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Robin Williams and Depression

Sure, the title screams "look at my blog, it's like click-bait porn." Robin Williams untimely death and the cause behind it will be in the news for days to come. Already on Facebook and Twitter, everyone who ever met the man is speaking of his messianic touch or way with people. Those who didn't have a perfect day are all now WebMD classifying themselves as clinically depressed. Facebook friends are telling of woes, through stories of missed planes, asshole coworkers and that boyfriend who never listens and somehow convincing themselves this is depression. We all know this is what dime store psychologists refer to as attention whoring.

I'm not here to bash Robin Williams. I once wrote a blog about his career and it was less than pretty. In fact, I called him the worst actor ever. I still stand by that. To mention it now seems cruel, but I want those who take the time to read this to understand just where I am coming from. I disliked him immensely as an actor and comedian, but praise him as a philanthropist and human. His depression, which he fought with drugs in his earlier life, was always with him. We all knew this about him and we all knew that one day it would take his life, one way or another. He never hid from his demons, but talked about them and how he fought them. We'll never know what made him give in to them, but we'll know the pain we felt. Those who revered his talent, will remember fondly the way he made them laugh, while I will choose to remember all he did for young comics, all the while really helping the homeless, children with terminal diseases and those who fought for what they believed in, many of them our troops.

To say I understand depression would be irresponsible. Doctors who study it do not understand it. This is what makes the silly posts saying you know what it feels like to want to leave behind a loving wife and children, because of something someone posted on your Facebook wall is insensitive at the very least. Here is why I am writing this and why I am angry. Not with Robin Williams, but maybe in some way I am. Maybe he's bringing back memories of the beautiful, brilliant and sweet girl I knew who ended her life last year. Maybe it's the handful of others who battled their demons and turned to drugs, alcohol and other forms of self mutilation, that in one way or another played a part in their demise. We all want to call all of these deaths accidents, but they were not, they were tragedies.

In the past five years, I've reached out to about fifteen people who I saw crying out for help on social media. Of them, more than half simply ignored me and continued their cries for attention. Four of them told me to mind my business. One said she was fine and had just overreacted and then went on to post eight more posts about wanting everything to end in one way or another. One admitted that she considered harming herself and thanked me, saying I was the only person who contacted her privately. Finally there was one who said she wasn't sure if she did it on purpose or not, but overdosed. Thankfully, all of these people are still with us, although thirteen of them have lost a lot of my respect. I write a lot of stuff on Facebook and I know when I was hurting, exactly two people reached out to me and these two are hardly what I consider to be two of my better friends, but I did learn, they are better people. I thanked them continuously and remember it every time I feel down.

As someone who is always laughing on the outside and who has dealt with a fair share of pain over the last 15-20 years, I understand one thing. The cliche, "it gets better" isn't always true. The idea that your real friends will always be there for you is a bit of an overstatement too. I also feel that Robin Williams is proof that God, if one exists, definitely doesn't only give us what we can handle. Apparently, he gave Robin Williams and about five of my friends a little too much. While I don't suffer from depression, I have had two panic attacks and let me tell you, if that is what depression feels like, I'd never last. To be sure of yourself one second and for no reason whatsoever to lose control of you body and your bearings is absolutely terrifying. I can't imagine this being a regular occurrence.

I don't want this to be about me or Robin Williams. I want this to be about the next person who needs help. I know it seems like we're just people talking and listening, but that is all we can do. I hope every person on this earth has someone to turn to. I'll always try and be there for anyone I call a friend and I would hope they would do more than just say they would for me. We live in a very selfish world and people with this ailment can't survive in that atmosphere. Those of us who spend most of the time by ourselves understand the loneliness, but to add to that fear, hate, anxiety and an overall loss of hope is paralyzing.  All we can do is be strong for them, even when strength eludes us.

RIP RW
RIP SB
RIP JR
RIP CR
RIP MR
RIP JN
RIP PA
RIP to all those I've known who I have missed

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