When I first saw the words Robin Williams Suicide on facebook, I assumed it was a hoax. I literally did not believe it. Just like when people start saying Jackie Chan has died. It's just a rumor, right?
After confirmation from a major media outlet, I still didn't want to believe it. How clever this would be if it were a stunt pulled for depression awareness and suicide prevention, I thought. But it's not.
The funny man is gone. I can't express the sorrow this brings me. And I know I did not know the man. His work spoke to me as it spoke to so many others. He made me was to be a comedian when I was a kid. He was just so damn funny.
And while I did not know the man, I've seen a shade of his adversary. The little voice-- if you're lucky, only a little voice-- in the back of your head that tells you to stay in bed and cry because after all, you're worthless and no one wants you. Not for a friend, not for a lover, not for a partner. Hell, you wouldn't even make a decent enemy...
Except that it is you, and you are your enemy.
I've battled through a depression or two but without a supporting group of friends, I wouldn't have made my way out.
Here we see a man of financial means who could likely have afforded the best care possible should he have seen it as a necessity. He had several children, a wife, a life worth having. Depression isn't logical. It's not about the haves and have-nots. Not really. You could have all the love and wealth in the world at your feet and none of it means anything.
I think of it like losing sight over time. One day you wake up and half of the colors are gone. You almost notice, but things seem normal enough. The next, the world is black and white. That's different, but what can you do? You go on. The next, your lightest white is what a medium gray looked like before. Something tells you it's darker than usual, but you can't really place what light and color are supposed to look like. This keeps going, your vision tunneling, until all you have is a couple of shades of gray and black. You might be able to see the happiness in other people, but you can't feel any of that. It is out of your spectrum now.
It isn't that our funny man could not have gotten help because he could not have afforded it. It's more likely that the parts of him that should have realized he needed help, that should have inspired him to pick up that phone and make that call, were instead wasting energy beating him up, or pulling him into the muck. It seems safe to assume that the call went unmade, as we are here now in a world without him, his jokes now finite.
That's what the hell of depression looks like to me. If you are suffering or know someone who is, get help. Find a physician or counselor or friend. If you need medication, find a way to get it.
And don't forget the little things. Taking care of yourself is so important and so easy to forget. Don't go overboard and spend all your savings on random crap you don't need, but do take a moment out of the hustle and bustle of your day to appreciate yourself and all the good you do. Just as a reminder. Just to keep you pointed in the right direction.
If you're sinking, call for help. A friend, a neighbor, even a stranger. Call for help. More people have fought this beast than you know. Some have won. Some have lost. No matter what, you're not alone. Don't let it convince you otherwise.
