It was October of 2001 when I began my journey with depression.

A freshman at Muhlenberg College, I had been "sad" before, but never like this. It was a hopelessness which felt like a black cloud smothering everything I did.

It felt like my future was a wall – that there would never be any brighter days. I didn't know I was suffering from depression at the time, but I do remember I couldn't see any hope.

The words of friends and parents were largely irrelevant, and I didn't understand how I would ever feel OK again. After suffering through the blackness for many weeks and months, I began to contemplate if suicide wasn't the better option.

The recent and tragic suicide of Robin Williams has left millions of Americans baffled. How could a man of such talent, humor and power choose to end his own life?

The sad and tragic truth is mental illness, depression and suicide know no boundaries. The black dog, as Winston Churchill put it, doesn't discriminate by race, religion, education, wealth or success. It can touch any of us.

In 2011, one in every five Americans, or more than 45 million people, suffered from some form of mental illness. One in every 20 Americans suffer from a mental illness, which causes them to become seriously disabled.

In 2011, 39,518 Americans took their own lives, making suicide the 10th leading cause of death in this country. That year, more Americans killed themselves than were killed in car accidents.

This tragedy has also shined a light on an ugly truth: mental illness remains a tragically stigmatized disease.

Hours after the suicide of Williams went public, I saw a Facebook status lament since Robin Williams committed suicide, it was clear he had lived and died without faith in God.

It is comments like this which highlight everything wrong with how we see mental illness in this country.

Mental illness, depression and suicide aren't about faith, weakness or courage any more than is catching a cold or the flu.

It's about a combination of factors, including a strong biological component, predisposing you to this terrible disease.

And it is comments like the one above, which keep people hiding their illness in shame, and which help lead to more pain and wasted life. Mental illness isn't a weakness; it's a disease, and a disease that can be overcome.

My path to recovery began with Rick at the Muhlenberg College counseling center, who helped teach me how to change my thinking, cope with the stress of a new school and how to deal with a breakup with my girlfriend from home.

When it became clear words weren't enough, and the anxiety attacks began getting stronger, he recommended I see a psychiatrist, who put me on an antidepressant and anti-anxiety pill, which I still take to this day. I type these words without any shame.

Why would I be ashamed? Are any of you embarrassed to be taking Lipitor for your cholesterol or Prilosec for your heartburn?

My point is this: millions of Americans suffer from mental illness. Millions recover. There is no shame in saying you are depressed, you are anxious, and you need help.

Robin Williams' suicide is a very public example of the most extreme way someone can deal with inner demons, but it doesn't have to be like this.

If you are in pain, there are so many who want to help, to be a voice, to be that light in the darkness. As so many can testify, including me, as long as you breathe, there is hope.