Helena is my truth teller. She doesn’t pry, try to fix me, or even know me that well, but she reached out and told me she understood. In fact, as of late, I have several bloggy friends who have formed a casual support group. Sometimes, something will trigger depression but depression doesn’t need a reason and those who suffer from it understand this. I don’t know why but just knowing I am not alone helps; which in a way, seems totally screwed up because I hate that anyone else has to fight depression.

Yesterday morning Helena wrote a poem that mimicked the voices inside my head and it spurred me to write. I wrote a few verses between hers and ended up with the poem below. All of this happened before we heard of Robin Williams death.

I spent hours reading shocked condolences to his family, remembrances, and heartbroken goodbyes. Among these sentiments were some who talked of God and of Hell, who lashed out at those who commit suicide as selfish and uncaring bastards. These sentiments were directed at me and all of those who suffer at the hands of depression.

And yes depression has hands because it holds them over our mouths so we don’t speak, it holds them over our eyes so we can’t see, and it holds them over our ears so we don’t hear. At times it DEMANDS our full attention. Depression is a selfish bastard.

I have a daughter and it nearly had me convinced she would be better off without me. I am ashamed that I almost listened. Had it not been for a friend brave enough to wade into depression’s waters to reach me, I would have drowned with depressions voice being the last voice ringing in my ears.

You are messing her up by staying. She is smart, she can see more than you think. You are going to screw her up. At least with you gone your husband and daughter have a chance. ~Depressions Voice

I know celebrities are just people but he wasn’t just a celebrity was he? He is a legend. He killed himself possibly fighting the same demons that seek to destroy many of us. Depression killed him. So many people lose and I want to find a way to win.

It takes more than drugs.

It takes more than love.

It takes more than therapy.

It takes an understanding community.

It takes people willing to brave someone’s sadness.

With all the quotes about surrounding oneself with happy people is it really a wonder none of us want to show our sadness???

WRITTEN BY HELENA HANN-BASQUIAT AND HASTYWORDS

I drank ’til I could drink no more
and you were drinking me
I showed the world my secret face —
they didn’t want to see

I opened up my scarlet cloak
exposing a predator beneath
and with a painful vile vulgarity
sharpened words I did unsheathe

I kicked the shins of gratitude
spitting on all those who cared
I sabotaged each friendship
‘til they could never be repaired

I raised all my pain on venom
and let poison be my heir
The future never mattered
because I didn’t want to care

I drowned on my own vomit,
from self-inflicted wounds I bled
Locked up inside cold prison walls
I’d built inside my head

With broken guilt I sacrificed
and eventually went mad
I became the laughing hatter
and killed the things that made me sad