Unorthodox and Unhinged

Tales of a Manic Christian

“Lost in Space” — Maybe. Lost to God — Never.

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Mork, from stardust he came, to stardust he returns.

Mork, from stardust he came, to stardust he returns.

In 1966 the universe  — namely my universe —  expanded exponentially.  Thursday nights at nine o’clock on NBC I boarded the USS Enterprise. “Space, the final frontier” called to me and I answered the call. This was a mission, this little missionary, could barely conceive of – to “explore new worlds, seek new life and new civilizations, and boldly go where no man has gone before.” Well I was “no man”. I was an awkward eleven year-old, a little Roman Catholic cosmonaut. Star Trek sounded like heaven to me. So in 1966  this little Trekkie was born.

I am a Trekkie still — a closet Trekkie.  I don’t go to conventions or dress up like a Romulan or speak Klingon, but I am still quite an officianado of Star Trek – especially the original Star Trek. I have all 80 episodes on DVD and a commemorative edition that came with a fluffy, purring, pink Tribble. I dorkily have plastic action figures of the crew, including the Captain and his coffee pot. Nothing clears the room quite so quickly at my house as when I tune in and hunker down to watch the reruns marathon style. (An extended ritual I go through about once a year!) I am especially fond of the episodes where the brazen and brash Captain James T. Kirk quite literally loses his shirt.

This 1960’s series is still  a great solace to my dorky soul. While the cast and crew battle the unknown forces of the universe, I am comforted by the plethora of “M” class planets. “M” class planets are scattered all across the Milky Way and each one is capable of sustaining human life. I think “M” stands for miracle. Miraculously even the aliens speak English. The 430 crew members may be  “Lost in Space” but they are  never ever really far from home.

Star Trek was light years ahead of its time. Light years ahead of the space operas that came before it. But it is missing something that those quaint and quirky sci-fi series deeply understood. What is it like to truly be a stranger in a strange land?

My Favorite Martian blinked off the air the same year that Star Trek blinked on. Exigius, the exo-anthropologist from Mars crashed his one-man spaceship in the Hollywood Hills. Stranded he was taken in by a newspaper reporter who passes him off as “Uncle Martin”. (Sitting on the biggest story of his lifetime!) Each episode Uncle Martin tries to keep his antenna down and and stay undercover. The going gets difficult though — especially when he breaks out in Martian mumps and measles. Things get crazy and confused. The laugh track prompts the television audience exactly when to laugh.  And the audience does as they are told. They laugh in all the right places not just because it is funny. They laugh in all the right places because it is true.

“Being a stranger in a strange land” was a sure fire formula for sit-com success. After My Favorite Martian came ALF – the furry Alien Life Form from  Melmac with an appetite for cats. 3rd Rock from the Sun debuted in 1996 with a house full of  extraterrestrials disguised as a college professor, a curvaceous military expert, and a teenager. And of course, there was the hilarious 1970’s series — Mork and Mindy.

Mork – the world of course knows – was played by the manically comic and the manically gifted Robin Williams. And the world was stunned this week to learn that Mork had died by his own hand. After battling a lifetime of depression and addiction, he succumbed to the darkness.  Mork hung himself quite literally from a metaphorical tree, the frame of his bedroom door. And now the whole world is crying for the loss of this amazing man who never failed to make us laugh.

So how could this possibly be? He was hilarious. He was happy. He was a comedian beyond compare. He was “Mrs. Doubtfire” and “Patch Adams”. He was our ever-shining star of stage and screen. But even stars run out of fuel. Even stars implode. Even stars turn dark.

Mork’s mood disorder – specifically bipolar disorder  — was the demon that plagued him most of his life. Depression and its companion mania are commonly misunderstood. Happiness and sadness are ordinary human emotions. They ebb and flow with the ups and downs of everyday life and they ebb and flow in  us all. But different in kind are the moods that manifest themselves in the heights of mania and in the depths of. depression. It’s not about being happy or sad; it’s about the size of your universe. On the up side you are exploring the galaxy with Captain Kirk. On the downside you can barely get out bed.

“Barely” is the operative word. While those who live with depression often can barely get out of bed —  they in fact regularly do. And they do so to different degrees.The effort it takes  to change out your pajamas can be painstaking. The simplest of tasks can take enormous energy. And yet — even so –depressed folks get to work on time. Depressed folks work hard and get promoted. Depressed folks run companies. Depressed folks run marathons. And depressed folks also run like crazy to escape their depression. Depressed folks are very good at disguise. Depressed folks are marvelous actors. They have to be — because they are strangers in a strange land.

