Details concerning the death of Robin Williams have flooded the media today, and again, my heart is so very heavy for his family and friends ... I cannot begin to imagine the depth of their sorrow today nor can I fathom the sorrow they will surely carry with them forever. Along with the reports surrounding his death came the discussion and revelation of his long-term struggle with depression. Mr. Williams had been very open concerning his battle with alcohol and drug addiction, speaking out about his times in rehab and his daily quest to remain sober. From the accounts I've read and heard, however, it seems I'm not alone in saying I never knew that he also suffered from clinical depression. I haven't been able to shake the tremendous irony in that ... it wasn't the disease he openly discussed that eventually claimed his life, but rather the one he tried so desperately to conceal.
As I mentioned, there's a common recurring theme in the messages I'm receiving ... people who have never faced the beast of depression themselves or witnessed it firsthand in someone they love have little to no understanding of what it can and does do to those who are affected by the disease. And yes, it is a disease of the brain, just like diabetes is a disease of the pancreas. I, like so many of you who have written to me, often wish that others could spend a day inside the brain of a person with clinical depression ... I'm pretty sure if they did, very few of them would say, "Oh, you're just sad ... snap out of it ... put a smile on your face ... get happy ... stop being such a downer ... you're a drama queen ... geez, what a baby; suck it up." I've thought all day about how many times I've heard those words over the last few years of my life ... and I want people to know ... I want to help people understand at least a few things I've learned.
I remember when I used to be able to smile no matter what was going on in my life, even when I was hiding my true identity and pretending to be someone I wasn't. Even then, I had a base, a foundation of stability and happiness. I was always the life of the party ... yep, I used to actually be invited to parties, believe it or not. I made friends easily and sincerely, and other people commented often on my outgoing and helpful nature. I played with my children, and I laughed with my family and friends. I was a fun, gregarious, friendly, afraid of nothing kind of gal. Until one day when something happened inside my brain, and I wasn't. I learned that it was a combination of both chemical abnormalities and trying so desperately to not be who I am, but when it all first started ... I honestly thought I was losing my mind. And now ... now I fight every single day not to let the beast win, and the truth is, chances are pretty great that I'll have to fight it for the rest of my life.
There's been a lot of discussion and questioning today about how to know when it's depression and not just sadness that will pass in a few days. Depression is when you go for days without showering or leaving your house because you don't have the strength or desire to get out of bed or off the couch. It's when you believe no one would care if you lived or died, or even more, that they would be better off if you were gone. It's when you become convinced that no one cares, that no one loves you, that you are a burden to everyone around you. It's when you are surrounded by people, and you feel more alone than you ever have in your entire life. It's when you know people you love don't want to be with you because you aren't happy or fun. It's when you feel worthless and empty and sad and ashamed. It's when you feel you have nothing to offer anyone and that you don't fit or belong anywhere. It's when the silence becomes deafening, and the noise becomes silent. It's when you try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try to find your way out of the darkness without success. At least that's what depression is for me anyway ... it's when I desperately want to rid myself of the disease and the medications and the stigma, but I can't ... it's when I would give everything to just be normal, to just be happy, to just be well.
Many of you have asked how best to help someone who's been diagnosed with depression, and the best answer I can come up with is actually pretty simple ... just love them. Don't leave. Don't run away when the going gets tough. Be the family member or friend who refuses to give up, who won't let go of the rope. Pay attention. Notice the signs. Don't be judgmental. Ask the hard questions. Make eye contact. Put down your stupid phone and really, really, really listen. Check in. Care. Know that depression is an illness and not a choice ... people don't choose to have cancer, and they don't choose to have depression either. Please, please, please understand that it's not their fault or an attempt to garner attention. Depression is a disease, and the people who suffer from it need your support and unconditional love.
Be kind to one another, friends ... look out for one another ... watch over one another ... shield one another ... love one another ... above all else, friends, please love one another.
As I mentioned, there's a common recurring theme in the messages I'm receiving ... people who have never faced the beast of depression themselves or witnessed it firsthand in someone they love have little to no understanding of what it can and does do to those who are affected by the disease. And yes, it is a disease of the brain, just like diabetes is a disease of the pancreas. I, like so many of you who have written to me, often wish that others could spend a day inside the brain of a person with clinical depression ... I'm pretty sure if they did, very few of them would say, "Oh, you're just sad ... snap out of it ... put a smile on your face ... get happy ... stop being such a downer ... you're a drama queen ... geez, what a baby; suck it up." I've thought all day about how many times I've heard those words over the last few years of my life ... and I want people to know ... I want to help people understand at least a few things I've learned.
I remember when I used to be able to smile no matter what was going on in my life, even when I was hiding my true identity and pretending to be someone I wasn't. Even then, I had a base, a foundation of stability and happiness. I was always the life of the party ... yep, I used to actually be invited to parties, believe it or not. I made friends easily and sincerely, and other people commented often on my outgoing and helpful nature. I played with my children, and I laughed with my family and friends. I was a fun, gregarious, friendly, afraid of nothing kind of gal. Until one day when something happened inside my brain, and I wasn't. I learned that it was a combination of both chemical abnormalities and trying so desperately to not be who I am, but when it all first started ... I honestly thought I was losing my mind. And now ... now I fight every single day not to let the beast win, and the truth is, chances are pretty great that I'll have to fight it for the rest of my life.
There's been a lot of discussion and questioning today about how to know when it's depression and not just sadness that will pass in a few days. Depression is when you go for days without showering or leaving your house because you don't have the strength or desire to get out of bed or off the couch. It's when you believe no one would care if you lived or died, or even more, that they would be better off if you were gone. It's when you become convinced that no one cares, that no one loves you, that you are a burden to everyone around you. It's when you are surrounded by people, and you feel more alone than you ever have in your entire life. It's when you know people you love don't want to be with you because you aren't happy or fun. It's when you feel worthless and empty and sad and ashamed. It's when you feel you have nothing to offer anyone and that you don't fit or belong anywhere. It's when the silence becomes deafening, and the noise becomes silent. It's when you try and try and try and try and try and try and try and try to find your way out of the darkness without success. At least that's what depression is for me anyway ... it's when I desperately want to rid myself of the disease and the medications and the stigma, but I can't ... it's when I would give everything to just be normal, to just be happy, to just be well.
Many of you have asked how best to help someone who's been diagnosed with depression, and the best answer I can come up with is actually pretty simple ... just love them. Don't leave. Don't run away when the going gets tough. Be the family member or friend who refuses to give up, who won't let go of the rope. Pay attention. Notice the signs. Don't be judgmental. Ask the hard questions. Make eye contact. Put down your stupid phone and really, really, really listen. Check in. Care. Know that depression is an illness and not a choice ... people don't choose to have cancer, and they don't choose to have depression either. Please, please, please understand that it's not their fault or an attempt to garner attention. Depression is a disease, and the people who suffer from it need your support and unconditional love.
Be kind to one another, friends ... look out for one another ... watch over one another ... shield one another ... love one another ... above all else, friends, please love one another.
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