We lost one of our own today, Robin Williams

His death was a blow. I was very much taken with him as a child – the manic humour of Mork and Mindy. I continued to be a fan of this wonderful and warm man – he seemed utterly irrepressible.

What I did not know was that behind that ebullient smile, was a man that suffered. A man desperate for love, alive in public, repressed in private.

Of course, it should have been apparent. All the signs were there; like many comedians the comedy was a mask, a means to love, a means of valladarion, a portal – the armour that protected a pained heart.

I found it interesting. As a child, though brought up in a privileged home, he was neglected, the love of his parents seemingly withheld, father absent, mother distant.

I read that he developed humour as a means to draw upon himself his mother’s attention – it was a coping mechanism, a means to elicite love. He had to work for acceptance.

It seemed to work and thus an approach was born and yet it was not, he, himself, that was loved, it was his humour. As an adult he used it to gain the affection and acceptance that he so much desired as a child.

Love becomes a drug, uncertain of oneself, convinced one is not enough, we pursue it – it’s never enough – we become people pleasers, losing ourselves, contorting ourselves to gain acceptance. We become dual personalities – we see ourselves as frauds.

My heart goes out to him. RIP sweet soul