Yesterday, the Black Dog had returned. If you’d have given me the choice between a day in the airing cupboard in the dark on my own and an all expenses paid trip to New York, I’d honestly have chosen the former. I’m learning to know when it’s creeping back in and the causes but keeping it at bay when it’s on the way is like fighting the tide. I still feel a nagging sense of shame at feeling this way and also talking about it but shame can only exist and thrive when it’s given silence. It was interesting that I had so many messages yesterday on Instagram about it looking like an idyllic day. I could pretend it was, with its Oslo filter and selected snapshots but it was really hard to drag myself out of the fog. I had the boys on my own yesterday and thankfully, they are beautifully unsympathetic which is exactly what I needed. We went ‘fishing’, got our clothes muddy, laughed when we got caught in the rain and ate crisps in the boot using spades we’d last used to make sandcastles. I’m not sure what I’m trying to say here other than thinking out loud. But, know that when it appears that everyone else’s life looks greener than yours in these little Instagram squares, it may not always be the case at all.