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I understand it. My Maternal Grandfather was a Manic Depressive (back before it was called bi-polar) and struggled with it. I have it in spades, luckily, I have a great doctor and no big stigma against talking about it.
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I mean, when you grow up gay, and you ultimately talk about that, everything else is pretty easy - even the depression. So, it doesn't bug me that I suffer through bouts of depression. I am built along the lines of my grandfather, a Bi-Polar Manic Depressive. My medicine keeps me on an even keel - but it is work.
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And so I am more frustrated and annoyed rather than sad at Robin William's death. Not because I don't understand, but because I understand too easily. It is sad a great talent has passed away.
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But it is frustrating and annoying and scary that he couldn't fight it and win. I get it, depression is a bitch. It sneaks up when you don't realize it and grabs you. It can be triggered by a harsh word, a random event that triggers it for only you, for me it can be triggered by too much pasta or pizza.
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So I know it sits out there, like the Cheshire Cat, appearing and disappearing at unexpected times. Often only visible to me. I am lucky, I have a husband that cares massively and understands it.
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Maybe it is because I understand it myself and have warned him. Maybe it is because he was a house fellow and took training. But for what ever reason, I am lucky. And I am tough.
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And I annoyed Robin Williams couldn't be.
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And scared.