Robin Williams' death stays with me. I can't shake it.
24-hour spin doctors carp on his addictions, his depression. Celebrity friends Tweet shock. How could one so funny, so imbued with life turn to suicide?
I didn't know Robin Williams. But, sadly, I'm not surprised.
Oh sure, there's the initial shock when yet another star from the American celebrity firmament disappears. For some bizarre reason that's always shocking. Michael. Whitney. Philip Seymour Hoffman. Now Robin. As if their fame conferred immortality.
But then, a sad understanding settles in.
Robin Williams was a creative genius, equally adept at tragedy as comedy. Watch his turns in DEAD POETS SOCIETY, THE FISHER KING, and GOOD WILL HUNTING. He's extraordinary. It has been said
…show more content…
It's as if their brilliance makes them more sensitive, calibrating life at a higher frequency. Everything is amplified, overwhelming. Every painful moment seems unending. Irrespective of fame, money, acclaim, the existential torment of simply living day-to-day can prove too much.
Addictions become a convenient escape, with many artists turning to alcohol, drugs, destructive relationships early in life as a way to dull the pain. To take the edge off. The great default deflection of incremental self-destruction.
And then addiction becomes the norm. The "go-to" just to keep the monsters at bay.
It's hard for many of us to make sense of Robin Williams' death. Counter-intuitive. Some Americans sit back and think, "He had everything." As if material wealth is synonymous to happiness, an equation Americans have always gotten wrong.
Others wonder, "He was so brilliant...why didn't he get help?" He did. Over and over again. Even Williams' recent visit to rehab was reported as "fine-tuning" his sobriety. As if the psyche were something you fix with finality, a piece of machinery to be adjusted to industry