The One With The Moment Of Realisation

There are some moments in life that I will remember forever. I will always remember waking up after my first operation and begging the doctor to tell me whether or not I still had eyebrows. I will always remember my first summer at camp when the buses pulled in to the parking lot and hundreds of children started pouring out of them. I will always remember the exact moment I found out Robin Williams had died.

It started, as it so often does, with a text from my best friend. That text pretty much shaped the day from there. It sent shivers down my spine and as I clicked the link to his blog, in which he had so beautifully poured out his own feelings on the matter, I had no idea I would be writing my own a few hours later. Yet I have to put this somewhere, because, in all honesty, today has been a horrible day of realisation. It is so very sad to hear that Robin Williams has passed away, but it is just as heartbreaking to see some of the reactions to it in the wider parts of my world and writing helps me to come to terms with it.

Whilst the circumstances are not fully public knowledge just yet, conclusions have been made. One of the conclusions links to Robin's problems with depression. Many people have left tributes and comments and posts about how truly awful a situation like this is. Many people have not. The part I cannot comprehend though, is the reaction to the depression itself. If Robin Williams had died in a car accident, or an explosion, or by slipping and hitting his head, I have no doubt that I would be surrounded by words of love and positivity. Instead, you don't have to look very far to see comments such as "What the hell did he have to be depressed about?" or "He had a wife, family, grand homes and no money issues."

When are people going to realise that depression is not a choice?! IT IS NOT A CHOICE. It is an illness. It is a terrible, life-changing illness that eats away at who you are and what you know and leaves you living in a black cloud full of pain and self-doubt. Sometimes, it prevents you from getting out of bed, from getting dressed, from doing anything other than crying for hours on end. The worst part is that you don't always even know why. You don't know what to say to the people around you and you can't give them reasons. Just because someone has a job, and love, and a house, and a steady income does not mean that they cannot be depressed. Financial security does not cure or prevent it. You cannot buy your way out of depression.

We don't like to talk about it. We shy away from it. Mental illness? Its a dirty word to us. So no wonder some people cannot comprehend it. Maybe that is because of the way we use the language surrounding it. As one of my colleagues said to me today (thanks Rob) "Depression isn't the same as sadness" and I wholeheartedly agreed with him - because it is so, so much more than that. Yet, when someone else asked me how I was I said "I'm a little tired, its depressing." Really? No, no it isn't. Yet, we use it so often. We call people 'mental' if they say something out of the ordinary, we call people 'bipolar' if they are a little grumpy towards us, and we describe tiny everyday occurrences as depressing... Until someone is actually struggling, and then we question what they could possibly be depressed about? It shouldn't matter what the reason is, it just matters that they are struggling and they cannot see a way out.

Depression has played a huge part in my life to date. It plays a part in the lives of so many people and we won't be able to help those people unless we start learning about it, understanding it and accepting it as an illness. As a disease. As something that ruins, and takes, lives. So, if Robin Williams had died in a car accident today, we would not have asked "How could he have died in a car crash? He has so much money!" and if he had died in an explosion we would not say "But he had such a nice house" and if Robin Williams had died from slipping and hitting his head, we would not have said "What the hell did he have unsteady feet for?"...so why do we do it now? Whilst we do not know the full circumstances of his death yet, what we do know is that he battled many problems. One of those problems was depression, and the more people condemn the so-called causes for that, the more people condemn those around them that are too afraid to speak up and say "Look at me, I'm depressed, and I'm struggling". Sometimes, people can hide it well. Many people are shocked to hear the extent of Robin's struggles because he was so funny in his films. That just goes to show how good he was at his job though - his job was to act, and if we, as an audience, could not tell the true demons he was facing, then he was doing a fantastic job at acting. He was putting on his mask and taking on the life of a character, so seamlessly, that we could not see the real man underneath it. Just because someone comes across as cheerful, or they are having a good day, or they are pushing through to try and live a normal life, it does not mean that they are not ill, or suffering, or finding things pretty damn hard on the inside.

Depression does not care if you are rich or poor, if you are employed or unemployed, if you own ten cars or you don't own any. Depression does not always show itself, outwardly, in the ways that other illnesses do. It cannot be switched off; depression is all-consuming, over-whelming, physically painful. Depression does not discriminate.

So no matter what stories come out about Robin Williams and the cause of his death and the reasons behind his actions, don't let it take away from the fact that his illness is a very real problem. Really mean it next time you ask someone how they are. They just might need you to listen.

As ever,

Becca Biscuit