Robin Williams Was My Princess Diana

I was a 25-year-old know-nothing when Princess Di died. I remember being so callous as to wonder why so many people were devastated when she passed. There was no two-way relationship between themselves and the Princess of Wales. They didn’t even know her. How could they be so upset?

“How could a person weep over the death of Princess Di whom they never met?!” I would ask.

I was an idiot. Which was on brand for my early 20’s. We could have filled a library over the things I ended up being so wrong about.

17 years later I was given an insight into the answer to that question when Robin Williams took his own life.

It was on that day, August 11th, 2014, that the class clown makeup I had been wearing for years started to fade.

Before that, I had built my entire identity around making people laugh - and although I was often unsuccessful, my brand of humor was the rusty vehicle I used to connect with the world. For those who have seen me do sketch comedy, they know that I would do ANYTHING to elicit a giggle from an audience.

Getting somebody to laugh felt like a puzzle or a riddle for me to solve.

If I change my facial expression like this and alter my voice like that and say something outrageous, can I get my bank teller to smile?

When Robin died my funny bone was sent to Hospice. Its death didn’t happen overnight…it was a very slow boil. I became less and less interested in solving the riddle of making you laugh.

And I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I fell into the cliche web of using my sense of humor to hide from being real with folks. It was my middle defense system.

When shit got real I would snap off a joke or break into a character to release the pressure building up in my heart. I wouldn’t address the growing rot inside of me because I was too busy trying to crack the code on how to make others laugh. I couldn’t deal with my demons while walking around with a perma-smile pasted on my face.

Once the stories started coming out about how much he suffered behind the scenes, I saw many of my own demons in Robin. I had also experienced the melancholy kiss of hopelessness behind closed doors. I had felt the shadows crossing the bedroom floor to climb in between the sheets with me.

When Robin died, an underground well of words I needed to say to the world broke open.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my poetry writing began a few months after Robin crossed the veil. Being funny wasn’t as important as being kind, spreading beauty, and allowing me to become brutally vulnerable about the swirl of both light and dark I had inside of me.

I am, if anything, gifted/cursed with a serious dose of self-awareness. I understand how off-putting my constant need to post poetry is for many. It’s a bit beyond my control at this point.

My writing journey has been a very lonely one. Maybe sometimes the art we create also accidentally digs a moat around our personal lives. We show what is going on behind the curtain. And that makes others uncomfortable. How do I know this? Because the whole thing makes me uncomfortable!

Every single time I post a poem here on FB I cringe. Because I know it can dig the same kind of moat around me that performing comedy has. The words can become my defense I can hide behind.

Yet, here I am still. Trying to say everything I need to before my time comes. I realize how it looks to be a middle-aged schlep writing missives every day. I’m not running a business or curing cancer…I’m writing lyrics on coffee house napkins.

It’s just where I’m at now.

For me, Robin Williams has always been my hero. His joy was infectious and his ability to tell a story was unmatched. Robin was the master and the north star to which I guided my love of laughter.

In the years since his death, we have learned much more about what Robin was suffering through. He had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease shortly before he died, but after his death it was discovered that he had Lewy body disease, a devastating neurological disease that had been affecting his brain. It brought with it a bewildering collection of symptoms, including anxiety, paranoia, insomnia, cognitive changes and depression. Robin himself never knew what was happening to him. I cannot imagine what he was going through.

Knowing that now changes the way I understand those final months of his life. Whatever was happening inside of him was far more complicated than the story many of us understood in 2014. He was suffering from a disease he didn’t even know he had.

It’s been twelve years since the brightest star fell from the sky and I’m still hurting and weeping over a man whom I have never met. To him, I would be a stranger - but to me, he was my muse.

Robin Williams is my Princess Di.

He will never know how important he has been in my life. Maybe he does. I thank him every night before I drift off to that little space between wake and dream. I like to think he can hear me.

Mental illness is the door we as a society are afraid to walk through. We talk about it a couple of times a year on awareness days. Or after a tragedy happens. Then it fades again until the next headline.

Why? I don’t know. Maybe the unseen wounds are the scariest of all. When will the stigma of being unwell end?

I realize I am asking a lot of questions without any solutions. I may not be smart enough to answer those - but I do know here is something that has saved lives:

I have so many experiences to explore your artist’s heart with me in 2027.

Virtual sessions, downtown Santa Fe, at a working horse ranch in Tucson, Colorado, and two events lined up in EUROPE!

I have several new offerings being added next month.

These aren’t come and become a best-selling author writing experiences. In fact, I have so many non-writers join me. This is about tapping into the creative well inside of us using nothing but our imagination and a pen.

It’s about rediscovering our voice.

If you feel the nudge - check out what I have scheduled. Bring a friend! I keep the group sizes small - so spaces can fill up quickly.

Explore Your Heart With John!

If you have an event you think I can help out with please reach out to john@johnreodel.com