|| WHEN HOPE WAS HIGH AND LIFE WORTH LIVING ... ||
... I dreamed that God would be forgiving ...
Like most of you (I daresay), I was shocked and deeply saddened by Robin Williams's death yesterday. I have loved Robin Williams as an actor since I was in elementary school. I remember I had this pair of pajamas -- with bloomer shorts and a short-sleeved shirt -- made from some kind of itchy polyester, and how they scratched my sunburned skin one summer. On the front was Mork's smiling face, his hand held up, fingers spread: Nanu Nanu! I also had an egg-shaped Mork from Ork transistor radio and when I think of it, Another Brick in the Wall, Funkytown, Tainted Love, Don't You Want Me Baby, and Abracadabra come to mind. It seems so long ago. Well, it was so long ago, now, wasn't it?
Anyhow, that Robin Williams's death is apparently a suicide means I have to say something. I popped off a bunch of tweets last night (thank you to those to retweeted and/or favorited one or more), but certainly not everyone here follows me on Twitter, so I'll reiterate my tweets here.
I'm hardly the first to say it, but please remember that mental illness is a chemically-based, organic illness, not a character issue.
No one wants to have a mental illness; people who do have mental illness are not failing to get well just to be a pain in the ass or to spite their friends and loved ones. They are not "staying sick" in order to get out of working, performing day-to-day activities, or to pass the buck. As a friend, probably the worst thing one can do -- and this may seem counterintuitive, particularly to you extroverts out there (and, no, not only introverts develop mental illness -- of course not!) -- is to increase your mentally ill friend's anxiety and feelings of failure by trying to fix the problem. Dudes, if someone's psychiatrist -- a medical doctor -- and/or a psychotherapist hasn't managed to magically provide the person with a cure for, say, depression, let's be real -- who do you think you are?!?! *chuckle* I know people mean well when they say any variety of the following: Snap out of it! If you'd only just try! Things'll look up tomorrow ... It can't be all that bad ... You're a great person -- you have so much to live for! So many people are worse off -- look at the blessings you have (this often refers to material possessions, as if having a BMW in the driveway will fix a chemical imbalance), God is watching over you ... So help the person who says this or gives a depressed person a card with that fucking stupid Footprints poem on it -- they should immediately be scrubbed down with cheese graters and thrown into a quarry of salt licks. For probably at no other time does a person with depression feel more foresaken by God than when they are actively depressed. They do not feel loved, protected, or watched over. Oh, and also? Some people are Atheists. Footprints means nothing. (But it's still vom-worthy) (Kind of like a Thomas Kinkade picture.)
A person with mental illness is often completely unable to ask for help. Instead, offer a hand. The toxicity of isolation is profound.
What you can do is you can simply say, "I love you." "What do you need right now?" "May I make you a sandwich?" "May I pray for your health?" (And please don't feel offended if the person seems underwhelmed at the prospect, or outright rejects the offer) "May I stay and just be with you?" "May I do some laundry for you?" "May I do your dishes while you rest?" "Do you want to go for a drive?" "Would you like me to organize your meds/pill boxes?" NOTE: If the person is actively suicidal (they are voicing their intention to commit suicide, they have the means (a gun, certain medications on hand), and they have an active plan for committing suicide), offer to call that person's psychiatrist and wait with the person until the doctor calls back, or, even better, immediately drive him/her to the nearest Emergency Department -- AN ACTIVE SUICIDE PLAN IS ALWAYS A LIFE-THREATENING EMERGENCY. This is where you have to hoist your huevos and call for help even if it makes the depressed person angrier than you may have ever seen them. It doesn't matter that the person is pissed and feels "betrayed" and "screwed" and may assert they can "no longer trust you." Remember, that it is the illness rearing its evil head and speaking those hateful words -- be strong for your loved one when they can't be strong for themselves.
