When I'm 63

I am not a Robin Williams fan. I mean, I am on the level of I've grown up with a ton of his movies and think he is brilliant and hilarious. I was a kid when Aladdin came out and who didn't quote the genie for weeks after seeing it? Mrs. Doubtfire and The Birdcage are both some of my favorites, and I always picture the banqueting table in heaven resembling the big table in Hook where the kids imagine what they want to eat, and poof! 

But, I am not a fan. I know nothing about Robin Williams personally, didn't know about his struggles until after he died, and I honestly just don't have much of an interest in film. I rarely watch a movie twice. I just didn't know anything about him. 

But now, I wonder. Now, I know that he struggled with devastatingly difficult depression - the illness that many people tell its victims to just shake off, to just be grateful for all they have and man up. 

Even though I am not an endorser of suicide, I do understand, 100%, what it's like to seem totally on top of the world to the average observer and yet everything is broken inside. While he was rich, famous, silly, kind, successful and loved.....I completely understand why he did what he did. 

I have a very long time until I'm 63. But I do wonder what I will be like when I reach that age. When I've had three more decades under my belt of fighting this incessant, evil reality of mental illness. Because I'll be honest - I'm in my early 30s and I'm already exhausted from it.

It's an intense punishment to have a disorder (or in both my case and Robin Williams' case, a combination of conditions. It's very rare when a mental illness works alone), that leaves you looking completely healthy on the outside. 

Well-meaning people whose brains produce the correct combination of chemicals try their best to understand. And they should continue to do so - but the truth of the matter is, they just don't understand how ravenous depression and anxiety can be. We come off as whiners, the weak stragglers of the herd, ungrateful, a waste. 

Those who DO deal with mental illness rarely reach out to each other, because one of the key tactics depression uses against us is telling us that we are the only one who feels this way. 

What Robin Williams did was stupid, selfish and wrong. But I get why he did it, and it's okay that he did. Because depression lies. And he likely saw it as truth. Just how enough cupcakes can eradicate a diabetic from the earth, depression displays its final deception by compelling its victims to take their own life. 

"You are worthless. You are alone. You're going to die. And best of all, you are going to be the one who does it. Because what better way for me to remain elusive and misunderstood, than to have you die at your own hand?"

If there is someone in your life who is struggling with depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, schizophrenia, OCD, whatever........please love them unconditionally. Fight for their value when they cannot. It's really difficult - you'll want to give up on them - but don't. Answering that call at 3am or coming over on a minute's notice, or calling 911 even if you think they're only making idle threats.....it is a huge inconvenience...but it's important. 

I'm not a fan of Robin Williams. But this definitely could've turned out differently. I hope that in the wake of his choice, (and it really cannot fairly be considered HIS choice anyhow), people will take the time to encourage those on the front lines of this battle against the mind. That you will take a moment today to find someone on your Facebook list or perhaps in your neighboring cube at work - and remind them that they are strong. They are loved. They are NOT the only one. And God loves them so incredibly much, despite the fact they may never be able to feel that love here on earth.