For those of us who fight the fight against depression, the worst part of hearing about Robin Williams’ suicide is the deep understanding of the state of mind that led him to desire the freedom of death. It is the knowledge that at the moment one kicks the chair out from under oneself with a rope around the neck or pulls the trigger or walks in front of a bus on the interstate, the love of an entire country is not enough to overcome the desire for relief.

I have always contended that the EXACT moment of taking one’s life is not a rational act, no matter how planned the methodology. How else to explain how the type of person who often suffers depression – sensitive, intelligent, hilarious, talented -would be able to leave a trail of devastated hearts behind him when he goes?

I have not “been there” in many years. I was blessed with supportive family, excellent medical care, dear friends but mostly with my counselor, Mary G, who came to the home that day I screamed for help, who pointed out that it runs in families (see: Ernest Hemingway et al) and that my worst legacy would be the example I leave for my children and grandchildren who might come after me. Those words have since guided my proactive approach whenever it appears the meds or my life situation may need changing, evidenced by the feeling that I am sinking a little deeper and for a little longer into the water I may be treading.

Rest in peace, Robin. We really did know you and love you and will miss you.