We’ve been speaking on social media recently about our depression and how bad it’s got. Churchill called it his black dog that followed him around. Sometimes it was small and he barely noticed it. Sometimes it was big. Right now, it’s about the size of a horse and it’s sitting on us. We can’t move or breathe. We call ours The Darkshines, after a Muse song.

For a year, we’ve been struggling. Really struggling. What’s surprised us though, is how very few people noticed. To us, it was obvious. We’ve been moody, angry, confrontational, quiet, unable to have fun and quite frankly, unpleasant to be around. At first, we thought that maybe our masking skills were pretty good. Then we thought “is this how people see us? To them, have we not changed?” Because we no longer recognise ourselves. Maybe The Pretenders were right. Maybe we’re only human on the…