There’s an image from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban that sees Harry run away from home in no particular direction and fall to the ground with his belongings scattered beside him. When he looks up there is a black dog emerging from the alley in front of him. This is often what I am reminded of during bouts of depression on the road. In Australia we refer to depression as the black dog. The black dog sneaks up on you. I think it’s the personification of such a horrible feeling or disease that helps us battle it together, however when this black dog sneaks up on you, with large distances wedged between you and your support network, it feels as though that dog will leap out of the alley and sink its teeth into your flesh without any warning, leaving you to succumb to its darkness.
My fight with the black dog began in my hometown of Sunbury in 2015. I refused to believe I had a problem in the beginning. To me, I was just sad over a tough break up. I found myself blaming the breakup and the encapsulating sadness that followed, on my ex-girlfriend, but eventually it became more apparent that the sadness was a part of something bigger. This chemical imbalance that I had allowed into my bloodstream opened the flood gates to an infestation of depression that would rot my mind and change me as a person even still to this day. Talking about it wasn’t, and still isn’t easy. I believe this is why we lose so many great souls to themselves. Thankfully I didn’t join them, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wished to at times. My actions during the toughest of times are not ones I’m proud of. Divulging those details is not something I’m here to do, but I will go as far as to say that I was incredibly embarrassed and ashamed of myself and my actions for a long period of time. I was selfish to put my parents through such pain and fear, however, it was their support and understanding that allowed me to trust them and get the help I so badly needed. The black dog had well and truly slipped out of the alley. I found myself in an unfamiliar place of extreme vulnerability both in my he ad and eventually in person.
The image of Harry on the ground reminds me of this time in my life. No idea what to do, who to talk to, or where to go. His scattered belongings fit well for the start of my journey. It was at this time I decided I wasn’t happy in, and therefore needed to leave, Australia. I tried travel as an antidote, resulting in my change of residence to a 70L Kathmandu backpack. That backpack found a relatively stable residence on Phi Phi Island where the black dog was suppressed to the shadows for the first time in over a year. However, the problem with shadows is that they don’t exterminate the things that dwell in them. They’re still there, hidden. The black dog still sits quiet, waiting to rear its ugly head on the odd occasion, making life difficult for everyone. Demanding the respect, we, as a collective society, are beginning to give it. To suffer depression whilst overseas, backpacking or on holiday is often a confusing feeling for those who experience it. Travel is built up by the world around us, to be one of the most character building, exciting and fulfilling things one can do, leaving you with a smile on your face and a new lease on life. You see advertisements on TV, online and on billboards of people smiling and laughing in beautiful blue waters or under gorgeous pink sunsets, surrounded by temples or mountains. But individuals react differently to one another. The guilt of not feeling the things you’re “supposed to feel” simply encourage negative thought processes making things much worse. We struggle to identify that we are different, we are on our own path and that what society says isn’t always how we should feel or who we should be. Travel isn’t easy. For those that do struggle with depression it can make you feel more isolated and less apart of the world than ever before. When you begin to see the eyes of the black dog emerge from the alley in a foreign place, you can accidentally encourage it to come closer with questions of who you are and why you’re different to everyone else. Negative questions run rampant through your mind such as: “Why can’t I even be happy in the most beautiful places in the world? When everyone else is euphoric?”. While believing that this means you’ll never be happy, all it simply means is that you’re feeling different in that moment. I began to work on myself when feelings like this took place on the road. I began to teach myself not to feel guilty for my own emotions. I taught myself not to allow society’s trends to dictate what I should do, where I should go or how I should feel. It was then that I was able to choose my own paths and take time for myself to understand that it is ok to be sad, flat, down or depressed in paradise. Our brains don’t always understand the paradise outside. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, but for me, it was a start.
