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You may well be thinking, "great, another Robin William's tribute post."
Well this is, sort of.
I got a message on my iPhone the morning he took his life. The news had hit the NY Times and that banner headline hit their app.
I gasped. I was not surprised, just profoundly saddened. A brilliant light, self-extinguished.....
I had long suspected Williams was victim to bipolar illness. He gave the world an inkling into the spit-fire ride that mania/hypomania can be, and it amazed and amused us one and all. How many realized that brilliance came with a heavy price?
I feel for him. I mourn his death. And I realize just how fortunate I am. I got help when it was needed and it worked.
No, I don't have bipolar disease; I was just a run-of-the-mill, garden variety, uni-polar depressive. I refer to that in the past tense, because I'm not depressed now - haven't been in 3 decades. But in my 20's was victim to two successive, black depressions where I saw absolutely no purpose to my life. I had finished medical school and was working, providing care to people who needed it, yet I felt without purpose or value.
10% of the populace will go through a major clinical depression at some point in their lives. Many will attempt suicide as a solution. Some will succeed, leaving behind a wake of pain for those who knew and cared for them.
What helped was counseling and Prozac. The psychiatrist I saw pretty much insisted on medicating me, despite my reservations. It was the correct call in my situation. Prozac gave me my life back. I got better. More importantly, I have stayed that way since. My chances for another major depression in my future is even money. After 2 major depressive episodes, 50% will have a third. Would I go back on meds and into treatment? If I need it, in a heart beat.
Do I want my psychiatric history on the front page of our local newspaper? Not particularly, but I don't hide my history from others either. Those of us who have suffered and gotten better, need to be identifiable, if for no other reason than to be a beacon of hope for those still wrestling with their depressive daemons.
It can get better.
I know this experientially. I'm living proof.
Well this is, sort of.
I got a message on my iPhone the morning he took his life. The news had hit the NY Times and that banner headline hit their app.
I gasped. I was not surprised, just profoundly saddened. A brilliant light, self-extinguished.....
I had long suspected Williams was victim to bipolar illness. He gave the world an inkling into the spit-fire ride that mania/hypomania can be, and it amazed and amused us one and all. How many realized that brilliance came with a heavy price?
I feel for him. I mourn his death. And I realize just how fortunate I am. I got help when it was needed and it worked.
No, I don't have bipolar disease; I was just a run-of-the-mill, garden variety, uni-polar depressive. I refer to that in the past tense, because I'm not depressed now - haven't been in 3 decades. But in my 20's was victim to two successive, black depressions where I saw absolutely no purpose to my life. I had finished medical school and was working, providing care to people who needed it, yet I felt without purpose or value.
10% of the populace will go through a major clinical depression at some point in their lives. Many will attempt suicide as a solution. Some will succeed, leaving behind a wake of pain for those who knew and cared for them.
What helped was counseling and Prozac. The psychiatrist I saw pretty much insisted on medicating me, despite my reservations. It was the correct call in my situation. Prozac gave me my life back. I got better. More importantly, I have stayed that way since. My chances for another major depression in my future is even money. After 2 major depressive episodes, 50% will have a third. Would I go back on meds and into treatment? If I need it, in a heart beat.
Do I want my psychiatric history on the front page of our local newspaper? Not particularly, but I don't hide my history from others either. Those of us who have suffered and gotten better, need to be identifiable, if for no other reason than to be a beacon of hope for those still wrestling with their depressive daemons.
It can get better.
I know this experientially. I'm living proof.
