Negative thoughts. We all get them. They intrude and subvert. And sometimes –often if you’re like me — we succumb to them and sink into despondency.

Don’t be shy to admit it that it happens to you too. I know it does.

It happens pretty consistently for me. Every time I feel like I’m actually doing well at something and then I get feedback that I’m not doing as well as I’d thought, those negative thoughts come a-knocking. And I don’t know about you, but I end up obsessing over those negative thoughts; often for hours and sometimes even days.

Depression is something I’ve struggled with pretty much all my life. Sure; my struggle is less debilitating than it is for others. I mostly live a content life with plenty to be happy with. But depression does not know rationale. It strikes randomly and without regard for fortune or privilege. And it never really goes away. It is a life-long struggle to keep your head above water and for some of us who are functional and have been functional all our lives, the struggle is not any easier than for those who are drowning.

I do this dance where I tell myself that this is not a problem. I comfort myself that this is just my overactive mind; that this is what happens when I think deeply on who I am in this world. They say it’s the mark of the intellectual, the deep thinker, the creative – this obsessive focus on the negativity in the world. But explaining obsessive negative thoughts as intellectual or creative seems like a cop out to me. Thinking people agonise over negativity as if it were a problem to be solved, right? I guess, the idea is that when you feel badly enough about something, you are motivated to find a way to change it. Of course, that assumes that the what we’re obsessing about is something that is within our power to change.

Last Friday, I got some feedback that made me realise that while I was performing admirably for myself and for my clients, those who I work with see my efforts as wanting. I took it personally. It feels as if I am putting out all this effort and failing anyway. It’s a bit demoralising. I know I can only get better with time and practice, but I fancied myself a bit of a natural at this. How then can I be failing so badly? What does it say about me that I can’t even pass at an activity that I am supposedly a natural at?

All these thoughts and more swirled in my head as I drove myself home. In the 35 minutes it took me to traverse town, I’d managed to wear myself down even further — it’s uncanny how good I am at that. Before now, that spiral would just spin out of control and I’d end up crawling into some corner to lick my wounds.

And then I discovered quite recently that I, too, can fight my way our of that abyss before it swallows me.

It’s empowering to finally find something that helps you with something you’ve been struggling with forever. For me, that thing is walking my dog. Oh sure; tell me that that is a discovery that is as old as time itself. That countless others have found the peace I crave in “walking the dog” before me. That’s fine for them; but I’ve never had a dog before. And every other attempt I’ve made to work through my ‘ish’ has ended in abject failure and a visit to that abyss. For me, the discovery of walking the dog is brand new, shiny, exciting. Leave me to enjoy my new-found peace in peace, will you?

This post first published on Medium on Feburary 16, 2016.