Blue Monday is here, the media says:
A day of despondence and gloom.
But really it’s only a marketing ploy
To get us to spend and consume.
Created by cynics, with money in mind,
To sell you a trip overseas;
They’ve crafted a monster with misery spin
And trivialised a disease.
It’s true, the January weather is grim,
And Mondays are never a blast.
It sucks, for us all, to be back at work
Now the festive hiatus is past.
But it’s false, however you dress it, to state
That depression is just for a day.
‘You can feel downhearted for twenty-four hours
Then, tomorrow, it just goes away.’
Real depression – the clinical kind –
Is a wretched, persistent ordeal.
It’s a serious, nebulous, life-throttling trial,
And a difficult illness to heal.
There’s mileage in myths that ink-slingers lap up
And regurgitate, year after year.
So, marketeers, journos and credulous clots,
The message for you lot is clear:
Dispense with the pseudoscientific bullcrap,
With its sneaky acquisitive goal,
And show some respect and compassion for folk
With their mental health out of control.