A Shared Epidemic Can Spur a Selfish Choice

This year we lost an American treasure. Robin Williams, actor, comedian, philanthropist and, if the press around him is to be believed, all around good guy, took his own life at the relatively young age of 63. It was sad news for those of us who grew up watching "Mork and Mindy" and listening to his comedy albums. I enjoyed his work for decades, be it comedy philanthropy for Comic Relief, comic and dramatic turns in films and TV and even his talk show appearances and interviews. He was brilliant and more importantly he seemed kind. His audience also knew that he battled substance abuse occasionally throughout his career and he even spoke about depression. Perhaps it was that candor that made the news of his untimely death so shocking. We thought (hoped!) he had it all in hand; that this funny, smart and charismatic charmer would tame those demons and come out once and forever in charge of his own psyche. When he didn't, we found ourselves devastated, disappointed and in some cases, angry.

How could he be so selfish? How could he put his family through such pain? What was he thinking!? How could he be such a COWARD?

So, this is where I take a little stand and say something that may piss people off: I am not talking in this post about suicide that is committed by criminals who are caught dead to rights brutalizing children or women or anyone and then commit suicide in their cells. I know how ugly this is to read, but I think that is cowardice; "escaping" before they face their accusers, not having to pay for their crimes (although, if you are religious you will say they will pay elsewhere; fair enough). There is evil in the world and this post is not about that.

Robin Williams photo from Collider.com

Robin Williams was no coward. 

I know that people who grieve (even for others they may not even personally know) sometimes lash out, and when death involves the object of a para-social relationship (we all thought we knew him, didn't we?) such grief can feel even more acute. The bottom line, however, and this will irk many, is that we never really know what is going on inside someone's mind/soul. And maybe that shock and disappointment is really what makes people angry. Also, people tend to judge (often harshly) what they do not understand.

Taking one's own life seems like such a drastic, final and hopeless act (and it is all of those, really), that people who have never seriously considered it can't possibly see it as a way out or a solution. For those who have been in the throes of deep and unbearable depression or other mental illness; fighting the battles over and over, without seeing permanent or acceptable victories, suicide may be the last ditch resort to finally achieve some sort of peace.

In my own experience with mental illness, my depression was like a heavy darkness. Yes, there seemed to be physical weight to it. Like my sun had been totally eclipsed by a giant, thick and immovable tarp, only the shadow just stayed weighted there, not moving incrementally so I could know that the sun would return. Humans don't tend to do well in prolonged darkness. Darkness reminds us of what we fear. Fear becomes exacerbated and our sense of self-determination and efficacy erodes. Not to mention all the physiological effects to our brain chemistry if we are in the dark too long (and some people are more affected than others). The longer we are in the dark, if not reassured (and by that I mean at a core, intrinsic level) that the light will return, the greater the pain and fear we must face. Add to that a scenario of feeling alone (let's face it, some of our loneliest moments happen within earshot of others), then the demons get exponentially larger and impossible to vanquish. If we get help, whether in the form of psychological, medical, religious or spiritual support we may find our way out of the darkness. The thing is, the darkness is always just a horizon away. I am lucky, I am able (so far) to recognize depression when it rears its insidious head and I can get help. There was a time in my life, though, that ending my life seemed like a perfectly reasonable outcome to  perfectly unreasonable circumstances in my soul.

I once read an article that said that women tend to commit suicide in relatively "clean" ways so as not to cause a mess for those they leave behind. Rubbish, says I. There are a million reasons people commit suicide and an equal number of reasons they choose a certain method. Suicide is personal and selfish. After all, it is our brains rebelling against us! By all accounts, Robin Williams was a kind and generous soul, but the darkness and pain in our souls can make us behave against type.

