Who Among Us

Robin Williams died today.  At the time of this posting it is speculated that he died by his own hand.  Facebook is awash in outpourings of grief for this lost celebrity.  Maybe for you this is not a pointed loss, but for me (and millions of others), it is. I am shedding tears tonight for this man who, through his film Dead Poets Society, became part of the fabric of my heart.

There was something visceral about that movie. Young men fraught with angst, loneliness, fear, futility, and powerlessness encounter a teacher who connects them to the rest of humanity with a passion for poetry. They find voices they never knew they had through the written word.  Dead Poets Society is so beautiful and lyrical and rich and I loved it from the first time I saw it. It was the movie that inspired me to be both a writer and and teacher. I've absorbed it as part of MY story.

But, even in the film we see that tender hearts and sensitive souls are more fragile.  We see Neil, who is a young man with a desire for the stage. When he realizes he is facing a future with all of the choices stripped from him, he takes his own life.  Creatives always have a twinge of fragility.  I don't think it's possible to feel SO deeply that you MUST make art without being broken (I say this as a writer). So, I am not surprised that Mr. Williams, a creative to the core, committed suicide...deeply saddened...but not surprised.

Sometimes the dejection, the meaninglessness, the utter intensity of feeling all of the feelings all of the time makes life unbearable. This, my friends, I say from experience.  I, myself, have had several days, weeks, months, where I was so numb I couldn't feel anything.  In my brain, I knew that I was a bright, personable, giving young woman.  But in my guts, I felt an overwhelming nothingness.  Dark, thick, pointlessness and uselessness were the weights that I carried all through those seasons. During those times, I often daydreamed about killing myself.  I wasn't trying to get attention or garner sympathy (and am not doing so in writing this).  I, honest to God, just felt like a black hole for love. Praise God, I didn't follow through with my poetic demise. Almost every time, a series of supernatural interventions prevented me from turning my dark fantasies into realities.

As I got older I met more and more people with whom I felt safe disclosing my dark times.  In sharing my depression I discovered something precious and sad...a great many of us have been in that hellish place where we consider ending our lives. It's sad because...well...it's tragic that such a large number of human beings have considered that everything would be better if they just went away...that the pain...the nothingness...would end when they ceased to be.

It's precious because there is hope in hearing the stories of other people who have lived through immense pain, grief, loss, confusion and depression .  They have stepped down from the ledge...found the strength to do one more day. For most of us, suicidal thoughts and desires have burned out before coming to fruition.  The anguish passed and we went on to have more hopeful seasons.

THIS IS WHY I BLOG!

Those of us who have close, personal experience with mental illness need to be honest about our struggles. We need to share our hope with others. In our times of health and brightness, we need to stand alongside our brothers and sisters who are walking through the black nights of their souls. I don't mean to imply that we need to tell our sordid stories to every person we encounter on an elevator. Rather, we need to take stock of our relationships and slow down to see who might be hurting.

Pay attention.  Is someone you love abusing drugs, alcohol, food, sex, piercing, tattooing, work? These are all "medications" for a suffering heart. Talk to them about the pain they are trying to dull (or the numb they are trying to pain). Look into the eyes of, "I'm fine".  It doesn't take much effort to see evasion in someone's eyes...especially if you've been the one hiding your depression...you'll know that "look".  Be honest when you are feeling low yourself. Sometimes the most healing thing I ever heard was a shocked, "Me too!".

Today, an artist took his life. A human being who shared his wacky mind and earnest heart with millions of people is no more. I never met this man...but if I had the opportunity to have a substantial conversation with him...I would have looked him in his eyes and said, "Me too!".