To: Zelda Williams

I thought for quite a long time before writing these words. I try to be open about it and not keep it as an embarrassing dark secret from my past. But it’s still mine, very close to me, something which is very personal. Please keep that in mind. But maybe it’s time to stop being silent about some things.

The news about Robin Williams dying impacted me in a strange way. I didn’t know the guy, really, and life did toughen me quite a bit throughout the years. I’m not as emotional as I used to be. But I cried. Because Robin was an important person at one important point in my life, even though I never met him in any way other than in his movies.

I was sick. I don’t know when exactly it began, when it ended. I don’t even believe it even ended, my body and mind just adapted, created some psychological antibodies, but this sickness will be with me to the end. It’s not a very positive thing to believe in, but I think it’s at least close to the truth.

I won’t get into details, but less than 10 years ago I had depression. I don’t know what caused it. Maybe it was with me all along, maybe some changes in my life brought it to life. In a way, it doesn’t matter. The fact is — I was really sick. I knew it for some time. I suffered, each and every day. I was in the darkest place I have ever been in.

I remember very few only positive days from back then. But I do remember days after days of my heart hurting me, to the point that I curled into fetal position, to the point of physical pain. I remember a very dark side of me, inside my own head. I personified it. I called it “Him”. “He” was with me every day. “He” was telling me things. That my life is worthless, that I am worthless. That people I love don’t love me back. That those kind words, this kind gesture from someone I care about — it’s a lie. She really didn’t mean it, she just done it because I’m pathetic. “He” gave me advices. That it would be much better to end my life. So much better for me and for people around me. It was so real, it was so true to me. Sometimes I believed “him”.

I remember vividly one day. I was in the bathroom, about to take a shower. I looked at the shower hose and (almost) couldn’t resist wrapping it around my neck. I saw in my head, how wonderful it would make me feel. I would feel some pain, but then everything would be better. For everybody. I almost did it. Almost. Instead I sat down and cried for a long time. That same week, after ending the day at the university (those rare cases when I actually built the strength to get out of bed and went there), I texted my mom that I need help. She didn’t ask much. Replied that when I get back in town on weekend, she found a psychiatrist which will see me.

Another part of my life started back then. A part which I don’t remember well. And I usually remember. I was seeing a lady psychiatrist on weekends. I took some drugs which supposed to help me. We were talking. I didn’t believe it was helping me back then. I took the pills which was suppose to give me some energy, but before they worked I went back to bed, back to sleep. We were talking, she was telling me about places in Warsaw (where I studied) that I should see. And I promised I would see them. I never did. But one step at a time, one sentence out of whole conversation, I was changing. I think I started to believe back then that I (and only I) can change things in my life.

I remember that’s where Robin Williams came into my life. Not just as an actor, which I already knew, but a person. I read somewhere that he’s suffering from depression. And I looked at him and his life and, somehow, said to myself — if he can live his life with that sickness, if he can not only do that, but to be successful, to make other people’s lives better. Maybe there’s a chance for me. In some strange, unexplainable way, even for me — he became very close to me. As an idea, a symbol, a normal living person.

I started to change my life. Tried to be closer with my family. “He” didn’t go away, not right away. And I couldn’t just ignore “Him”. But I could fight back. I stopped just listening, I started arguing, fighting with that part of me which wanted to destroy me and my life. Each time my own mind, “Him”, tried to beat me, I did fight back. Each time something good happened to me, I tried to take the most out of it. I tried to store it deep inside my heart, because I knew I will need it when the dark times come. My heart became like a battery for good energy. “You say she doesn’t love me? Well — I love her and I don’t believe you. We’ll see who’s right!”. One of many “conversations” I had to have in my head back then.

It wasn’t a movie. I didn’t take my life in my own hands one day and transformed it into something amazing, “The End”. There were still dark times. I still cried. I still had my doubts. But I found strength inside me. Strength to fight. To try this one more time. I had my loved ones to help, to support. Each of them in their own way. And I believe that without their love and care, I wouldn’t be here right now. Because there were times where I was very fragile. With one more punch from life, I would have break.

But I won.

It’s less than 10 years from those moments. And I’m still here. I can’t pinpoint the moment when “He” disappeared from my life. When the first whole week without dark thoughts happened. But it’s all in the past. It’s all “just” a memory. As I said. I try not to lie to myself. I think I’m still sick, and I will die sick. I don’t believe that you can cure depression completely, without taking drugs, which will make you numb for both — good and bad parts of life (I don’t take drugs after after I stopped seeing my doctor). There are bad things which happen to all of us in life. That’s life. And some of them will strike me more than an average person. I’m just like that. And I learned to accept that. But I also learned that I can fight back. I earned this strength that I can use. And try, sometime really hard, to stay. Not to quit, not to give up. Just one more try, one more day, and maybe the good side (of life, of me, etc.) wins.

To Zelda Williams: You and your father was an inspiration for this whole thing. Just wanted to show you that there are people in this world, on the internet that are good. And which your father helped to change their life for the better. He gave them hope, even if he never knew about it. I will be always grateful for this.

To people struggling with depression: Don’t give up. Don’t be afraid. It can be better. It always can be better. Just try. Just one more day, one more time. Fight.