Going back to the issue of character, I cannot stress this enough: A person with mental illness is not engaging in annoying or self-centered behavior because they deliberately want to piss you off or drive you away. They are not acting entitled because they feel that way, but rather the illness can render an individual so incapacitated that they cannot function at anywhere near a normal level. And you know? This feels pretty fucking demoralizing. To not be able to get up and feed your hungry, crying children must feel like utter shit. When a depressed person knows they are hurting others, there's no triumph there. So, no, you are not being manipulated by the person; you are seeing the manifestation of the poison that is the gravity of the illness.
If you know a person with serious & persistent mental illness, pls take a moment to tell them you love them, and maybe even why. It matters.
Persons with mental illness often do not love themselves. They may see themselves, logically, as having attributes that inspire love in others, but their illness prevents the person from seeing themselves as lovable; rather they may see themselves as just a sparse sprinkling of unimportant (they think) attributes. Mental illness takes away a person's ability to see themselves as one who imbues the special and unique qualities of warmth and humanity that makes a person lovable and attractive to others. Instead, a person may see in themselves a great void of nothingness, of being anything but special, of being completely unworthy of love, of being disgusting ... it goes on and on. The self-hatred persons with mental illness can muster is truly heartbreaking. You will hear a lot of hopelessness from a person with depression, and this may come across as stubbornness or resistance to change; this is so truly unfair because a person with a mental illness wants nothing more than normalcy, than to feel joy and happiness, than to function as well as others. It is their illness that keeps them paralyzed, not laziness.
Your friend(s) with mental illness need you, need your friendship, need to siphon a bit of your wellness to maintain their existence.
It was 20 years ago that my own father committed suicide after years of severe alcoholism. @zeldawilliams I am sorry for your loss. #done
Molly Pohlig, freelance writer and Tweeter, writes on Slate magazine that she is certain Robin Williams knew he was loved. Yet, love sometimes can't breach the pain some persons with mental illness suffer -- it's just too profound. As Molly Pohlig writes, so far I've outrun the illness chasing me, that beast who sits hunched on my back.
My father couldn't, though. He just stopped running. Like Robin Williams, he hanged himself. That was in 1994, twenty years ago.
Love may not always be enough, but loving your friend or loved one with a mental illness is by far the right thing to do.
Rest in peace, Robin Williams.
Like most of you (I daresay), I was shocked and deeply saddened by Robin Williams's death yesterday. I have loved Robin Williams as an actor since I was in elementary school. I remember I had this pair of pajamas -- with bloomer shorts and a short-sleeved shirt -- made from some kind of itchy polyester, and how they scratched my sunburned skin one summer. On the front was Mork's smiling face, his hand held up, fingers spread: Nanu Nanu! I also had an egg-shaped Mork from Ork transistor radio and when I think of it, Another Brick in the Wall, Funkytown, Tainted Love, Don't You Want Me Baby, and Abracadabra come to mind. It seems so long ago. Well, it was so long ago, now, wasn't it?
Anyhow, that Robin Williams's death is apparently a suicide means I have to say something. I popped off a bunch of tweets last night (thank you to those to retweeted and/or favorited one or more), but certainly not everyone here follows me on Twitter, so I'll reiterate my tweets here.
I'm hardly the first to say it, but please remember that mental illness is a chemically-based, organic illness, not a character issue.
No one wants to have a mental illness; people who do have mental illness are not failing to get well just to be a pain in the ass or to spite their friends and loved ones. They are not "staying sick" in order to get out of working, performing day-to-day activities, or to pass the buck. As a friend, probably the worst thing one can do -- and this may seem counterintuitive, particularly to you extroverts out there (and, no, not only introverts develop mental illness -- of course not!) -- is to increase your mentally ill friend's anxiety and feelings of failure by trying to fix the problem. Dudes, if someone's psychiatrist -- a medical doctor -- and/or a psychotherapist hasn't managed to magically provide the person with a cure for, say, depression, let's be real -- who do you think you are?!?! *chuckle* I know people mean well when they say any variety of the following: Snap out of it! If you'd only just try! Things'll look up tomorrow ... It can't be all that bad ... You're a great person -- you have so much to live for! So many people are worse off -- look at the blessings you have (this often refers to material possessions, as if having a BMW in the driveway will fix a chemical imbalance), God is watching over you ... So help the person who says this or gives a depressed person a card with that fucking stupid Footprints poem on it -- they should immediately be scrubbed down with cheese graters and thrown into a quarry of salt licks. For probably at no other time does a person with depression feel more foresaken by God than when they are actively depressed. They do not feel loved, protected, or watched over. Oh, and also? Some people are Atheists. Footprints means nothing. (But it's still vom-worthy) (Kind of like a Thomas Kinkade picture.)
