Robin Williams

Approximately 30 minutes ago I posted the following on my FB page. Before the last paragraph I took pause because this was not the way I had envisioned announcing having a blog to the people from my old life. Not that I was announcing it. Presenting it. Whatever. I was anxious. I did indeed begin this endeavor before and was met with complete and utter disappointment. Great results for a depressed person...

I can't get past the 15 minutes of mourning on social media today for Robin Williams. Perhaps I am being too judgemental on our society but why is it we are all like "Oh how sad! Depression and- what else did he have?- Oh yeah! Bipolar something and I'm gonna miss him (aka his work or did you know him?)"

I appreciate that when a notable/celeb person passes away in a tragic manner or under a circumstance where no one is to blame the focus becomes the cause of death. And when the next story comes along the events surrounding Mr. Williams' passing will fade. Along with that will be the focus on mental health, depression, invisible illnesses; the effort to reduce the stigma placed on people who did not ask to have these diagnoses but have them -or love someone who has them will no longer be center stage.

I've been writing a blog about my chronic illness for over two months but kept if from this venue (Facebook). I began writing about it long before 2014 but got nothing but backlash, judgements, distancing, scorn and pity from the very people from whom I needed support. This post will be my next post there, in more detail. I have depression. I have a bunch of other stuff too. If you are interested in reading it, direct message or email me. No biggie. I won't ask or offer again.

Well Dear Reader? Too much? Not enough? I am really pissed though. We are so desensitized it’s not funny. The #bringbackourgirls campaign has completely fizzled and as far as I can tell, all the girls are not back and no one in America seems to give a shit! Not the government. Not the celebrities. Not anyone holding the hashtag signs posting them on Twitter. The gif’s. images, tributes, meme’s and RIP Robin WIlliams’ pages are flooding Twitter as I watch Tweetdeck on another screen. I can’t over this. He is an icon of my generation. It’s hitting too close to home.

So here is the truth-I have now and have previously had depression. I'm pretty sure it’s been lifelong. Now couple that with isolation and abandonment from the age of three. Add an alcoholic parent. Add a scary intimidating brother. Combine that with early development and endometriosis and lots of pain. That’s just up to my teen’s. I think you can see what clusterfuck I was in. Of course it got steadily worse over the passage of time and over time I’ll share that pain also. The reason I can't get past this today is because I have stood at that precipice before. More than once.

There was one attempt that I was told about but I have no recollection of happening. There were three I recall thinking about it as a means to an end but every time there were always at least two people who kept me from it. Not physically of course, but the thought of how my loss may hurt them was unbearable. And on the flipside, how I would miss so many things in their lives as well that I promised I would be there to see.

The most difficult period of depression is the one I am (hopefully) coming out from. The entire winter of 2013-2014 I was in a deep depression. So many variable things happened that were not good I just could not deal with it and I.shut.down. It happened quietly and quickly. I just stopped. Everything. I went to bed and stayed there. My physical pain was off the chart and constant. I only went out to go to a doctor’s appointment really. I know how to fake it, put on a brave face and lie. Hell yeah I was/am a pro. No one believed me anyway. If you can't see the pain, then I must be imagining it right? Don't get me started on that subject!

I stopped eating. My hair began to thin. I was weak. I cried all the time for no apparent reason. I didn't care about much. I had no enthusiasm for the holidays. I was content with Christmas being just another day. The holidays are nothing special anymore. My spouse always found a way to spoil them or make them all about him. I did not bake one cookie nor mail out one card. I was broke. No one seemed bothered by it either. I made a few homemade gifts, bartered, traded and babysat for everything else. I was completely fucking miserable. Everyone had a life but me. It was okay though. I had my dogs and I had my bed. That was all I really needed. Well, maybe some better antidepressants. Let's just throw drugs at it and run away! Damn.