I was going to post on facebook, something along the lines of: Hearing about Robin Williams committing suicide is really scary. If someone like him can fall to depression, what hope for the rest of us with our shitty little lives? I've never attempted suicide, but I've come pretty close in the past. And for a lot of us depression is a lifelong battle - he was 63 - do I have another thirty years of this to look forward to?
Then I remembered that I have a bunch of relatives and acquaintances on facebook. Most of them know about my depression - it's not exactly a secret - but they don't necessarily know how bad it's been, and I don't want them to know. Come to think of it, some of my nearest and dearest don't really know that; I don't think I've ever explicitly told them that oh, yeah, that time I went into therapy was because I had an actual plan to kill myself rather than just the normal vague thoughts.
It's not an easy conversation to start, is it? "How do you think things would be different if I'd killed myself five years ago? Would you have named the kid for me, somehow?"
I haven't been seeking out comments on the subject, but they're pretty hard to avoid right now. I read a couple of articles on the link between comedy and depression, which just made me think, great, I'm depressed and I don't even have the decency to be funny about it. Apparently Robin Williams was bipolar, which makes a great deal of sense to me, because straightforward depression doesn't exactly lend itself to, y'know, doing things, but the manic phases do.
Oh, I don't know.
I've actually been on something of an up lately, and I've actually been doing things round the house, but the last few days my back/shoulder has been hurting and I have acquired a boob rash, so boo to that.
And it's long enough since I posted here that everything's changed. World spins madly on, I guess.