This is going to be an extremely wordy Wordless Wednesday post, but one that I have felt extremely compelled to write. I am taking the passing of Robin Williams pretty hard which feels kind of strange. I’m a fan of his work of course – who isn’t? But, I think the thing weighing on my mind is the fact that someone so brilliant and successful succumbed to the same disease that I struggle with daily. If someone with that much going for them can’t handle it, is there really hope for me?
Logically, I know that there is. I know that depression lies. Many days I’m treading water and some days I feel like I’m being pulled under – but eventually I’m able to breathe again.
I often use the term “pug therapy” here on this blog, on social media and in life. And while it’s said somewhat tongue-in-cheek, there is truth to it also. There have been days that I don’t care about anything. I want to stay in bed and not go to work or move. But I know I have to go because I have this little squish faced creature relying on me. (This isn’t to say you can cure depression through willpower – keep in mind this is in conjunction with therapy and medication)
Robin Williams had a rescue pug named Leonard. Each time I see a goofy picture of the pair of them posted, my heart hurts. For Robin and for Leonard. I know Leonard will be taken care of but I can’t stop imagining him being confused and wondering where his daddy went. It makes me sad. It makes me angry. Why do people have to suffer from this? Why do I?
If you’re reading this and you have no personal experience with mental illness it might not make a lot of sense to you. Which is totally understandable because I’ve dealt with it most of my life and still don’t understand it. Two posts that I think are required reading for, well, everyone who knows another human being are by Allie Brosh. She somehow hilariously illustrates her battle with depression in a way that I have never been able to verbalize coherently. Post 1. Post 2.