Anytime I hear of a suicide I feel pain for the victim's family and friends. I can't imagine how it must feel to be left with what must be infinite unanswered questions and the inevitable wonderings about what real or imagined role they might have played. Did they miss the signs; did they say the wrong thing? I have heard people say not to feel bad for the person who is dead because their pain is done, but I always feel sadness for them too. I am sad because they could not see the light or even imagine what it would look like when it came back again (or that it could). Their pain was so great that it muted the sound of their children's laughter, it blinded them to beauty around them, it erased the memories of their impact on this life. But that is what mental illness does, it invades our innermost realm, the part of us that is most individual and, perhaps, sacred; the source of our intellect, communication, and personality.

According to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, 39,518 suicides were reported (imagine how many aren't given the stigma suicide has in many cultural and religious contexts) in 2011. That number put suicide as the 10th leading cause of death in the U.S for that year. Well, no wonder people aren't doing anything about mental health issues! We have heart disease and cancer to worry about! Umm, no. Suicide as a cause of death is greater in its societal implications than its relatively small number of victims. The idea that someone is choosing to take their life; deciding that ending their life is the only way to end their pain, is SIGNIFICANT. In the small town where I reside, a friend noted that she knew of four teenagers who committed suicide within an 18 month period (anecdotal - I couldn't find current data). If accurate, that number represents a huge chunk of potential; of kids who were so hopeless that they couldn't see beyond ending their lives. THIS IS A TRAGEDY.

Losing Robin Williams was so very sad, but the truth is we lose people every single day to mental illness and it doesn't necessarily mean suicide. I don't care of they are iconic celebrities or the kid down the street, the loss of human potential; whether because someone disappears in their mind or because they feel ultimately disposable, is tragic and heartbreaking. As a country, we should be more concerned about our people battling such demons and feeling like they are losing. Unfortunately we, as a society, seem to only prick our ears up when such difficulties surround someone famous. Additionally, while there was suddenly more talk about mental health issues shortly after Mr. Williams' death, our short attention span was quickly distracted by something else hitting the top-ten of whatever media circus of the week was playing.

Mental health is a difficult subject, partly because it is so damn complicated. Our brains are complex, mysterious and fragile (although sometimes remarkably resilient) mechanisms. Chemical imbalances, drugs, genetics, stress, trauma, disease and goodness knows what else can all wreak havoc on the computers inside our skulls. There are so many "types" (for lack of a better word) of mental illness; simply getting an accurate diagnosis can take months or years of effort and resources. Sometimes diagnoses remain elusive and even if properly diagnosed, finding the right treatment can be an equally mysterious crap-shoot.

Another variable that makes mental health "difficult" is the level of social discomfort it presents, especially to those who think they are completely healthy (ha!). Mental illness has always scared people. From before we understood anatomy and physiology and we blamed mental illness on demons and spirits, to now, when we see the behaviors of a schizophrenic and it feels too close to home, the idea of mental illness in whatever form, scares us as a society. In less enlightened times we simply locked mentally ill people up and hoped they never got out. In frighteningly recent times, mentally ill patients were basically tortured and forgotten. So-called "hospitals" decided they were perfect subjects for experiments (after all, who was going to miss them?). Relatives of the mentally ill would hide them away out of fear; of what they might do or how they might end up. Even now we likely see a disproportionate number of mentally ill people living on the streets. It is easier to walk by, maybe spare some change, than to attack the many roots of this particularly devilish tree.

With more people on the planet comes more chances (statistically) that someone we know (like, umm, us) will be affected by mental health issues. I admit I get a little paranoid when I feel "down" that maybe my depression is creeping back up on me. But at least I am aware of it, I own it, I admit that it is a possibility, and I am more than willing to work to mitigate it if necessary. As a society we must accept these issues as real, medical complexities that need research and attention. It took decades for alcoholism to be socially accepted as a disease, we need to be willing to accept these illnesses with the objectivity and practicality that we do other diseases.

Suicide is a result, a consequence, a symptom of a larger epidemic and as such it is often perceived as a selfish choice. Is it not more selfish, however, that we, as a supposedly enlightened society, allow the epidemic that is one of the root causes of this choice to go unchecked, potentially destroying countless brilliant, funny, intelligent, and kind souls in its wake?

Old Man in Sorrow - V. Van Gogh