I was going to write this super happy post today about my weekend. I attended the wedding of a college roommate and the baptism of my best friend's baby. I would have done it yesterday, but yesterday was a bad day. I was under the weather (and exhausted from being up since 3 am being under the weather), I spilled water on my computer very shortly after I arrived at work-- and that was just the start. Yesterday was a no good, very bad day for me. When Sel (knowing that I was not feeling well and that I was having a bad day) told me that we should go golfing, I told him we could because I didn't want to deal with any of his disdain for what I wanted to do- put on comfy clothes, curl up on the couch, and take a nap while watching T.V. I am an awful golfer (and though Sel has us playing all the freaking time) who is not getting any less awful. It's frustrating and I just end up getting mad and then Sel makes a comment and I get mad at him too... and it's all down hill from there. Which is exactly what happened yesterday. I was ready to chuck my clubs into the river (conveniently lining every single hole of that golf course), but somehow I survived all through 9 holes.
And then I checked my phone.
And twitter had informed me of what most of you know. Robin Williams, 63, was found dead in his California home. A little internet hunting on the way to the grocery store, and I found that it was a suspected suicide. Which was confirmed today. The man who had made so many laugh actually ended his own life. And now my face book is littered with status RIP-ing the Genie, and telling people that if they need help, they can talk to them, and listing suicide hotline numbers. Maybe these people think they are being sincere, and maybe they are, but I have to wonder why it took so long for these people to say anything.
Robin Williams was a fantastic actor. He was funny, and I enjoyed his movies. I cannot speak about the content of his character, but I like to think that he was also a pretty cool guy. He struggled with addiction, but got help when he watched addiction kill a friend of his. And again when he relapsed. Robin Williams certainly knew how to ask for help. Because he had done it in the past. At least when it came to drugs. Drugs are pretty much expected in Hollywood these days. We are not shocked when a star or starlet winds up in rehab. I find it sad and kind of appalling that we live in a world where it's commonplace to see stars end up with addiction, but it's taboo to speak about their mental health. And also to think that because Robin Williams had money and a family and a dog that somehow he should be unafflicted by mental illness. by depression. by suicide.
In 2002, I got a frantic call from one of my aunts on my mom's side. She wanted to talk to my mom, but my mom was at work. So she asked for my dad. My dad picked up on his line but I didn't hang up on mine because I knew it was going to be something big and my father was notoriously bad at following directions when it was not something to benefit him. And that's when I heard four words among sobs: Little Tommy killed himself. I can still hear the sobs in her voice and the way she said those words and it's been 12.5 years since that day. I was shattered. I had become one of those people who was left behind in that instant. At one point, I was told by my family members that he didn't deserve my sadness. That he made the choice. That he was weak. But I'm still sad, and even though we weren't close, I still miss him. And a few years ago when my diagnosis of bipolar came, there was that familiar pang and hearing those words. Little Tommy was thought to be bipolar as well.
Little Tommy was not rich, but he did have a family. His story didn't make the news. No one posted suicide hotline information on myspace. He wasn't big enough. Known enough. Yet, mental illness won. It also won with Robin Williams. Mental illness doesn't care how much money you make. It's just like cancer, heart attacks, diabetes. It doesn't discriminate by class or race or gender. And left untreated, it can be deadly. So to the family and friends of Robin- it's okay to grieve, even if you think he was being selfish (he wasn't). You can be angry too, but I hope you still love him compassionately.
Here is my public service announcement. Can we stop making mental health taboo? Can we not label those who seek help as weak? Because if we're going to give people a hell of a time for trying to get help, then we shouldn't be angry when they take matters into their own hands. And can we please, please, please stop saying colloquially "I'm going to kill myself." "Go kill yourself." and the like. It's easy to miss the cry for help.
I read an article this morning about a girl who posted online that she was going to kill herself on a certain date. No one said anything. And then she tried to kill herself. I know it's not easy to be the "tattletale", but if someone says they are going to kill his- or herself, then it is time to take it seriously. It may not be the popular decision. You may lose a friend. I know because I've been there too. And seriously- don't ask someone why they are depressed. That's not how depression works. Take care of each other and yourselves. You are loved. You are worth loving. Even when it doesn't feel like it.
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