Bob and I have both heard and read a lot about mental illness lately. The death of a beloved man of Robin Williams' fame and stature creates conversation.
We've both spent our time in the trenches.
As a senior pastor, Bob has seen and counseled many with broken lives; people afflicted by debilitating illnesses of all kinds.
Most of my experiences have taken place closer to home.
I'm 54 years old and I've never known a single day that wasn't touched by mental illness, in one way or another.
My daughter is heavily bi-polar with borderline personality disorder and mild schizophrenia. She has attempted suicide; partly out of despair and partly because she thought she was being told to do so. The thought of my only child hearing voices terrifies me.
My great grandfather, grandfather and father were also mentally ill. My father’s family presents a long line of folks who have angrily struggled; many of whom didn’t have medications to soften the pain. They hadn’t been invented yet.
I am clinically depressed.
The depression I've always battled with is controlled with a cocktail of prescriptions written by a psychiatrist that's been treating me for years. His regimen has been a life-saver, literally. It wasn't so long ago that I could barely get out of bed. The depression clouded my brain like a heavy wet towel. I was unable to make sense of my daily activities. Ordinary conversation was difficult. Problem solving was nearly impossible. I slept. A lot.
I too contemplated suicide. More than once.
There are days when the wet towel catches up to me. No matter how many pills are swallowed and how many sessions of counseling are received, depression is an insidious monster that must be monitored. One day you're ok, the next day you're not.
I’m horrified that the event that forced our eyes open to the plague of mental illness was the loss of a brilliant and decent human being. But perhaps the tragedy of Robin Williams’ death will remind us that we have the ability to right some wrongs.
Many Facebook posts at the time of his death said that we need to lose the "stigma" that surrounds the discussion and treatment of mental illness.
No doubt.
Here’s an easy way to begin that process.
Watch your mouth.
Stop using terms like nut job, mental midget, lunatic, crazy, freak, fruit loop or mad as a hatter.
Don’t call anyone names that make fun of conditions that are anything but amusing.
Don’t do it even if you’re only kidding around with friends or family. You never know who among you is suffering in silence.
If we lose the negative vernacular, we might stand a chance of helping some folks who are afraid to reach out and get well.
Speak of those with disabilities as Jesus would. The words that you're about to say...could you hear HIM saying them?
It’s too late to save Robin Williams. But it’s not too late for others who may be afraid to get help,who feel ashamed and alone.
Change can and MUST begin with us.
