Any fans of classic mysteries really should be following JJ over at The Invisible Event – his reviews and posts are always insightful and well thought out. But this post, I thought I would share with you. Please read it – it might help a friend of yours, it might help you. It will certainly give you an insight into a serious issue that must never be underestimated. And thank you in advance for reading.
You are no doubt aware that in recent years the month of November has been cop-opted into a fundraising event known as Movember, in which men grow facial hair to raise money for a variety of causes, including mental health charities. For reasons that will be made plain if you click to read more, this is something I’d like to discuss today; if that doesn’t sound like your kind of thing, feel free to pass this post over and I’ll see you on Tuesday for more of the usual.
This weekend marks the tenth anniversary of my being tentatively diagnosed with clinical depression. 16 months prior, I had given myself 18 months to attempt to figure out why I felt so awful on a near-permanent basis, and if no solution was forthcoming I had resolved to kill myself at the end of 2007. Why 18 months? I have no idea. Why suicide? Well, because that’s what depression did to me; it made a lot of sense at the time. It snuck up on me craftily, rubber-soled, the death by a thousand cuts. By the time you realise you’re bleeding, what difference can one extra cut make? It is, after all, only a little more blood.
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