We can all relate in some way to Robin Williams plight. It’s scary to admit that out loud. Who hasn’t thought, “I wish it would all end. Life is so hard. It would be easier if I didn’t have to deal with the pain.” The difference inevitably is those who have the thought and those who act on behalf of it.
It’s hard to make sense of this tragedy on so many levels. He deeply knew the human condition. This knowledge informed his craft. Whether through his stand up, TV appearances or feature films, he had a knack of reaching us on a deep level through his ability to tap into our wit and humor and be relatable. He thrived at making others laugh but internally he was suffering so much so that the only alternative he saw was a permanent irreversible one.
It’s so ironic, just last week I posted a quote from him on my timeline. He expressed, “I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone, it’s not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people that make you feel alone.” How alone he must have felt. Whether warranted or not that’s where he was at. Alone in his pain and suffering. Desperate to leave it behind.
I have been reading all the postings about his death. Controversy about suicide in general. Debates regarding the religious consequences of suicide, judgments about whether it’s a cowardly act or an act of desperation and if a person is considered selfish or mentally ill. All interesting and complex discussions.
Robin has three young adult children. I can only imagine the anguish. An array of thoughts. Thoughts such as, “I should have known”, “How could I have not known”, “I knew and did nothing” I didn’t do enough to help him” and “I could/should have done more to help him.” An array of feelings. Feelings that will run the gamut. Those of anguish, sadness, frustration, anger and/or hopelessness. It’s so difficult to reconcile them all. They will come and go, ebb and flow for many years to come, possibly throughout their lifetime.
I work with patients who contemplate suicide and family survivors who are left bereft. My most recent patient is a 14 year old girl who lost her father to suicide just a year ago. His daughter and young sons were his survivors. One might have the perception that this man was a disengaged, uninvolved father who was chronically withdrawn and isolated. He, like Robin was out there “enjoying” life. This man was an involved and connected father who shared many joyous and bonded moments with his children. I was witness to the savored cards, pictures and momentums. I was also witness to the suicide note and birthday spent alone without her father. His suicide, that anniversary, was the one moment in time when his chronic depression won out.
A little over a year past the anniversary, she came to session especially distressed. She physically looked forlorn and had a hard time expressing her feelings. She managed to talk about how she feels “guilty” because she wasn’t thinking about her father as much as she used to and was fearful that she would forget him. She panicked that he would vanish from her mind. His memory erased from hers. She questioned what he truly ever meant to her and whether she was a “good” or “bad” daughter. These thoughts and feelings were distressing for her.
Formerly she worried that she would never feel “normal” again. Now she worried that she was feeling too “normal.” My heart went out to her. I began by reiterating what typical reactions to grief were. Instead of reassuring her that she doesn’t have a reason to feel guilty, I sat with her and her guilt, acknowledged it and nurtured and supported her through those feelings.
I reminded her to thank her mind. I gave accolades to that wonderful beautiful mind of hers. I reassured her that her mind won’t allow her to forget him even if she wants to. It was reliable and always tried to protect her. Whether through sadness or guilt or any other feeling that showed up now or in the future, she would be reminded of him whether she wanted to be or not.
We explored how wonderful it was to embrace all the feelings that showed up because each of them served the purpose of keeping her forever connected to her father. I joined her and explained that if her mind ever failed her, which it rarely did, I would be there to gently remind her of him. I saw the heavy weight on her shoulders lift steadily before my eyes. She didn’t need to carry the burden alone, I would be there to help and support her.
The pitfalls are and will be there for her. Over time she spoke of feeling pseudo mature compared to her peers, that no one could truly know her pain, that she constantly felt judged by others. In her perception of the way they were thinking and interacted with her, if she cried too much she “needed” to move on, if she experienced moments of joy that she wasn’t “adequately” honoring her father and didn’t care about him “enough.” She felt “different” and “strange.”
After attending a bereavement group for teens who lost their parent, she reported that the death of her father was different than the other group members’ experiences with their respective parent. Her peers freely spoke of their parent who died of illness and accidents. She felt stigmatized because her father chose death and proactively initiated it despite having her and her brothers’ love and admiration.
I also see individuals who feel such extreme pain and distress because of their chronic depression and anxiety (with a multitude of depressive and anxiety disorders). I’m bearing witness to their pain. I hear about how difficult it is for them to do basic tasks, engage in interpersonal relationships and physically feel uncomfortable in their own skin.
Six years ago after giving birth to my daughter, my hormones were getting recalibrated and my thyroid was shifting between hyperthyroidism to hypothyroidism. I had two or three days of what felt like hell. It felt like the similar hell described by my patients. Until I got properly medicated, it felt like emotional, physical and psychological torture. I feel fortunate to have had that experience. The thought of feeling that way on a continual basis is unconscionable.
The other day I had a young woman come to my office and explain that her prior therapist referred to her as avoidant and resistant. I saw the look in her eyes. She looked lost and misunderstood. She said to me, “Does she realize that I don’t want my life to be like this. I just can’t as much as I try. It hurts so much.”
Yes the pain is rampant. It’s often a silent killer and impacts individuals despite their gender, race, religion, and socio-economic status. According to the Center for Disease Control & Prevention, 8% of the population has diagnosable depression. In 2012, an estimated 16 million adults aged 18 or older in the US had at least one major depressive episode in this past year. This represents 6.9 of all US adults (National Institute of Mental Health). This doesn’t include statistics on children and teens.
Some important signs of depression to look out for include: (a) Sadness – hopelessness, helplessness, tearfulness, etc.; (b) Loss of interest in daily activities (that the person would have otherwise enjoyed); (c) Changes in sleep patterns – sleeping too much, too little, having trouble falling asleep, etc.; (d) Difficulty focusing or concentrating; (e) Sudden and/or drastic increase or decrease in weight or fatigue that is uncharacteristic of the person; (f) Decreased low self-esteem, and (g) Thoughts of death in regard to self (suicide) or others (homicide). To help someone with depression go to: www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/depression/in-depth/depression/art-20045943.
In Robin William’s situation as with many others, he had a poly substance abuse issue. It was known that he recently had a stint at rehab. Many individuals use substances to self-medicate. This was probably the case for him. Abstinence was probably encouraged at rehab. It’s unclear if he was abstaining whether his underlining depression, which was bound to surface if he were no longer self-medicating, was effectively treated.
We can’t really make sense of it as hard as we all try. We’ll continue to debate and contemplate. Robin Williams “seemed” to have it all, wealth, talent and notoriety. As we know sometimes that’s just not enough. We never really know what goes on inside the mind and heart of another unless we observe, ask and reach out. That’s a personal and community responsibility we can all commit to.
This was added to the blog after multiple comments in the media: I have seen a plethora of comments regarding suicide and how “selfish” these individuals are perceived to be. It’s actually committed as an act of “selflessness.”
Most individuals have loving supportive families that are left bereft afterwards. They have the idea that they are doing their families “a favor.” That they are a burden on their families and that they would be “better off” without them.
It’s an act of “selflessness” because of their distorted way of viewing the circumstance. They feel that they have put their families through “enough” and only cause them and everyone else (including themselves) angst.
Robin Williams battled substance and alcohol use/abuse. He had multiple stints in rehab. He unfortunately didn’t see himself as any use to his family and perceived himself as doing them “a favor” and acted out of love for them by ridding them of the disappointments and frustrations he felt he caused them. He was also known to have early stages of Parkinson’s. Another reason he probably felt as to not overburden his family.
There is an absence of “self.” They don’t feel of any use to anybody and even more so are a burden to all. It truly is sad because the reality is family members would be accepting of them troubled and ill rather than not having them at all.
