The Ever-Present Darkness

So, just in case you haven't heard the news, Robin Williams passed away yesterday, and the cause of death is suicide. The latest I've read is that he strangled himself with a belt and had self inflicted superficial cuts on his arms just before his took his life. His passing hits me pretty hard, for multiple reasons.

My first introduction to him was with Hook and Aladdin. Both movies I saw in the theaters when I was a child. In both roles, he was a loving father figure who did everything within his power for his children (including the adopted children like the Lost Boys and Aladdin). There was a deep, sincere love that penetrated through the screen and hit directly to the heart. I would later see him do this in so many other roles. The one that hits just as close to home with me as Hook is Good Will Hunting.

My dad passed away in late October of 2003. A month or so afterwards, I was home sick from work and was laying on the couch watching Good Will Hunting for the very first time. If you haven't seen the movie, he plays a professor at a Boston college who becomes a mentor for the troubled main character, Will Hunting. Not only just a mentor, but a father figure to a youth who happens to be an orphan. There was a part in the movie where both Will (played by Matt Damon) and Robin Williams' characters are having a heart-to-heart and he (Williams) says. "It's okay."

I lost it. Right then and there. Tears flooded my face and it felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. Here I was, having just lost my dad, and the father figure is saying it's okay to grieve. It's okay to mourn. It's okay to hurt. It felt like my dad was saying to me that he loved me and it was okay for all of this pain to let out. I cried and I cried hard. Missing him and now being told that that was okay. From that point forward, Good Will Hunting became one of my favorite movies and Robin Williams one of my favorite actors.

Later in life, I learned that this man of happiness was actually a man suffering from deep depression. While he always had that big smile and infectious laugh of his, there was an impenetrable sadness in his eyes-ever present. He became a bit of a role model to me, who also suffers from depression (and has since as long as I can remember). He used his internal torment and turned it into a way to bring joy into the lives of others. That became a new goal for my life and one I am ever striving for. He was also very active in charities (the USO and St. Jude's Hospital are two that immediately come to mind) and genuinely cared for the human race. Strived to make the world a better place in any way that he could. I read an article last night about a girl who was an extra in one of his films who's golf bag had ripped and she had to carry it herself. He was the only one who offered to help and carried her bag for her. He took her suffering and made it his own. That was the kind of guy that he was.

I was talking with my friend Tori last night about how so many comedians out there suffer from deep depression. She though it was ironic, but I have a different view on it. We seek things outside ourselves that we cannot find within ourselves. Nourishment, not only for the body, but for the mind and soul as well. Depression is a cancer of the spirit. Sure, there's good days and bad days (even, at times, it's int remission), but it is always there, draining the life out of those who have it. So those who have deep depression, who cannot find joy within themselves, seek out and strive to create it in others. There is much power in the laughter of others, and if you can bring someone else the happiness they need, you, even for that brief moment, find the peace you so desperately need.

The world mourns his loss, and I feel it is appropriately so. He wasn't just a good actor, he was a good man and a good person. In the end, the depression he battled with for so long finally took its final toll on him. We may never know why, but we can use him as an example of someone who tamed the ever-present darkness. 

If you are struggling with depression and are experiencing suicidal thoughts, I strongly encourage you to reach out. Talk to a friend, a family member, anyone. It's not a "cry for help", it's a call to action. You're not weak for feeling this way and you are not alone. You are never alone. If you cannot reach out to someone you know, call the Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-8255. They are waiting for your call, right now, and will do anything in their power to help you through this. They are here for you. You are not alone.