The first time I saw him perform it was clear that there was something wrong with him. And that was why I could not stop watching. Because there was something wrong with me as well, and this guy immediately struck me as a familiar, frantic soul. It was like his words could barely keep time with his thoughts, and at any minute he looked like he might burst through the t.v. screen and fly away – there was so much energy and movement around him, a type I had never seen on television before, but that I felt in my own head and surging through my body every minute of every day.
We had not thoroughly addressed the concepts of A.D.D. or anxiety issues in America yet, so I was just labeled as the overweight, nervous, hyper kid whose underarms sweat a lot and who could not shut up – ever. The spaz. And I desperately wanted to shed all that – to be someone completely different. Someone who was cool – like The Fonz. Who rarely talked and sauntered slowly around and looked great in a leather jacket. I just couldn’t do it though, it wasn’t in me. It wasn’t me at all in fact.
And then I saw a kindred spirit in a weird space suit who showed up on Happy Days and didn’t seem anything like The Fonz. He was so frenzied, so uncool, with that wild energy that I could feel through the old television set our family watched together in the living room. But unlike me, this guy seemed to be embracing his manic, hectic nature. Celebrating it in fact. Making it cool. And soon enough people were laughing at him. Laughing with him. Accepting his flighty, hyper, unpredictable self. You just never knew what he would do or say next, and it was highly likely that he didn’t know what was coming next either.
I certainly never thought he would do this.
Robin William’s recent suicide is a tragedy that saddens me beyond adequate description. I am incapable of even writing why his death impacts me so much except to say that I could really connect and identify with the man on so many levels. Beyond his boundless energy and inability to tone things down, I could also identify with the flaws, and the brokenness, and the dark parts of his nature that afflicted him even when all seemed fine and well to the outside observer.
I’m sure there will be much talk of what a gifted and talented actor Robin Williams was. How he was able to put on many masks and bring viewers to the extremes of laughter and tears with his performances. And I agree with all this. I would also add that there are certain actors that just seem like good people , regardless of the amount of success and fame that they receive, and I certainly think this was true for Mr. Williams. He always struck me as being somewhat surprised by his own achievements, and he had a humble, humanitarian nature that is rare and awesome in our world. I wonder now if he felt like the space visitor he played so long ago – among us down here but never quite able to figure us out or to be one of us.
I expect there will also be many words of wisdom about depression, mental health issues, and addiction surrounding Robin William’s departure. I hope the discussions include that these illnesses are all related, inseparable really, and that trying to distinguish addiction from mental illness is like saying that a person is reporting a severe tightness in the chest and that he is also having a heart attack. One is simply a symptom of the other. The most recently accepted medical terminology for addiction is a “brain disease,” which is an accurate description of any mental health issue. Part of my profound sadness now is the reminder that these issues are real, and gravely serious, and that they continue to plague and infect people without discrimination. We need to do more about this.
But for me, the legacy of Robin Williams will not be that he died from his illnesses. And I won’t remember him for any certain performance or character that he played. I will always be grateful to him for making me feel connected with someone. To know that the overweight, hyper kid was not alone. For showing me that not everyone has to act like The Fonz. You do not even have to be cool. You just need to work towards an acceptance of who you are, and to do the best you can with the short time you have on this planet.
Robin Williams taught me how to embrace my manic nature, my darker sides, and the million things that I thought made me unpopular and unlovable and unworthy of sitting with the kids at the cool table. I really needed that lesson at the time, and it has made a tremendous difference in my life. I wish I could have returned the favor to him, but my words say far too little and are much too late now. So all I can do is to pay his message forward in the best way I can to others, especially to those awkward young kids who feel that they are wandering around down here alone in their own strange space suits. I will do my best at that, Mr. Williams, and I will be forever thankful for the help you gave to me and so many others during your brief time with us down here…
I also feel incredibly touched by this death. I always saw in him a deep sadness and a loneliness. The analogy of a foreigner among us is quite true. His performance in Dead Poets Society showed a teacher who related to the oddball kid. Good Will Hunting also showed a deeply depressed soul. I am angry about the media circus surrounding his death. This must be more torture for his family. He tried so hard to be “well”. Freddy Prinze was also a brilliant comedian who took his own life. He played the happy go lucky Puerto Rican . For all of us who live in this complicated universe, let’s see through the public face and have more compassion and wisdom.