There are times when events overwhelm us and there’s a disease that spends every day seeking to do the same.
The creek bed, dry and dusty before, becomes a raging river during a storm. With little warning it swells until it’s carrying trees, tumbling rocks, and drowning the unsuspecting. That draw is the indelible imprint depression leaves on your brain so it can find its way back into your life.
Time after time after time…
I too was devastated at Robin Williams’ passing. He wasn’t much older than this fan who shared his battle with depression. As a fellow sufferer I dared hope he’d beat the evil beast, but I also understood the odds.
My immediate reaction upon hearing the news was grief and sorrow. On their heels came fear, for I well know that dwelling upon depression is like an invitation, a slippery slope I try to avoid. Following the fear was the knowledge that this time I’d not turn away.
So, here I am again writing the scariest post I know how to write, one that I often talk myself out of writing. How could I not go there this time? People need to know. People need to understand. A wonderful man’s tragic end has drawn attention to the subject.
It’s the least I can do for others, for him.
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