Post for my Friend

First, let me say - if you are here via twitter and/or haven't seen me around much lately, thank you for coming by to help out my friend. It means a lot, and I am hoping that once The Bun starts daycare in a few short weeks, I can finally, finally catch up, so I hope to see you soon. Again, thanks. And here's the story:

I have a friend, a dear, dear friend, who is going through a really, terribly tough time right now. I would send you to her blog for the details, but I have not asked her if that is okay, and it really contains a lot of very personal stuff, so instead, I will give you the quick rundown on what is happening as a precursor. But really, this: I need to tell her about the parts I understand deeply because of similarities to my mother's history, and I am hoping that if any of you have had experience with alcoholism or mental health in your families or good friends, you could leave a word of encouragement, advice, support, or simply understanding for her here. I know it's scary, and I also know it helps to not be alone with your feelings. and while I write this to her, it may help someone else, too, I can only hope.

So my friend - and I have talked about her before, but will simply call her S today - has been living for much of the past year with a husband who seemed unlike himself. Grumpy, sleepy, depressed, and leaving her to bear the brunt of running the house and raising their wee girl, now nearly 2. He confessed to her this summer at last that yes, he likely did have a problem with depression, and that he had been compounding this by staying awake at night and drinking. He began AA, saw doctors and psychiatrists, and seemed to be on his way down the long path to healing.

That is, he was until last week or the week before, when some encounter with his family (and the psych he's seeing lays much of the root cause at the feet of his very difficult family, as I can understand) knocked him off his feet and back into the bad spiral of depression and drinking. Things came to a head again a few days ago when he was in a bad enough way that S took him in to a treatment centre for an emergency admit, and they kept him for a few days. He admitted to her that he had been hiding alcohol around the house and had stopped taking the meds that had been helping him sleep better, putting him right back where he had started.

S is struggling hard with her feelings here, and is also finding it hard to absorb some of the things that are the most shocking about having someone in psych or detox care. Here's where I fully understand. My mom was never addicted, but the facility where S's husband is is at a facility that handles both addiction and mental health, so she was seeing some of the frightening stuff I remember. Patients that shuffle around semi-comatose. Patients with occasional outbursts. Buzzers and plenty of nursing and orderly staff everywhere, not letting you forget that some of these people could be, as a nurse apparently put it to S, "volatile." Seeing someone you know in that drugged-out haze is scary and saddening. The fact is that because of the potential for erratic behaviour, patients on psych wards are kept heavily sedated at all times so that the hospital has some control over them and so that their other meds can have some chance to kick in while the patients are still pretty malleable. But this makes them a shell of themselves. I've said before that one of the worst things about my mother's illness was mourning someone who was right in front of me. While S's husband is still medicated, she will regrettably know what that is. It will, I think and hope deeply, get better as he gets back on track. Still, it is hard, hard, to see that, I know.

And the feelings you take with you about the person and their actions are even worse. Anger. Betrayal. Guilt for those first feelings. It's a toxic brew, it really is, and it doesn't disappear in a quick puff or even get easier to carry for a while. First the anger, because it is quick to come. It all seems so easy - if this other person would just get their shit together, you wouldn't have to deal with all this unneeded stress and worry, right? You are having to pick up the things they leave off and are turning yourself inside out, and they can't just take their damn meds and get it over with? It seems so simple, and yet it's not happening and it is profoundly affecting you. Anger is understandable. I recall crying with frustration, seeing my own father break down in tears after yet another episode that was entirely avoidable if only she could just do this. Shouting at my mother, arguing with her standing unmoving before me, apparently impervious to the verbal blows I rained on her, trying to get her to see how clear it all was to the rest of us. Anger? Yes, I remember it well and think it not at all inappropriate, in fact, to react to being put into that position.

But then, of course, while your heart and gut are reacting in anger at the injustice of having to put up with all of this, your head gets in on the act and rationally tells you it's not like the person chose this, and you shouldn't be angry at them for it, and bam, you feel guilty, too, which doesn't help your equilibrium any. Now you feel like you might be selfish - but you're not, you're human, and no matter how you refuse to voice the other thoughts and try to squash them down, they are real and worth venting. if only the guilt understood that...

