Yesterday’s news of the death of Robin Williams hit me hard.  He has been my favorite comic since I watched his first guest appearance on Happy Days.  (Of course, I really watched “Happy Days” because of Chachi…Scott Baio was my one of my main squeezes during the 70s, the other being Donny Osmond, but that’s a story for another day.)  I never missed an episode of “Mork and Mindy” when my dad, not being a sitcom fan, would let me watch it.  But even he came to love Robin Williams’s wit and humor.  Watching “Mrs. Doubtfire” with my dad was one of the most enjoyable moments of my life…it always cracks me up to hear my daddy laugh, and that night, he never stopped laughing.

One of the things I enjoyed most about Robin Williams was his ability to actually become the characters he played.  His impersonations were flawless, and he breathed life into any role he took on.  That’s why it was so shocking to me to learn how deeply he struggled with depression.  How could this person, who made the world laugh, be terminally sad?  How could he, whose character in “Patch Adams” spoke of happiness as being the best cure of all diseases, feel as if ending his life was the only answer to his pain?   Although we’ve made progress as a society toward accepting those with mental illnesses, we have far, far to go before we can completely remove the stigma associated with depression and other mental disorders.  When will we learn that depression is at its most basic level a chemical imbalance in the brain, much like diabetes is a chemical imbalance in the pancreas?  Why is it, when you have an illness like epilepsy, it’s a legitimate physical ailment worthy of treatment, but when you suffer with depression, you’re just crazy and you need to get over it?

I know what it’s like to be depressed.  As Mrs. Figg put it in “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban”, it’s like all the happiness has gone from the world.  Because I know this, it’s very easy for me to spot a child who is struggling with depression.  They become disinterested in friends and activities in which they were once involved; they become loners; their personalities completely change.  Yet, so often, they are embarrassed to reach out for help because they know too well that the stigma attached to counseling and treatment may be far worse than suffering silently.  Image is everything to middle school students…admit to a mental illness and you may as well be committing social suicide.  We, the adults in their lives, have failed our children in this area.  We are the ones who set the example for them that it’s not ok to struggle mentally and emotionally.  Think about it…how many times do you answer, “Fine, thank you” to someone who asks how you are, even when you’re not?  Our children see this, and they get the message.  “Fake it till you make it” is not the answer to dealing with a child who is struggling with depression, because sadly, so many of our children do NOT make it.

If you love a child, please take the time to learn about depression and other mental illnesses. Know the children in your life so intimately that you realize the very moment that something about them changes.  Become familiar with the signs of depression, and make sure your kids are comfortable enough to come to you for help.  Above all, let them know that mental illnesses are no different from physical illnesses…they both hurt, they both can kill, but they both can be treated.  There should be no shame in the suffering, and no shame in the cure.

In “The Dead Poet’s Society,” Robin Williams says, “You must strive to find your own voice. Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all. Thoreau said, ‘Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.’ Don’t be resigned to that. Break out!”  Be the voice for those who are struggling with to break out.  Be the voice for the desperate.

Nanu, nanu, Robin…thanks for the laughter.  See you on the other side of the galaxy.