If Robin Williams deserves to be lauded for his merits, why shouldn’t he be blamed for his faults?
“Kill yourself” suddenly seems to have become the go-to insult of choice across the vast murky digital swamps of the World Wide Web.
When someone commits suicide, the person is deemed crazy and selfish. Yet there is often a lack of perspective on what could lead a person to feel so utterly hopeless and alone that they would take their own lives.
During my teen years as an emotional, pubescent, dramatic, high school teenybopper, there was a few times where I wanted nothing to do with life. I wanted to end it.
Not everyone understands, and that’s what makes it so difficult. Depression is not something many people recognize as a disease. For many, it is not the same as cancer or diabetes, but I assure you, it is.
“We can do whatever you want. Just as long as you know that when we leave this room, and re-enter the world, we’re gonna do it together. And I’m not going anywhere.”
But I have one now. What’s it like? To lose someone you didn’t want to live without? The answer is in the question. You just don’t want to live. That’s what it’s like.
Like an addict, I suffer from an illness and consider myself always in recovery.
Here are three steps that I’ve taken over the years to manage recurring clinical depression.
If this deeply difficult and personal story can help just one person to read my story and think about me, then I believe I have succeeded.
Love is not the cure to depression. It is not the cure for illness or disease or addiction. You can love someone every single day and still, it does nothing for the invisible monsters they’re facing on their own.