Robin Williams: All my love to you, poppet.

I've decided to make this my icon to warn ya'll that I'm about to step up onto my soapbox.
(4th birthday)

Last night, while doing something that was making me happy, I received a text from my dad.  Simply, "RIP Robin Williams."

I Googled.  And suddenly, though I was standing in a space that will someday be my home, with the husband I love, I felt all alone.  I felt joy leave my life.  I told my husband.  I tried to shake it off.  We hugged.  I still couldn't let it go.

When we got home, I cried a bit.  And today, driving from my babysitting job to the grocery store, I shed a few more tears.

You see, for me, Robin Williams has been more than a celebrity.  His was the first name I learned for Hollywood.  He was the first actor I recognized, whose work I loved, and whose entertainment was equal to none other.

You know how early memories tend to muddle if the stories aren't repeated often?  Well, I'm not sure which is the first movie I remember seeing in theaters - it's a tossup between Beauty & the Beast (premiered November 22, 1991) and Hook (premiered December 11, 1991).  I was splitting my time with my parents then and I remember seeing each one with each of them.  I must have seen Hook three times in theaters because one of the stories that has been recounted again and again is one of my dad's favorites.  It goes a little like this.  (Keep in mind that I was actually a fairly quiet child in public.)

"You were pretty little.  You were at that age when you weren't sure that movies would end the same way and you'd seen it before.  And when the crocodile falls and swallows Captain Hook at the end, you yelled, 'He did it!!!!!' and everyone in the theater laughed - and clapped.  You were so surprised and so happy.  It was amazing."

Similarly, when Aladdin came out, it had to be seen more than once.  The first time, though, my dad looked over to see my reaction and I had disappeared!  I was hiding under the seat during a scary part.  Hook's lessons are all over the place - never grow up too much, don't trade imagination for responsibility, and you're never really alone.  And, as time went on and my dad repeated that story over and over, I came to believe that every father's "happy thought" is that moment when he first holds his child and realizes that he's a daddy.

And then came Mrs. Doubtfire, a movie that seriously changed my whole perspective on life.  I'd been living with my grandparents full time for just over a year at that point and Nana and I saw it in the theater.  Yes, it was funny.  Yes, over time, I've realized that it was my first exposure to many things that became controversial as I grew up including homosexuality and cross-dressing, but that it blurred those lines with humor and wit.  But for me, really, the end speech is what got me.  I remember finally feeling like someone understood me - and that person was someone who needed simply faith, trust, and pixie dust, and whose friendship the likes of which I'd never before had - Robin Williams became my hero.

"Dear Mrs. Doubtfire, two months ago, my mom and dad decided to separate. Now they live in different houses. My brother Andrew says that we aren't to be a family anymore. Is this true? Did I lose my family? Is there anything I can do to get my parents back together? Sincerely, Katie McCormick." Oh, my dear Katie. You know, some parents, when they're angry, they get along much better when they don't live together. They don't fight all the time, and they can become better people, and much better mummies and daddies for you. And sometimes they get back together. And sometimes they don't, dear. And if they don't, don't blame yourself. Just because they don't love each other anymore, doesn't mean that they don't love you. There are all sorts of different families, Katie. Some families have one mommy, some families have one daddy, or two families. And some children live with their uncle or aunt. Some live with their grandparents, and some children live with foster parents. And some live in separate homes, in separate neighborhoods, in different areas of the country - and they may not see each other for days, or weeks, months... even years at a time. But if there's love, dear... those are the ties that bind, and you'll have a family in your heart, forever. All my love to you, poppet, you're going to be all right... bye-bye."

 And, from then on, that was it.  I respected him, I followed him as loosely as one can, I watched movies of his which interested me (Patch Adams, I, Robot, Jumanji,  Good Will Hunting, etc.), rooted for his success, and loved every minute of revisiting my childhood and inviting him into my adulthood.

I've been bawling all while writing this.  I've honestly never cared much when celebrities leave this world, but this man - this man changed my life.  Last night, my dad suggested that Robin Williams is almost like a goofy great uncle.  He was someone who was unattainable in a completely different way that most of Hollywood is.  Throughout my life, if you had asked me which celebrity I'd most like to meet - and I'd have actually thought about it, it would have been him.

I'm unsure how best to segue into what I'm about to say, so I'm about to dive right in.

There is a certain conservative blogger who has come into vogue within the conservative Christian community whose posts I regularly see cross my news feed.  What frustrates me the most about this guy is that he starts off sounding reasonable and then hops on the crazy train to Hatesville and Bigotton.  I hate it.  And yet, I feel like I should inform myself of others' thought processes.  So I try.

Today, as I am trying my damnedest to focus on the joys, laughs, and pains Robin Williams's career has brought to my life, I noticed this conservatidiot has posted today that suicide is a choice, not a result of a disease.  Now, I can go along with it being a choice - with the caveat that a choice made at that point is little choice at all.  I've touched on my depression before.  It seems to come in waves.  Ebbs, flows, you get the gist.  The last few months have been particularly hard for me, as it seems like every three steps forward, I take ten back.

And that's the thing about depression - it's nothing if not illogical.  Part of the madness of it all is that you're aware it doesn't make sense.  You don't want to tell people about it because you don't want to bring them down with you.  It's lack of logic and the lack of communication that make it worse.  I don't think we have any non-expletive words in English (if you know of some, let me know) that describe how frustrating and exhausting depression is.  You don't want to do anything.  You feel alone even when you're with loved ones.  Sure, there may be a burst of something amazing during which you forget it all, but then that stops and your adrenaline slows and you feel even further from amazing.  It's illogical.  I'm coming out of this wave, fighting with all my might, and I find that I'm totally fine with making chicken stew for dinner, but I have zero willpower if it must include cutting up actual chicken breasts.  So I bought cut-up chicken.  And we're barreling through.

Depression is weird because without it, we would have no humor, most of our great writers would be average, and... it's just painful, but for some reason, it fuels much of the creativity our species knows.

So for those of you who have never known depression, hopelessness, or had your first thought at a setback be, "This could all be over - and everyone would be better off," I'm begging you to try to understand how hard it is to keep going, to support those you love, and to not judge people who make "the choice" to free themselves from the shackles of this world.  I know that I have a tendency to make rash judgments about these things, to consider them selfish, to forget the humanity behind them, and to think only of others, but that when I exmaine my motivations, so much is about everyone else.

It's not your job and it's unbecoming that you believe you have any right to judge anyone, let alone the man who taught me so much about life, happiness, and yes, even suicide and depression.  He has taught me to look at the bright side, to search out the laughter, and to bring light into the world, even when I can't feel the light.

So today, my prayer is this: that I'll someday meet Robin Williams.  I remember the directions, do you?

Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning.