At the core of what I know about depression, is the truth that emptiness fuels it. How can a man that we see as so full of life, be so empty. That, is depression. Learning of Robin Williams suicide, I am paralyzed at the power of this disease.
In ways, his death scares the shit out of me.
I have depression. I treat it, but still battle with it. I’ve felt despair so thick that it becomes a barrier against feeling anything else. One is very weak in that moment. Love, friends, success, children – it’s all seen as existing in spite of you. Yes, I gave my children life, but in that dark space it feels like I am now the one draining the life out of them. And everyone else around me.
Even knowing the grips and lashes of depression, I’m profoundly sad and shocked that Robin Williams took his own life. He talked candidly in interviews about his struggles with mental illness and the many treatments he tried. He could have afforded to have world renowned psychiatrist and psychologists on staff. But that wasn’t enough. Sometimes it’s just not. Perhaps it’s better said that it was the depression that took life from him.
I’m wondering where his brilliant mind was at, and the thoughts that led him to end his life. Did he see the decision as a sacrifice for his loved ones? Was the pain finally just too much? No one can say.
So many of us are walking around these days, on the edge of whatever it is keeping our being together. Not lost souls, but individuals with dark spots on our every days. Some days we’re better at seeing through the spots. Some days we’re not.
I don’t know what to take away from Robin Williams death. I’m struggling with hope. I’m at ease for his new peace. I’m consumed with the idea that no matter who you are and how capable you are of fighting this disease, sometimes it’s just not enough.