Last night it was about 8pm when i saw the news. I had gotten on Facebook for a minute. It was like the internet had broken. Everything i saw, post after post after post, was about Robin Williams' death. I was in shock. I couldn't breathe. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I clicked the first link i saw from ABC News. There it was. The headline i never wanted to read: "Robin Williams Found Dead in Possible Suicide". The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my eyes welled with tears.
For me it was more than loosing a beloved and talented actor. It hit close to home. I had found out some years ago that he dealt with depression and i hoped it would never come to this, as i knew too well what depression was like and how much it really hurts a person. I have been dealing with my own for more than 20 years. Anyone who has dealt with it in their life, whether a loved one or in their own personal battle, probably felt the same.
I tend to not discuss my own battle, as it was the darkest time in my life and took me a long time to deal with it and find a happy place to be. I've been doing well for a long time now, so i almost forget that i have it. But depression is similar to an addiction. Once you have it, you will always have it, even as you recover. You are in constant recovery. It takes a lot to get to a point where you don't think about it each day. Where you don't worry you may slip and wind up back at the bottom again. Each day is a constant struggle to be happy like everyone around you. Some people who deal with it are wonderful at playing pretend. They pretend they're fine and happy when they're around others because if they talk about it, they are afraid of what the other person may say. Will they place blame? Will they shame? Will they just not get it? Or will they just ignore it?
Depression seems to be one of those things that people don't like talking about. Myself included. But instead of putting our heads in the sand, and just saying that this tragedy is really sad, lets find an outlet. Lets talk about it. I'll go first. Here's my own story...
When i was in junior high, things in my life were rough. Rough in the sense of bullying at school, bad grades, mom always upset i wasn't doing better, boys and girls teasing me for anything from the size of my blue eyes, to my long hair, to questions i asked in classes...to say i was picked on is a bit of an understatement. I was once put in a headlock by an older boy, who had a locker next to mine, for opening my locker to get my science book. Anytime i told my mom anything about what was actually going on, she would say, "Tell them, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me!". I didn't have the courage to tell her that was a bogus lie and that words are way worse than any rock or stone that could be thrown. Wounds heal, but words leave lasting scars. So i stopped talking about it and telling her about what was really going on in my day. I should say, it's not like it was every single day....but as an adult, i have managed to block out those 3 years for the most part. I don't discuss it. Ever. And this post is no exception. However, this is where it started. The depression. Though being 13 years old, i didn't know it was depression. I had made a comment to my small group of friends at some point (i really can't recall the conversation or the circumstance...like i said, i blocked a lot of it out) that i was going to commit suicide. Life sucked so what was the point. I didn't actually mean it, but a day or so later i found myself sitting in the school counselors office talking about it. I was embarrassed, and denied ever saying it. I was also mad at my friends for "tattling" on me like that. Why not just talk to me instead?
Once in high school the bullying got better for a while. Too many fish i suppose. Or more fish and i was no longer much of a target. Then tragedy hit. My oldest sister had been in a car accident and died. I was 16. It was the first time anyone really close to me had died. I fell off the deep end. The good side was that i didn't turn to drugs, as if i had, it would have made it so much worse. But i started partying. I was drinking a lot on the weekends when i'd tell my mom i was staying at a friends house. This went on for the better part of 2 years.
Once when i was 17, i had a terribly abusive boyfriend who i had run away from home to be with. He tried to drown me in his mothers bathtub. If she hadn't of come home when she did, he would have succeeded. I couldn't leave him...he wouldn't let me, so i tried taking pills. I took 20 Advil one night hoping i wouldn't wake up the next day. But i did, and managed several weeks later to get away from him and went home.
Then i met my ex-husband and had a baby at 19. I had an emergency c-section 6 weeks before my due date. During my pregnancy my grandma and very best friend, was very sick with 3 kinds of cancer and a brain tumor. She was dying. The circumstances of my pregnancy weren't the best, and it felt like i wasn't really able to enjoy it. Looking back i wasn't. My ex's family was very negative about it and then my poor grandma was so sick. When i delivered my son, he spent 2 weeks in the NICU and i was back in the hospital after 2 days of being out, with a terrible infection in my cesarean wound. We were both finally released and our first stop was my grandma's house. She had a home-care nurse so she could be home where she belonged. I gave her my new baby to hold. She wasn't able to communicate by that point so when she took him from me, she looked at him and then looked back at me, tears filling her eyes. They took a nap together. The next day she passed away.
After that the depression became more apparent. It was a daily thing. I was also dealing with postpartum in a big way. I got to such a dark place around that time, looking back on it, I'm a little stunned.
I've not talked about this in such detail, with anyone besides a therapist until now...
