Normally things don't really affect me the way they probably should, in the context of deaths. Yesterday, however, was different. When my husband told me that Robin Williams died, I was first deeply rooted in denial (ask him). He had to tell me several times that he was serious. After that, I cried off and on most of the night. I curled up under a blanket, and thought of all of the movies in which Robin Williams touched my life. The fact that he battled depression and hung himself made the situation worse.
For those of you who don't know, I battle depression. I was diagnosed at 17 and was on medication until my mid-twenties. I engaged in self-harm in adolescence, though thankfully most of the physical scars have healed. And I will tell you, depression is one mean monster.
First of all, it's silent. No one can see what you're going through. You don't even know what you're going through. All you know is you feel down all the time, and sometimes, you don't feel anything at all. Nothing matters. The light dims, the edges fade in, and it's just you, the world gray and fuzzy, lost in a world seemingly of your own making that even if they wanted to, no one can break in.
Sure, you can function during the day. You can even laugh sometimes, pretend all is right. But those alone times, those nights when there's no distractions, nothing from the color seeping out of your world, those are the worst.
People don't understand it. They tell you, "Well...just be happier!" or "Can't you get over it?" or "Stop faking it for attention." or "I don't see anything wrong." They assume you are weak. They think, "Well, she was just fine today and now she's depressed?" They can't know the monster lurking at the edges of your vision. Sometimes you can push him aside. Sometimes you can't.
Depression is a battle that is never-ending. Even now, I have bouts of sadness, lethargy. My husband deals with it the best he can, but he doesn't understand, and I don't expect him to. I'm just glad he doesn't try to fix it, doesn't tell me to "get over it." Because there's no such thing.
I can tell you about the dopamine and the serotonin levels that are unbalanced in my brain. That my neural receptors don't send and receive the chemicals they way they should, which affects brain function. That's all true. But it's not particularly helpful when there's a great big world and you don't feel like you're a part of it.
Those who suffer from depression are great actors. It's when we're alone that the monster comes out to play. For me, I resorted to cutting. That knife on my inner wrist meant pain, and pain meant feeling. Any feeling was better than no feeling at all. The blood reminded me I was alive, that color existed, that feelings could still be felt. I'll admit that it took me many years to not have a knife handy at night in case I needed it. Many years.
In light of Robin Williams' death, the taking of his own life, I pray that we all remember that everyone is fighting a battle, and we don't know what the other person is dealing with. We have no way of knowing the demons that possess their lives. Please be kind to those around you. Even if you don't understand, please don't judge. And please tell those you love that you love them. Repeatedly. Communication is key for those with depression. Knowing they're not alone, knowing they can talk to someone, bringing back that color and sharpening the edges of the world they've fallen into can mean everything.
I also encourage those with depression to talk to someone about it. Someone you trust. Know you're not alone in this battle, and know that others have gone before you and won. The war is never over, but the battles can be victorious.
If anyone needs a listening ear, please please get in contact with me. I beg you to understand your worth. You are so loved, so valued, so cherished. Allow others to team up with you and beat back the darkness. Be brave and courageous in your journey. You are not alone.
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