The experience I've had with depression, in regard to how the reactions of the sufferer can effect those around him/her, are extensive. My mother was deeply depressed, and, like Robin Williams, was barely saved in her attempt to "asphyxiate" herself in the early morning hours of a day I will never forget.
Dad had to cut her down, then we children had to call for help on the phone while our father tried desperately to keep Mom from swallowing her tongue. Many minutes late arriving to our home because there were two Franklin Avenues in the county, Dad did everything in his power to keep Mom among the living. Pronounced insane by hospital physicians, Mom was admitted for four years into the state mental hospital where she underwent 23 shock treatments in that time. Released in 1967, she was prescribed one of the "new" pharmaceuticals and given an apartment in government housing where she lived the remainder of her life, until, in 1993, she strolled down to the railroad yard and walked in front of an oncoming train.
For years, we children, all four of us, lived with a mental condition of our own that really had no name in the early '60s, PTSD or post traumatic stress disorder. And, because adults thought, in those days, that children were extremely resilient and could sail through such horror in a breeze, PTSD had a grip on me for decades after the event(s).
I tried church, where I was told one day my miracle would come, read books, and imagined that one day I would actually come out of my isolation and daze. After years of on that route, I had to realize the church had no quick fixes and that I'd have to find a cure somewhere else. It was through John Bradshaw's cutting edge response to family dsyfunction known as "inner child work", I found my way of escape. That little boy still hidden deep inside of me needed to be held, to be told everything is alright, to be nurtured, and shown compassion. I learned to do that, to speak to myself, which is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a quick fix. Long periods of withdrawal and reawakening take place, but I kept at it, along with prayer, and eventually gained ground.
I've read responses on message boards attached to news reports that castigate the one who committed suicide, or attempted to, because the writer recognized the pain the action would cause others. "It's a coward's way out," they often write, and they seem, at times, to be right. It does cause pain to others that can take years, even decades, to heal.
My hope is that the children of Robin Williams aren't looked at as being resilient, but get what they rightfully deserve, solid, professional and reliable counseling that can help lead them out of their trauma. Sometimes PTSD doesn't show up immediately, then suddenly one day, in it comes like a sudden landslide. So, I plead with you to be good to those kids, listen to them, show you care. Don't let them fall through the cracks.
David
Member
Founder
