I’m struggling today.
The heartbreaking news of the world’s loss of Robin Williams has hit me hard.
It’s hit most of my generation hard.
We grew up with Mork and the Genie; were inspired to read the classics, and to stand on tables and carpe diem.
I’m heartbroken.
There is so much pain; unarmed teenagers being shot in the street, six year olds dying of cancer, the terrors in the Middle East.
The world is hurting.
I woke up this morning, and thought hoped I might be OK today.
And then I saw the quote that Zelda Williams’, Robin’s daughter, Tweeted:
And I cried.
The sadness washed over me in a way that is hard to explain.
Because if depression can take a man with all the resources at his disposal, how am I supposed to survive it?
How am I supposed to go on, if even he couldn’t fight it off?
We lost him.
I want to share what happened in my mind this morning, but first I want to be clear: I am not going to injure myself. I am, thankfully, far enough on the other side of a dark place that I can see myself going in that direction, and I can power through. Today. Sometimes, I can’t. I’ve come closer than I care to consider, on a day so much like today, when I’m grasping at straws.
As I walked to work this morning, crying behind my sunglasses, my “happiest” playlist blasting in my ears, these are the things that went through my head, and my heart:
This is the worst.
I wonder what people would say if I were gone.
It would be nice not to hurt any more.
It would be so easy.
I’m tired.
I shouldn’t be thinking these things.
Change to Pharrell’s “Happy” in my ears
But still, just to be done.
Over.
It would be so easy.
I should call one of those hotlines.
Hell, I tweeted it out myself last night.
Nah, I don’t want to waste their time.
I’m sure there are people who are more in need than I am.
I’m not worth it.
THANKFULLY I am far enough past my most recent darkness to be able to stop it there.
Because I AM worth it.
Because I might have called today, because I’m teetering, but can step back from the edge.
And I started to draft this post in my head.
Because that’s what depression does. It lies and tries to drag you down with it.
But I fight daily not to let it.
I got to the platform and was waiting for the train. After several moments, I pulled out my phone, starting to type a text to a friend.
Before I could hit send, I felt a hand on my elbow. “Hey, it’s great to see you!” Hugs are exchanged. Before me stands a friend from Facebook, someone from my moms group who I’ve never seen before on my commute. We make small talk for a moment, and in a lull, she looks at me and asks “Are you OK?”
Even with hiding behind my big sunglasses, she asked.
Did she save me?
Maybe not today, but today the depression wasn’t winning.
If it had been?
She would have evened the score in my favor.
Thank you for your beautiful willingness to be real. You have inspired me in my struggle to be real. Thank you so much.
Thank you for sharing your story. Often times we hide behind these fake smiles and large sunglasses so the world doesn’t see our hurt. The world is hurting, you are hurting, I am hurting… but I am SO glad to see that you have come back from that ledge. That ledge that holds most of us moreso than others ever know.
You are loved and needed, you mean the world to more people than you ever can imagine … and you can do hard things. And when it seems too hard, there are friends like me, only a phone call away because the dark is in every corner … do do not hide there. Hugs from afar, and much much love xxx
Thank you for writing this, Lizz. So many of us…too many of us…have felt like this, been on the edge. It’s nice to know we’re not alone. Hugs and love to you. xoxo
Thank you for sharing this real, raw look at how someone who seems to have it all together can be dying inside. No one knows what we’re facing unless we have the strength to say it and finding that strength is sometimes impossibly hard. I’m glad you are past that darkness and I hope it always stays far behind you.
Thank you for hitting publish. I’ve been there, too. Too many times. If you ever want to talk I’m here.
Just shared on FB. Thank you for your truth.
So happy you hit “publish”. People needed to read this. I needed to read this. Simply stunning.
I think the most deceptive part of depression is that those who are actually depressed are incredibly good actors and are able to disguise it for something else. I’m glad you hit publish and I am extending yet another arm of love to say that you are NOT alone. You are cared about.
Big hugs girl! Thank you for sharing! You are worth it! You are such a great person and an inspiration to many. More than you will ever know, because some people (most people) will never tell you (or don’t know how).
I’m crying. I’ve been … on edge … since last night. I’m just… devastated. I’m hurting.
Thank you for showing me I’m not alone.
Even when everything is okay, it’s still there. I get it. Thank you for hitting publish.
Love you, my friend. Oh so very much.
Thank you for sharing this. Please, never hesitate, to use the numbers, to call a friend, to text, tweet, whatever it is you need to pull yourself out of the darkness that sometimes hides around us all. xo
Love you. Thank you for opening your heart and putting this out there for others to gather around and nod and say, yes, yes I have been there too. There is comfort in being reminded we are not alone in overwhelming feelings. We need to be reminded that even people who we may think have it all and have it together still battle. xo
Love you Lizz, all of your complicated truths, and your brave tenderness.
This is a brave post! The world needs more of your bravery! Big hugs…remember that you have a PURPOSE in this world…
I think even people who DON’T struggle with depression are struggling with the news of William’s death in a way that, I hope, will prompt empathy and connection with those who are, like the lady on the platform did for you today. As long as we keep offering and accepting that help – whichever side of the equation you happen to be on that day – we’ll get through it.
Sending you a big squeeze and, of course, the question that stuck with me: Hey, what’s on your playlist? 🙂
I understand…you are not alone.
((hugs)) I know your bravery makes a difference. My immediate reaction to Williams’ suicide was to worry about anyone and every person who has struggled with depression. I know he had a lot of resources. Possibly more than most of us. Losing him is such a gut punch. But he also opened up a chance for us all to talk more openly about depression. I was able to talk to my 12-year-old about how it’s a disease. How everyone is worth living. Life is worth living. I’m so glad we have you in this world. I’m so proud of your bravery.
Thank you for having the courage and beauty to hit “Publish.” <3 <3 <3
Lizz, this explains why, when you saw me walk into the restaurant after the Conference in Mtn View last year, you and your sweet friend got up from your comfy seats at another table just to start a “new” table with me included.
I recognized your power and your passion for people; your love and caring effort, right at that moment, and i will ALL-ways remember it (spelled and hyphenated this way for emphasis, purposely).
And more than a year later, you remembered when and where we met, when i KNOW how many people and FB friends have come in between that span of time.
You are such a gift in this world.
This post is HUGE. Thank you for sharing your heart. I know how difficult it was to hit that ‘SUBMIT’ button.
I too, have been gutted by Robin William’s loss to his depression.
Now, my hope and prayer is that this traumatic event does not USE us, and that we USE it to make this world more welcoming, accepting, and warm to strangers, just like you and Y did last year with me.
“It takes each of us to make a difference for all of us”
There is SO much healing about to take place in the aftermath. Perhaps this is the final gift that Robin Williams has given us, and perhaps it’s just the way we gather as a community to grieve such a loss.
Thank you for being EXACTLY who you are. I adore you and always will. Reach out to me anytime. Seriously. I’m here for you. #MUAH!
As we sit here at your ball park, at HIS ball park, (all the way from the UK) my 16yo ds & I are struggling with this awful news too. We are hopeful that his true legacy will be saving others…maybe we will talk more about this, maybe the “shame” will be a little less, maybe some will reach out where they wouldn’t have before. Maybe. Please God.
Hugs for your struggles & for your bravery & honesty too.