You Choose

So I know I'm a little behind the times, but when I heard this week that Owen Wilson tried to commit suicide it made me sad. Unlike some of you (Stephanie and Dawn) I don't keep up with celebrity gossip and I know nothing about Owen Wilson's private life. But I really enjoy his movies and it should make me sad when other people are hurting too, but you only hear about famous people trying to kill themselves, cause otherwise the paper would be too full to publish. Anyway I thought about writing him a letter... You know fan mail. I've never written a fan mail letter. So I am posting the 2 versions of what I would say and you can choose which one is a better approach. I hope they're not too long?

#1
Dear Mr. Wilson,

It saddens me to hear about your recent struggle and I thought I would take a moment to let you know that there are people who understand. There have been plenty of times when I have been confused enough, depressed enough, mad enough or indifferent enough to want to end it, but maybe I'm too much of a coward to have done it. I'm 27 years old. Married, and have a child and a college degree. I was raised in a good home and should be totally content, but one rarely is. I often find myself keeping busy with productive things so as to avoid whatever it is that I don't want to think about without looking desperate. Instead I look accomplished and together, which affords smugness and arrogance. In reality it is a coping mechanism just like anything else. I'm not saying this is what makes me understand or even that I totally do. Wait for it. ...
I remember when I heard that Dick VanDyke was an alcoholic. I remembered watching him on Mary Poppins and thinking what fun it would be to have him as my friend just like the Banks children. Someone to take carousel horses into imaginary countryside and dance on rooftops and play the tambourine in a red and white striped suit is definitely someone you want in your corner. I thought, "How could someone so nice, be so unhappy that they would need to drink in order to be fun?" This is how my mother made sense of it to my 9 year old brain. I thought, "No way is it true, Dick VanDyke is such a great guy." I'd like to think that since then I've grasped a bit more of the adult world and its pressures and burdens.
I did a painting in college of 4 self-portraits. I'm wearing safety gear in 3. The last one is me wearing a clown nose. The title is "safety first". I won a scholarship for it though I'm not sure if the judges really got it, or thought it was a statement on the paranoia of our culture. For me some times the safest thing is being funny. People laugh, they like you, and it puts you in the middle of everything and completely out of the picture all at the same time. It feels like disappearing in a way. This is where I imagine you find yourself.
Considering that I don't know you at all and that it is your profession to be the way you are on the screen, I would hate to assume that I can see right through your problems. I've not resolved how to "fix" this in my own life either, but sometimes it is nice to know that even me, a 27 year old mom, stranger, might have some little thing in common with you a famous movie star. I'm not saying it is a little thing.. just that it is hard knowing yourself sometimes. Hardest maybe. Pressure to be who you think others want you to be and not meeting expectations in your own mind. Even now writing this I think, "geeze.. this is Owen Wilson I'm writing to. I should be more tongue in cheek or satirical or something. I'm just sounding bleeding heart pathetic. (not to be insensitive)
I guess the point is that whatever it is that you aren't content with, won't change. It is us that needs the changing. I need to be OK with where my life is right now, staying at home with my baby and living in a small town. I need to be OK with who I am at this moment, knowing I'm not done and as things change I will too. People don't preach honesty. People preach what looks good. Sometimes I don't look good. But as my mother always said, "Be yourself, and if they're really your friends, they'll understand. "

sincerely,
Jamie Brouwer



#2
Dear Owen,

First off I'd like to offer my condolences regarding your recent suicide attempt. Although I've never tried it, I've thought about it. I'm not going to sit here and write about how great you are and how much the world needs you and that being an actor is an important job, and that your so talented and blah, blah, blah. What I'm here to say is, life is hard and you've got to try harder.

For instance, if you really want a reason to end it, try post partum depression. You start the whole cycle by having a baby. Which only happens after you've been pregnant for 10 months. They say it's 9, but it's 40 weeks and divided by 4 that makes 10 months. So after you've been nauseous for almost a year, gained the equivocal weight of a kindergartner and survived labor and delivery, you then don't sleep through the night for at least 3 months and that is the bare minimum. You sit on the couch in your sweats and breastfeed every 2 hours around the clock, your husband goes back to work and you are left there to clean, cook and raise an inspired, well balanced child. If you're lucky your baby doesn't end up with colick or reflux or allergies or any other myriad of mysterious reasons for crying incessantly. Don't get me wrong, I love my child, and I love being a mom, but there is a reason Hillary Clinton took the platform, "..it takes a village."

And that brings me to my point, it takes a village. You are not supposed to be doing life alone. You were not meant to figure it out and complete the task. We are designed to journey together. And if that is too touchy feely for you, you better watch out, cause I have heard about what those Malibu rehab places make you do on NPR. And yes, you do offer a bit of comedy to an otherwise hard to swallow reality. So keep up the good work as far as movies go, but as for your personal existence you're going to have to do better. The good news is, you don't have to worry about your boobs sagging when it's all over.

Jamie Brouwer