The Darkness Is A Wicked Place

A lot of people are shocked about Robin Williams taking his own life, but I can't say I am. To me, he always seemed to have this air of sadness about him, even when he was at his loudest and most entertaining. For some reason it always felt like a facade, like this was his role for us. All I wanted was for him to turn off the noise and get real. To drop the joking around and get serious for a minute.

His death is probably the realest he's ever been. 

Suicide is tragic. It's always so confusing for people. It's hard to understand how someone so successful and beloved could take their own life. Didn't he have friends? A wife? Family? Yeah, suicide is tragic but it's also not simple. Money and loved ones have nothing to do with it. A scary thought, isn't it? That no matter how rich, successful and loved you are, depression can still get the best of you. Yes, this man had money and people, a wife and kids, who loved him, but he also had a mental illness. 

And mental health is a tricky thing. We all have good and bad days, even those of us who aren't suffering from anxiety and depression. There are highs and lows for us all. Except, some of us can't reason our way out of the lows. Sometimes the lows are so low we can't fathom ever having a high again. The simple act of living another moment in this miserable world is unbearable, so we do something about it. We bow out. 

We all understand the darkness and have experienced at least a fragment of it.What we don't understand is how consuming it can be, how suffocating and daunting, the sinking feeling that it will never get better. For me, death has never been a solution to get out of the darkness, still I know those who have turned towards it for an answer. The thing about suicide is, it doesn't stop things from getting worse. In fact, it only eradicates the hope of it being better. Those people who dwell in the darkness sometimes forget that fact. 

The darkness is a wicked place. If allowed, it will seep in and cloud the senses, dismantling rational thinking and destroying common sense in its wake. When the darkness is at its thickest, you cannot see the good, there is no hope or bright side there. Just an abyss of pain and fear and worry. If we're lucky, light is filtered in through people and things we love. In a room of pitch black, the flicker of a match can be enough to guide us to the other side. Sometimes no light arrives, though. Sometimes the darkness wins.

What I find most tragic is the joy we experience from these people who are trapped in the darkness. Despite the laughter and love they spread, they are broken and lost. Unhappy. Unhealthy. It burdens my heart to see someone exit the stage before their time. To decide they don't want to live here anymore. Live with us. Those are selfish thoughts, for sure, because this isn't about me, or us. It's about the darkness of depression, how heavy it is, how difficult it is to get out from under. 

I am saddened to hear Robin Williams didn't find his way out of the darkness. His demons were only compounded by his addictions, both of which he failed to fully escape, even in death they are haunting him. It's heartbreaking to think he never experienced the same joy he gave to others so freely. I only hope he has found peace wherever he is now.   

Mental illness is an unpredictable beast. The journey is long and hard, repetitious, but if you're lucky you will find the light to pull you through, and keep finding it every time you get lost in the darkness. And I will keep holding a match for you, on the off chance you are looking for my light. 

The Little Kid Feeling

Remember way back when you were a little kid and you saw something knew and a feeling of wonderment and excitement passed over you. How you could stare up at a rainbow or watch lightning fork the sky and have to pause to take  it in simply because it left you breathless. How you used to lay down in the grass, look up at the limitless blue sky and form pictures from the clouds. Times when you would sit cross legged in the park and try to coax a squirrel over to you with a peanut.

Remember how those things were awesome and, for the fleeting time you spent there in the moment, you were happy and astonished. It's one of the best feelings. That total sense of awe at the world around you.

Sometimes, if you're lucky, you have that little kid feeling when you are an adult. Sometimes the bitterness is put on hold, the harshness of the world falls away and you find yourself in a moment of unsullied amazement. It's those experiences that should stay with us. We should hold them inside, revisit them whenever possible, so we don't forget how exquisite life can be.

These small moments of wonder happen to me a fair bit. When I am out in the forest, searching for adventure, and the sky splits apart and rain falls from the heavens with such a ferocity you'd think it was mourning the loss of something grand. Listening to the sea lions bark at each other at Fanny Bay. Spying a deer at the side of the road grazing on lush green grass. Seeing anything for the first time, like a moose ambling across a roadway, or a mother with her cubs. A piece of cake I can eat. Or watching a bird fly, how it soars through the sky without thought to the magic it is displaying.

Today my little kid feeling came from a bumblebee. A very big bumblebee with an orange belt, We are talking loonie sized. Freeing it from the salon. Watching as it took to the sky. There was that sense of joy and astonishment.

That feeling is what I am grateful for. That I still have it. And hopefully always will.

 

Oh, Mr. Sun

I think I can speak for everyone in the Comox Valley when I say, today was an absolutely gorgeous day. There is a reason why the West Coast is the Best Coast. It's March 31st and the weather was dreamy. After work, I went home and sat in the front yard with the boys. We simply soaked up the sun. The gloriously warm sun. It felt as if I was saying hello to a long lost friend, a lovely one that I'd missed so much. 

Despite my extensive vocabulary, words cannot explain how nice it was to simply sit on my porch and bask in the sunshine. And that's why we have pictures. I happened to snap one of Dixon that basically sums up how I felt. 

Look at that face. Utter joy!

Anyhow, I am grateful for living on the Best Coast. I mean, to think all those East Coasters talking about snow storms and such. Suckers!