Thank You For The Magic

Whether you loved him or hated him, Michael Jackson was a dazzling force to be reckoned with on stage. Immensely gifted and talented, he entertained the world with his amazing dance moves and his music. We all know of his start in show business with his older brothers, 'The Jackson 5'. We know about the cartoons, merchandise and sold out concerts. We know about the plastic surgeries and the pet chimp 'Bubbles'. In fact, it seemed we knew everything about Michael...through the tabloids. Story upon story upon story...each becoming more and more bizarre.
Most of all, we knew his music...

But did we know the man?

When he died last year, I began to read about Michael Jackson; the man, the legend and the father and what I found out not only surprised me, but made me all the sadder because I had never gotten the chance to know him; as a friend and as a human being. And yes, I , like most others, judged him because of his appearance and his often bizarre behavior. I'm more than ashamed I did...

Of course, it's impossible to talk of Michael without bringing up the child molestation charges. When it first happened, because of who I am (an abuse survivor), I believed the media. But those who knew and loved Michael the best, his friends, family and his fans staunchly stood by his side in his defense.
I don't believe it now and as Michael once said in an interview, "I would rather cut off my arm than hurt a child." And knowing how Michael loved children,
I think that is true. Why? Because Michael was a child himself and he spoke their language. He was indeed a grown up 'Peter Pan'. He knew how to relate to children and he had unending compassion and empathy for those who were sick or ill.

But the accusations and humiliation that he suffered publicly before, during and after the final trial, in which he was found not guilty, was the blow that seemed to knock Michael to his knees and it seemed that he was never able to recover from it. Even then, his fans rallied behind him, in demonstrations in front of the courthouse to show their support. He became a different Michael then, a Michael who worried constantly about his children's safety and whose drug use escalated to the point where even those closest to him were worried. It is said that some time before his death, two members of his family attempted a intervention and it was discussed, but went no further.

I once watched a concert where he stopped everything so that a tech could take a bug off the stage so it wouldn't be crushed. And as the tech scooped up the bug and began walking away with it, Micheal's words could be heard ringing out, "Don't kill it...please don't kill it."

One of the things that hurt the most in regards to the media was
was all the propaganda regarding 'his love of children', making it seem dirty and perverted. That blow must have hurt Michael most of all. After it was all over, Michael vowed that NeverLand, the home that he had built for himself and was a virtual fairground for sick children, would never be home to him again and he moved his children to Paris.
Later he would move back to the states but he said often that it didn't feel like home because the house was so exposed and that he didn't feel safe.


That Michael was, most times, a sad and lonely person was a given. He had been lonely most of his life, which led him to be very shy and soft spoken in public. When he had his children, I believe that they were the force that kept him going, day after day as he went into a decline that would be impossible to pull out of.
I believed that he loved and adored his children and they, in turn, loved and adored him, because to them, he was simply 'Daddy'. Those closest to Michael say that he was an awesome father and an excellent dad. He took great care to shield, as any father would who was concerned for their child's safety, his children from media as much as he could.

It's impossible to know when Michael began to use sedatives to help him sleep.
Some have said that he used them for years (right after the album 'Thriller' was released) as well as other drugs to combat chronic insomnia as well as pain.
The end result, the unbearably tragic one is that because of too many doctors, too many medications and too many 'Yes' people, Michael Jackson's 'This Is It' comeback tour would not be seen until after his death and then only rehearsal clips.
Michael died of a sudden cardiac arrest due to an overdose of multiple medications, including one used for sedation during surgery. Charges against his doctor are pending.

His gifts amazed even the most seasoned of singers, dancers and actors and he befriended many, many of them.

After two failed marriages, it seemed Michael devoted his time to not only his children, but other children around the world who needed him, giving his name, time and money for children charities.

In the last years of his life, Michael seemed even more at loss with the world and
and with himself. The pain of his childhood, which he spoke of often, seemed to have a tighter hold on him and his drug use increased.

I'm very sad Michael is gone. He was man who was so child-like, at times he seemed like a child, instead of 'The King Of Pop'. Just a big kid who wanted to have fun, to laugh and maybe play like the kid that he was...the way he said he was never able to play as a child.

