Not For Us to Understand … But to Help


Yesterday I had a musical video montage on in the background while I did some busy work both on and off the computer. I found a playlist that contained Michael Jackson videos. I love his music — I love his movements. And it was perfect pick-me-up music.

As I worked I kept peeking at the videos, and found myself watching one called Smooth Criminal from his album Bad (1987).  As I watched his phenomenal performance, his singing and dancing and marvelous moves, I wondered …

What happened?

I have no idea what led up to that fateful day where Michael Jackson died of cardiac arrest due to too many drugs in his system.

None of us do.

But I always wonder when someone of great talent ends their own life …


Michael Jackson was a superstar. He was a teacher, influencer, father. He could be anything he wanted to be. Do anything he wanted to do. Help the poor, influence younger artists, play with his kids.

And yet he chose not to do so.

There are other celebrity deaths that dance in that same haunted circle.

Ernest Hemingway

Robin Williams


Whitney Houston

Philip Seymour Hoffman

Anthony Bourdain

The list goes on. Artists from all fields of art. Creative, real people who loved what they were doing. People who had, one way or another, contributed to the Artistic Culture of the World.

We don’t know what led them to take one too many pills. What led them to walk into the woods and shoot themselves. What led them to hang themselves.

I don’t mean to be a downer about all of this — but suicide is a downer.

Translate that to someone you know. Someone you’ve heard of. Young kids. Old people. Successful business people. Housewives. College kids. People commit suicide every day. Their pain, their trials, their confusion, become too much to handle. To understand. There seems to be no way out.

I don’t even pretend to understand what’s in the head of those who choose to leave this world. With most of us fighting to stay here one more day, to give up even one more hour than necessary is something I will never understand.

Perhaps it’s something that’s not meant to be understood by everyone.

But it’s meant to be addressed.

If you, or anyone you know, is inordinately depressed, lost, or in trouble, cross the personal boundaries and call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.  Or text HOME to 741741 for free.

If you yourself are feeling overwhelmed, help is just a phone call or text away.

Don’t waste your wonderful artistic talent. Don’t let go. 

Don’t leave the rest of us not understanding.




Don’t Be Afraid To Ask

I usually make a point not to talk about personal things in my blog. I want this  to be a place that supports what you all are feeling or struggling to feel. Occasionally I throw in life-event info (like cancer or termination), but I try to keep it fun and magical.

Lately, though, I have been struggling with a family matter that makes me want to scream out to the world, “take CARE of yourself, damnit!” 

It’s a topic that is a sensitive one, for some people will say, “you don’t know what it’s like to be chronically depressed/diabetic/incapacitated”. True enough. But I also know people who are/have been depressed/diabetic/incapacitated and have taken good care of themselves despite  their setback.

I have a family member who stayed in one state while my family (and others)  moved to others throughout the years. He/she insisted on staying alone in the home where they grew up.

I understand that.

But this same family member does not take care of themself, and I am in the process of cleaning out a second hoarder, mouse-infested house. After a stint in the hospital he/she is now in a nursing home, with hopes of getting better and eventually moving up by us.

I understand that, too.

I also understand that I’m 67 years old, too old to be a babysitter for someone who is 58. I am recently retired, working on my own health issues, and living on a reduced budget.

What I don’t understand is  — how does someone get in such a depressing, messy, confused state over and over again? 

Do we fall over the fence and keep tumbling down the hill until we hit rock bottom? Do we even know we are tumbling? Or hitting bottom? 

People who are alone with their miseries tend to not believe half of what is happening to them. It’s peripheral vision, and it happens to all of us. Have a trait that someone complains about? A house condition that is always questioned? Don’t think about it. Tell yourself it’s not as bad as everyone around you says it is. And cut them off if they don’t stop nagging you.

This is why I believe everyone should have a support system. And not be afraid to use that support system. 

God/Zeus/the creator did not create man to be the do-all, be-all being we strive to become. We all need help. I look back in my life and see spots where someone took time to pick me up and help me turn my life around. And it worked. 

Sometimes all we need is a little help. A little support. Sometimes it’s family and friends, other times we rely on the system. Unfortunately, most come up short to the real problem.


This family member insisted he/she was busy, doing fine, going out with friends, visiting the library.  We are 100 miles north from them, so we  got together on birthdays and holidays and the occasional fishing trip. Others contacted  by phone, kept in touch. This family member showed no interest in living closer to those who kept asking them. 

I can do it myself. I don’t need anyone. Or anyone’s help.

He/she wound up in the hospital with a diabetes level of almost 1,000 (normal is 100). He/she had salmonella and has wounds from passing out and laying on the bathroom floor for two days before anyone found them.

I’m not sharing this story to make you feel sorry for us. I’m sharing this story to ask you to check up on those you know, even if they insist everything is okay. Go have coffee at their house or invite yourself for lunch. You don’t have to hang you with them every week, but get involved in their lives.

It will save both of you a lot of guilt and bad feelings and shoulda/coulda moments for the rest of your lives. I know I wouldn’t be living in a swirl of angst if both sides had worked together more.

And don’t be afraid to accept help. Or ask for help. If the shoe were on the other foot, you know you’d help in a heartbeat and not think twice about it. Those who care about you feel the same way.

No one has to go through this crazy mess called life alone.