I really didn’t want to write about Robin Williams today. Of course, there’s the obvious reasons: I wish he wasn’t dead. But, also, selfishly, today was supposed to be a day for me to celebrate. But life doesn’t always work the way that you want, and the time is right to talk about this, while it’s still on people’s minds. I can’t imagine what exactly Robin was thinking. Nobody can ever really know exactly what is going on in another person’s mind. And I would never suggest that he wasn’t getting help. By all accounts, he had family that loved him, he was getting therapy - there was a support system around him. And yet, this funny, talented, well-loved, rich man tied a belt to a door and hung himself - which I hear is quite painful and an awful way to die - rather than live one more day. There are all sorts of terrible things about this. But I’ve gotten the advice in the past that, as a writer, you’re most powerful when you write what you know, so I want to write about how, in particular, this terribleness intersects with my own life.
I’ve battled depression. Most of my depression comes from anxiety, as opposed to the other way around. I get so worried about things - whether I’m a good person, whether I’m doing a good job, why I’m single, etc., etc. - that I get depressed about it. Some people go the other way; they get so down that it makes them anxious. Anyway - I digress. There have been two really low times in my life (from a mental health standpoint). One was while I was still married, and I knew my marriage was wrong - or at least my life was wrong - and didn’t know what to do about it. I was super lucky that time - I had someone around me (namely, my ex-wife Sarah) who really cared about me, and honestly listened. The second time through, it was after my divorce, in San Francisco. The first year or two went by fairly we’ll because I was still numb, but when the full weight of being single crashed in on me, I got pretty down. And the thing about that time was, I found out who my true friends were - and I didn’t have any.
It’s become en vogue to talk about mental illness, and the stigma that surrounds it. And that’s a good thing; I’m glad people are talking about it. But the thing is, when most people talk about it, what they mean is “Mental Illness”, with a capital M and I. And when they say “talk about it”, what they mean is “admit that it exists and then get help from a professional.” And, of course, that’s a great start. But Mental Illness often starts with mental illness. That is - and i can speak from experience - some mental illness, maybe even most, starts with simple feelings; feelings of hopelessness, feelings of anxiety. Feeling misunderstood. It can be as simple as what we call “having a bad day” for a few days in a row, and not being sure why. Sometimes you just want somebody to talk to. This has been well-documented elsewhere, but in “the old days” we all had support structures around. Extended families, groups of friends. Lives lived in small towns, where you saw the same people over and over again. These days, we have grab-bags of acquaintances and Facebook friends - and I’ll tell you, when the chips are down, that doesn’t mean shit.
As lives go, mine is more filled with bullshit than most. What I mean by that is, I live in San Francisco, I date regularly - with high standards for physical attractiveness - I spend most of my time around late-20 and early-30-somethings, and I change jobs and apartments regularly. That means I spend a lot of my time in situations with people who I don’t know at all, or barely know, and I’m often trying to impress those people - to date me, sleep with me, give me a job, let me live in their apartment, or just like me. And, as a result, I’m under constant pressure to present a version of myself that is devoid of anything negative or sad. It’s not just a matter of avoiding mention of Mental Illness; you can’t even mention mental illness. You can’t have a bad day. If you do, you better keep it to yourself, because nobody wants to hear it. Try going on a date and mentioning that you’ve been feeling trapped at your job, or you had a frustrating day, or even that you’re not crazy about your roommate. Immediate shutdown. But…why? Why is that? Do we really want to select for people who can pretend well? Do we really believe that there are people out there that never have bad days? Is that the number one most important thing in a future mate, is that they never have any negative thoughts?
Now, there are those who will say that a date, or a job interview, or a new apartment search, are not the right times or places to express your inner demons; that those things are best saved for family, or best friends, or such. But there are a few problems with that theory. One problem: we don’t have those things anymore. Rare is the person who has the kind of support network people used to enjoy. Parents are often overwhelmed and busy, and friends are as often a Playstation 3. We live isolated, urban lives behind computer screens. But also, I can’t help but feel that this approach is fundamentally wrong headed. How are we supposed to live authentic lives when we have to keep putting on a mask when the chips are down?
Imagine a bit of a mental experiment. Imagine you bought a ticket to watch Robin Williams do stand up comedy. Maybe it’s a date, or you’re going out with your wife/husband, or a group of friends. Robin comes out, maybe does a joke or too, and then he stops. When he starts up again, he starts talking about how nervous he gets before going on stage. He talks about how he did cocaine the day before, and he’s honestly feeling a bit nervous because he isn’t sure his wife really loves him. You keep waiting for the joke to come, but time passes, and he’s still talking, and it’s starting to become clear: he isn’t joking. You start to get a bit uncomfortable. You look at your date/wife/friend and make a bit of a wan smile. People in the audience are getting antsy.
This isn’t really a completely hypothetical situation: this is exactly what Dave Chappelle did, a few years back, when he dropped out of the comedy scene.
People wanted Robin Williams to be funny. To make them laugh. If he had “been himself”, then his career would never have gone anywhere. It’s possible - although unlikely - that given all of his fame, if he had come out about his issues, people would have supported him. But back when he was getting started, back when nobody knew his name, no-one cared. And so, I’m sure part of him learned to push all the real Robin down, deep inside, and bring out the Funny Robin. People liked Funny Robin. And by the time it was time to let out Un-Funny Robin, it was too late.
You see, I am fundamentally an optimist about life and people, despite the many things that have happened to me. I enjoy life, and I love being me - sometimes. But only a fool would claim that every day is amazing, and only a stone statue has never felt depressed, or anxious, or angry. Those are real feelings. And when we discourage those feelings, when we invalidate the expression of those feelings, what we really do is de-humanize people.
There’s an article from Rolling Stone on the wall at the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame about an interview with Bill Clinton. Near the end of the article, the writer remarks that Clinton seemed to drop his facade and became genuinely angry about something in public policy (I don’t recall what it was). The writer remarked that was the part he liked best; the *real* Bill Clinton, passionate and angry. But that sentiment is rare, and reserved for Presidents, CEOs and rock stars. For most of us, we’re supposed to go quietly into that great night, not a single hair out of place, and never an unkind thought.
Well, forget it. I want to know people - really know them - and I want people in my life who want to know me - really know me. I won’t settle for any less, and you shouldn’t either. So the next time you express a genuine feeling and the person across the table doesn’t want to give you that date/job/apartment, it’s their loss. And the next time somebody tells you they’re having a bad day, nod and say “I’m always here to talk if you need someone to listen.”
I wish more people had done that with Robin.
Epilogue: Finished! Phase II: complete!
I finished! There’s something that feels a bit magical about this phase being finished. When I got to Missoula, it was amazing. But it still felt a bit like a one-off thing - magical, both in an awesome way, but also in a “is this a fluke?” kind of way. But now I’ve gone on *two* long bike rides, and as we all know, two is a pattern!
Certainly this trip was not as “good” as the last one. That trip was one of the best - maybe *the* best - month of my life. This trip felt more like just a really cool athletic challenge. I didn’t meet nearly as many cool people - with a couple of notable exceptions - and I think Canada just wasn’t my vibe. Even though the riding was “easier” (less hills, less hot weather), somehow it felt more monotonous and less spiritual. But, still, a bad day riding beats a good day working! I can’t wait for Phase III: Florida Edition!
