Robin Williams didn’t die from suicide. I only just heard the sad, sad news of Robin Williams’s death. My wife sent me a message to tell me he had died, and, when I asked her what he died from, she told me something that nobody in the news seems to be talking about.
When people die from cancer, their cause of death can be various horrible things – seizure, stroke, pneumonia – and when someone dies after battling cancer, and people ask “How did they die?”, you never hear anyone say “pulmonary embolism”, the answer is always “cancer”. A Pulmonary Embolism can be the final cause of death with some cancers, but when a friend of mine died from cancer, he died from cancer. That was it. And when I asked my wife what Robin Williams died from, she, very wisely, replied “Depression”.
The word “suicide” gives many people the impression that “it was his own decision,” or “he chose to die, whereas most people with cancer fight to live.” And, because Depression is still such a misunderstood condition, you can hardly blame people for not really understanding. Just a quick search on Twitter will show how many people have little sympathy for those who commit suicide…
But, just as a Pulmonary Embolism is a fatal symptom of cancer, suicide is a fatal symptom of Depression. Depression is an illness, not a choice of lifestyle. You can’t just “cheer up” with depression, just as you can’t choose not to have cancer. When someone commits suicide as a result of Depression, they die from Depression – an illness that kills millions each year. It is hard to know exactly how many people actually die from Depression each year because the figures and statistics only seem to show how many people die from “suicide” each year (and you don’t necessarily have to suffer Depression to commit suicide, it’s usually just implied). But considering that one person commits suicide every 14 minutes in the US alone, we clearly need to do more to battle this illness, and the stigmas that continue to surround it. Perhaps Depression might lose some its “it was his own fault” stigma, if we start focussing on the illness, rather than the symptom. Robin Williams didn’t die from suicide. He died from Depression*. It wasn’t his choice to suffer that.
You accepted my desire to leave you free, free of everything. You knew I meant it. But as soon as as I freed you of all anxiety, you went back to your self-engrossed life. And I knew it. Friday I said to myself: I won’t let Henry come. He loves me selfishly, only for the good things. He doesn’t really care about me. And today you proved it. You felt well, healthy, carefree. You didn’t care about my life. You saw me after ten days and were cold. You didn’t even caress me. You didn’t come into the house to be gentle, after your callousness. You killed it. You say I’m touchy. So are you. Only, I spend my life watching over your touchiness. It may be touchy to want to talk to you as I did today—confide in you—and get the response I got. The only time I leaned on you, needed you. I needed you, Henry! The truth is you are completely happy in Clichy, alone. I will see that you will continue to have your security, your independence. But that is all, Henry. All the rest is dead.