Another Kind of Free: Suicide Prevention in the Wake of Robin Williams' Death by Nicole Skuba
Age Group: Adult
Genre: Memoir
Release Date: September 10th, 2014
Buy Links:
Amazon
Book Description:
In mid-September 2001, recent college graduate and writer, Nicole Skuba, found herself strapped to a hospital bed after a deliberate overdose of Prozac. The previous five years of therapy and antidepressants did nothing to ease the bipolar disorder, clinical depression, or other diagnoses du jour.
Another Kind of Free: Suicide Prevention in the Wake of Robin Williams’ Death is part suicide prevention self-help guide, part darkly humorous memoir. After Nicole’s release in five days from the mental ward, she was determined to come up with her own route to happiness.
This memoir shares the excessive drinking, casual sex, manic joy, counseling, yoga, and goal-setting that ultimately led to healing and the beginning of a life worth living. It also illustrates the power that mindfulness-based stress reduction—even when done accidentally—can have in reducing depression and finding balance.
After thirteen years, Nicole is finally sharing her holistic methods of overcoming depression and addiction long-term with the hope of preventing at least one person from taking his or her life. This is especially important in the wake of Robin Williams’ death. The charismatic actor gave us laughter, inspiration, and the ability to embrace the absurd. With his suicide, he also left an unintended legacy: permission to end anguish with the same permanent decision he made.
Another Kind of Free: Suicide Prevention in the Wake of Robin Williams’ Death is a quick read aiming to reduce the stigma attached to mental illness and to provide an alternate, doable method of becoming “free” from mental illness. Sufferers and their family members will find Nicole’s memoir to be an entertaining chronicle of valuable, attainable information.
“How many pills did you swallow?”
The room fuzzed in and out, little black smudges blurring my vision. Smudges… schmudges… That officer’s name really was Officer Schmick. What a weird name. He had a bit of a limp, but he was nice as far as cops from my hometown went. His partner was a bit on edge though.
Put down the cat, ma’am, his partner had warned. I hadn’t realized a cat was viewed as a weapon to some people. Why had my mother called the cops anyway? That was a little extreme - and dangerous as well. Just outside the most dangerous quadrant of Washington, D.C., Prince Georges County cops were known for their excessive force. They were worse since the terrorist attacks a week ago. But, in truth, the cops had always had been jumpy. Just a month or a year ago, they’d shot some confused guy who had barricaded himself in his own bedroom. He wasn’t hurting anyone, but his family was worried. So, the cops shot him. Kind of like shooting a cat to get him out of a tree.
Cats. Right. So, Officer Schmick’s partner had wanted me to put down the cat. I put Polka down before I got myself killed. My mother was talking. Really, she seemed unable to stop talking and talking and talking. Could she drive me? Should she call my therapist? Did they need the empty pill bottle? Then they put me in the front seat of the police car beside Officer Schmick and I ended up here.
