Good-bye Robin

 

 Two days ago on Monday, August 11, a beloved actor and comedian was found hanging in his house. The coroner's report "death by asphyxiation."  The man who had brought so much laughter into our lives had been plagued with mental illness, and after fighting what could have been a life long diagnosis, Robin lost his battle. By evening, Robin's death was on every channel and overtook the social networks. Yesterday, I opened my Facebook page to see that this had only increased, and I found myself frustrated. Don't get me wrong,the loss of this man is an atrocity for the film world, for his many fans, and most importantly, for his family. But, I found myself wondering, why are we making such a big deal out of it?

    In spite of his fame, Robin was no different that the other 107 people, who according to statistics committed suicide on the same day. No different than the woman found in her car, the man in his apartment, the man in the carry-out, or the man found in his shop. His family is left reeling like others left behind, wondering what they could have done differently.They have now joined a new culture, the group of over 4.8 billion suicide survivors (based on statistics of the number of survivors between 1987-2011).

    The reports say Robin was found hanging from a belt, but on his wrist were superficial cuts, and the knife lay near by. I know these superficial cuts, I bear their faded scars.I have been to the point Robin found himself that morning. I have been to the point that no other option made sense. Luckily, I was able to slowly climb out of its grasps. Luckily, like the estimated 987, 950 who unsuccessfully attempt suicide each year,  I did not succeed. It is shocking to know that every 27 seconds, another person feels this is their only option, and unsuccessfully attempts to end their life. It is shocking to think that we can be so blind to over look so much pain, ignore it, or play it off as nothing.

 I still struggle to keep my depression under control. I have no choice but to pop a few happy pills each day in order to help me through the day. Some may argue and say I do have a choice. I could pray harder, exercise more, find things that make me happy, or just push on (trust me, I have heard it all). They would never say this to the cancer patient, the heart patient, or someone with diabetes. It goes to show how far we have yet to go in understanding. My brain does not produce a chemical needed to keep things on an even keel. It is a medical condition, not a choice. The choice lies in what role I allow it to play in my life, although sometimes, even that feels out of my control. The choice lies in whether I seek assistance and find support to help keep me in check.

   Not only do I understand the pain Robin faced, but I understand the pain that his family and friends are dealing with. Suicide has reared its ugly head in my family way too many times. I have seen the continual devastation and pain it causes. I pray that for Robin,'s family and the families of the others who died on Monday, that people set aside their judgement, reach out to them, and support those who  left behind.

   It is my hope that shock of Robin's death and the sudden surge of  interest in recognizing mental illness does not fade.It is my hope that Robin's death will not overshadow the other 107 who died on Monday, the other 755 who will commit suicide this week, the other 39, 517 who will succeed at suicide this year. Instead I hope that it brings a deeper awareness and understanding of mental illness. I hope it challenges us to check in on others, take a minute to listen, and take a minute to care. I hope,that we, as a society, do not let this interest fade once the shock wears off, but instead we use it as the springboard to spend more time researching, educating ourselves and others to the facts, not the myths of this terrible disease.  I hope that each of us can reach out to those who are battling depression and other mental illness, that we can reach out to those left behind. It is time to set aside our stereotypes, prejudices, and ignorance and learn about the disease that is the third leading cause of death in youth and the tenth leading cause of death in our nation.

    Good-bye, Robin. You were one of the greats! I pray that you have found the peace you searched desperately for in your life. I pray that your legacy lives on, not on the screen or in the thought of lost talent, but in the research and awareness of mental illness.


(Statistics from the American Association of Suicidology, based current data of 2011)

Trusting Him and Letting Go

     I stood in the sanctuary this morning with tears rolling down my face as I sung, well maybe blubbered out the words, "Step by step, You lead me, and I will follow You all of my days. Oh God, You are my God, and I will follow you..." I remember the first time that I heard this song, as a seventeen-year-old new believer, sitting in a Lutheran service. I remember the words speak to me. Following God is what I wanted with my life, nothing more and nothing less. It seems that since then, my walk with Him has taken many turns, climbed many hills, and trudged through many forsaken and barren lands. Through this, the only thing that has remained constant, His love for me. Not my desire to always put Him first, but His unfailing love and ever open arms.

     Today, standing in the sanctuary, my tears readily fell as my arms were outstretched to Him. I meant the words I uttered. For the first time in a long time, I knew that I was where He wanted me to be, and together we were about to embark on an amazing journey. For seventeen years, I have taught children. I started with preschool, went to kindergarten, then to special ed. where I have taught every grade, except kindergarten! I believe it is probably a good estimate to say in the last 17 years, more than 300 students have passed through my classroom. At first, that didn't sound like many, but then I began to think. After my first two years of teaching, the most students I had at one time was 16 due to location or because of special education laws. Many of these children, I have loved like my own. Some I have "raised" in my classroom due to somehow being their teacher for multiple years... One in particular, I got in first grade and had him every year until he was a sophomore.

    Some stop by my house, to grab a quick bite or a can of soda, some email asking for tutoring, or just to ask me to come to their football games to support them. I have received graduation announcements, shown pictures of their children, and been asked if they could crash on the couch. I have bought coats, shoes, clothes, food, school supplies, personal hygiene supplies, and so much more. I have learned family names, been invited to family functions,and been supported by these wonderful families when my oldest child died. These families, were there for me when I couldn't be there for them. To me, teaching was never my job nor my profession; it was my passion, my life; but even more, it was my mission. This is what God had called me to do. He didn't call me just to teach, but to work with children and share His love for each of them: to teach them, love them, and to guide them.

     Now, God has opened a door, not just for me, but for my family, and we are very excited. At first, I thought I could manage both jobs, but in reality I have felt that my time in a classroom was soon coming to an end. I knew I was being lead in a different direction. This week, due to unforeseen circumstances (well, at least unforeseen by me), I knew it was time to let go. Last week, I resigned from teaching knowing that if I ever step return to a classroom, it will be as a volunteer, and eventually, maybe as a sub. This decision was difficult for me, but yet, I have been given a peace that surpasses my rationale.

     Leaving my job plummets our family well below our current mean and style of living. For that matter, it leaves us living below what society calls the "poverty level." It leaves us without health insurance, dental, or vision insurance. This, in itself, is going to require us to shift our thought process and learn to depend on God more than ever. But you see, financially, we may be broke and eating ramen noodles for a bit, but spiritually, we are beyond rich. I know that God will reward our obedience as long as we keep our eyes focused on Him. I know that for the next nine months, I have been given the most amazing gifts--the gift of being a mom. For the first time in my chldren's lives, I will be able to volunteer at their schools, have a lunch date with them, help them. The gift of being able to serve others. For this short time, I will be more readily available to help my aunt as she battles cancer. For the first time, in a long time, I may even try to cook meals. You are right, no need to get carried away.

       I will miss some of my amazing colleagues, Opening Day (which was really more about seeing past colleagues than anything else), and giving my boss a hard time. I will miss my students' faces and the feeling of watching them succeed. I will even miss writing IEP's, believe it or not. (No worries, I won't miss testing, or evaluations). I will miss the daily interactions with students that aren't in my classroom but have come to know. I will miss the smell of school supplies, the shiny floors of a freshly redone hallway.

        This morning in the sanctuary, surrounded by my church family, I found myself singing my prayer, praise, and promise..."step by step You lead me, and I will follow you with all of my heart!"