Mild depression and a pain in me hole

I have been feeling depressed for the last week or 2. I have felt mild depression before a long time ago but this time it took me by surprise. The first thing I did was talk about it. Then I wrote about it. Very cathartic. But it’s still there. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but it may have been partially something to do with where the sun rarely shines. And I don’t mean County Mayo. 

“How was your start to the year?”, my esteemed colleague in BIMM University asked me in the staff room between classes.

 “Honestly…I’ve been feeling a bit low, strange to say, which isn’t me really, I’m normally always looking at the bright side”.

 “Oh, what do you think that is?”. 

“Well, a mixture of things but it hasn’t helped that I’ve been getting these pains”.

“Where?”

“Where?” 

“Yeah, where?”. I was at the classic ‘bloke’ crossroads. I hardly know him. Will I tell him? Will he laugh or be embarrassed? Will I go down in his estimation? Will he be trying not to think of it ever again, all of the time?

“Anal fissures”, I blurted. F*ck, I thought. Risky. Now the whole University will know.

“Oh yeah, they are really common I heard”, he said.

Yes, amongst geriatrics who haven’t washed their knackers for 2 years, I thought.

“Well that’s good to hear”, I said. “Strength in numbers”.

“It can be related to Haemorrhoids”, he said. 

“Well, that’s definitely a few groups I’m comfortable with; drummers, cyclists and pregnant women can share the same occupational hazard I believe”. 

“And have you had the oul’ ‘Johnny Giles’?” 

“Yes, but this is different. It’s like walking along and there are razor blades, not grapes, between your cheeks. And glass and barbed wire. And then you have to go to the toilet and then you faint with the pain, but its ok cos you’re already sitting down. And then you go back into the public and your eyes are watery cos of the afterpain, and you wonder if they wonder why they are watery. Especially students”. 

“Don’t tell anyone ok?”

“Ok. Fair play to you for talking about it. This is stuff our Dads wouldn’t have talked about.” 

“Yes, that and depression I suppose. But who was there to lighten their load? It is indeed good to talk!”

“The funny thing is, and don’t tell anyone this…I was at home and I saw this tube of nappy rash ointment and decided to see if it helped. I applied it generously and it did not go well. I went to bed with those pain tears again and could hardly think or breathe for the burning pain.

“Oh, always read the label.” 

“I tried to after, but my eyes were too watery” I replied.

“I feel like some evil bastard has made a voodoo doll of me and keeps sticking pins in my ass. If you see such a person performing this, could you try to discourage it please.” 

“Wow, that would be below the belt, he said. Do you think voodoo dolls even have belts?” 

No answer, I was deep in thought. And pain.

“Do you really think someone is doing that to you?”, he persisted.

“Absolutely. I think people are weirder than they let on. And I probably have at least one person out there who hates me. People like this feel like they have powers of retribution. They are almost Godlike I suppose. In their own back gardens.”

“Well, if I see this happening, I’ll definitely take the doll from him and bathe it’s bum in bath salts instead.”

“Thanks and play it some of Haydn’s Cello Concertos while your there. He’d love that.”

As we parted ways, I realised I was walking funny, and when I looked back, I wondered whether he was grimacing for my sake, or holding in his own tears. Of laughter.

I shouted back, "Don't tell anyone ,ok ?

"Ok".