Black Dogs in cubicles
Read up on Sir Winston Churchill and you’ll discover he was a lover of pets – with all types of skin coverings from fur to feathers, scales to chitin – and he was fond of naming them in a manner at odds with his garrulous nature: Dodo, Peas, Pink Poo, Rufus I & II, and a lion named “Rota.”
In addition to his not so common menagerie of pets, an invisible black dog often followed him. That dog had no name; Sir Winston used the label “black dog” to refer to his lifelong dark companion: dysthymia. He was a high-functioning chronic depressive. “High-functioning” is an understatement. He managed to get knighted, win a Nobel Prize for literature, lead a country both during and after a world war, and became Time magazine’s Man of the Year – twice, despite wrestling with dark thoughts like these:
I don’t like standing near the edge of a platform when an express train is passing through. I like to stand back and, if possible, get a pillar between me and the train. I don’t like to stand by the side of a ship and look down into the water. A second’s action would end everything. A few drops of desperation.
He was indeed “high-functioning” by any measure.
An invisible scourge
Depression isn’t an uncommon condition. The Centre for Addiction and Mental Health estimates eight percent of Canadians experience a major bout of depression during their lifetime.
Depression, like Churchill’s black dog, is invisible. If you’re one of the eight percent, you know exactly what “invisible” means … and how much effort it takes each day to keep it so.
Society doesn’t have a good track record when dealing with mental illness. Keeping the black dog hidden in the internal shadows of our mind is merely pre-emptive self defence. It protects those suffering from these types of conditions from the often negative reactions and consequences of those around them. We can’t be treated differently if no one knows we’re different.
Yet, the world changes – and the mental differences between us are less of a social stigma today. They are not yet a non-issue, but we’re making progress. This growing acceptance is driven forward, perhaps ironically (certainly sadly) by celebrities like Robin Williams who ended up standing too close to the edge of the platform. When people we know and admire succumb to a few too many drops of desperation – when we’re forced to try and understand what happened – then, perhaps, we become motivated to think about what someone could have done to prevent these tragic losses. Perhaps even to look around the office in an attempt to see if anyone within our reach could use a helping hand.
If you’re not one of the eight percent, then it’s very difficult (perhaps even impossible) to understand what’s going on inside the head of someone living with depression. The response is sometimes, “There’s nothing visibly wrong, they have a good job, a good life, they need to just ‘snap out of it!’”
As someone who’s all too familiar with Churchill’s black dog, depression is debilitating and terrifying to someone who never needed additional motivation to do anything. Yet, some days, just glueing on that smile is just too much effort.
The productivity cost is huge – not much gets done when someone is having a bad day and doesn’t make it into the office.
Shining light on the darkness
The reality of the modern workplace is that eight percent of our peers are likely dealing with their own “edge-of-the-platform” fears. There’s nothing legal, moral, or ethical we can, or should do, to decrease that percentage by hiring or firing practices. It is what it is, a fact of the workplace. At best, what we can do is create an environment that supports the reality of dysthymia, and helps those who struggle with standing too near the platform to focus their energies on coping, rather than on the effort necessary to hide the fact that they’re coping.
None of this is simple. Identifying those who wrestle with their own black dog isn’t an effective or advisable approach. Even though society might be changing attitudes toward mental health issues, the hard reality is that many would never want to admit they’re different – or that they are hurting inside.
Making my own battle with depression public is something I’ve avoided for years; but, the reality is that the workplace issues won’t go away on their own. We need to increase awareness of any issue before we can make things even a little bit better. We need to address mental health issues in our organizations if we want to avoid tragedies, making the lives of those around us easier – and perhaps, even if our focus is more on “productivity” than on “people,” we might meet both goals simultaneously.
What can be done?
The first step for any organization is to accept that mental health in the workplace is worthy of their attention.
The next step is to recognize that nobody is alone in this, that there are numerous resources available.
All EAPs (employee assistance programs) contain mental health resources for employee access – these are confidential, and staffed by those with the skills required to deal with these issues. They are also totally useless, unless we make their availability public, easy to access, and stress the confidentiality of the services.
Another way to address this difficult issue is to start with small steps. Recognize the issue is real, and figure out how to initiate a dialogue. An initiative that helps to raise awareness and prompt conversation in the workplace is Not Myself Today . It is an initiative of the Canadian charitable organization, Partners for Mental Health. The approach it takes is a good one – it makes what can be a difficult topic approachable and engaging; and, most importantly, it gets people talking and learning.
Even if this isn’t an issue embraced by your organization, if you’re too close to the platform’s edge, find someone to confide in. There are lots of people out there willing to offer support. But, to benefit from their willingness to help, we have to become visible. MW
Peter de Jager believes that, sometimes, being pushed to the wall gives us the momentum we need to get over it. You can contact Peter at .
as published in Municipal World, January 2017
