I am Robin Williams

Hi, I’m Redd and I have bipolar disorder.

Everything about Williams could be me.  He’s millions of men and women in the US and Canada.  In a broken system that stigmatizes mental illness and ignores men often the only way out for us is death.

I don’t know what Robin Williams thought as he took his life, but I think I have a good idea.

I am Robin Williams.  Who is Robin Williams?

I’m not good enough.  I’m buried in alimony.  I’m buried by my failures.  I’m a big rotten failure.  I’ll never be good enough.  The world may laugh with me on stage, but if they really knew how I feel they would laugh at me.  I can’t ask for help, I have to man up.  But I can’t.  I can’t go on.  I wanted to do so much with my life and look at me.  I’m no closer to achieving my goals than 10 years ago.  Or 20 years ago.  Or 30 years ago.  Why should I go on if everything I earn is taken from me?  Why should I go on if no one cares about me?  I’m just some kind of sick joke that people love to see, the person no one wants to watch cry at the end of a show.  Everyone goes home happy.  Everyone except me.  Everyone would hate me, HATE ME, if they knew I cry myself to sleep sometimes.  And if everyone hates me, why should I, and how can I love myself?  I’m worthless.

I don’t know what he felt but it’s probably something like that.  I think about that almost every day.  After drug regiment after regiment I’ve almost lost hope that I will find something to dull the pain, help me function.  I’ve lost everything that used to be fun and exciting in my life.  I’ve lost my sense of self, and who I am.

Who am I?  Who is Robin Williams?

I love to make people laugh.  Really I do.  It’s been years since I’ve been able to laugh or make anyone else laugh.  What do I do when nothing satiates the pain?  What do I do when no one is willing to let me cry on their shoulder?  To help me through the pain?  Who is willing to help me?

Everyone is sad that I’ve died.  Everyone is sad that I couldn’t press on, and endure.  But no one was sad enough to listen to my words when I was living.  No one wanted to hear about my pain.  Everyone took my laughs and enjoyed them, but didn’t account for the cost of those moments of happiness.  Those moments cost me my life.  Those moments allowed me for a time to transcend my disease, only to later crash down and succumb.  No one stopped to think, “Does this man need help”.  Even after my trips to rehab, or the cries for help.  Even after the exasperation and the fatigue and the longing for comfort.

Why wouldn’t anyone help me?

I’ve accomplished nothing noteworthy.  I’ve never been able to push through my disease and be productive.  I’ve never honed my craft far enough.  I was truly happy once.  Truly  Why do I feel this way now?  Why do I always feel this way?  Why can’t I stop feeling this way?  I’ve tried, God knows I’ve tried.  Why?  Why?

I’m drowning in debt from a system to rewards the lazy, I’ve worked so hard.  So hard.  What do I have to show for it?  Two ex-wives that are leaches.  LEACHES.  I can’t pay this anymore.  I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t do this anymore.

No one cares.  Why does no one care? I don’t want to do this anymore.  I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t cry myself to sleep again.  I can’t.  I won’t.  I hope God forgives me if he’s there.

If you are suffering from mental illness.  Please seek help.  It does get better. Call 1-800-273-TALK and have a chat with someone in your area that does care.  Someone who wants to help you.  You are not alone.

For those of you who are mentally healthy.  Find someone to help.  Be their guide.  Be their friend.  Make sure they can afford their medication, that they have a safe place to live.  I don’t really have one of these people in my life.  I need one.  We all need one.

Adopt a mentally ill person.  Take care of us.  We have a lot we can give the world, if we have the chance.  We all have the potential.

We can be Robin Williams as he was in life, and live in his memory.

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