Hidden away

Despite my current stable mood, even with the seemingly on-going over-sleeping that is again taking hold, I am very mindful of that black returning. Thinking about Robin William's passing and of others that I have read about I can't help but wonder if that black dog is, although out of sight, waiting in the shadows quietly biding it's time before leaping out  to encompass me once more. That fear of it one day pushing me close to that edge where perhaps I take my life this time, is there. It's hidden away but I know it's there, packed away for the time being but it's right there and always will be. Facing up to having this illness for the rest of my days is scary and, even now despite me knowing it, is a lot to digest but knowing that I could go through this all over again is something I don't even want to think about. Mostly this is because I don't know what I would do if faced with it again. It takes it's toll, depression, sucks the life out of you, robbing you of the ability to feel for anything, things you used to enjoy, people and events you used to like attending, it goes to only leave you with not much at all aside from the dwindling ability to just about stay in bed and make a cup of tea and maybe watch a film or something. Those are small victory days. I've had plenty of them and the thought of going back to that brings me to mind of that Bruce Springsteen lyrics, 
'...end up like a dog that's been beat too much 'till you spend half your life just covering up.'