Dancing with the Black Dog
By Hal Haralson
[Hal Haralson practices law in Austin and is a frequent contributor to Christian Ethics Today.]
A recent best selling book was entitled, Dancing with the White Dog.
Winston Churchill, who spent a lifetime battling depression, referred to his depression as "The Black Dog."
I spent the weekend dancing with my Black Dog.
He came growling out of the bushes with his lips curled back revealing white fangs and a vicious mouth flecked with foam. I was more scared than I have been in many years.
Two things contributed to this frightening episode.
The week before, I left Austin at 2:00 p.m. on Sunday for Freer, Texas-a four and one-half hour drive. Freer is near, by South Texas standards, Laredo on the Mexican border.
For 15 years I`ve hunted deer one week in December on the 17,000-acre Lundell ranch. Harry Lundell, a close friend and owner of the ranch, was already there waiting for me.
I drove "Old Red." This 1967 Ford pickup has been in the family for 26 years. I look like Jed Clampitt coming down the road with my homemade deer blind on the back.
There were four of us hunting. We were in position by 6:00 a.m. Monday, came in to camp by noon, went back at 2:00 p.m., and then stayed until dark.
This went on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday until noon, when I prepared to head back to Austin.
It was hot. Deer don`t move until cold weather arrives. Thirty hours sitting in place and not a shot.
The other contributing factor involved my law practice. I am a solo practitioner. Each month, I meet the overhead and pay bills. The last of November and the first two weeks in December the cash flow trickled down and stopped.
I had no money to pay the bills. I thought about this for hours as I sat in the deer blind.
I went hunting when there was no money. If the money didn`t come in I`d have to ask Judy (my wife of 41 years) for help. I hated this prospect.
Just before I was ready to return to Austin on Thursday, Kinky came in with a beautiful nine-point buck draped over his jeep. The deer field-dressed 186 pounds (a monster).
"They`re moving," he allowed. It had gotten colder the night before. I was torn. I needed to leave but I knew the hunting would pick up.
I left. I somehow felt I had to get out of there. I was washed out.
All the way home at 50-miles-per-hour (Old Red`s limit), I worried about the money.
This had happened before and there had always been a solution. That didn`t matter. I was exhausted, frustrated, and disappointed that I had not fired a shot. And I couldn`t keep my mind off the money.
I began to see the Black Dog lurking behind the bushes.
I was diagnosed a manic depressive 35 years ago. By taking lithium, I have had no depression in 25 years. I was terrified, however, as I felt the symptoms.
Fear, lack of confidence, dwelling on the worst that could possibly happen, not being able to keep my mind off these things-all of these washed over me.
Waking at 3:00 a.m. and laying in bed the next morning my brain whirled as I was overwhelmed with "what if`s". What if I had to close my law practice (that happened once 25 years ago). What if I was put in the State Hospital (that happened once 30 years ago). What if Judy got angry and filed for divorce (after 41 years of marriage)?
The fact that these things were unlikely meant nothing. My mind was a runaway train.
I was angry that after 25 years this could be happening again.
I covered it up, the worst thing I could do. A depressed person deals with depression by withdrawing.
Finally, on Monday, I told Judy. She immediately offered me $2,000.00 to help with the bills.
I knew she would do this. I didn`t want this. I felt I wasn`t carrying my part of the load. Judy is a psychotherapist in private practice and a much better money handler than I. I thought accepting her offer would be an admission of failure. I held off.
Monday night was better. Tuesday night was my prayer group. We have met once a month for ten years and I looked forward to seeing my friends and telling them my experience.
My feelings were mixed. I was somewhat hesitant and told them so.
"Why were you reluctant to tell us?`, my friend Jev Sikes, a psychologist, asked a probing question. "I think it`s like a wound," I replied. "It`s so sore…so recent…I want to protect it." I slept better Tuesday night. The openness with my group was very healing.
The next day, there was an appointment on my calendar that had been made while I was hunting. The lady was seeking an attorney to represent her in a divorce.
"The first place I saw your name," she said to me, "was in the journal at the Quiet House."
The Quiet House is at Laity Lodge on the Butt Foundation Ranch. I`ve been there many times.
She left after two hours of conversation, signing an attorney/client agreement and leaving a retainer that was more than enough to cover the bills I had worried about.
The Black Dog came and went in three days. I know he`s still there, of course, lurking in the darkness.
The fears were groundless. That`s beside the point. What happened here? Exhaustion, disappointment, fear so biting you can`t shake it. Shaken faith.
Remember, Hal, God is there and never leaves you nor forsakes you.
Thirty-five years ago he sent Ed Bush, an Episcopal priest, to my home when I was deep in depression. I didn`t want to list then, but I did.
Ed said two things. "Be of good cheer" and "Everything is going to be all right."
That is still God`s message, through Ed, thirty-five years later.
