While it’s always hard to hear
about someone taking his own life, it is especially hard to learn that someone
who brought us as much laughter, joy and poignancy as Robin Williams did was in
enough pain to decide suicide was the only answer. Robin Williams was a
brilliant comic and gifted actor. I think his genius came from an overwhelming
empathy for others paired with a lightening fast wit. His active mind nimbly
skipped from one idea to the next, making creative leaps no one else could
fathom until he articulated them. He
recognized both the glorious connectivity and essential aloneness in the basic
human condition. I think the pain and
beauty of this understanding is what eventually broke his heart. He tried to medicate the pain away with
alcohol. It appears he won the battle but lost the war. After a long period of
productive sobriety, eventually addiction once again reared its ugly head. This
time, apparently it triumphed to the detriment of us all.
I “sorta kinda” met Robin
Williams once. It was during his Mork and Mindy days. I had recently moved to
Los Angeles for graduate school and was disappointed that I hadn’t yet crossed
paths with a single celebrity. I flew back to NY to see my family. Upon my
return I was waiting at the baggage claim at LAX when I saw him. There was no
question in my mind that it was Robin Williams. He was wearing Mork’s signature
baggy white carpenter pants, a striped shirt and rainbow suspenders. He was off
by himself, almost as if standing in his own private bubble. My first inclination
was to dash over, give him an exuberant hug and ask for his autograph. But I
could tell he would not welcome this minor explosion of enthusiasm on my part
so I refrained. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. I felt like I was
missing my big chance for my first celebrity encounter. But I felt too much
respect for his obvious desire for privacy so I did nothing.
Whenever I watched him in his
movie roles or doing stand-up, I always contrasted the quick humor and glib
confidence with the uncomfortable young man I observed at LAX. I’ve seen the
pain behind the humor in many of those who make us laugh. The frantic cheery
manic mask they cultivate often covers an essential awkwardness, a social
discomfort and myriad fears that others will judge them and find them wanting.
If you aren’t sure what to do, just make people laugh, right? Everyone will
like you and want you around and your worries will be allayed, at least for the
time being. Throw in a little alcohol and drugs and the fears are numbed away,
until you sober up. Then, after the temporary reprieve, the toxic internal
voices resume the incessant mutter of their dangerous damaging messages. And
there’s nowhere to hide until the next drink, hit or comic performance begins
the cycle anew.
My heart goes out to Robin
Williams and all who loved him. I don’t presume to imagine the personal hell he
must have been going through. But in taking his own life, he has just
transferred his pain onto those he leaves behind. Had he been thinking clearly, I don’t think
he ever would have made such a choice. Suicidality is characterized by tunnel
vision that convinces you everything is hopeless. This clouded judgment
persuades those afflicted that the only way to end their pain is to end their
lives. Suicidal people feel like the only solution is death and that’s simply
why they do it. Those who have survived a suicide attempt usually express
gratitude. The tunnel vision has often been moderated by the aftermath of the
attempt and they appreciate their second chance at life.
Dear Mork, thank you for the
gift of laughter. I deeply regret that it came at the expense of your own
heart. I am so sorry we were unable to repay the debt you were due and help you
see you could still choose life at this darkest of times. To everyone touched
in any way by this tragic death, please remember that suicide is never the
answer. When things get bleak and hopeless, ask for help. There is something worth living for, you've just lost sight of it. If you are feeling suicidal remember you can call
the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255. There is always
someone who can help.
