Portrait courtesy of the talented Shannon Roddy

“A man who is master of himself can end a sorrow as easily as he can invent a pleasure. I don’t want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.” -Oscar Wilde

I think that just about everyone not living under a rock has spent some time thinking about Robin Williams today. Of course his genius will leave a lasting, if now somewhat doleful, impression on our country’s cultural fabric…but at the same time, it’s the enormity of how he went out that is so striking. His sudden death created just as much of a punch as his body of work that underpinned the formative years of so many people.

I didn’t know the guy. Apart from scant press reports, I know little about the circumstances in which he lived and ultimately died.  But still, I can’t stop reflecting on how profoundly his death saddens me—and I don’t mean this in a star-struck for Hollywood royalty kind of way.

Maybe it’s because we’ve got such a dreary summer day going on in this, our nation’s capital. It’s almost as if the weather here reflects a collective mourning that comes when we lose any person before their appointed hour. Whatever the case, it’s a lousy afternoon in an otherwise glorious string of blink-of-an-eye sunny days.  Where I was going to go out and enjoy a little afternoon exercise, now all I want to do is go home and curl up with a good book.

A capture of the day courtesy of the talented writer Melody

In my line of work, there is an undercurrent of hesitation when it comes to speaking about depression. You don’t want to seek clinical help for fear of This Going Down on Your Permanent Record. Who knows—a hint of imbalance may cost you your job one day. They say that the stigma on this has changed and you can indeed get help without fearing retribution, but at the end of the day, how can you be sure? It’s far easier to lace up some running shoes and take off out the door rather than be up front with your ghosts.

I’m no doctor, but I do participate in more than my share of people watching. I can say with reasonable confidence that depression is a condition that many of us are battling- some with far greater severity than others. All of us, we like to put our best side up on social media, the workplace, and for our family and friends. Why do we do it? Because it is so much easier than cracking open a state of mind that has no neatly-retrieved solution that can be tackled in a 30 minute TV show. Depression can be like an oscillating fan that is felt with greater intensity when you’re the only person in the room to feel the air push against you.

We’re all so good about offering advice that we ourselves would do well to take on board. Get help. Reach out. Speak up. Friends and family are there, and they’re more than happy to step in and prop you up—but none of them are mind readers.  When we are in the moment, intellectually we know that these helping hands exist, but when it comes down to swallowing your pride and actually opening your mouth, this can feel like the world’s most impossible task.

I can’t say for sure, but there’s a reason why so many people have latched on to physically and mentally challenging “pastimes” like distance running, weightlifting and yoga. They can serve as cheap and healthy therapy, and for many of us, it’s also the only seemingly acceptable antidote for our down moments. Is this ever going to change? Is openness in dealing with depression going to improve? It’s hard to say. I’m enough of an obstinate New Englander to feel that the number of us out running (or god forbid abusing substances) in the name of escape is not going to decrease. I wish that were not the case, but that just seems to be the way we humans are wired.

It is not my intention to compose a “The sad ones will always suffer silently” treatise. Those closest to me know that I do my damnedest to fight through periods of despondency with all of my might, because I know how crushing and distorted depression can make a person.

I guess my real sense in thinking about suicide by way of depression is that we all need to remember to open up to the people we turn to for trusted counsel on shoes, bad dates and book recommendations. To the people we love so much. To the people who also may be going through a tough time but will never pick up the phone in order to clue the rest of the world in.

I’m pretty good at giving advice, aren’t I?

Let people know how much they matter, as often as you can. Drag them out for a coffee or a run—even if you don’t talk about anything at all. Whatever. We need each other. There’s something to be said for combating isolation, and no one should ever allow him or herself to sink to a level where they feel that their life is of no value. Life is already short enough.