As the news of Robin Williams' death hit our home yesterday, my kids wanted to know why I was so upset. I tried to explain who he was and how influential his movie roles were, but that's not the #1 reason I was upset.
"How did he die, Mom?" they asked.
I tried to appear neutral, uninterested, matter-of-fact while I answered, "It looks like he killed himself." My son nodded and then asked why. I cringed a little and waited a few seconds, hoping he would get distracted and ask something else like he so often does. His questions usually come like gunfire in the middle of war--not enough time to actually answer anything because his mind is already off somewhere else. No such luck today.
"Mom, why did he kill himself?" he asked again.
"Umm, severe depression," I answered.
I've always been open with my kids about depression, because I have to be. I don't want them to feel like my emotional distance is their fault. I tell them I love and adore them, and I try to show that to them as much as possible. But there come times when I am inevitably just not the mom I want to be. I am distant, I am unavailable, because I am living in a cloud of depression. When those times come, I tell my kids, "Sorry, Mommy is feeling sick."
They know about depression and how it robs me of energy and happiness. They know that I've tried medication, exercise, positive thinking, and therapy to cure myself of this illness. They know that I fight it but that it's an illness I live with. I wish more people understood my depression and understood how much I'm fighting every day for what appears to be a very mediocre life.
I believe that Robin Williams was a lot like me--passionate, creative, full of ideas and images that made him a joy to be around when he was feeling good. But that vivid imagination and keen sense of humanity is a double-edged sword. It's easy to see the desperation and human suffering when you have a good imagination, easy to see how perfectly imperfect you will always be, and it's easy to imagine how that imperfection makes your loved ones suffer the most.
Those feelings are huge and unmanageable. They drown me. They paralyze me. When I snap at my family in frustration or say something unkind, the realization that I've just hurt another person is more than I can handle. When I imagine the person I want to be compared to where I am today, it makes me sick with frustration. Those feelings make me feel more paralyzed and more helpless.
Our society loves stories about people who learned how to just SUCK IT UP AND BE AWESOME. I wish I could just SUCK IT UP AND BE AWESOME. That would be great. Everybody loves that kind of person. I remember a few years back I blogged about my depression and one of my neighbors posted something biting and judgmental about "people who feel sorry for themselves" the next day, with a few details that made it obvious she was replying to my post. That still stings because I realized society has no place for people who can't SUCK IT UP AND BE AWESOME.
So today, my meager offering to all of you is a glimpse into what depression really means. And before you scoff, remember that it could affect you one day, or your parents or children. It can come into your life and absolutely suck you dry and there is nothing you can do about that. Like cancer, but worse because there is no pity, no compassion, and no hope that you'll ever fully be cured.
DEPRESSION IS:
* Waking up in the morning and feeling like your body is glued to the sheets. Feeling like your brain wants to get up and BE AWESOME! but your body won't cooperate.
* Feeling like you're always living in a foggy landscape where you can't see things clearly
* Feeling like you've just run a marathon on two hours of sleep EVERY DAY because you're Just. So. Tired. All. The. Time.
* Never feeling really "present" in your own life. It feels more like you're watching your own pathetic struggle for mediocrity on TV or something. And then not really feeling like your own life matters, because you feel detached from it.
* Feeling detached from the people around you. Seeing your children but never really SEEING them.
* Going through life without properly feeling the excitement you should
* Having a hundred little negative demons dancing inside your head all the time, telling you what you should be doing and telling you how NOT AWESOME you're being because you're not doing what you should
* A vast emptiness
* Being alive but not living
* A place where hope cannot survive for long
* Something that loved ones should never have to deal with ... but when they do, you know that THAT IS TRUE LOVE. My husband told me once that no man should ever have to live with this, and I cried, and he held me tight and told me he'll never leave. That's worth than any amount of red roses or boxes of chocolates to me.
Depression is hell. I heard a therapist once say that the only thing he feared was depression because he saw how it completely robbed people of their life. To call me a zombie would not be far off some days. But I fight it. I am trying to give my children and husband the best damn life I can. I hug my sons tight and tell them how much I love them, I snuggle up with my daughter in bed and brush the hair out of her eyes and giggle with her, and I try to make sure there is always a chocolate cake on the kitchen counter for my husband's breakfast.
I often feel like I'm only living half a life, but that's not because I'm missing anything I need. It's because depression suffocates me so I can't see how amazing my life really is.
