Suicide

The news of Robin Williams’s death spread like a wild fire across Facebook and within five minutes my newsfeed was filled with both disbelief and honor directed toward a man who brought so much joy over the four decades of his career.  I too am deeply saddened that the felt darkness overwhelmed him and extinguished the light of one who brought so many insightful performances and gave us bouts of laughter born out of mutual identification.  I suppose this is why we gasp in shock and think ‘NO, it can’t be true!  If the catalyst for so much happiness can take his life what hope do we have?  Is life really that futile?’ 

Tributes, commentaries and speculation are now filling the Internet.  The issue of suicide fuels the airways.  Those of us who are mental health care professionals continue to be concerned over the way in which mental illnesses are reported on and portrayed by a media culture whose five-minute sound bites speak more like Morse code rather than complex narratives expressing the intricate density that make up the individual life.  I have spent a significant portion of the day reading some of these articles and one thing is evident, hindsight is twenty-twenty…at least some believe so.  

Mental health is defined as a state of well being in which every individual realizes his or her own potential, can cope with the normal stresses of life and can work productively and fruitfully; and is able to make a contribution to her/his community.  Nobody experiences 100% mental health 100 % of the time leaving each of us to struggle at one point or another with some kind of mental pathology.  In simpler terms, all will be considered mentally ill at one point or another during their lifetime.  In much the same way we are occasionally sick with a cold or flu, people struggle with emotional problems brought on by biopsychosocial influences that impact their relationships and their lives. 

People fall on the paradigm from severe mental illness to the other pole defined as mental health.  This is what makes the process of diagnosis troubling to many in the mental health care field.  Diagnosis seems to solidify a set of symptoms without acknowledging the fluid nature of people’s lives, its shifting circumstances and their potential/process for healing and change.  It provides a label that can feel defining as well as limiting if not placed into the proper context; and can lead people to feel like they are inadequate, judged and/or stigmatized when classified with a mental disorder.  This becomes one of the various reasons’ why some avoid seeking out therapy, but as is evidenced by our precious comedian’s outcome, there are times when we need additional assistance with the struggles that overwhelm in the same way, as we need antibiotics when fighting an infection or chemo when fighting cancer.      

I wrestled with the idea of writing this particular blog.  Prudence about what one shares in cyberspace is wise.  At the same time a deeper concern over the perceived stigmatization of mental illness compels me to want to speak out.  I have made myself vulnerable on multiple occasions by sharing my recovery journey from complex trauma and my struggle with PTSD.  Yet some subjects seem too sensitive to share.  Does this speak to my own moral compass or does it speak to the power of fear and shame? I think it’s probably the latter. The truth is I have experienced negative repercussions and at times felt stigmatized because I have PTSD; but I have also learned that this is often more about the other’s resources than it is about me.  I am an incredibly strong individual, highly insightful and deeply capable as evidenced by my life’s journey.  Nevertheless, strength has its limits and I found mine one night. 

I can’t share all that led up to this particular date…that would take another lifetime; but I had run out of internal resources to combat the darkness that felt like it was overwhelming me.  There had been one other time when the thought of ending it all passed across my mind and it left as swiftly as it had arrived.  This night was different.  There was something reasonable to the conclusion and I didn’t want to live anymore. I was exhausted, brokenhearted and hopeless.  After spending more than two decades struggling to overcome the traumas that had been inflicted upon me; I was finished and the realization that this is where my journey of recovery had led me solidified the rational nature of the conclusion.  I felt like I had tried everything to heal and I was still in such astronomical pain.  All I knew in that moment was I wanted out of the emotional agony whose physicality felt like it was gutting me from the inside out.  It was the sheer lucidness of the decision that actually surprised me and for the first time I knew what it meant to feel suicidal.  I am writing about this experience so obviously I got through that period; but had my best friend not intervened by calling and checking in on me that night I honestly don’t know if the outcome would have been different.   

