Reaching Out

My internal alarm clock can be a real jerk sometimes.

I do not need an actual alarm clock.  My body sets its clock and BOOM, I’m awake.

The problem is that I do not need to be awake at the crack of dawn every day of the week. And instead of giving me a break, my body will not always let me close my eyes to go back to sleep.

I found myself in this predicament recently.  Wide awake yet still feeling sluggish.  I followed my morning routine then found myself doing something I never do on a weekend morning.

I sat on the couch and turned on the television.

I flipped through the documentaries and decided I wanted to watch the one on Robin Williams titled “Robin Williams: Come Inside my Mind.”

I felt like I kind of owed it to Robin Williams to watch his documentary.  To pay tribute to one of the actors I grew up watching on television and in movies.  So familiar, so loved.  I found the movie to be very enjoyable and I learned about him. I was amazed to watch how fast he could move from comedic thought to comedic thought. I thought he was so funny; rehearsed, and off the cuff—a true genius.

When the movie progressed and spoke of Robin Williams’ Parkinson’s diagnosis, tragic death, and later Lewey body dementia diagnosis, I was comforted by a statement made by Bobcat Goldthwait – his good friend and best man.

In an interview, Goldthwait mentions that Williams’ death was a tragedy as Williams’ brain provided him misinformation, and Williams acted on this misinformation that his brain was providing.

That helped me make sense of such a tragic loss to such a beloved individual.

I thought about these words a lot in the past month as our high school has lost three students to suicide.  Once the students and community have processed one loss, another occurs.

Being friends, Bobby has had to experience a lot of firsts.  The sad kind.  First losses.  First viewings. First funerals. The firsts that make me sad as a person and especially as a parent.

My heart grieves for the families of the lost.  My heart grieves that Bobby states he now knows “suicide” is not just a word but a real thing.

As a former crisis counselor, I had wanted to keep the word and idea out of my children’s minds – forever, if I could.  I couldn’t. Now I have to help him process it.

As a crisis counselor responding to schools in crisis, I picked up on how elementary school kids LOVED to talk.  Middle school kids would talk if their friends were with them, in pairs. But high school kids? They wanted to talk with each other.

Aware of this trend, we’ve spent the month keeping friends together.  Letting friends hang out and emote and providing healthy food and drinks for self-care. Letting them know adults are surrounding them that are always available to help them.

Our community has also thankfully come together. Our town recently held a Lights of Hope ceremony where individuals spoke to celebrate and remember the lives our community lost to suicide, offer support to our neighbors that are struggling, and help end the stigma surrounding mental illness.

It was a meaningful gathering. We all want to help and support our kids and neighbors that are suffering.

.Goldwaith’s words, which I heard expressing thoughts about William’s life and death, helped me process our community’s losses. Suicide is complex and brought by many different factors. But maybe there was some truth to Goldwaith’s words that could help the kids and me process these recent tragedies.

—————————————————————————————————–

I wrote about something today that has affected my family and my community in the past weeks.  I do not want to upset anyone in distress. If you are feeling depressed or overwhelmed, please don’t suffer in silence.  Reach out.  Someone is always ready to listen.

The national suicide hotline is 1-800-273-8255.