The world was shaken this week by the news that Robin Williams had taken his own life.
The Oscar-winning actor brought joy to millions with his iconic turns in movies as wide-ranging as Aladdin, Good Will Hunting and Jack. But off-screen Robin was contending with long-term depression.
The news of his death shows that anyone can suffer from depression and suicidal tendencies. Depression is an illness and its darkness can pervade the lives of even the most charismatic and comic, not to mention successful.
As Dara O'Briain tweeted following the news:
Beth Murphy, head of information at Mind explains: "Depression can often be the root, but the reasons and feelings behind suicidal thoughts can be incredibly complex and differ from person to person.
"For some, it can feel like the only way of stopping a situation that feels too difficult to bear. For others, it may feel impossible to make sense of why they feel this way."
<p style="text-align: center;">
"Typing a suicide note as an email, I saved it in my drafts folder, ready to send to my friends once I got to the River Exe. I'd had suicidal feelings before, but this time was different - I was determined.
I'd been left with post-traumatic stress disorder after being abused as a child. But I really crashed in February 2013 when I split up with my partner. My self-hatred came to a head and I was admitted to hospital after self-harming. It wasn't an attempt to kill myself, but a coping mechanism, a way of trying to get the pain out.
After that, though, I started thinking seriously about suicide and decided how I'd do it. That evening, I told my housemate I was going onto campus, but instead, I headed to the river. My plan was to take pills and then go in, too out of it to swim. I huddled by the quayside. In only a T-shirt and thin cardigan, my bones ached from the damp cold. There was very little light, and the river looked black and ominous, but somehow that reassured me, as I felt certain I'd die in there.
I took out my phone and sent the email, relieved that it was finally time, but filled with sadness that I wouldn't see my friends again. When I put the mobile down on the grass beside me, it started ringing almost immediately, but I didn't answer. I was scared, but felt my friends would be disappointed if I didn't go ahead with it. I was sure they'd be better off without me around - that's how warped my thinking had become. I sat there, crying and panicking.
At some point, I phoned the emergency services. The man on the other end refused to stop talking to me - he said he wasn't going to let me go until the ambulance arrived. We got disconnected - I had the pills ready, but he rang me back and it jolted me that a stranger could care that much. Eventually, I saw torch lights as the paramedics searched for me, and I went towards them.
I began psychotherapy two months later. We talk about my emotions and my therapist helps me understand where they come from; for example, I struggle a lot with shame and she has helped me see the abuse was the source of that.
I started my degree in sociology and criminology again last year. Things are up and down, but I realise now that feeling low is a sign that I've made progress, because I feel safe enough to let myself experience those feelings. I do a lot of songwriting, which is very therapeutic. It's still difficult, but compared to how I was, I'm so different. I understand now how much people care about me."
"Sitting on my bed, I quickly swallowed the tablets, feeling numb - I just wanted it all to be over. My mum found me lapsing in and out of consciousness. In the ambulance, I sobbed, 'I don't want to die, I just want the pain to end.'
I'd been struggling with depression and self-harming from the age of 14 and at school I was bullied, which exacerbated my problems. At 16, I plucked up the courage to ask my GP for help, but she said it was just a phase. I felt I had nowhere to turn, so I withdrew into myself and didn't tell anyone how I was feeling.
When I went to university to study theatre, I began hearing voices that told me to hurt myself. People thought I was on drugs because my moods changed so quickly. I could go from being very down one day, to hyper or aggressive the next morning. I told a friend I was thinking about killing myself and she was so worried, she confided in someone else, who contacted the police. I was terrified when they turned up at my halls of residence to take me to hospital.
After that, I went home to Leeds, but my self-harming and the voices intensified, and I ended up in hospital again. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which was a huge relief: finally I knew what was wrong. For the next three months, I attended hospital appointments daily with psychiatrists and mental health nurses, and took antidepressants and antipsychotics. I started to feel calmer.
I thought I was ready to go back to university in September 2010, but I fell behind. When I went back home for Christmas, I felt overwhelmed: I'd tried to start afresh at uni but it hadn't worked, and I was exhausted with feeling low for so long. It was then that I made my suicide attempt.
Over the next few months I drifted a bit - I briefly went back to uni, but my confidence was very low. The turning point finally came when I contacted Mind. Their employment support team helped me get a job, which was brilliant because it meant I had a routine. I decided to use some of my salary to pay for a counsellor. Amazingly, I'd never been offered therapy before. Being able to open up was like a light coming on in my life.
I began to think about my future, and after my experiences, I decided I wanted to help people. I started working as a healthcare assistant in a hospital, which I love. I often see people coming in after taking overdoses and can't believe that was once me. I've decided to train as a nurse so I can do even more.
I've discovered running, too - it's great for cleansing my mind and I feel so much fitter. Earlier this year, I ran the London Marathon. It might sound strange, but I'm glad about everything that happened to me. If I hadn't been through that, I wouldn't be doing something that helps other people now."
"After the nurse had given me my vaccinations, I reluctantly showed her the cut on my hip that wouldn't heal. I could tell she knew it was from self-harming, and she gently asked me about it. Growing up, I'd been distressed about my parents divorcing when I was 14, but I pushed down my feelings and started self-harming to cope. My talk with the nurse was the first time I'd properly opened up to anyone other than my boyfriend, Matthew, and it was such a relief that I burst into tears.
She suggested I contact my uni counselling service, but I found it overwhelming and I continued to feel worse. I self-harmed regularly, usually cutting myself where the marks weren't visible. I wasn't trying to kill myself - it was a way of releasing difficult feelings.
One night, I cut myself on the ankle very badly. There was blood everywhere. I wrapped a towel round the wound, but it wouldn't stop bleeding, so I knew I had to call an ambulance. As I waited, I felt frozen, thinking the staff would be angry with me. At A&E, I was left in a room by myself, isolated and scared. Eventually, at 5am, a doctor came in and told me to go home. I had no keys, phone or money and was in my pyjamas, so I hung around, unsure what to do. At 7am, when I thought my dad would be awake, I asked the receptionist if I could call him.
Last year, my low mood deepened and I began to have suicidal thoughts. If something went wrong, I'd spiral, thinking I was a terrible person. I couldn't get myself out of this way of thinking. I told myself, 'If I get worse, suicide is an option.' I didn't want to die; I just wanted the pain to stop.
In January, Matthew and I went to Center Parcs and I admitted thinking about suicide every day. He held me and said, 'Something in your head isn't right. Maybe we should get help.' His support made me determined to get better and I went to my GP, who prescribed antidepressants. She said it would lift me enough to cope - she was right. I went back to counselling, but this time I felt able to handle it. It helped me understand my negative thought patterns weren't rational.
I couldn't have got through this without Matthew and my family. My dad and I are doing the Great Yorkshire Run in September to raise money for Mind, and I've started doing other things I enjoy, such as sewing, which is a great way to focus my mind. Yoga and meditation help too. I've finally given myself permission to take care of myself as I would look after others."
"My problems started at the age of 15 when my parents divorced, causing a lot of upheaval. I spent my twenties obsessed with online gaming, playing 13 hours a day, avoiding thinking. Life was passing me by, but I had so many ideas about what to do, my brain felt scattered and I couldn't get going on anything.
I was at my boyfriend's parents' home in August 2012 when things got much worse. I'd just had a bath when a huge wave of panic engulfed me. I was shaking, my heart was racing and I couldn't breathe. They booked me an emergency GP appointment and I grew calmer talking to a professional. But the next day, I still felt very shaky and drove home gripping the steering wheel so hard, my knuckles were white.
I became even more reclusive. But I was terrified of being alone with my thoughts. When I had baths, I'd take my laptop and balance it on the sink for something to focus on. That October, my boyfriend broke up with me and it tipped me over the edge; I began to think about suicide. I felt ugly and useless and couldn't imagine anything positive ever happening. Until then, I hadn't sought help - I was scared to admit my thoughts were so extreme. I never imagined the act of killing myself; I just wanted out. But eventually I saw my GP and was referred to a psychiatrist. He asked me how I planned to kill myself. As I heard the word 'overdose' come out of my mouth, I imagined my poor dad finding me dead and how devastated he'd be. It hit me - I couldn't do that to him.
I was put on an anti-anxiety drug and an antipsychotic medicine. I also started seeing a therapist, who taught me ways to cope with negative feelings. One was to visualise the hurt teenager I'd been and tell her it would be OK. Gradually, I felt more hopeful.
In April last year, I got together with Dave (I'd met him in the past but got to know him again on Facebook) and he's now my fiancé. He's a great support. I try and focus on the present. If I have a bad day, I know it's just one day. Recently, I was meditating in the garden in the sun. Dave was sitting nearby and I had this incredible sense of peace. I never expected to have moments like that. I want a life and at last I can see how to get one."
Do you feel like this?
"Suicidal thoughts can be extremely painful and isolating," says Mind's Beth Murphy. "It's important to talk about how you're feeling and seek support as soon as possible. This might mean seeing your GP, or, if you are in crisis, going to your local A&E department. They can give you space to talk about how you feel and help to get you the right support, including medication or talking therapies." Find it hard to talk to your doctor or not getting the support you need? Call Samaritans (see below), or visit Mind's online community elefriends.org.uk, a safe space to share experiences.
If you're worried about a friend…
"It can be really tough having a friend who feels suicidal or has made attempts," says Beth. "One of the most important things you can do is to talk to them and be there to listen. People who have suicidal thoughts often feel ashamed and hopeless, and finding someone to talk to can be a lifeline. Help them explore their options by asking open questions and giving supportive comments." Visit mind.org.uk/information-Support/helping-someone-else