Robin Williams Dead…
I read those words in a headline – Breaking News! – and that is as far as I got before shock hit me.
Robin Williams? Dead? That can’t be possible!
I quickly clicked on the link, saw “suicide” and the following phrase leaped out at me from the page: “…had been battling depression…”
For some reason, this just hit me like a ton of bricks. I follow celebrities as much as the next guy, but it has been a long time since the death of one of them has caused me to feel so much emotion. I have battled depression since I was 15 years old and I know that you have ups and downs, and that the severity of the depression can be wildly variable. Robin Williams was sometimes labeled the funniest guy in the world. How could someone who spread so much happiness be in such a dark place inside?
Depression is a seriously awful beast. It is not feeling blue for a day, or using the “I’m depressed” excuse to get attention when you’re having a bad week.
Depression is a distortion of reality. It is an alternate world in which you perceive yourself as useless, sad, or alone. It is a world that exists no matter how many times a therapist tries to teach you to focus on reality and not the dark world that your mind has created in its place.
And then there is guilt: guilt because reality is a happy life, a life of fulfillment and success A life that has everything you should need to be content.
Depression is dark and hopeless. It is wanting to be alone and not interact with anyone. It is wanting to drink excessively, smoke something or take a handful of pills; anything to make you sleep and not have to feel anything.
And then there is guilt: guilt because your friends/relatives/spouse is supportive and tells you it’s okay to have a dark day. Guilt because you know you shouldn’t feel this bad. It’s not logical, or realistic…right?
Depression is hating yourself. Not just in a “oh I think I’m fat” way, but in a way that you are so viciously disgusted with yourself that you can barely stand your own presence. In a way that makes you think that others are looking at you (or avoiding to do so) with the same disgust.
Depression is feeling completely alone, like nobody really cares what you feel. It is feeling unhappy when you come home at night. It is wishing that there was nobody there so that you could suffer in silence and solitude.
And then there is guilt: guilt because you have a loving and supportive spouse. Guilt because your children are your everything and you couldn’t imagine life without them. Guilt.
Depression is wanting to hurt yourself. Hurt yourself because no physical pain can possibly be worse than the pain that is inside you. Hurt yourself so that the pain will go away.
And then there is guilt: guilt because hurting yourself will cause those who you love the worst pain imaginable. Guilt because hurting yourself will hurt those you love.
Depression is real. Depression is painful and lonely and terrifying. It can prey on anyone at any time, and it is a life-long affliction. If you are clinically depressed, it may go into remission or be controlled with therapy, drugs, or even diet, but it is still a part of that person and could flare up at any time.
The funniest man in the world, a man who you rarely can picture not smiling, had those depression demons inside him eating away at his happiness and his reality. We will never know the specific things that he simply could not handle any more: a battle with sobriety, the early stages of Parkinson’s Disease, or just flat-out depression. It hits us all with a dose of our own reality and hopefully makes us a little more aware that depression should not be dismissed or marginalized.
Depression is real.
RIP Robin Williams