A person with mental illness is often completely unable to ask for help. Instead, offer a hand. The toxicity of isolation is profound.
What you can do is you can simply say, "I love you." "What do you need right now?" "May I make you a sandwich?" "May I pray for your health?" (And please don't feel offended if the person seems underwhelmed at the prospect, or outright rejects the offer) "May I stay and just be with you?" "May I do some laundry for you?" "May I do your dishes while you rest?" "Do you want to go for a drive?" "Would you like me to organize your meds/pill boxes?" NOTE: If the person is actively suicidal (they are voicing their intention to commit suicide, they have the means (a gun, certain medications on hand), and they have an active plan for committing suicide), offer to call that person's psychiatrist and wait with the person until the doctor calls back, or, even better, immediately drive him/her to the nearest Emergency Department -- AN ACTIVE SUICIDE PLAN IS ALWAYS A LIFE-THREATENING EMERGENCY. This is where you have to hoist your huevos and call for help even if it makes the depressed person angrier than you may have ever seen them. It doesn't matter that the person is pissed and feels "betrayed" and "screwed" and may assert they can "no longer trust you." Remember, that it is the illness rearing its evil head and speaking those hateful words -- be strong for your loved one when they can't be strong for themselves.
Going back to the issue of character, I cannot stress this enough: A person with mental illness is not engaging in annoying or self-centered behavior because they deliberately want to piss you off or drive you away. They are not acting entitled because they feel that way, but rather the illness can render an individual so incapacitated that they cannot function at anywhere near a normal level. And you know? This feels pretty fucking demoralizing. To not be able to get up and feed your hungry, crying children must feel like utter shit. When a depressed person knows they are hurting others, there's no triumph there. So, no, you are not being manipulated by the person; you are seeing the manifestation of the poison that is the gravity of the illness.
If you know a person with serious & persistent mental illness, pls take a moment to tell them you love them, and maybe even why. It matters.
Persons with mental illness often do not love themselves. They may see themselves, logically, as having attributes that inspire love in others, but their illness prevents the person from seeing themselves as lovable; rather they may see themselves as just a sparse sprinkling of unimportant (they think) attributes. Mental illness takes away a person's ability to see themselves as one who imbues the special and unique qualities of warmth and humanity that makes a person lovable and attractive to others. Instead, a person may see in themselves a great void of nothingness, of being anything but special, of being completely unworthy of love, of being disgusting ... it goes on and on. The self-hatred persons with mental illness can muster is truly heartbreaking. You will hear a lot of hopelessness from a person with depression, and this may come across as stubbornness or resistance to change; this is so truly unfair because a person with a mental illness wants nothing more than normalcy, than to feel joy and happiness, than to function as well as others. It is their illness that keeps them paralyzed, not laziness.
Your friend(s) with mental illness need you, need your friendship, need to siphon a bit of your wellness to maintain their existence.
It was 20 years ago that my own father committed suicide after years of severe alcoholism. @zeldawilliams I am sorry for your loss. #done
Molly Pohlig, freelance writer and Tweeter, writes on Slate magazine that she is certain Robin Williams knew he was loved. Yet, love sometimes can't breach the pain some persons with mental illness suffer -- it's just too profound. As Molly Pohlig writes, so far I've outrun the illness chasing me, that beast who sits hunched on my back.
My father couldn't, though. He just stopped running. Like Robin Williams, he hanged himself. That was in 1994, twenty years ago.
Love may not always be enough, but loving your friend or loved one with a mental illness is by far the right thing to do.
Rest in peace, Robin Williams.