When my baby was about 2 months old, i was driving back from the grocery store. I was so sad and angry. I was miserable. It was hard to breathe. It was like i was in a horribly dark tunnel and there wasn't one speck of light in it. I was alone. I couldn't talk to anyone about any of what i was feeling. I would be shamed and looked down upon. I tried at one point to talk to my ex. I told him i was sad and having a hard time. He yelled at me and told me to "grow the fuck up". Though he wasn't physically abusive at that time, he was controlling and emotionally abusive. Driving along the road, I took a curve a little faster than i normally did along this old highway. I saw a big tree. The only thing that stopped me from pushing down the gas was the tiny person in my backseat. I decided that I'd wait. I couldn't do that with him in the car. I'd try to go to the store alone and be done. But it never happened. I was with him constantly. I had no help from the ex. He'd come home, look at our son, perhaps hold him for 5 minutes and put him back in his bassinet. All the diapers, all the feedings, all the late nights was all on me. And me alone.
A few weeks later, i was in the shower. The few minutes each day when i wasn't being yelled at by my ex for something (dinner wasn't what he wanted, i was wearing the wrong thing, i was watching a movie he didn't want to watch, my hair was in a pony tail...the list was long. And constant), or being puked on by my baby. I was alone. I picked up my razor and gave it a long look. I pointed it down towards my wrist and waited a second. My time had come. And i was done. I took a deep breath, but then, just like clockwork, my son let out a cry. I put the razor down, got dried off and went to tend to him.
I finally decided to talk to my doctor about this. I was scared. I wasn't sure if they locked people away in looney bins anymore, but i didn't want to be there. He prescribed an antidepressant and suggested i talk to a counselor or therapist. The drugs seemed to help a bit. He increased the dosage twice which helped me out of the dark tunnel for a while.
Several years, a divorce, custody battle, and job issues later I had dealt with the darkness for so long and just pushed it down and pretended i was fine in the company of others. But i wasn't really dealing with any of it. The new boyfriend told me he wanted me to go see a therapist to try to deal with my sisters death. I never had, but agreed that i should. I made some calls.
A couple weeks later i found myself sitting in the office of an adorable Swedish woman. I can't for the life of me remember her name, but she was caring, and sweet. She wanted to help. It took me a couple sessions to finally open up like i had always needed to. When i told her my stories, she looked horrified, but remained composed. Each week was different. Some days i would be in tears, other days i'd laugh through the pain. She encouraged me not to hide my feelings and to be with them. If i was angry, sad, happy, etc., to be with each feeling as they came. Not to push or pretend them away. I was also on a new antidepressant. But with the new one, i just wasn't ME. I was a shell of who i had been. And i felt it. I tried a couple others before weaning myself off of them altogether (***Always seek the advice of your doctor before discontinuing any medications***).
A few years later i went through a pretty big breakup, moved into my own place, poured myself into my new job and didn't think about my depression. Until i was laid off. It hit me in a wave, but this time felt different. I knew how to handle things and keep going. I wouldn't allow myself to get into a dark state again. And i wouldn't go back on meds.
It's been a long road, with a lot of days where i think about the depression as it comes. I know that at any point it could come back and bring me into that dark tunnel again. Over the last few years I've seen two other therapists when I've needed to. I talk to my friends when things seem overwhelming. I've sought help when I've needed it. But i do talk about what's going on. I know that the worst thing a person can do who is battling with depression is to NOT talk about things, ignore it or think it'll go away. Because it won't.
I've read a lot of posts, links and news today about Robin Williams' death. I've read all too many comments from people saying that they've lost all respect for him. That he is selfish and took the cowards way out. To those people i say this: Until YOU deal and battle depression and the darkest time in your life for several long and painful years in a row, you will never know just how hard it can be! You have never dealt with depression like Williams or so many others who took their lives as well. Suicide is a choice, yes, but it's not one that's easy. Do not talk about things you truly don't understand. Mental illnesses aren't simple and can't be cured with a walk in the park and some vitamin D.
I don't feel depressed nowadays. I'm happy and with a man who treats me well and is there for me no matter what. As the late Robin Williams has said, "I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone, it's not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone". It's true. I lived that, long ago. Thankfully I'm not in that dark place anymore. But so many people are. And they're all around us. Take time to reach out to someone who may need it. Know someone who's been having a tough time? Pick up the phone and call them. Just to chat. Or send them an email or message on Facebook. You never know how your small act of kindness can affect someone who so desperately needs it.
If you, or someone you know is dealing with depression, please seek help!! The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is there for anyone in need. Here is their website: http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ You can also call toll-free: 1-800-273-8255. They are there to help anytime, day or night, 365 days a year. Just pick up the phone.
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