First off, thank you to everyone who contacted me after my last post. I've been avoiding the big public announcement (although the Facebook marriage eulogy is certainly inevitable). My last post was a great dress rehearsal. Thank you for listening.
Eventually, this blog will feature much more MOTHERS MILK and much less woe is Ben. But I needed to cross that bridge; it felt good to unload. And my candor may prove helpful to others. Win win, right?
Sort of.
Opening up my personal life has its benefits. But it's kind of a downer for readers. I also run the risk of undermining public confidence in my leadership at a particularly precarious time. From hereon out, I will lean towards a balanced approach -- an intimate behind-the-scenes portrayal of the making of a DIY feature film (warts and all), with a semi open door policy on the personal front. With that said, I need to expend the bulk of this post hashing out some details from my last entry.
I'm not going to dwell on the details of my divorce. We had a good run. It didn't work out. At the end of the day, nothing else matters. It's obviously more complicated than that. But, I'll save the details for my New York Times best selling autobiography.
I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of support after my last post. I sincerely appreciate everyone who called/texted to check on me. Do not fret. I'm good. Really. The brief mention of my brushes with suicidal ideation was motivated by two important tenets:
1) LET IN THE LIGHT - It is imperative to share feelings of self-harm. It's extremely dangerous to keep these thoughts to yourself. I have been helping at-risk youth and families navigate these types of troubled waters for 20 years. And yet, when I was living it myself, I recoiled, kept the pain to myself. The preacher was not practicing. I was very fortunate to have some great friends who pummeled me with love and support, totally disallowing any notion of perceived psychological heroism. That exposure was invaluable.
2) BE OF SERVICE TO OTHERS - I am not the only one dealing with these emotions. By speaking out, I can connect with others struggling with similar demons. Like many people said to me: Know that you are not alone. It will get better. It may get worse first. But it will get better eventually. Sharing my triumph may inspire others, which fully justifies the risk.
I have a regular writer's meeting with QUALITY OF LIFE Producer and IN WORLD WAR Director, Brant Smith. Every week, we spend about 20 minutes on the phone lighting fires under each other. In one of our recent calls, he started with a benign "How you doing?" I told him how much better I was than a few weeks ago. Now I have my own place, my daughter is living with me, my sons regularly visit me at my house, I sleep in my own bed. Life is good! In an effort to give him some context, I confessed that I had not only had suicidal thoughts before the move, but had actually been consumed with visualizing a plan. I immediately broke into tears. I realized at that moment that I hadn't shared that information with anyone else. Hearing those words come out of my mouth scared the shit out of me. It was saddening to think of myself in that position. My intention was simply to provide context -- I am doing so much better NOW. Seriously. This was not a cry for help. I just wanted him to know how great I was feeling, what a huge turnaround I had experienced. But...God damn. That was one loaded statement.
Hearing someone talk about suicide is a scary thing. What do you do? Should you report it? (If they are imminently suicidal, and have a plan and the means to carry out said plan, the short answer is yes.) Should you lecture them for being so lame and selfish? Tempting, but no. It's complex. I'm not going to address it in detail here. There are many great resources out there (including the Trevor Project, which MOTHERS MILK Producer Peggy Rajski co-founded). But I will say this: If you're feeling suicidal, talk about it. And if someone talks to you about feeling suicidal, listen. It sounds simple, but prevention starts with simple conversation.
OK. There. Ready to move on.
Yes, it was a dark time in my life. But, like the protagonist in our film (and most films), I have learned and even benefited from the struggle. Life is good. So good. I have so much to be grateful for. Including this wonderful project, MOTHERS MILK.
There's a ton of exciting stuff happening with the movie. And I want to share this excitement with you. My personal struggle will inevitably be intertwined with my portrayal of the journey. Candor is in my blood. Love it or leave it.
Making a feature film is like climbing Mt Everest. There are highs and lows, successes and failures, conquered peaks and frostbitten toes. Hopefully sharing the full monty will result in an engaging read.
Onward!