There are trust issues that come out of this, too, and feelings of betrayal. You try to help the person and they won't take it. They do things that make you wonder why you bother. You wonder why they won't try harder. They get tricky, these sick people of ours - for S's husband and many alcoholics, hiding alcohol. For my mother, cheeking and later discarding the meds we doled out to her to try to get them taken regularly. We once found one tucked under the rug. You feel both terrible for not trusting and vindicated for it, but wishing you weren't. And you wonder why they don't value you and your relationship enough to fight for it. This killed me for a long time. It's hard to let go of that hurt, no matter how much you know intellectually that that's not how it is or what it's about. Truth be told, that is the thing that still burns, close to 20 years later for me. This is where I hope a therapist can help out for S, because it's another disconnect between the heart and head that is hard to reconcile. I only hope that S and her husband can, as he heals, figure out what she will need to trust again so they can repair that. I know it can happen - it happens even after affairs in some families, but it will take time, for sure. I hope fervently to see her learn and live how trust can be rebuilt when the time is right.

And then, of course, the fear. Always the fear. The fear that twists and gnaws at your stomach until you want to throw up. The fear that makes you shake and cry as you come down from the adrenaline pumped into your body during a tough confrontation. The fear that makes it tough to sleep some nights. But there is this about the fear - it is what will make you strong in the end because you will, of necessity, keep going, keep pushing through it, and conquer it, and this will, slowly, without you seeing it, change the coal of your fear into the diamond of strength. Some day, when this has passed, you will notice how it affects you less, how you are proud of having gotten through it okay and begun to rebuild. You will not be happy for this happening, I would never go that far, but you will recognize a good thing to come of it, when you realize how much you can withstand. It brings a certain confidence, and I used that for years after my mother's breakdowns to push myself to do other things, conquer other fears. If I could do that, I can do this. It made me stronger in the end, the fear, and it will you, too. So yes, the fear sucks and makes you feel you might not make it. It makes you feel ill and cold to the bone, it chews at you like a living thing. But you will tame it in time, I am certain, and be better for it. Know that I have faith in this, and in you.

All this to say: S, there is not much advice I can really give you other to stand strong for you, for your girl, and for your husband if he will let you. I would tell you to take help where you can. I am so glad you have the parents you have and that especially your mom can be there to help. I would also tell you to leave your girl with us when you need to deal with visits to the city, stay with us yourself, or take a day or two away from home and come to us. Call me any time, email me, lean on me, as well. There is not much more I can offer other than what I give you here, in this post - the knowledge that I get much of how you feel, and that you are not alone, and the offer of my love and constant thoughts and crossed digits, the willingness to help out how I can whenever you need it, the solace of a hug, an ear, or a shoulder. Take those things as you need them, and don't feel funny about it. You will need them to be strong, and I can give them now. Some day, you will return the favour, I know. You have before, remember?

To the rest of you, I ask you to please leave some words for S here if you have any history with this sort of thing. I know she would appreciate the wonderful wisdom and support of you out there in the blogosphere. Thank you so much for helping.

Lost Boy

It's strange when a big celebrity dies - not just your average celebrity, but one that is iconic in your mind. Despite not knowing them, it seems weird that they could simply not exist. It seems like they are a permanent piece of the world, that should just always be there - like the Coliseum, or Stonehenge - a piece of a certain time that will just always be. And they will, to a certain extent in the legacy of their work in books, films, music, and so on, but still, strange.

So, too, with Michael Jackson. Perhaps even more so because he was someone that fascinated people for decades, for one reason or another, those reasons evolving and changing as he did. My real hope, though, is for balance in how he is remembered.

There are people who are already sweeping the rumours and question marks under the rug, wanting to remember him only for his contributions to music and to charities, wanting to make him a perfect but misunderstood genius. I think it is important to remember those things and make them a big part of his legend, for he will be legend, of that I am certain. They are the things he put out into the world, the bulk of his work and his public life. They were the things we knew and celebrated and even loved him for in the first place, the things that made him famous. I don't think it would be fair to overlook or downplay those things.

At the same time, the man was flawed, as all people are, and even more so, to be sure. To be honest, I have long said that I don't think he ever even had a chance of being normal. Being a star from an extremely young age, having a father who was, from all reports, abusive and a taskmaster more than a parent, being a meal ticket to many, all of these things could shape anyone into a disaster waiting to happen. The fact that this means any whim can be indulged and anything can be praised by those surrounding you would create a pretty warped view of the world at a time when you need guidance as you grow. Even people who become stars as grownups often enough seem to lose perspective when their environment becomes one of yes-men and enablers, so how could someone turn out fine when their whole life has been that way?

