Tuesday, August 12, 2014

All my love to you, Poppet. You're going to be all right.

I'm not sure if this is a blog post, or a tribute, or a love letter or what, but it's painful, whatever it is. We are now all aware that one of the brightest sparks in show business, a man who made me laugh until I was sick, who was a genie, a nanny, Peter Pan, a boy stuck in a board game, a doctor, a killer... is gone. We also know it was by his own hand. Reading that first headline literally took my breath away, I couldn't fully process it for a minute, but on reflection, after thinking about all the trouble he had been through for years, it didn't surprise me.

Why funny people kill themselves.

What suicide isn't. 

"Every time they make a joke around you, they're doing it because they instinctively and reflexively think that's what they need to do to make you like them. They're afraid that the moment the laughter stops, all that's left is that gross, awkward kid everyone hated on the playground."

This might be the most accurate description of myself, and many other people I know, that I have ever read. I often say that making people laugh is my favorite thing in the world, and it is. Maybe that is because I was that awkward kid no one liked, or maybe because I have clinical depression (for which I am thankfully medicated and have a wonderful support system), or because I feel like as long as I can make someone laugh, they can't possibly hate me completely. I do know that I've lost one friend already, and I know others who have started down that road and turned back.

Take this opportunity to think about whether you know someone who might fit this description. If you do, go hug them. Tell them that they matter. If you've ever personally known someone lost to suicide, you know you never want to experience that again. So go make a difference in someone's life. You might end up saving it. They ain't never had a friend like you.

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