the red, the blue and the black dog

Blue is blue
Sky's colour
Sea's hue

But red is red.
When you're losing your head
And you're better off dead.

I wrote that many moons ago, when I had too much time on my hands and life was just a gaping great hole really, filled with doubt and self-loathing and not much more.
These days I can't say any of that is true. My life is full of wonderful things. But this last week the old self-loathing crept back in, creating doubt, eating away at the wholeness of things and trying to suck me back into the gaping great hole. I know its name. I know its tricks. But even as the black dog had me pinned by the chest, baring its teeth, I couldn't find the strength to call it off. If it were only for me it might be forgivable. I can't bear that I shrink from the fight when my family is involved. I want to be like the lioness who'd give her life for her cubs, but all I seem able to do is lay down and pray for it to be over quickly. I don't know if it's just hormonal, if it's seasonal, or if it's the more logical thing - I'm facing my demons without medication. No safety net. But even while the slightest thing makes me weep and sob and wail at the moment, I'm not ready to bow down to the god of Zoloft again. It took me so long to crawl out from his shadow, and I'm sure there are other things I can do. It might just take a little longer. But this too shall pass.