He Was Always In Character. I Never Really Knew Him.

Many of us are still stunned by the passing of Robin Williams, gifted comedian and actor. What many people cannot seem to understand, though, is his method of passing: suicide.

So many people cannot comprehend someone wishing to end his own life.

As someone who had a gun to his head at the age of 10, I understand. In fact, when I read the article linked above, I saw the key to Mr. Williams' issue.

"He was always in character — you never saw the real Robin," said Jamie Masada, founder and chief executive of the Laugh Factory. "I knew him 35 years, and I never knew him."

"He was always in character." That typifies the kind of person who feels insecure around other people. It doesn't matter if the others liked him, loved him, or hated him. In his mind he wasn't loveable as he was, so he had to act like a likeable person.

Oh, sure, there are people with egos the size of solar systems who could use some lessons in this type of acting, except that one really cannot act humble if they aren't. It may fool some people some times, but eventually the act breaks, and the real person shows up. For the egotist, that rarely leaves a good impression, but it makes for great celeb gossip.

Then there are those who are afraid, who hide behind an act of ad-libbed self-confidence as they panic inside. Eventually this drains a person. They want to stop acting, but they don't know how. They want to be themselves, but even they don't know who that is anymore. They can no longer cope by hiding, but they certainly cannot cope with not hiding.

So they run.

Sometimes they run to alcohol. Sometimes it's cocaine or heroin. Even those fail, though.

That leaves only one last great escape: suicide. The final escape from a life of hell.

It may not seem to fit his character, but deep down that's all that is left of such a person.

Since I'm one of the same kind of person, I could see it in Williams' eyes even when he "na-noo'ed" with the future wife of Mark Harmon. You could see it in his mouth even on camera: a tension, a fear, a sense that he was being strong not just for the camera, but for everyone around him. I wonder if he cried alone as much as I have.

Many well-meaning people try to help. They've told me to cheer up, to "speak positive into your life,"to "count your blessings." They don't understand that those phrases can actually hurt more than help. All of them, in one way or another, tell people like me that we're not doing something right, that we're not good enough for them unless we add to our act. It doesn't work! We can act positive, sure, but for us it would be as much of a lie as the rest of our public lives.

Please, if you cannot understand how someone can want to commit suicide, don't dismiss it, don't condemn it! We cannot understand how life can be considered "precious" when it's so hard. Accept us just as we are! We might not be able to comprehend how anyone can do that, but it does get in. Whatever you do, though, never say something that may cause us to distrust your caring. You may never be believed again.

Now, having said all this, I'm not as far gone as I might sound. I do have days when I'm glad to be alive. Sometimes that even overrides the times when I do something so stupid that I hurt one I care about, and I hate myself all over again, edging back toward bringing the act back until I cannot hold it in again. I do have trust in God, though I still get depressed, as many Biblical figures did. That's OK! If a dear friend cannot agree with that, then so be it. Their problem. I'm me, take it or leave it.