From the way we hear he died, a belt attached to a closet from which he hanged himself, it sounds as if the final decision was an impulsive one. They said that he had cuts on one of his wrists, rather superficial, but several. I admit to being a bit of an armchair forensic psychologist in saying this, but I suspect he originally thought to slit his wrists and then couldn't do that.
I feel so sad for what seems to have been a frenzied patch that he could not escape from this time. Something, maybe something even small from the objective observer's point of view, sent him over the edge from the gift of life to a madness from which one cannot recover.
Come on, haven't you ever felt like that? I don't know if it was as extreme as the moment which faced Robin Williams, but I have had more times than I'd like to admit where logic failed me and restraint nearly did. These are hard to describe events. They come out of nowhere. Nothing in the external world or circumstance has changed from one day to the next, but on this day, old demons, and I think truly think they exist, attack. The brightest day of God's creation simply sinks into a kind of tunnel and all that you can think about is to escape this feeling, this I can't escape feeling. I have to escape feeling. Remind yourself. Maybe Robin tried, "You have a great life. The best possible. Look at the horror in the rest of the world. Who are you to feel so lost?". Some people might say that if God was not in his life (from a religious perspective and I have no idea whether He was or not), then that explains it. I disagree. I try to be a faithful Catholic, and I know, k-n-o-w, that in the throes of the "whatever it is", described by so many over the years, that it is almost as if, no matter the strength of belief, that one's body and mind seem almost to feel like they are being dragged from the light. It's like one of those horror movies where the victim is ripped from under her bed, where she is trying to hide.
With me, it is when certain responsibilities that I fear the most begin to press too much and I cannot be seen being weak. Williams was doing four movies, had been a great success in comedy and in drama, had three kids and a couple of wives, three, I think. Something always pressed on him and he usually kept it at bay, by performing, by using alcohol and drugs, by as many mechanisms as he could possibly manage until he could no longer manage them.
In those moments, while the world would say, "You should be thinking of others," everything is like a pinhole of intense cosmic pain. There is a kind of raging blindness of soul.
Maybe in the next days we will hear what it was for Robin. Maybe he left a note and tried to explain. Maybe there will never be nothing but whatever was in his head which we can never know.
Don't assume anybody has it made. Frankly we are all broken people. But some breaks can be hidden better than others until the crack in the façade explodes the body and soul.
Eternal Rest Grant Unto him O Lord and may perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in the peace he could never find on this earth.
No comments:
Post a Comment