I know. You've read a million. Mine isn't any different.
Robin Williams dead at 63.
My heart breaks.
I read something yesterday on Facebook that truly upset me. An acquaintance of a friend wrote "It's amazing how someone with so much could off himself. If you are depressed get help. You have the money."
Clearly the comment of a very uneducated person.
I wanted to school him.
And slap the ever loving shit out of him.
No money in the world can help a lost soul. Sure, it helps to pay therapists and doctors. But money cannot fix an imbalance. A disease. A disorder.
Robin Williams battled many demons. He struggled with depression and bipolar disorder. He was a recovering alcoholic and drug addict. He recently returned to a rehabilitation center to get continued help.
He sought help.
Help couldn't help him.
For a person to make such a rude comment angers me. Clearly, he has never struggled. Struggled to get out of bed. To try.
After my son was born I struggled with postpartum depression. It was the worst thing I've ever dealt with. When you fall down the rabbit hole it's very difficult to climb back out. To see the light again.
I would be lying if I said that suicide never crossed my mind. It did. Not the actual thought of going forward with it. But how I would do it. But then I realized I'm too big of a chicken to actually do it because death scares me more.
For Robin Williams, death was a relief. The answer.
Such a sad answer.
We will miss him. He was the best of the best. A man who could make anyone laugh and smile. He was so loved.
I hope he knows.
Seeing Robin Williams live on stage has been on my bucket list since I was a young adult. Luckily for me that chance came several years ago when he did a live stand up concert at the Chicago Theatre.
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