My common kryptonite on the road is still loneliness. That might sound strange. How does someone who is surrounded by 20 to 30 people 27 days a month be lonely? I’ve come to the realisation that you don’t have to be alone to be lonely. When those you love and those that love you live 10 hours away they cannot be substituted by the strangers that become your friends on tour. Don’t misinterpret that as me having no friends on the road. I’ve made lifelong friends on these tours. I still talk to many of them weekly if not daily. But when I’m on tour, I’m working, I must be 100% happy and I must be energetic. To many people I will only be “Contiki Coops”. The trip manager with poor puns and dad jokes, that doesn’t take life too seriously, who helps them see the world. I love that I am that person, its my favourite part of myself. But in times of loneliness it gets hard. In times of loneliness I just want to be Aaron. I want people to appreciate and get to know Aaron. But Aaron sits in the backseat when I work, and everyone only sees Contiki Coops. They’ve paid for a holiday. They haven’t paid to get to know someone may not necessarily want to. They shouldn’t have to put up with the deep and meaningful side of a person they have paid to show them a good time. They have every right to, and it is completely understandable that they ignore the back seat. Contiki Coops faces abuse, rudeness and neglect from a rare few he helps but holds no time, nor care for such poor behaviour, letting it run off him like water off a duck’s back. It runs straight off his back onto Aaron. Comments like “this isn’t a real job”, “you don’t really do much” or “how long are you doing this working holiday for?” only fuel the loneliness of the boy in the backseat, wishing for a connection. A rare few will ever take the time to get to know this boy and over time this missing connection begins to take its toll. Contiki Coops doesn’t need a cuddle or a smile from a significant other, family member or friend. But Aaron does. So, buckled in tight, he sits in silence.
He sits in silence as the world at home races past his window. Sometimes he wants to jump out instantly and re-join that world, but the car moves too fast, it’s not that simple. Sometimes it moves so fast he doesn’t even hear what’s happening outside. He can’t even see beyond the blurred colours of 2nd hand information and he begins to wonder if he will ever make up for lost time when the car eventually stops and he can get out. Things will be different when that happens, he knows that. For even now he still struggles to remember information about home that changed years ago. Missed birthdays, missed Christmases and missed childhoods of nieces and nephews supplies guilt to sit heavy on his chest with the realisation that those times won’t come around again. Next to that guilt sits that of a son, cousin and brother who has been absent during tough times of family and friends. Coupled with the embarrassment of looking forward to seeing someone who he forgets passed on over a year ago. Clearly, there is no closure on the road. It’s during these times of intense vulnerability that I appreciate the technological world we live in. I could not imagine going through a bout of thick darkness with the black dog at my feet without being able to make a video call to those that matter most. Hearing the voice of a loved one helps and seeing the face of a loved one provides even more comfort, so in a life where the touch and closeness is absent, I rely on the next best thing. Little things like care packages from home with unique foods or letter remind me that those at home still care and haven’t forgotten. It shows that I’m not just the boy on the screen during a video call to them. The most important thing I find is to trust friends and family at home. Trust them to know that you care. Trust them to know that you miss them and think about them daily. But most of all, trust them to know that you love them and wish you could teleport to them every now and then to ensure that they are ok and help them in times of need. Learning to appreciate these technologies, and the trust, that those that matter have in you, is the key to fending off the black dog and keeping its teeth at bay. It’s using these same technologies that the luxury of gift giving from afar is made possible, whether through postal presents, sending pictures or videos or even eventually flying back when time and funds permit. But there is no substitute for the pride felt when watching your nieces or nephews represent their town in sport, seeing your parents living a fit and healthy lifestyle with a smile on their faces or a deep and meaningful conversation with those you’ve trusted your whole life. One thing I’ve learned by only receiving these moments on scarce occasions: “the fruit tastes best when you’re most hungry”.
Once the boy in the backseat has eaten these fruits the world outside becomes less blurry. The world has changed, yes, but for that brief second when he was able to wind down the window and see the faces of those who matter most smiling back at him, laughing and waving, life in the car returned to its previous beauty. The smile that these people and these experiences bring to Aaron’s face ensure that the black dog stays chained in the alley. It may not be gone but it’s not visible right now. Just like Aaron shoulders Contiki Coops’ negative jabs, Contiki Coops shoulders Aaron’s confidence. These are two sides that come together like yin and yang. Together they conquer, divided they fall. Right now, they are very much together!
For Mick, Squeek & Brad
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