You know what's so sad and infuriating to me about this? For the most part, nobody gives a damn about depression or other mental health issues until someone famous is affected by it or dies as a result of it. Every day, ordinary people go through life dealing with depression and get no sympathy from people in their lives. They're told to pull themselves out of it, stop whining, get over it, or, as I was told, stop wallowing in self-pity. These folks see depression not as a disability or medical condition, but as a character defect.
Depression is real. Trust me, I've dealt with it since early childhood. It makes you doubt and hate yourself. It saps your energy. It causes you to isolate. It even compounds other disabilities that you may have.
There is a huge stigma attached to depression, so I try hard not to talk about it. I go out of my way to hide it because if people knew it, I'd be treated differently. I've already experienced that with the medical profession, almost at the cost of my life. The severe stomach pains that I'd had for years were "all in my head" until my gallbladder ruptured and I needed emergency surgery. Every physical disability I have (and I have a couple of rare ones) was attributed to my depression until some smart doctor decided to run a specific blood test or order a specific brain scan.
Now, the life of an incredibly gifted actor has been lost to this condition and all of a sudden, people give a rodent's behind about depression - at least, until the news stops covering Robin William's death. Then, we'll go back to our usual prejudice, stigmatization, snarky remarks and discriminatory behavior - until the next famous person dies.