To hell with this, I am one of the millions...

Enough is enough. We have lost a giant to his demons. He's not the first and he won't be the last, but I can't sit around anymore and act like I'm perfectly fine. If more of us admit there is a problem, perhaps that will put an end to the stigma of depression and addiction in this world.

So here it is: five and a half years ago I was diagnosed with depression (nothing as serious as bipolar disorder or other diseases that can plague some but depression nonetheless). Let's be honest things aren't all that bad for me--quite the opposite in fact. I have family who love me and gave me everything I could possibly want or need growing up and a wife who now does the same today. My friends would die before they let anything happen to me as I would for them. That said, none of that matters because this disease does not discriminate and you cannot always control how you feel or what bothers you or what makes you low. As I think back upon my life and some of the ways I have reacted to my experiences, I have come to realize I've been battling this particular demon for far longer than I even knew. I am lucky that I discovered outlets in my life that have taken the brunt of the pain, and I do not not have to turn to substance abuse to fuel my highs or lows. 

My addiction is to excess in work and sport: sixty-hour weeks plus pounding the pavement or hitting the trails to train my body for faster and faster times. Stupid I know, but I also know for a fact that these activities have kept my demons at bay. Fortunately, these things are much more creative than the drug or alcohol addiction that is in my blood. That said, it can switch in an instant and I know that when I pour my third, lonely glass of bourbon on a Wednesday night that I should turn it off--luckily I can. But I can't turn off the depression. It's there. Always. I have good days and bad, and the good days are a lot better and numerous than they used to be and my bad days aren't nearly as low either. 

This is not a cry for help from me. Trust me; I am fine now. It is cry for help for you... Reach out to your friends and family and tell them. They will not judge you. You're not a burden to them. This is why you have them. I wish I had reached out to more of my friends and family years ago instead of them having to discover this now. 

Please, talk to a professional--trust me; they help. I can't emphasize that enough particularly when you feel violent toward yourself or others. That was my wake up call six years ago before my diagnosis. 

Reach out to someone who can help you. 

Friends, if you can tell someone is not right in the head talk to them about it; don't let them stew. If they're as stubborn as I have been they will wait until it is too late. Robin Williams' death has created in me the need to take action and remove the stigma from this. I have depression. There it is. It is not taboo any longer. And, I do not care what future employer or client reads this. We are all broken in one way or another; let's admit it and ask for help so yesterday's tragedy doesn't hit closer to home than it already has or how it feels it already did.

You don't need to do reach out in an egotistical, look-at-me sort of way either (the way I obviously am). Just be honest with yourself and open with your loved ones. Ask for help. It is okay, and it will be better tomorrow and the day after that...

Trust me.