Robin Williams

This is maybe a week too late (no longer main stream news, perhaps already forgotten by some), however, that is my M.O. lately (or always). . . late.  It's amazing how the death of a stranger who we all felt like we knew and loved can hit so hard.  I was truly saddened by Robin Williams' death, yet I truly knew very little about this man.  I knew his characters, his talent to make others laugh, his face, his voice, but I did not know him.  Like most who loved him, I never met him, I never even read about his life, his struggles, his heartaches.  I watched him pretend to be someone else.  I laughed as he made me forget life.  I loved Robin Williams as an actor as so many others, and perhaps acting was his saving grace.  I don't know, but this is what I would like to think.  I would like to believe that acting was his escape, his love, his one thing that kept him grounded and free from the pain that tormented him.  I don't know his struggles, his trials, his childhood, but sadly I can relate to his dark secret he tried to bury with the laughter of others.  

Sadly, ashamedly, and embarrassingly enough I have traveled down the dark corridor of depression throughout my life.  I know the four major trials that have caused my depression, my darkness.  I know the four life events that have trapped my mind inside a fearful, exhausted, state of survival.  I have felt the crushing pain that at times I didn't know how to explain.  I have felt so beat down and worn out that accomplishing even remedial tasks like the dishes,  brushing my teeth or changing a diaper have felt like lifting the weight of a mountain.  Despite, the countless number of doors to escape this dark corridor, like family, friends, exercise, or other self care, even turning the knob to end the pain feels impossible at times.  Many have asked how Robin Williams could be so loved and still feel like there was no way out.  I don't know what pushed him to feel like there was nothing left to live for, that escape was his only option, but I do know how that feels.  

Nearly two years ago, as I continued to live in my most recent life altering trauma, I called my person after yet another huge boulder was dropped in my wake.  Now, I believe we all have a person, someone we can talk to even when we don't feel like we can talk to our closest loved ones.  For me, when I can't talk to my mom, or my husband, or my sisters, I need my person.  My person is the friend that no matter how long it has been since we have talked, we can always pick up where we left off.  My person is the one that I have shared my pain with and she has shared hers with me.  My person is my soulmate, my sister from another mister, my best friend.  My person, she knows who she is, lost her brother to suicide the day we met.  This fact alone solidifies that she is my person because when I was feeling my lowest, when I was ready to give up, despite the fact that I knew it would hurt her more than anyone else to tell her how I was feeling, I knew I could.  Back to the ashamed part of me, I have wanted to give up.  That day, I no longer wanted to keep going.  I have felt low, kicked down, defeated, and for some reason this day felt like I couldn't continue.  I remember saying to her, "I am so sorry, you are the worst person to say this to, but right now I want to die, I don't want to live anymore.  I am too tired" and she responded, crying, "I know, it's ok that you say it, but please, please don't."  

That day was the first time I had wanted to give up.  That day was the first time I considered this life too hard to continue.  My trials have not been small, in fact my sister and I were just applauding how stable and normal we are considering the lives we have survived, but I have always felt strong enough, even if lost at times, but strong enough to at least survive, until that day.  I think once you let that thought in, it comes more and more easily the next time.  Many days I have been stuck and let it creep back in that this life is too hard.  I've let the black monster enter my head and thought, I don't want to live this anymore.  I thank God that I have never even entertained the gruesome how, and that I have so many people holding me here and I am thankful for my person.  I am thankful she said the words she said to me that day because for some reason it was enough.  So, please to anyone out there suffering, don't stop reaching out.  And to anyone who knows and loves someone who is suffering, don't stop saying, "please, please don't".  It may just be enough to keep them.  

I am also thankful to have received the tools from therapy to manage my survival level.  I am hopeful one day that I will overcome the survival mode and will step into the growth mode once again.  I have done it before.  I am confident I will grow again and someday I will not get trapped in my dark corridors and I will be able to stay in the light even if sometimes the sun is shadowed by the rain.