Whether intentional or accidental, does it make him any less dead?
Jan 25th, 2008 by B.
Poor Heath… more importantly, poor Heath’s daughter. Depression is a mind-numbing, soul robbing bastard. And an equal opportunity one at that. You can be poor & depressed, middle class & depressed, filthy rich & depressed, absurdly famous & depressed. You can be surrounded by people who love and support you, who want nothing more than for you to be happy, yet you’ll still feel empty and alone.
I was 22 the first time I saw a therapist and by 32 I was prescribed Xanax. I took it for a week and hated it so much that I tossed the remaining pills and vowed never, ever to be coerced into trying them again. They just made me feel… disconnected. Like all the things that made me me were hidden behind a curtain, all I could do was hope that eventually someone would come along and put me back together again. At the time I remember equating it to emotional claustrophobia; a chemical stronghold that wrestled me to submission, but somewhere deep down I was still there and still screaming, and terrified. It’s like those dreams you have where you want to run… when the monster’s hot on your heels… only you can’t move. Xanax is that nightmare in pill form.
Add to that insomnia, the calling card of depression. Each time I meet or read about someone saying they don’t sleep well I think “Ahhh, hello friend, how bad have you got it?” Show me an honest-to-goodness, tired all the time, wants nothing more than to sleep insomniac, and I’ll show you someone suffering from manic depression.
Jim, who’s been depressed maybe twice in his entire life, asked me once what it was like- what went on inside my head. I told him that, for me, it was voices. Voices of people I’d been before that I didn’t want to be anymore; voices reminding me I wasn’t worthy. Voices replaying every mistake… every misstep…. every lie… every failure… every everything. All on endless loop. And that sometimes, when it gets really bad… when they just won’t shut up, you’ll do anything to silence them. You’ll swallow 3 sleeping pills and chase them with vodka, or nyquil if that’s all you’ve got lying around or, hell, even paint thinner… whatever it takes to get a little peace. I suspect when you’re rich & famous and have access to powerful stuff, this goes doubly. That you’ll pop quaaludes like they’re chicklets and snort endless lines of coke and, eventually, even though you probably won’t mean to, you will lose track of what all you’re doing/have done in your quest for peace.
You’ll lose count not necessarily because you want to kill yourself, but because you’re sad and you’re tired, and… god damn but it’s been a long, shitty day and you just want to turn off. Better still, you know if you could just stop thinking for 5 meesley seconds you’d be able to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, and maybe things wouldn’t seem so bleak in the morning…
So did Heath kill himself intentionally? Did he accidentally overdose? What about Anna Nicole? For that matter, what was Owen Wilson really thinking when he slit his wrists? It’s probably a good thing we’ll never know because I think the answer would break our hearts. And that’s across the board… be it a ’star’ or a relative, the girl in the cubicle three down from yours, or the guy who used to deliver your mail… mental illness is always heartbreaking, regardless of fame or stature. And for those of us who struggle with our own demons, I think the best we can do when we hear about something like this is to shake our heads, mark the moment, and whisper `there but for the grace of god…´
On this day..
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i agree with you… but from personal experience i would note one difference…
when you are rich and sick… if you are able to get to a point where you dig down and are able to find the strength to reach out for help you’re able to get it…
but if you are among the “working poor” or just the average paycheck to paycheck struggling to survive sort… and you get to a point where you find the strength to reach out for help… your just screwed.
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Thanks for making me feel “normal” B. I obsess constantly over mistakes. I always chalk it up to my type A personality, but maybe it’s always been something more. Considering I have other psychological issues, I will know watch it more carefully.
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It is important also to remember that depression is a real problem. So many people dismiss it or don’t even attempt to understand it. My step-dad did not and my mom’s depression almost destroyed their marriage. Thankfully they found a good therapist, something that sometimes is underrated.
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that was beautifully said.
seriously.
It helps me to read posts like this, I don’t suffer from depression but my husband does, and it’s been a roller coaster finding the right medicine. We’re actually still trying. It helps to read what you’re going through because it is hard for someone who hasn’t experienced it to know what it’s like.
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I know that mental soundtrack loop.
Nicely said B.
Heath was one of the few members of America’s strange Hollywood Royalty phenomenon whom I really liked and respected. Whatever the reason and circumstance, it was just tragic. So young. And his little daughter … god.
It just sickened me how those salivating media vultures were so quick to churn out their breathless reports, anything for the drama of the day. It was just so disrespectful. He deserved to be treated and remembered better than that. I don’t usually care much about the lives of the stars, but I was very saddened over this.
Your words about depression were something more folks should hear.
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I too echo the sentiments of everyone here. Having spent the last four months reeling from heartbreak recently, I have had some pretty down, dark times, albeit, not low enough to resort to anti depressants, thank God, not knocking them or praising them, just haven’t had to resort to using them to get past what I’m still trying to get past. I’m not nearly as bad as I was even a month ago, but that’s thanks to the fact that I have my trip to Aus to look forward to in less than 7 days.
As for Heath, I too have been sickened at the scenes of press & photographers circling the funeral home, & Michelle William’s home, they’re despicable for not letting them grieve in peace. It’s all so very sad & tragic, because he was such a gifted & wonderful actor.
Nice post, B.
I prolly wouldn’t have even noticed the guy if I hadn’t seen Brokeback Mountain. As it was, i read the news of his death and just thought,’Fuck! What a waste.’
It’s good, although disturbing, to read about how depression felt for you, and how Xanax felt too. I work with people who are immigrating to the US, and always warn them they’re entering a zone where doctors (and much of the general public) think being sad can be treated with a pill. I know it works for some but just talking to someone, even a stranger or non-professional, is really underrated.
Thing I can’t understand is how could someone like Ledger or Owen Wilson get so lost that they cannot recognize the really great art they have made, and how much pleasure they have given us with their work? But maybe those voices you speak of are part of the answer. Thanks for the insight.
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Very good post. When he died, I thought the same thing as you. It is easy to loose track of pills. When I get a migraine I take percocet and have gotten into the habit of scribbling down the time I took the pill so that when I reach for the next one I can check when I took the last one. I also don’t keep them by the bed, I make sure I have to get up and check the time. It’s my little bit of insurance that I don’t accidentally overdose which would be so easy when your in pain. I was also taking Paxil years ago which is what they used to give you to treat Fybromyalgia. I tossed them as well because they have the same effect as the stuff you were taking….ciao
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Thank you SO MUCH for posting about this. I feel like I just read/heard somewhere that depression is the third most common disease worldwide and yet, is consistently misdiagnosed and/or ignored. All this and the cover of People this week announces Ms. Spears is bi-polar, as though they’re any semblance of authority on the subject. I couldn’t bring myself to buy it, but there I stood, skimming the article and shaking my head wondering what things have come to when a tabloid now feels obliged to dole out the diagnoses. As if there aren’t enough misconceptions about mental illness, we’re now supposedly privvy to the mental health of those in the spotlight — regarless of their own personal feelings on the subject? It thought we’d come so far since the 19th century, but it sadly seems a lot more like a modern day witch hunt than lending a helping hand to someone in need.
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Thank you very much for sharing your thoughts and experiences with and about depression. I’ve never really had a bad bout of it, but I’ve certainly been around it all of my life. It is interesting to get your perspective.
As for Mr. Ledger, I have no idea what caused his death, all I can say is what a shame that the world will not have him around anymore. I think that he was an extremely talented young man and that we hadn’t seen the best of him.
Thanks for sharing.
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