MATURE SUBJECT MATTER: NOT RECOMMENDED FOR YOUNGER OR SENSITIVE READERS
Robin
William’s sudden departure stunned the world. Legions of fans, his family, celebrities,
friends, strangers whose lives he had somehow touched....all felt an immense over-powering
loss, while asking themselves; “Why?”
Why would
someone with fame, fortune and notoriety take their own life? Surely someone of
William’s stature could afford the finest help in the world, why wouldn’t he
have sought out that help? Did he lose sight of all the people who loved him and
treasured his comedic genius?
The truth
is, we will never really know with all certainty what was running through
Williams head. Superficial wounds on his wrists suggest hanging himself was not
his first attempt at taking his life that agonizing night. All while his wife was
sleeping, oblivious to what was going on only a few rooms away.
He leaves
us with a legacy of memorable performances, both on screen and off, as we
remember the man who made us laugh and now makes us cry.
Williams
death hits very close to home for me. A very bitter pill to swallow.
In my
past, I have attempted suicide. An overdose of drugs and alcohol was my method
of choice.
In my
irrational stupor, I entered the home of a nearby friend. No one was home
except the family dog, so I sat in a chair petting him, uncontrollably bawling
my eyes out one second and laughing hysterically the next.
My friend
arrived home, extremely shocked to find me sitting in her living room on a
drug-induced, manic depressive roller coaster ride. She called the girl next door who
came right away.
I would soon
find myself at the hospital E.R. where they removed the contents of my stomach.
This would be followed by several weeks in the psychiatric ward, where I
learned there were other options when it came to facing my problems.
In 1990,
my estranged father, whose life story could act as the definition of mental
illness, committed suicide. We were not close (the results of an abusive
childhood) but at his funeral I got to witness firsthand how taking your life affects
those who love you.
I told
myself this was the lesson I was to take away from this surreal situation,
something I would remind myself over the years, whenever things seemed
unbearable.
With
medication, therapy and plenty of counseling, I have learned to accept myself
for who I am. It is a continuous work in progress, which has rarely been a walk
in the park.
Even as
recently as this past Spring, I found myself “going there”. Back to that oh-so-familiar
dark, dank, depressing place, where hope and logic dare not enter. Where the demons within me turned the volume to
max with their macabre allure of a permanent solution to the mental and
physical pain I once again felt.
It is at
that desperate time and in that horrible place, when divine intervention has
always somehow stepped in. Sometimes charging in like a hurricane, other times merely
a whisper, but always there, just in the nick of time.
When the
storm has once again passed and the sun pokes through the dark clouds, I
usually find myself feeling a rejuvenated sense of appreciation for the good
things in my life and the fact that I am still around to enjoy them.
When I
first heard that Robin Williams had taken his life, I doubled over in shock. I
was not alone. People around the world shared my disbelief while collectively
asking “how could he do this?”
The reality
is clinical depression is a disease which knows no boundaries. It doesn’t
discriminate. It doesn’t care if you’re rich and famous or penniless and a
virtual unknown.
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| PHOTO COURTESY www.deviantart.com |
Where was
divine intervention on that fateful night when Williams ended his life? Was it
just outside the closed door? Was it
whispering when it should have been screaming?
Was it even there at all? These
are questions we will never have the answers to.
For only
Robin Williams knows what was truly going on inside that room and within
himself. Was he weak? Did he not know how much he was loved and
would be missed? I believe he indeed knew we cared, he knew he was gifted and
he was far from being weak.
When I
have been at the depths of despair, I have envisioned what the outcome of killing
myself may be. It’s never, EVER been a matter of not knowing or caring
how taking my own life would hurt so many others. It’s always been about making
this all-consuming torture and agony stop. Just stop, please for the love of
god, just fucking make it stop!
In life,
Robin Williams made us look at the world around us differently. In death he
does the same. It is my hope that his shocking
death will not end up as merely a discouraging footnote, when in the future we
recall the life of this amusing, caring, one-of-a-kind individual.
I hope mental
illness remains in the forefront and those of us living with it can find the
courage to remove our masks, thus allowing the world to see us and this insidious
disease called clinical depression in a more realistic light.
From an
act of great pain, sorrow and confusion, let the seeds of hope grow again.
Rest in
peace Mr. Williams. Nanu, nanu.
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