Normally I try and keep things light on this blog. I like to make people laugh. But then it hit me that so did Mr. Robin Williams and I would be doing his memory a disservice if I didn’t post this to my wider audience.
Yesterday morning I opened Facebook and read the sad news of his passing. Then, without hesitating, I wrote the piece below. It almost wrote itself. I hesitated about posting it even on Facebook. I’m not one to capitalize on someone’s tragedy and this is a dark piece. But, then I heard from my Facebook circle and it became clear to me that my words had resonated with others and helped some people understand what depression is. I never expected that at all.
But after some thought, I decided I would like to share what I wrote with my readers here too. This piece comes from my soul…
Like an unwanted guest who walks into your home and eats all your favourite cookies. You don’t care. You don’t react. You sit by and watch and wonder what was so great about those cookies in the first place. You are numb and feel nothing. A dark cloud fills your head and your motions go on auto pilot. Pay that bill, buy milk, feed the cat.
The commentary in your head finds all the dark spots and brings them to the surface and the murky water gets into your ears and sounds become dull and distant. Instead of reaching out, you hide under the covers of your bed for as long as possible until life forces you to function. Society screams at you from all corners. Be this, do that. What’s wrong with you?
People around you try to contain it, control it but it seeps in when you least expect it. You wake up and feel odd, unmotivated and confused. Like someone had cut the cord of connectedness, tears well up behind your sunglasses for no apparent reason at all.
On the outside you are a brilliantly coloured piece of Murano glass, a twisted kaleidoscope of sand hardened to create a spectacular surface and inside is a delicate china cup that your grandmother gave you and told you to be careful not to break it. You hold that cup close to your heart, you protect it, keep it hidden away so it won’t break. Keep it in a dark, musty box so no one can steal it. You enter that box occasionally to visit it, but you think what’s the point of having this if I cannot enjoy it? If it’s usefulness and beauty are hidden from the world? Depression. You want to sit alone in the shadows of the attic with just your cup and nobody understands why, not even you.
Goodbye Mr. Robin Williams, the kaleidoscope of your films, humour and outward passion will forever live in our hearts.