Some of the rumours have been dismissed by people who knew him - things like the purchase of the Elephant Man's bones, for example. Others are still pretty divisive and unknowable - most notably, rumours of child molestation. Lots of people have made up their mind on that and either refuse to believe them or condemn him on suspicions. Me, I feel there is no way to know for sure - only he and the boys who brought the charges or stayed with him themselves can know for sure. The fact is, he or any star make a great target for a lawsuit if you're looking to make some money, and there is no saying for sure that those children's parents didn't figure that leveling such a charge at an obviously strange man would bring in a great payday.

There is, too, the fact that we just can't know his intent, we can only know what we make of his love of being around children. It reminds me a lot of Lewis Carroll, in fact. The man loved the company of children. He was painfully shy, and had grown up entertaining his siblings, the one place where his bashful nature fell away and he could indulge his love of the comedic and theatrical freely. When he grew up, he continued to entertain the children around Oxford, dressing them up to take pictures (he was an avid photographer, loving the new technology of the camera), telling them stories, and so on, all with their parents' full permission - and he was good friends with the parents. Later, though, people began to question whether he was secretly a pedophile, or just a bit of a Peter Pan figure himself, who felt most comfortable with children.

So too, I think , with Michael. Here is a man who had no childhood of his own, having lost it to year of performing and working. Why would he not want to try and recapture some of that, enjoy as an adult the happy and carefree time that most of us enjoyed as children? I can buy that, totally. To be around kids and just enjoy their joy and freedom is pretty awesome, even for someone like me who had a great childhood of my own. I work with kids and love it. I'd be appalled for anyone to read anything into that. I suppose they could if they were looking.

I can't say there is nothing to the accusations, but I can say for certain that we just don't know, so I hate to condemn a man for something that might be purely innocent and simply looks strange to suspicious people on the lookout for something more. He himself seemed completely baffled in the famous interviews with him as to why people would find it weird that he loved to spend so much time with kids - that to me seems as telling as anything, that it was, in his mind at least, all completely innocent in intent. So in the end, I think it's an awfully black brush to tar someone with if we can't know, so I won't, though nor will I break out the white paint and make him without flaw.

More than anything about his legacy, though, I am very curious to see what will come out of his estate. The man was a prolific and wonderful songwriter, if nothing else, and everyone who spent time with him has said he was constantly writing down snippets of songs as they occurred to him. Like Prince (another strange and enigmatic pop music genius who lives in his own little world), there have been rumours of hundreds of unrecorded songs in his estate, waiting to be found. One rumour I heard suggested that he had purposely left a collection of some 200 unpublished songs so that no matter what happened with his finances during his life, they would have a windfall to keep them. I hope that's true, both for them and seeing him as a caring dad in that light, and for the possibility that there could be a whole range of fantastic pop songs ready to go. (And my vote would be to have Justin Timberlake perform at least a bunch - he fully emulated his voice, dance moves, and dress on Rock Your Body and did a fine job of it.)

I had forgotten until I saw these last pictures of him rehearsing for an upcoming series of performances, that I saw him once. Not performing in all his showman glory, but speaking at Carnegie Hall, introducing a panel of speakers on a parenting topic, something that his Heal the Children foundation had put together. I remembered with a jolt, because he looks in these as he had then, a slim, fashionable, androgynous man who hid a bit behind his dark hair. He talked softly, moved with the kind of angular, gentle grace I associate with fairies in movies. He seemed, on the whole, shy, a slightly uncomfortable and easily startled fawn. And oddly, for all that he was in his forties at that point, he had the manner of someone young and unsure. this might be one more part of the reason that I think of him as the quintessential Peter Pan.

I think it is too soon to see what shakes out as his legacy in the end, how people will remember him. Right now, people are reacting. When the hoopla dies down - and it will now that the memorial is done, I think, though it will flare up with each new revelation for about a year before it really calms down, and when it does - I will be interested to see where people stand.

As for me, I salute the musical talent, I feel for the children he has left, and I am left curious to know what we will see in days to come. I am, though, at peace with not knowing some of the unknowable things and keeping him as a grey figure in my mind, balanced between the bad he may have done or the sweet innocent he may have been. I only hope people don't all make up their minds too quickly, and without basis.

Fare thee well, MJ, I hope you can now capture some of your lost boyhood and the carefree joy you seemed to be eternally seeking.