Like millions in my generation, Robin Williams’s films were touchstones of my childhood and adolescence. I remember the time my parents thought they bought us Aladdin, but it turned out to be a knock-off version (Not. The. Same.) One of the first VHS’s I ever received as my own personal copy was Hook. We watched Mrs. Doubtfire pretty much whenever it ran in syndication, even years after the film had come out. And I wished that Robin Williams was my captain in Dead Poet’s Society. (I was also appropriately creeped out by the psychological thriller One Hour Photo and uplifted/saddened by the story of Patch Adams.)

Years ago (nearly a decade), I started a webzine for writing by and for teens. It was short-lived, but one of the comments in the forums was from a girl who wanted to know if it was still okay to be really sad years after her mother’s death. I was an English major and had never lost a parent, and didn’t feel like I could offer much. I could only say that she should reach out to somebody, perhaps her school counselor or therapist. I didn’t hear back, and I still think about that comment. I hope that she is okay, and that life – while different – is still worth it to her.

What a responsibility we have as people that open ourselves up in our art and/or online. When we invite others into our world, we also invite their world into ours. Even if it’s just a small part of their world. Even if they struggle and never share it with us. Even if every comment is a “nice post!”

If you are struggling with depression or emotional distress, please reach out.

Call 1-800-273-TALK.

Veterans can also call 1-800-273-8255 – same number as before – and press 1.

If you have other resources, please leave them in the comments.