When I first heard of Robin Williams death, my reaction was a little different from (what appears to be) everyone else's. Rather than feeling a deep desire to watch many of my childhood classics and teen year tear-jerkers, I had the immediate thought of "that makes sense."
It makes perfect sense to me that someone so beautifully talented, someone who did more than excel in their chosen field, someone who always appeared so brilliantly optimistic, someone who worked so hard to cheer and lift others -- was battling clinical depression.
It made perfect, absolute sense to me.
I even wondered why I hadn't thought of it before.
Suicide is a choice, and it is always the wrong one. But right now it is more important for us to realize clinical depression is real. And God and the individual suffering are the only ones who understand its fury.
It makes perfect sense to me that someone so beautifully talented, someone who did more than excel in their chosen field, someone who always appeared so brilliantly optimistic, someone who worked so hard to cheer and lift others -- was battling clinical depression.
It made perfect, absolute sense to me.
I even wondered why I hadn't thought of it before.
Suicide is a choice, and it is always the wrong one. But right now it is more important for us to realize clinical depression is real. And God and the individual suffering are the only ones who understand its fury.
1 comment:
Suicide is a choice, but to the mentally ill, it appears to be the only choice. Loved your post, sis. I look at almost any picture of Robin Williams, and I can see pain. I've not noticed it before, but it is there. He was bipolar to the end. God rest his troubled soul. What a great man...
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