And this is how a star implodes. Every last little bit of fuel is exhausted. Every energy source is completely depleted – be it physical, spiritual, or emotional. And you are Lost in Space. The universe may be expanding but so does the void within you. You have absolutely nothing left. Today is an unthinkable burden and the thought of tomorrow is unbearable. And you go to bed not wanting to wake up anymore. You believe yourself a “foreigner and a stranger on earth….looking for a country of your own” (Hebrews 11:13-14) A country not of this world.

People tell you to be patient; that the pain will subside; the crisis will pass.  But you do not believe them. How could they possibly know if they haven’t suffered so? You just want it to be over, now and forever more. So in the depths of despair people take their own lives; die at their own hands.  In the US nearly 40,000 people this past year. Nearly 20,000 by firearms.

Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. There is no greater taboo – than suicide — that so sorely needs to be talked about. No taboo that so sorely needs to be brought out into the open.

Difficult as it may be, we need  to speak this truth in love. When we believe a loved one, family member, coworker or friend is thinking of hurting themselves  — we need to ask them just that. With compassion and concern: “I am worried about you. I have noticed (whatever you have noticed) and I want to ask if you are you thinking about hurting yourself?” It’s a myth that discussing and naming a loved one’s suicidal thoughts — puts these thoughts into their heads. Not true. Directly asking a person whether they are thinking of suicide can save that person’s life. Mentioning it out loud can be an enormous relief. Mentioning it out loud allows your loved one to name and claim the demons that haunt them. If your loved one answers yes – or if you believe the answer is yes — then call 911. Stay with them until help arrives. Don’t be afraid to appear foolish or wrong. You cannot diagnose your friend but you can perform first aid, call an ambulance and get them to  professional help. And if you need help finding the words — sign up for Mental Health First Aid (mentalhealthfirstaid.org).

In ages past the church classified  suicide a mortal sin, denied the dead burial in sacred ground, and condemned the sinner to the fires of hell. Christianity was not alone in its error. Historically in Judaism suicides were also segregated to separate sections of  cemeteries and the dead buried with lesser rites. Islam views suicide as the gravest of sins and anathema to eternal life. Muhammad says that anyone who throws themself down from the mountain will eternally be falling into the depths of hell. For Hindus suicide violates the code of “ahisma”, the code of non-violence and one who takes their own life will forever wander the earth as a ghost.

Blessedly for Christians  — and believers of other kinds —  this theology is mostly no more. But old beliefs die a hard death. Its seems virtually beyond belief that anyone could still believe in such a cold-hearted god – a god so devoid of compassion. But people still do. So  —  biblically speaking  — let me speak to the matter of suicide and how God decides the disposition of our souls.

Saul may have fallen on his own sword; Judas may have hung himself from a tree. Out of the depths of despair, they may have condemned themselves to hell. But God did not.

The God who loves us — loves us most desperately.  God  understands the depths of despair because  God himself has been there. Our God knows what it is like to lose his own life.  Our God knows what its like to lose his own soul, to be emptied with nothing left to give. God in Jesus — just as human as you and me — gave up all that he had and all that he was. He gave it all up  so that the whole world might be graced with compassion  – graced by forgiveness. That the whole world would taste and see that God is good.  Be they Christian, Jew, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Mormon, Scientologist, Wiccan, Agnostic, Atheist, Romulan, Vulcan, Klingon, Earthling, or none of the above — . We may be lost in life, bereft in death . We may be  lost in this place and in this time, but lost to God — NEVER.

At least that’s the God I believe in. And It’s the same God I believe that Mork believed in as well.

Give rest, O Christ, to your servant Robin with your saints, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing but life everlasting. 

From stardust he came. To stardust he returns.  All of us go down to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia! Alleluia! Nanu! Nanu!

JoaniSign

 

Author: celticjlp

Episcopal priest, 23 years. 14 years, balanced and bipolar. "Associate for Liturgy & Hilarity" at Emmanuel on High, Alexandria, VA. Bibliomaniac desk jockey and docent at Library of Congress. Washington DC born and bred. Half marathoner and avid pedestrian. Friend to many and mother of four. Blogger, Storyteller & Mental Health Evangelist.

8 thoughts on ““Lost in Space” — Maybe. Lost to God — Never.

