I smiled because my panic was settling down and my vision was opening up. The more colors I saw the more I knew I was coming back. Find what works for you!

Here is a massive hug to all of you who need it. You may be alone in your head, but we are here outside to support you. Talk — it helps. I wish you all the best and that you can see what is important to you! There are no right or wrong answers, you know when your inner self is burning with excitement.

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Linn Rydahl is a HSP and works as Graphic and video designer. In her spare time she loves to spend time in the HSP Community making connections, or playing games at home. She wishes to bring awareness to depression, and especially giving other’s an article she desperately wanted to read in her darkest hour.

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