I can’t share exactly when my hope returned either.  What I can reveal is that the calmness and resolve of that decision scared me to my core.  I had experienced what many had previously reported about; the wrestling was over and prior to their loved one’s suicide the individual seemed resigned, almost happy.  Why didn’t I go through with it?  I got lucky.  My friend’s intuition and intervention kept me on the phone for over two hours that night and after the conversation I was too weary to do anything but fall asleep.  When I woke up the next morning hope had not returned, but what I had gained was the knowledge that someone in this world deeply loved me and if I was to go through with it, I would create the same pain in their life I was trying to escape from myself.  I couldn’t do it; I loved this person too much so I resigned myself to go on.

As time went by I discovered certain beliefs I held were erroneous and the goal to rid myself of pain unrealistic.  To divorce myself from the hurt of my experience would be to minimize the gravity of what I have been through.  I think the struggle for most of us is in the carrying of these dark feelings.  We think we need to rid ourselves of them in order to be content rather than acknowledge, honor and integrate them.  It’s not either you are happy or you are not (although when one is in pain it feels that way).  It is both and that is what makes this life the beautiful struggle that it is.  This is small consolation in those times when the hurt the individual is carrying is disproportionate to their positive experiences and/or their resources.  This remains a reality for far too many.  This life is deeply painful in ways that will suck the very breath from your lungs; it will sucker punch you when you are not looking and it will bring with it experiences that one cannot out maneuver.  Yet it also has moments of unexpected and profound joy and magnificence as well.

What astounds me is the incessant need to figure out why Robin did it.  Was he mentally ill?  Was it his addiction?  Was it the depression that caused it?  The goal behind this pursuit is to control the outcome…yet the outcome has already occurred.  Its over.  We are never going to know what ‘element’ broke his resolve to move forward. It is and isn’t all of those components.  To say that if one is mentally ill they are destined to be suicidal does a disservice to millions that live a long and productive life to spite their mental illnesses.  

What we can know is that Williams’s brilliance was born out of the deep pain he carried and if his capacity to produce joy is any indicator of the depth of his pain…he carried more than his fair share.  He was loved, deeply loved and to say that those surrounding him missed the cue lays a burden on their shoulders they must not carry.  Robin had a bad day where the darkness overwhelmed his resources and it ended lethally.  It is tragic, but it is not the entirety of his life’s story. 

As a therapist-in-training what concerns me is the disconnected nature of our society and how its increasing fragmentation is going to lead more and more to struggle with alienation, isolation and depression driving them to self-medicate and sometimes to suicide.  Even those whose lives are surrounded by many people can feel deep loneliness because we have largely forgotten how to enter into deeply intimate connection; friendships are too often friendships of convenience.  How does the saying go?  When the going gets tough, the tough get going.  This is not to imply that intimates are to carry the responsibility of their loved one’s suicide – they should not.  What this speaks to is ways in which we can improve our communal context so that people in pain don’t feel so alone. 

What have I learned from my own experience?  My wellbeing is intimately connected to the wellbeing of those around me.  I have dual responsibilities - an ongoing obligation to pursue personal healing and to be a catalyst for the healing of others. Sharing my story comes with a hope that something in it may resonate when hope is eclipsed.  If you find yourself in a place of despair please remember back to the outpouring of love following the loss of one of our nation’s most beloved entertainers and the ways in which we all wish we could have intervened – we would feel that way about you too.  Forgive us, we are fragile and we err.  

Since Robin’s passing I have been watching clips of his work on YouTube.  The Fisher King is one of my favorites because of the profound message of grace, friendship, healing and forgiveness that it portrays.  In one scene Williams and Bridges are lying next to each other naked in the park – a metaphor of the vulnerability within their friendship. Williams character goes on to tell Bridges character the story of the Fisher King: 

May we all become more like the fool.... Need help? In the U.S., call 1-800-273-8255

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline