Robin Williams was no good.

So said Robin Williams’s brain.

It always surprises me when I remember that not everyone knows what depression is, that many people have never experienced it and never will.

Depression sucks. It literally sucks. It sucks out the essence that makes you who you are, and it leaves you an empty, self-doubting shell.

Robin Williams had everything! He was adored by millions! He had family and children who loved him. He was filthy rich, for God’s sake.

But his brain told him he was no good. And he finally gave in to it.

I am not equating myself with Robin Williams, but I am comparing myself to Robin Williams. Like him, the first word people who know me would use to describe me is “funny.”

And like him, I have to battle depression. Most of the time, it’s a battle I’m winning, but every so often, I lose ground and have to fight to get it back.

Clearly, just as my creative gifts pale in comparison to Robin Williams’s, so, too, must the depths of my depression.

And I’m so grateful of that. Even at my darkest hours, I’ve never taken an actionable step toward suicide.

Depression tells you you’re a loser. That in spite of everything you’ve fought to achieve, even as it stood in your path blocking your way, you’re a loser.

Poor Robin Williams. He’s an object lesson for those of us whose faulty wiring tells us we are losers. He was so clearly not a loser.

We who fight similar battles would honor his memory by remembering that.

He was not “no good,” and neither are we.

Oscar winner Robin Williams dies at 63