To Robin Williams: Sir, you fought a good fight and you inspired us always. I hope you are now free from the demons that haunted your creative mind and pure heart.
"How did he die, Mom?" they asked.
I tried to appear neutral, uninterested, matter-of-fact while I answered, "It looks like he killed himself." My son nodded and then asked why. I cringed a little and waited a few seconds, hoping he would get distracted and ask something else like he so often does. His questions usually come like gunfire in the middle of war--not enough time to actually answer anything because his mind is already off somewhere else. No such luck today.
"Mom, why did he kill himself?" he asked again.
"Umm, severe depression," I answered.
I've always been open with my kids about depression, because I have to be. I don't want them to feel like my emotional distance is their fault. I tell them I love and adore them, and I try to show that to them as much as possible. But there come times when I am inevitably just not the mom I want to be. I am distant, I am unavailable, because I am living in a cloud of depression. When those times come, I tell my kids, "Sorry, Mommy is feeling sick."
They know about depression and how it robs me of energy and happiness. They know that I've tried medication, exercise, positive thinking, and therapy to cure myself of this illness. They know that I fight it but that it's an illness I live with. I wish more people understood my depression and understood how much I'm fighting every day for what appears to be a very mediocre life.
I believe that Robin Williams was a lot like me--passionate, creative, full of ideas and images that made him a joy to be around when he was feeling good. But that vivid imagination and keen sense of humanity is a double-edged sword. It's easy to see the desperation and human suffering when you have a good imagination, easy to see how perfectly imperfect you will always be, and it's easy to imagine how that imperfection makes your loved ones suffer the most.
Those feelings are huge and unmanageable. They drown me. They paralyze me. When I snap at my family in frustration or say something unkind, the realization that I've just hurt another person is more than I can handle. When I imagine the person I want to be compared to where I am today, it makes me sick with frustration. Those feelings make me feel more paralyzed and more helpless.
Our society loves stories about people who learned how to just SUCK IT UP AND BE AWESOME. I wish I could just SUCK IT UP AND BE AWESOME. That would be great. Everybody loves that kind of person. I remember a few years back I blogged about my depression and one of my neighbors posted something biting and judgmental about "people who feel sorry for themselves" the next day, with a few details that made it obvious she was replying to my post. That still stings because I realized society has no place for people who can't SUCK IT UP AND BE AWESOME.
So today, my meager offering to all of you is a glimpse into what depression really means. And before you scoff, remember that it could affect you one day, or your parents or children. It can come into your life and absolutely suck you dry and there is nothing you can do about that. Like cancer, but worse because there is no pity, no compassion, and no hope that you'll ever fully be cured.
DEPRESSION IS:
* Waking up in the morning and feeling like your body is glued to the sheets. Feeling like your brain wants to get up and BE AWESOME! but your body won't cooperate.
* Feeling like you're always living in a foggy landscape where you can't see things clearly
* Feeling like you've just run a marathon on two hours of sleep EVERY DAY because you're Just. So. Tired. All. The. Time.
* Never feeling really "present" in your own life. It feels more like you're watching your own pathetic struggle for mediocrity on TV or something. And then not really feeling like your own life matters, because you feel detached from it.
* Feeling detached from the people around you. Seeing your children but never really SEEING them.
* Going through life without properly feeling the excitement you should
* Having a hundred little negative demons dancing inside your head all the time, telling you what you should be doing and telling you how NOT AWESOME you're being because you're not doing what you should
* A vast emptiness
* Being alive but not living
* A place where hope cannot survive for long
* Something that loved ones should never have to deal with ... but when they do, you know that THAT IS TRUE LOVE. My husband told me once that no man should ever have to live with this, and I cried, and he held me tight and told me he'll never leave. That's worth than any amount of red roses or boxes of chocolates to me.
Depression is hell. I heard a therapist once say that the only thing he feared was depression because he saw how it completely robbed people of their life. To call me a zombie would not be far off some days. But I fight it. I am trying to give my children and husband the best damn life I can. I hug my sons tight and tell them how much I love them, I snuggle up with my daughter in bed and brush the hair out of her eyes and giggle with her, and I try to make sure there is always a chocolate cake on the kitchen counter for my husband's breakfast.
I often feel like I'm only living half a life, but that's not because I'm missing anything I need. It's because depression suffocates me so I can't see how amazing my life really is.
To Robin Williams: Sir, you fought a good fight and you inspired us always. I hope you are now free from the demons that haunted your creative mind and pure heart.
