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In the days after the suicide of Robin Williams there has been so much talk about depression and suicide. The day after the news was reported I stayed away from the internet because I was so upset.

It was sucker punch to the gut…that a man who made others smile and laugh, whom never really was without a smile or a laugh himself, was so deep in that pit of depression that he believed his only way to find peace was to end his life.

At least that is what I was thinking. Truth is I didn’t know him…but I know depression…I know suicide.

I have had two friends commit suicide.

I have tried to commit suicide.

When something like this happens comments of the person who committed suicide being a “coward” , of course will surface.

Because anyone who suffers depression is too afraid to fight to get out from under it? Is that why someone would be called a coward?

As someone that I swallowed a bottle of pills, held a blade to my wrist, tied a plastic bag over my head I was at that place because I had fought. I fought long and hard and kept waiting for the light to come…so when it didn’t I took the steps to do one of the hardest things I know…ending my life.

Clearly none of my attempts were successful…because I wasn’t strong enough. Apparently I didn’t want to end my life so vehemently.

I remember each time.

How I started to get sleepy with the pills but I also got naueous…instead of dealing with it. Instead of being strong…Instead of sticking with my decision I dragged my body to the bathroom, forced my fingers down my throat.

How I stretched the bag over my head, squeezed it tight and sealed with tape. Tears rolling down my face. My cats on the bed with me, sniffing. I remember my breathing becoming short. I could have closed my eyes. I should have…but there was a fear inside of me. So I clawed my way out.

The blade…lotion, water, drunk…eyes shut closed…no matter I couldn’t muster up the courage to slice my wrist.

Committing suicide may seem like a cowards way out to some. To me I was the coward for NOT going through with it.

And please understand my fear wasn’t about wanting to live.
I DID NOT want to LIVE.
My fear, the strength I didn’t have was all about being afraid to die.

I was afraid of THE ACT of dying. That isn’t the same as being afraid of dying.

During that time I didn’t care if I lived or died. My destructive behavior proved that.

I don’t remember when the desire to die lessened. What it was that snapped me into the light, out of the dark.

And has only reappeared as an afterthought of how my mind and heart worked in the past.

Now my daily, weekly…monthly battle with depression? Ehhh, let’s save that for another post.

Funny how we are told to “think of yourself first”, “your happiness must come first” before you can make others happy… Yet if doing that has an end result of suicide you are a selfish, coward.


I pray that Robin Williams has found the peace that he was searching for.

If you are suffering from depression please know you are not alone. Please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline @ 800-273-8255