The Little Red Dragon

If depression is the black dog, what is anxiety?

I don’t remember when he first came to stay with me. I just opened my front door one day and there he was, looking up at me.

 

A little Red Dragon.

 

I loved that little dragon. He was so small and cute. I would leave him at home when I went out and we would play together all night, laughing as he tried to snort out fire but only managed little puffs of smoke.

 

I didn’t really notice at first but as time went on, the Red Dragon started to grow bigger. Every day when I came home he seemed to have grown and he demanded more and more of my time.

 

After a while, he decided that he didn’t want to be cooped up alone all day and so he insisted on coming to work with me. I knew that my colleagues wouldn’t understand, so I hid him under my desk. Every now and then he would poke his nose out and I would try to shove him back down before anyone noticed. I got used to the strange looks as a puff of smoke emerged from under my chair.

 

But pretty soon he got restless. I knew I had to let him go free but he refused to go. And I wasn’t sure I wanted him to. I had got used to him being around, even if it made things harder.

 

It became too hard to hide him from friends, so I stopped going out.

 

Whenever I would try to read a book, he would snort out a flame and burn it. So I stopped reading.

 

Whenever I tried to play a game, or watch a programme, or write a story, he would flap around the room making noise, snorting out flames so that I couldn’t concentrate. So I gave up.

 

Then one day when I came down the stairs, I saw he had invited a friend round to play. A Black Dog. And before I knew it, he had moved in too.

 

And then it happened. He was too big to keep hidden under the desk at work and one day he broke free. He made such a scene, flapping his wings, snorting fire. Everyone was amazed that I had this Red Dragon, they had no idea I had been hiding him. I was mortified that he had been discovered.

 

That was when I decided I needed help. I went to see a dragon expert to tell him of my problems. He reassured me that my Red Dragon was quite normal, in fact more people owned one than I realised. He suggested that I take him to a specialist dragon clinic to understand how to better manage him.

 

It was there that I discovered that there are all sorts of different dragons. Big ones, little ones, fat ones, thin ones, blue ones, green ones. And my Red Dragon.

 

Talking about my Red Dragon with other people who owned one seemed to help. After a while, my dragon didn’t seem that big after all.

 

I came to understand that I couldn’t get rid of him. He would always live with me, and his friend the Black Dog would likely pop round for visits occasionally too. But I learned that I needed to show him who is boss.

 

He still insists on coming everywhere with me but I try to be firm. Sometimes though he gets his way and tags along.

 

But I don’t hide him anymore. I am not embarrassed or ashamed. If he makes an appearance, I just explain to people who he is.

 

My Red Dragon.