If someone were to die at the age of 63 after a lifelong battle with MS or Sickle Cell, we’d all say they were a “fighter” or an “inspiration.” But when someone dies after a lifelong battle with severe mental illness and drug addiction, we say it was a tragedy and tell everyone “don’t be like him, please seek help.” That’s bullshit. Robin Williams sought help his entire life. He saw a psychiatrist. He quit drinking. He went to rehab. He did this for decades. That’s HOW he made it to 63. For some people, 63 is a fucking miracle. I know several people who didn’t make it past 23 and I’d do anything to have 40 more years with them.

anonymous reader on The Dish

One of the more helpful and insightful things I’ve seen about depression/suicide in the last couple of days.

(via mysweetetc)

I’ve been thinking about this. Also, I read a comment from a younger person with depression, who said, “63 years old, and it never got better?” He was terrified at the thought of so many more years living with depression. 

Williams was a fighter to make it so long. I like to think that the work he did in comedy and drama helped him. Why else are so many minds with forms of mental illness drawn to the arts or other creative work? We have to get it out of us somehow, at least in pieces, at least for a while. 

(via sarajaneadventures)

(via lissalo)