After the news broke yesterday it seemed everybody on on Facebook and Twitter posted something expressing shock and grief, which I think is totally appropriate. Robin Williams was an icon who crossed so many genres that nearly everyone can recall seeing (and for the most part, loving) him in some particular role. From Aladdin's genie to Mrs. Doubtfire to Peter Pan to "O Captain, my captain," the references and recollections are endless.
While it's easy to remember his fun and funny roles, Williams' resume also included characters who dealt with very real and difficult circumstances. As hard as it is for me to process that a man who (in the public eye, of course) seemed so funny and easy-going could be suffering so much that he chose to end his own life, it is even harder for me to understand that action from the man in Dead Poet's Society, Good Will Hunting, and What Dreams May Come, a man whose characters dealt with the despair and tragedy of mental illness, abuse and the effects of suicide.
I recognize how that comes off as a very unfair statement. Robin Williams was not his characters, and we as the general public obviously did not know him or his personal life and what he was dealing with. The point of this post is not to judge Robin Williams for what he did. Rather, it is to express an incredible sadness that a man who was beloved around the world and across generations, a man who touched the lives of millions in portraying characters who dealt with this very situation, would feel so lost that he saw no other way but death. That, though he had not only money and fame, but a family who loved him and, one would assume, some level of awareness of the impact his vocation had on the world, would choose to die by his own hand.
Depression and mental illness is a messy, confusing and controversial topic and, again, I am under no illusions that I am saying anything that won't be said by a hundred other people. But I just can't stop thinking about this. Because part of the reason that depression/mental illness is such a messy, confusing and controversial topic is that it is so varied. Everyone's experience is different. It is not something we can quantify. Diagnosis and treatment is more objective than other illnesses. And because of that, it's incredibly hard for the general public to form consistent opinions on what is "right" or "good" in talking about and dealing with the problem.
I have some close friends who have struggled with depression of varying levels, including such depression that leads to self-harm. In those experiences, I have wrestled with empathy. As much as I can sympathize with those friends, for their situations, for their pain, I cannot empathize with them. I cannot put myself in their shoes. Even at my darkest, dealing with my pain by harming myself has never seemed a viable option. Just as those of us who are not addicts will never be able to understand the compulsion of addiction, those of us who do not suffer from mental illnesses such as depression cannot comprehend the struggle of those afflicted. We just can't.
The point to all this? There is one, I think. For me it's a reminder that I need. I need to remember that depression is an incredible foe and a reality for many people, whether it is obvious or not, whether it "makes sense" or not, whether I understand it or not. And I need to be a part of the solution to the stigma surrounding depression and mental illness, by being an approachable, safe and informed resource should I encounter someone who is suffering in that way. The battle that our peers wage within their own minds and bodies is terrible enough without the additional weight of judgment from the world around them.
I can't find a sense of closure for this post. No way to end it neatly.
Perhaps that's fitting.
The National Suicide Prevention Hotline number is 1-800-273-8255.