  1. Pingback: Being of Service for NAMI? Sharing My Story! (#BestOf) | A Year of Being Kind

  2. Pingback: Being Helpful? Re-Tweeting about NAMI! | A Year of Being Kind

    • Elizabeth, thanks for spreading the word. And I was very moved to read your post on a Year of Being Kind prompted by mine on Robin Williams. The more of us who share our stories of living with mental illness the more hope that we can really make a difference.

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  3. I had time to finish this before I left. OMG Joani, this is perfect, every word of it.

    I did detect one missing “the.” JUST KIDDING! But you’re missing the word “out” in the paragraph which begins, “Barely” …..

    Peace friend, chuck.

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  4. I’m half way through reading your post. I have to run errands soon and will continue to read when I am stopped (responsibly!) LOL!

    Here’s my rough draft blog post for me editor to clean up:

    Robin Williams Like many of you I find myself thinking about Robin Williams a lot in these days and hours since we heard of his death by suicide on Monday, August 11th. The news is hard to wrap our minds around because it’s hard to imagine that a man who made us laugh and smile so joyfully could also suffer profoundly from depression. It’s hard to imagine the man who made so many others happy found himself so sad. You’ve probably got your own favorite Robin Williams character. My favorite is when Robin was the voice of the Genie in the 1992 Disney animated version of Aladdin. Robin was out-of-this-world good. Hysterical. It was the first time I experienced subtle adult humor wrapped in a child’s movie and I found it brilliant. As the story goes, Robin was so off-script that new animation had to be created to keep up with his creative extemporaneous style! God bless Robin. Shortly after Robin’s death his wife said, “I hope Robin will be remembered by the laughter and smiles he gave us all, and not by the way his life ended.” On the one hand I understand her point. God bless her, that’s an important message. I too sincerely want and hope people will remember Robin’s creative genius. On the other hand, I also hope his death will be a reminder to us all that there’s more work yet to be done. The work of medicine and counseling and advocacy and brave acts of compassionate love, acceptance and understanding as we reach out to one another. Yes, Robin was known to have had an alcohol and substance abuse issue, but many professionals are now saying those addictions were most probably Robin’s attempt to self-medicate. Not to get high, but to take away the pain. How much pain? Well apparently enough pain that he would end his own life. For people who know nothing about depression it’s hard to imagine anyone can be in that much pain. For those who know depression first-hand, it’s hard to imagine how Robin lived so long with such profound pain. They understand the pain. First-hand. When someone breaks their leg we understand their NEED for a cast. When someone like me who has heart disease is in trouble, we understand their NEED to take certain medicines and have regular check-ups. When someone’s appendix is sick, we understand they’ll most likely NEED an appendectomy. When someone’s pancreas is damaged and their blood glucose levels are too high, we understand they NEED to inject insulin. And we don’t think anything more about this. But when someone has a mental health illness there are so many stigmas attached to seeking treatment that those who NEED help are often too traumatized by social mores and cultural norms to get the critical help they NEED. I’m not saying this was the case in Robin Williams’ life. I’m saying this is often the case for many people you and I know. They NEED our love and support and non-judgment so that they can responsibly take care of their own mental health NEEDS. PLEASE let’s normalize the mental health discussion. Thankfully I think we are slowly, almost imperceptibly, beginning to understand that a broken brain is as normal and ordinary as a broken leg or broken heart or a sick appendix or pancreas. There’s no difference in the truth that something is broken – another part of the body. That’s what the brain is – another part of our body. We help all other parts of the body because it’s understood that help is NEEDED. We’re slowly realizing the brain is just like the leg, the heart, the pancreas and the appendix. When body parts are sick or broken they get the treatment and help they need. Our brains deserve that much – and more – care and respect, for we all KNOW how critical our brains are to our overall health and wellness. Critically important. Ya know what else we can do? Please re-read this blog post and consider these 5 tips to help you love someone who has depression: http://www.chuckmccoart.com/2014/06/some-tips-to-help-you-love-a-friend-who-has-depression/ It may help save someone’s life. You may help save someone’s life. Like you I’m praying for Robin and his family and friends and for all who suffer from depression. I’m also praying for all of us to have the courage to help others when we can. Thanks for all the love and good you all do every day. Every day you inspire me. Every single day. Peace friends, Chuck

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    • Chuck, my brother, thank you for sharing your forthright words. I am really glad to know that the followers of your blog — who I know are many — with your encouragement will learn more about mental health and how to care folks who live with depression and other mood disorders. Thanks for highlighting that what goes wrong with our brains is just as normal as what goes wrong with our hearts, or pancreas, or stomachs. Robin Williams shone brilliantly but in the end he could shine no more. Let’s look out for the Robins, the Morks, among us

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