I intentionally waited to post this because I didn’t want to sound like a know-it-all or worse yet a complete horse’s ass, but Robin Williams’ suicide was not a complete surprise to me.
Because for some of us, who grew up poor, having things — especially big things — was a sure sign of success. So consequently, losing things, especially something you’ve built, is the ultimate failure.
So, two weeks ago when I was home watching late night TV, trying to make my every other weekend off last longer, and saw Robin Williams’ home for sale on the show Open House, I knew something was very wrong. My only question as I watched the preview of the house was, “how could he bear to have someone else live in his house touching the things he’d worked a lifetime to possess. How could he bear to have someone else walk the land and say, ‘Look what I’ve done.”
I know to some of you who have had money and possessions all of your life, they’re just things that can be replaced. But to some of us, they’re not. They are the sum of our lives. They are our blood, our sweat, our time and our energy. Things – possessions – they are who we are.
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