This is my view right now. I am CAMPING (on my deck). Anyone who knows me knows I don't like camping. But I couldn't breathe. The anxiety and pure shock of the news that Robin Williams committed suicide has shaken me to my core.
After a long walk with Ganesh in the pitch dark of town we sat at the bench at the top of the hill and watched the lights of Boston. I cried. I saw two shooting stars shortly there after.
I cried for Phillip Seymore Hoffman, for Robin Williams, and I cried for myself and everyone else battling not only the diseases, but maybe even worse, the stigmas.
We all had one thing in common, mental illness. I too have a sense of humor and use it as a coping mechanism, but I am no comic genius. I still can't help relating to them. And those that say it was a "selfish act" don't judge until you've slogged in their shoes, crawled out of their skin and begged and pleaded to any and all Gods to take the illnesses away. If it can happen to them, it can happen to any of us.
I am blowing this stigma to pieces. I fear for my life on a daily basis not from the hands of others but from my own. Most don't understand. They don't comment on posts I write about my depression and depression in general. I will be heard! I hope others will join me.
I am so angry that another talented and entertaining human being has taken his life because he felt the shame and sheer torture of living with the highly misunderstood illnesses of mental illness and addiction.
(I am also mourning all the horrible atrocities going on throughout our world, but this one hits home on a different level. My Uncle took his own life in the same manner as Robin Williams. I wish I could talk to him and get some insight into what his struggles were. I don't know that I would have helped him, but maybe I could have made him feel supported, less alone and less stigmatized). Sadly, in the end I believe he still would have taken his own life.