I started this post at least 6 times and erased all of them. This is Lucky #7.
I read many heartfelt tributes in the wake of Robin Williams' suicide. I read a lot of heartless posts calling him a coward and selfish. I read a lot of plan old asshattery. And I read a lot of ignorance. But I didn't read anything that came as close to explaining how and why as close as this article. I guess the old adage "it takes one to know one" is true.
From David Wong at Cracked:
Here's how it works for most of us, as far as I can tell. I'll even put it in list form, because who gives a fuck at this point:
1. At an early age, you start hating yourself. Often it's because you were abused, or just grew up in a broken home, or were rejected socially, or maybe you were just weird or fat or ... whatever. You're not like the other kids, the other kids don't seem to like you, and you can usually detect that by age 5 or so.
2. At some point, usually at a very young age, you did something that got a laugh from the room. You made a joke or fell down or farted, and you realized for the first time that you could get a positive reaction that way. Not genuine love or affection, mind you, just a reaction -- one that is a step up from hatred and a thousand steps up from invisibility. One you could control.
3. You soon learned that being funny builds a perfect, impenetrable wall around you -- a buffer that keeps anyone from getting too close and realizing how much you suck. The more you hate yourself, the stronger you need to make the barrier and the further you have to push people away. In other words, the better you have to be at comedy.
4. In your formative years, you wind up creating a second, false you -- a clown that can go out and represent you, outside the barrier. The clown is always joking, always "on," always drawing all of the attention in order to prevent anyone from poking away at the barrier and finding the real person behind it. The clown is the life of the party, the classroom joker, the guy up on stage -- as different from the "real" you as possible. Again, the goal is to create distance.
You do it because if people hate the clown, who cares? That's not the real you. So you're protected.
But the side effect is that if people love the clown ... well, you know the truth. You know how different it'd be if they met the real you.
I was the quintessential geek growing up. Ugly Duckling, awkward, socially stunted. I was teased, bullied, or even worse, ignored by my classmates, my peers. I was reminded daily of the many reasons to hate myself, and being the consummate student, I learned the lesson well. I remember very clearly clowning around just to get someone to laugh; positive reinforcement of any kind was like Sunshine chasing the demons away, if only for a brief respite. I became addicted at a very early age. I was still too shy, too scared to be the true Class Clown. Disapproval from authority figures outweighed fleeting approval from peers. But when I could, I made 'em laugh. I'm still doing it today. It served two purposes for me. First and foremost, it cut off any negative assaults. Sure, they still laughed at me behind my back, and I knew it; but face to face, I could still make them laugh and control the situation. And second, it gave me a strawman. The clown they saw wasn't me, had nothing to do with me. If they liked the clown, that was fantastic, if they didn't, oh well. Very few people ever saw the real me. Still, very few people know me. They see what I want them to see; nothing more, nothing less. My clown is still with me, in difficult situations, on occasions when I'm feeling ugly, stupid, shy and awkward, my clown comes out to save me. If I've got you in stitches, rolling in laughter, know this: I'm terrified. I'm sure if you saw the real me, you'd hate me. Or worse, you just wouldn't care. If I'm comfortable with you, I'm safe enough to be quiet, contemplative, or even show you my demons.
As for depression and suicide, I've wrestled with the first for as long as I can remember, and yes, I've thought about the second. I understand the complete absence of hope and light, when the darkness is complete and the demons are stronger and louder than the angels. And I know, in that frame of mind, it's not the easy way out. It's not cowardice or selfishness. You just run out of reasons. The difference between suicide and living is one reason. That's all it takes. One reason to keep going. God gave me two.
So, please be kind to souls in torment. You never know if your smile and good morning could be their ONE REASON for that day.
6 comments:
wow angel wow!!keep the faith,we will keep you in our prayers.
That was a good find for your seventh attempt. Well said from the side that a lot of people can not grasp.
I read that yesterday. It was strangely dark for a Cracked article.
They actually have a secret forum for dealing with suicide threats. That's heavy stuff.
I feel like I may have subverted the system a bit. I crack jokes for my own amusement, so when people don't laugh... they weren't the audience. I also crack jokes that aren't funny because I think they'll annoy or disturb other people, because their reactions to those are HILARIOUS.
Still, a recent brush with employment taught me as bright and sunshine-filled as the past year has been, I'm not completely immune to the darkness. Fortunately I was able to look at it objectively and take actions which, while they may have been overkill and had some lifelong consequences, did at least help the problem I had at the time. Before the really dark thoughts showed up.
I became a "class clown" in grade school, although I did fit in well with my peers. It may have been because I used to read Mad Magazine, and so I used a "snappy comeback" in gym class one day.
I was not a particularly gracious loser back in those days, and one day my team lost a close volleyball match right at the end of gym class. The teachers always had us sit quietly on the floor for the last five minutes of gym class, just so we wouldn't all still be bouncing off the walls in whatever class we were going to next. So, I'm sitting on the floor with a sour look on my face, and a gym teacher walks by and says, "What's wrong with you? You look like you ate a dead fish!" And the class laughed. Then I responded, "I suppose you eat live ones!?" and the class really laughed. After that I was a total cut-up in school, having enjoyed the reaction I got from my classmates.
However, I have had issues with bipolar disorder (i.e., manic-depressive), and I firmly believe that most of us "mood challenged" folks get something to compensate, like the ability to play music, to create great art, to act, to tell jokes, etc.
I have come close to doing myself in a couple of times. The only thing that kept me from doing that was the feeling that I would be hurting someone else who was close to me, and I didn't want to do that. If you know that there is ONE person out there who truly cares for you and who cares if you live or die, then that may keep you from doing it.
Oh yeah, why do some of us consider doing ourselves in to vegin with? Because we get to the point where the pain of dying is perceived to be much less than the pain of continuing to live in a bad situation, even if that bad situation is only in our own mind.
Also, folks who have never experienced foul depression have no idea what you're going through. They just say things like "snap out of it!" etc. I found especially my buddies would simply avoid me, as they either didn't want to acknowledge my problems for fear of thinking of their own problems, or maybe they didn't want to appear "weak" or nurturing, etc. I even had one (now formerly) close friend say they didn't want to get involved in other people's problems. I told them, "If your friend is drowning, you wouldn't throw them a life preserver because 'you wouldn't want to get involved!?'" Pretty shallow on their part.
Rusty
Nailed it. Been to the brink myself a time or two. Its not a place I'd wish on my worst enemy. Excellent article, than you for posting.
Also a lot of those people don't have a belief in a higher power than themselves so if they can't overcome something then they think that their life is over and they might as well end it...
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