This is an article I was intending to write two weeks ago, and then last week, and then, well, who knows when I would have gotten around to it. See, I had been stuck in one of my little ruts. My issues aren’t serious, really, but they can make it difficult to be creative. Yesterday, the tragic news regarding Robin Williams appeared, and my first reaction was to scrap the article for a while; I didn’t want it to appear I was piggybacking on the lead news story du jour in an attempt to drive traffic.
The more I thought about it though, it might be the best time for it – because at least right now, people are listening, and they’re talking, and they’re taking time to think about mental illness. Sadly, that window will close somewhat in the coming days and weeks. Hopefully, Mr. Williams’ death will leave it slightly more ajar than it was yesterday.
I am biased as all hell, but the most eloquent way of summarizing mental health issues I’ve ever seen came from my mother’s journals :
June 22nd, 2002 :
“No one has a perfect body – so how can we expect to have a perfect mind?”
It is gut-wrenchingly clear to me now, in transcribing her thoughts [with her blessing before she passed], how much she had battled depression. Nearly every entry contained a harrowing summary of her thoughts that day or a passionate resolve to fight for her happiness; most days included both.