Robin Williams is dead.
I am sure the entire world knows by now that one of the greatest and most beloved comedians is dead. By his own hands. This was not a murder, this was not a jealous person committing homicide, this what not a wife lashing out at a husband, or a random drive-by shooting. This was a suicide.
A suicide. Death by your own two hands.
A selfish decision? I do not think so.
Someone I know the other day said, "What a waste of talent; a waste of life."
I could not disagree more strongly. Why can't we celebrate his life, or the wonderful things he left behind? It wasn't a waste, it was a wonderful, laughter filled life.
Also a life littered with depression.
What kind of disgusts me is what this has done. It has brought out strong opinions. On both sides. One side is saying "Finally! Suicide will be better understood, and mental illness will be normalized! Don't you see what it does??"
And then there is the more accepted view of "Suicide is selfish. It is wrong and unforgivable."
Well, I would say that most people who believe such idiocy have never suffered such deep depression, that you stare death in the face. And it looks really damn good.
I will go on and say that last December, during my postpartum psychosis episode, I considered it. And wrapped a tie around my neck. I wanted death. I wanted to die, I wanted the pain to end. I was so far gone, that the only thing keeping me tied to this world was God. I was to the point where even my children were not a reason to stay anymore. That is somewhere no one should be, ever.
I have considered it a few times, in fact. After suffering from anorexia and bulimia since 10th grade, the respect for yourself is pretty much gone, and you harm yourself thinking it will take the pain away. But then you get to the point where that doesn't do it for you anymore, and where else do you turn? That is when suicide happens. When you are looking at yourself in the mirror, and see in your eyes nothing but pain and sickness, and realize you are worthless. Not just to the world, but to yourself. And there is no point.
When people say that suicide is selfish, it literally makes my stomach twist. "You don't understand!" I want to shout. People are in pain, they are hurting and just want it to end. It is not just mental illness that brings that out. Terminal illnesses that bring large amounts of pain, when you lose a loved one, or chronic illnesses bring out the craving for the end of the pain.
Have you ever stubbed your toe, and it hurts so bad you cannot cry, you just sit there gasping and wondering when the searing pain will end? Yeah, take that and maximize it to one million. Then it would MAYBE be comparable.
Another reason this makes me so angry, is because i know this will remit. Why does it take a celebrity committing suicide to bring this out of the shadows? To somewhat break the stigma? I have seen statistics saying that help lines are getting more calls since Robin Williams' suicide. That is absolutely wonderful. But, realistically this will eventually fade. And we will step back into the dark of ignorance. And go back to hiding our depression, our anxiety, our postpartum issues, our mania. We will go back to self medicating and hurting ourselves more instead of seeking help and not being afraid of what friend or family will think or say.
I pray that does not happen, but it will.
This is why I am in school for psychology because, oh Lord I want to help people. I want to stop people from doing something like this. I want them to see there is help, there is hope, and that life is not just means to an end.
No one needs to hide. Not anymore.