I was supposed to see Linkin Park play in less than two weeks. They are my guilty pleasure band (I know music lovers should proudly like anything they want, but I have some good reasons why I consider them a “guilty pleasure”.) I never managed to get tickets to a show, and finally rectified that this summer. Until yesterday. Chester Bennington hanged himself and took away a father, a musician, a human being who was clearly in a lot of pain. I read that he had experienced childhood sexual abuse, turned to hardcore drug use, and had to get clean more than once. He was also open about the fact that he dealt with daily, crippling depression.
I don’t claim to have an insight on depression. I have “been depressed” when I’ve had bad times, but that is COMPLETELY different from the insidious disease that is clinical depression. When I worked in Human Resources, I recall working with an employee who had that diagnosis and required an unbelievably large amount of time off from work. As a young person who had yet to experience much in the way of sadness or distress, let alone an actual illness, I had a hard time understanding how or why it could be so bad. I was then blessed with a child who’s special needs were apparent within the first few months of his life, although it was impossible to tell at the time how they would manifest. Fortunately, the depression he dealt with early on in life did not rise to the level of suicide (although the school counseled him for suicidal ideation at 7 YEARS OLD without my knowledge – is it any wonder I homeschooled?? p.s. his actual therapist disagreed with the school.) So while I don’t “know” what it’s like, I have had a taste of helping someone I love who simply cannot bring themselves out of difficult thoughts. Without my son, I might still be like the clueless youngster I was when I was in HR so long ago.
I also have the challenge that the person I was going to take to see Linkin Park play deals with mental health issues themselves. I reached out as soon as I learned of the singer’s death to offer support in case they were feeling fragile. The brief exchange we had was a tad worrisome because it expressed concern over their ability to “have hope”, I want them to know I am here for them any time. I have been asked to assist them with getting some more activities that prevent isolation, so I am glad to have opened up the conversation with them. It’s horrible to know that people I love can be so crippled by this disease and I hope I am able to help anyone who needs connection. I will try my best to listen and help; I want others in my life know that I am a sympathetic ear and possibly even a pragmatic helper.
Because in the end, it DOES really matter.