Good Bye Micheal...I wish I had known you. I'm sorry for the pain and loneliness you felt during this lifetime, but I thank you for the beautiful gifts you gave the world. I wish someone...just one person would have said 'No' to you and maybe you would be here today.

You will be greatly missed and never forgotten...

Now My Friend, you can really fly...

Until Next Time, My Dear Friends,
LadiofZen

Seeing the Faces of the Mentally Ill

The picture above of me isn't a pretty one but it is a true one. Snapped by my partner at a time when I was struggling with depression, it shows me looking my worst; without sleep and exhausted and looking back into a painful past. A hopeless exercise but one that those of us who struggle with mental illness will relate to.
I don't have one mental illness...I have several. And I am still standing...despite myself and my mental disorders.

How do you view the mentally ill? What do you think to yourself when you see 'a crazy person' on the street? Is it funny or curious to watch? Or do you think to yourself, as I do, 'But for the Grace of God, go I'?

Almost everyone has someone in their family or even someone they know who has struggled with mental illness. Statistics say that one in four adults over the age of eighteen or 25% of individuals will suffer a debilitating mental illness in their lifetime. Approximately 20.9 million American adults, or about 9.5 percent of the U.S. population age 18 and older in a given year, have a mood disorder and depressive disorders often co-occur with anxiety disorders and substance abuse.

Which brings me to Stephen. I first met Stephen when he was 16 after being brought home by my son Josh, as they went to high school together. Stephen became without any effort at all, 'my other son'. He began to eat meals at our home and became a constant fixture at our house and suffice to say, I love him dearly.

That he was a bit odd was a given. He was also funny, intelligent and very outgoing. And after all, he was a teenager and trying, as my son was, to find himself.
But there came a day when I could no longer ignore the fact the he absolutely refused to eat at home and so I sat him down, face to face and asked him why.
He told me calmly and without a blink of an eye that he thought his parents were trying to poison him. Shocked and upset, I tried to convince him otherwise, but it did no good. He believed what he believed...period. I also spoke with his mother who was aware of the problem but unsure how to deal with it. She told me that since his aunt's death who had resided with them, he had refused to eat anything that he had not bought and opened himself. His mother had also shared that Stephen had been the one to find his aunt deceased on the kitchen floor and that he had been traumatized by it.

That was the beginning...

When Stephen was 17, he went to a concert and to this day, no one, not even my son who is his closest friend, knows what happened because Stephen has never spoken of it, at least not to us. But something did happen and Stephen was forever changed.
He became reclusive to the point that he refused to leave the house at all or stay in contact with any of his friends. The daily visits to our house stopped and my son, Joshuea concerned and worried, tried to help by visiting and talking to find out what had occurred that had caused such a devastating change in his best friend. But Stephen wasn't talking...at least not to Josh.
He was speaking...to the voices in his head. In his early twenties, Stephen was diagnosed with schizophrenia.

The diagnosis was for me and for my son Joshuea, devastating, as I am sure it was a hundred times more so for his parents. He was put on medication which caused massive weight gain and as the years have gone by, his condition has deteriorated because Stephen refuses to take his medication due to the side effects.

The last time I saw Stephen, which was about a year ago, his mother had come to bring him for a visit. As I stood off at a distance speaking with his mother about his condition, which was worsening, I happened to glance up, concerned that he might overhear. As I looked over and my eyes met his, I watched his lips as they silently moved while he whispered to the voices in his head that no one else could hear and I knew that while his body may have been there, his mind was a million miles away.
I went over and hugged him and looking into his eyes, I told him how very much I loved him. I told him to always remember I was there for him and to never forget if he needed me, to call or get in touch with me any way he could.
I hope and I pray he heard me.

After they had gone, I went inside and sat down and wept...for 'my other son', Stephen, who had somehow gotten lost in a foreign land with no means to get back.

Stephen continues to live with his parents and his condition continues to deteriorate.

The next time you see someone who is acting strangely or a bit odd, think twice or better yet, how about thinking thrice? And while you are at it, do your best to really 'see' that person with compassion and empathy.
Please remember that mental illness takes no prisoners. It could be your best friend or it could be a member of your family...or it could be You.

We are all ONE...


Until next time My Dear Friends,

LadiofZen