Whatever choice we make, living or dying, we are brave.

Fate and irony often work hand in hand. A few months ago I was sitting here, in the same place, it was colder then and maybe I was slightly more stable but maybe not. Then I was writing about an artist who ended his life through his addiction, today I am writing about another artist who chose to end his life, someone who lived through alcoholism and depression, and played the part of the clown so masterfully we were all fooled until today.

His death took me by surprise, although I was aware, from interviews, of his struggles with alcohol I knew little of his depression. Like most celebrities I imagine he disclosed some but kept most in, I should correct that, like most people we disclose some but keep most in. The invisible illness carries a stigma that is often more difficult to deal with than the "illness" itself. I can only imagine if you are in the public eye that is magnified, and that can only lead to impossible situations and isolation.

Making the decision to take one's life is never an easy one, and it isn't an act of selfishness or cowardice as it is often portrayed. It is something that grows with time, and the more you burden the people around you and the more you hurt them the more it settles. It eventually, in time, becomes part of your identity: the lease for the space you occupy in this world eventually runs out. And so you feel like you are in a constant battle to gain a place to exist, to be worth living, "Am I fighting hard enough? Am I hiding enough of myself to survive? How much more do I have to sacrifice?"  Battling the stigma more than the "illness", and it takes over.

The reality of suicide is far more complex than what is portrayed in the media or what family and friends think. Not to exalt it but it takes an act of insurmountable bravery to give up on living, and often one of selflessness, but one that is taken as a last resort, and there lies the problem. Given a chance most of us would choose life, a long and fulfilling one, but unfortunately both by our own doing and by the societies we are part of  we cannot. The simple act of talking about our depression/bipolar/anxiety/schizophrenia pushes us to the corner, making us outsiders. Not talking about it drags us to a state of nothingness, one of crazy loneliness. There is no way out.

Those around us, those who love us,  don't understand the call of endings, they think a doctor will fix it, or maybe some medication, maybe god. There is no fixing, it remains. Some of us live with the call, we are alive but know death so we choose to remain regardless, hoping one day life will make sense. Others choose not to.Whatever choice we make, living or dying, we are brave. We survived, even for a while, we did.