I am remised in writing about the untimely passing of Matthew Perry. My friends and I grew up watching him on the show Friends. It’s tremendously sad: a person who gave so much laughter and joy to the world cannot keep any for himself. Perry’s addiction to alcohol and drugs is widely known, so when I saw the news of his death, my first inclination was: “He could never outrun his demons.”
(To be sure: as of this writing, the cause of death is still under investigation. Perry was found unconscious in a hot tub.)
I haven’t the slightest idea what it’s like to be in that deep a mental funk, be it substance addiction, or severe depression. I have friends who are on anti-depressive drugs, and it’s always been a challenge for me to empathize with their plight. It’s like a fully healthy person having to level with a terminally-ill patient. The wavelength of understanding is completely different. All I can offer to my friends are platitudes. Sometimes I would feel guilty to be “normal” and “happy”, when they are in such a rut.
Perry surely had close friends that know of his situation and want him to get well. But they couldn’t do anything for him, just as I cannot do anything for my friends facing mental challenges. The battle cannot only be fought by the person dealing with the issues. Those of us on the sidelines can only wish them the best, and be there when asked.
And if it comes to an end, it was beautiful while it happened. Matthew Perry leaves an enormous legacy of comedic and acting talent for generations to enjoy. Rest well.
Head in the clouds.