O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
So, my worst day in Kyiv so far: waking up to the news that Robin Williams committed suicide.
As many of you know, my Dad killed himself in 1996. In the two years after that, weeks of one-on-one therapy for myself and group therapy with other people who’d lost someone to suicide, I learned a lot of things: that suicide is rarely spontaneous – it’s been thought about and planned for often, even if the date keeps changing – and that the overwhelming majority of people who commit it suffer from real, physical pain brought on by a chronic illness: everything from chronic pain from a car wreck years ago to addiction to migraines to chronic indigestion. I just want to throw that out there, for those of you who are struggling with the “why” and wondering why someone with so many friends and resources didn’t get “help” – I’m sure he tried.
Depression is cancer. It’s just as real. It’s not just a feeling. It’s not just a phase. It’s a tumor in your soul. It needs just as much time and intensive treatment to address. And you may not be able to cure it – you may have to get treated for it for the rest of your life. And even then, you still might not win the battle.
My heart hurts so much right now. I feel like won’t ever stop crying.
Stephen Fry, don’t you DARE.
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