An Open Letter To The Pained

Dear Pained Ones,

The first thing I want to say is the first thing they tell you not to say when someone is depressed and has thoughts of killing themselves, but: “I know how you feel.” My pain, probably like yours, is so stabbing and poignant at times that I don’t know what other emotions could possibly exist, nor can I recall what feelings I’ve ever had before, or what feelings I could potentially summon in the future. When I feel emotional pain, it is like being in a dark tunnel, with thick, tall concrete walls around me that extend as far as the eye can see.

The death of Robin Williams stirs up a lot of pain within me. Like most of you, I never personally met Mr. Williams. He lived in my VHSes and DVDs, on Netflix and in the comedy sketches I downloaded from iTunes. Someone once pointed out his neighborhood to me when I lived in San Francisco, and we’d walk around speculating which mansion was his. Now, I can’t help but picture him in one of those houses, pacing around on hard wood floors, clenching his army knife in his pocket, testing the durability of his belt buckle, and facing the limit of his hopelessness. I know my life compared to his is dramatically different, but I’m familiar with how he must have felt then.

Depression is a monster in no shortage of ways. The word itself is ugly and evokes disgusting opinions and speculations and stigmas. When you experience depression, it’s not only like being in a tunnel, it is like being the tunnel itself – cold, hard, dripping, and empty.  The sensation can come on unexpectedly and totally consume you for weeks and months; the onset and endurance of this pain can be coupled with confusion and a sense of brain damage as you recognize how horrible and illogical your thoughts are, and how trapped you feel in the chamber of your emotions. Having self-awareness of the mental illness can make it even worse. On top of feeling isolated and lifeless, you become microscopically aware of the damage your mind is doing to other people, particularly your loved ones, but also to your coworkers, neighbors, acquaintances, and even the names you see as you scroll through Facebook. The pain you feel towards yourself turns into guilt and shame for not being a better sister, daughter, friend, partner, and employee. The shame morphs into sadness, then fear. The fear becomes anger that you point inward; you may start to resent yourself, and this feeds right back into the depression. The illness is a vicious cycle that kicks up more and more dust until you can’t see beyond it at all.

When I hear of anyone taking their life, I can feel my heart sink and flood with my own muscle memories of depression. My blood pressure slows on instinct and I feel weak; my cheeks and eyebrows grow heavy and my emotions are frozen on sadness. I recall the too many times I’ve been hopeless – the times I cried for days beyond what I thought physically possible, the times I could not shed a tear but could wail and moan unconsciously for days and nights without rest, the times I could not bring myself to get out of bed or put on fresh underwear, and the times I behaved like such a zombie that I’d find myself at work or the grocery store, and have no idea how I even got there. You can get trapped in these states for so long that you are convinced there never was a different reality and there never will be. It is, I believe without a doubt, the horrible reality people live in until they resolve to commit suicide.

What pains me now is thinking about the ways I’ve eventually overcome these periods of despair. Whether I needed a silly distraction by listening to comedy or watching Mrs. Doubtfire or Hook, or a sense of compassion and empathy through Dead Poet’s Society or Good Will Hunting, more often than not, Robin Williams was involved. It’s only been a short time since his death, but I can’t imagine when I will be able to see his face or hear his voice, expecting to be lift up, without feeling this deep sadness and loss instead.

Still, I know that when I find myself in or as that dark, enduring tunnel, it will not last forever. For as eternal as it seems at the time, I have to remind myself that my thoughts can be dysfunctional. Even when I’m content, I make it a practice to reflect on my emotions, and remember that thoughts and feelings are not permanent. Nothing in this world really is. As such, hopelessness will eventually break.

I have known for a long time that Robin Williams suffered from depression and other illnesses. I wonder, yet have no idea, if he had confidants to depend on like I have been fortunate to have. I have no clue what his treatment for depression entailed, or if he received any support for it at all. I really don’t know what he was thinking, feeling, or experiencing when he chose to take his last breath, and even if I did, I’m sure it would have been quite difficult for me to change his course of action. Still, I wonder.

I wonder if more people understood depression, and the insufferable throes one with the mental illness goes through, how that would change and help our society. I wonder what would happen if more people who suffer in these ways knew that there are millions of others in this country alone who have experienced the same thoughts and emotions. I wonder if those who are in especially intense pain and hopelessness right now could trust – just for the sake of trusting – that things can truly get better one day. I also wonder how many lives could be saved if we opened up more to the people we know in pain to listen, ask questions, and embrace.

To you who is hurting, you are not alone. We may have never met, but I care about you, and I believe your life is precious. It can be painful and unnerving, it’s true. But even when you are suffering, the world is a better place for having your spirit and energy. The pain will eventually pass, I promise. Until then, know that there is someone, at least one person, who is looking forward to seeing you get through your temporary pain and see what a thoughtful, beautifully complex, and enigmatic person you are alive to be. No matter how dark it seems, you are wanted in this life. You do not have to suffer alone. You can survive. I urge you to survive.

In loving memory of Robin Williams. 1951-2014.