Chris Cornell died this week. Another icon of my formative years gone. He died of depression. The very beast that has held me captive on and off my entire life. I was first taken to a therapist at 7. I felt unloved, and like I didn’t matter. That I could disappear and no one would care. This was only self-proven when I’d hide for hours and no one would come looking. No one knows I did this, and it will break my mom’s heart to read, but it was an ongoing theme in my mind even if it wasn’t true in hers.
When ever I hear another big and famous has lost their battle, it hits deep because they could get the best help available. But it didn’t matter. Robin Williams hit me hardest, and most recently, the founder of the semicolon movement, Amy Bleuel.
I’m in a pretty good place right now with the sun coming back, and a new job at a supportive work place. This helps me to see him as sick, and not sink in to the ‘if he can’t beat it why do I think I can?!’
Read this article. It speaks volumes.