Six years ago, the suicide of actor and comedian Robin Williams brought such a devastating act to the forefront of our emotions.
A half-dozen year later, as Navy Medicine recognized September as Suicide Prevention Month, we still reflect on the loss of Williams that year.
Along with too many of us, at too many commands, remembering someone lost this year, as well as lamenting the hundreds of other America’s soldiers, Sailors, airmen, and Marines gone in the same solemn span of time.
When Williams was pronounced dead by suicide, the loss of such an enormous talent and ardent supporter of our military was felt by many who thought they had just lost a shipmate, because in a way they had.
When many of us found out that someone we actually knew – not some abstract statistic or some unknown individual - took their own life, we were simultaneously stunned, shocked, and saddened, because we just lost that shipmate.
Back in 2002-2003, when working out of Prince Sultan Air Base, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and traveling to several locales down range - unbeknownst to me at that time - Williams had already been boots on the ground and was coming back again.
I missed out getting to see him. Those who did attest his infectious humor gave them a jolt of remembering what it was like to be able to laugh and smile, sentiments not easy to come by at that time north of the Hindu Kush. It was an unforgiving land wracked by decades of war.
The Army, Air Force, Navy, and Marine personnel who had the opportunity to see Williams in November 2002 were a hardened fighting force undertaking deployments a long way from more than just home. They were working out of such places as Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan; Karsi-Khanabad, Uzbekistan, and Ganci Air Base, Kyrgyzstan.
Williams’ gift of comedy was an offering of selfless sharing and manic inclusiveness. His performances talked directly to those in uniform, almost as if he was encompassing and articulating all the random and ribald thoughts the troops had. It was as if he was one of those in uniform, and they in turn were part of him.
Classic Williams: “We’re here at the third hole of the Afghan Open,” he shared in a television golf announcer’s muted tone to his military audience. “We can’t play the tenth hole, because it’s still mined.”
Several days after Thanksgiving that November, there was the inaugural Mine Field Marathon at Bagram. Perhaps the course coordinators were channeling their inner-Robin Williams. Instead of a traditional starter's pistol or air horn to commence the run, they detonated – you guessed it – a land mine to begin the run.
I didn’t know Williams as much as I knew of him. I knew he gave willingly of his comedy gift to help others cope when stationed so far away from home.
I did know, as did many others at NHB, one of our own who is now gone. He also gave willingly. He shared his compassion and care as a member of our command and as a United States Navy Sailor.
He was one of those individuals who went out of his way to help others in their time of need. When asked why he did such a thing, he replied, “it’s in my heart and soul.”
Four years later, his heart and soul are gone.
Along with the residual shock and associated sadness is a sense of profound frustration. How could he take his own life?
What about those others we’ve lost this year alone?
The Navy alone has had 53 active-duty and seven reserve Sailors take their life to date this year. Don’t need an calculator to tally that alarming total of finality.
If it’s above zero it’s too many.
What can we do, or not do? What can we say, or not say, if we sense someone is seriously bummed?
“Those of us involved in the healthcare mission, and as members of a cohesive Navy team, are engaged in suicide awareness and prevention efforts all year long. For us, suicide prevention must continue to be a year-round effort,” shared Capt. Shannon J. Johnson, NHB commanding officer, asking each staff member – active duty, civil service, contractor, volunteer – to continue to be mindful of how co-workers and all team-members are doing, both personally and professionally.
“Please focus on practicing compassion with your colleagues and teammates, and just as importantly, please be compassionate with yourself. We all have our challenges and difficult days, but our challenges and difficulties do not define us. Your strength is greater than your obstacles. Help is always available, and there is always a way for things to get better. None of us has to do this alone. Reaching out and asking for help is a sign of strength,” Johnson said, adding that if anyone believes another might be in trouble, ACT (Ask Care Treat)!
A-ASK if someone is thinking about suicide.
C-Let them know you CARE.
T- Get him or her to TREATMENT as soon as possible.
“Assure them that seeking treatment is a sign of strength,” stressed Johnson.
The Navy’s Suicide Awareness website notes that one in five people will experience at least one episode of major depression in their lifetime.
From a well-known figure like Robin Williams six years ago, to a well-regarded shipmate, and the 53 active-duty and seven reserve Sailors that have been lost forever already this year, experiencing such an episode very possibly contributed to ending their life.
It’s up to all of us to help make a difference. Don’t wait or hesitant to do just that.
Suicide Prevention resource sites:
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK
Navy Suicide Prevention Program Website: www.suicide.navy.mil
For more information, and to take an anonymous self assessment go to: http://www.militarymentalhealth.org/
Date Taken: | 09.30.2019 |
Date Posted: | 09.30.2019 16:33 |
Story ID: | 344756 |
Location: | BREMERTON , WASHINGTON, US |
Web Views: | 1,476 |
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This work, More than a statistic – Suicide takes a toll, by Douglas Stutz, identified by DVIDS, must comply with the restrictions shown on https://www.dvidshub.net/about/copyright.