Another long, meandering treatise here. I havent really commented at all yet on Robin Williams death, for many reasons in general, and a couple in particular. First and foremost because I dont know that I have anything to say about it that would be worthwhile, which hasnt already been said many times over by people far smarter, wiser, more informed, and more eloquent than I am; and while I can be very verbose when it comes to things I feel are important, I am also someone who tries not to add noise when it would be useless to do so. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, I dont understand clinical depression on the level of someone who actually suffers from it and struggles with it, and it feels selfish and disingenuous to presume to add my proverbial two cents worth to the conversation merely for the sake of making my opinions known, when there are people who truly do grok it who could be speaking, could be educating the rest of us, could be illuminating our understanding of it just a little bit more if we wanted them to--but cant, or wont, or are made to feel unwelcome to do so, or are trying but whose words are getting lost in the braying of the multitudes who desperately want to be heard and dont consider the value of quiet, and of listening. Now, I know what its like to be sad, to be depressed, to feel hollow, to feel self-loathing and self-hatred, to contemplate ending it all. But if Im being truly honest, I also recognize that the depression that I feel is always punctuated by points of light and happiness, and that I can, and do, go for spans of time without depression. I understand that I am not clinically depressed simply because I get depressed from time to time. I dont know what its like to suffer that way, to struggle day in and day out. I dont even know how to tell if someone actually is clinically depressed or not, because Im not an expert and as nearly as I can tell, no one in my day-to-day life has recognizable and comprehensible signs of it that I am capable of seeing. Im not an expert, so I have to take their word for it. I suspect that having a lot of people who claim to be clinically depressed, and arent, hurts those who are by adding too many voices crying wolf, diluting the social impact of the condition and making people who dont understand and dont consider the situation question the validity of any claim, valid or not. And I suspect that the worst thing you can do to someone who is clinically depressed is to assume, and thus insinuate, that theyre wrong, or lying. Now, Im not demonizing people who make false claims and are simply mistaken; I dont want to blame people for not knowing, not knowing that they dont know, and not knowing that they dont know what they dont know (take a minute and unravel that sentence). I dont even want to blame people for making false claims in an unconscious bid for attention; wanting attention is a natural urge which is exhibited in each person in a different amount--some of us are fine with only needing a little attention from time to time to be happy, and others need a lot of attention to be happy, and both are natural, and thats fine. But if the sensation of a bout with clinical depression is anything like the depths of my own non-clinical depression, which is my only frame of reference for beginning to understand it personally, then there is an overwhelming fear of vulnerability that comes with it, and that leads to a fear of letting anyone see your emotional wounds. And if the general reaction of people you might ask for help is to doubt that youre even being honest with them--let alone hostility toward you for faking, or just wanting attention--then I think its entirely a natural thing to avoid the risk and potential emotional pain of asking someone for help. And when people who are clinically depressed cant bring themselves to ask for help--or even make any part of their depression public knowledge for fear of accusations of crying wolf, or calloused just get over it sentiments, or people who want to give their opinion on what to do to fix it instead of just listening to you, thats extremely dangerous. Because from what little I think I understand (as I said before, its entirely possible Im talking completely out of my ass here), the difference between clinical depression and the normal depression that I suffer sometimes (and which, lets be honest, most of you suffer sometimes as well), is that the person who suffers from clinical depression cant bring themselves out of it on their own. Even at my worst, some part of me was able to talk myself down from the ledge, so to speak. But the clinically depressed dont have that; their inner voice is the one telling them to jump. So while you and I depend on ourselves to bolster us against depression, the clinically depressed need to be able to rely on people outside of themselves to bolster them against themselves--so to speak. Its more complex than that (obviously), but that seems to be a major misconception. Your clinically depressed friend needs someone to trust more than they trust themselves, so they have somewhere firm to stand when things get bad, and somewhere to start taking steps from toward helping themselves. And thats a hard thing, to be strong enough for two. But imagine how hard it is for them, in a society where the natural reaction of most people to claims of depression is doubt or hostility, to open themselves up and ask for help. Thats not weakness. Thats strength. If you were incapable of eating, and were thus starving all the time, and every time you let on that you were hungry, society (as a whole, not necessarily individually) berated you for not providing food for yourself, how long would you hide your pain, and how long could you go on like that before you did something drastic? My father told me a story once not too long ago when I was spending a few days helping to take care of him after his stomach surgery, which Ill probably get the details of wrong, but which will stick with me forever. When he was very young, he and my grandparents lived in a small house near the railroad tracks. One day, a tramp (hobo, vagrant, however you want to say it; he said tramp, so Ill tell it the way he did) was walking the tracks and came up to their back door and knocked. My grandmother came to the door, and the tramp explained that he hadnt had anything to eat in days, and asked if she could please spare him a sandwich. The thing to remember about my grandparents is that they came through the Great Depression; when you hear the stories of families having to boil shoe leather just to have a meal, theyre the people who knew what that was like. This tramp asks for a sandwich, and my grandmother invites him in, sits him down at the table, and proceeds to cook him an entire home-cooked meal, even asking about him; who he was, what his life was like, and the like. The way my father tells this story, the tramp was crying by the end of the meal, thanking my grandmother profusely. She packed up the leftovers for him, and he went on his way. When my father asked her why shed done all that when they didnt have that much themselves, why she hadnt just made him a sandwich and sent him down the tracks, she looked him square in the eye and said, Because that could be you. I struggle sometimes with my own natural tendency to care more about People than people; that is, I am naturally inclined to care more about humanity as a whole, abstractly, than necessarily about any individual person I might meet personally (with a handful of very important, very heartfelt exceptions I am lucky enough to have in my life). When it comes to depression (clinical depression), however, we need both. We need people who are making the case on the broad stage, and we need people who are in the trenches, being there for our friends, families, coworkers, and even strangers, who suffer from this disease we may not understand. So, while all of this talk about Robin Williams and clinical depression has been helpful in raising the topic once more into our cultural consciousness, Im much more interested in what happens tomorrow, who we are tomorrow, and if well try to make ourselves better, and learn to listen and care better, and take a real interest in the people we meet and the world around us, or just be satisfied with our own opinions. For me, if Im being truly honest with myself, I cant say for sure that I will be. But I can at least say that Ill keep trying, in my own imperfect, human way. Ill fail, and Ill make mistakes, and Ill fall short of the ideal to which I strive. But I will still strive. Heres something to tie it all back together at the end, in honor of the man himself. Dont get me wrong, Robin Williams was a funny man. But for me, two films of his will always stand out as the best: Man of the Year, and Good Will Hunting (surprise, surprise, I like the serious ones). Video related. To all of this, in its own way. Your move, chief.
Posted on: Fri, 15 Aug 2014 13:05:23 +0000
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