“ I remember the date vividly, because it was the date of Martin Luther King’s assassination: April 4, 1968. And I was a very clever young man. I had taken the bathrobe that I had brought with me [to the hospital], I had unstitched the hem, and I sewed in hundreds of pills. Aspirins, sleeping pills, everything I could get my hands on. And that night, of April 4, I swallowed the whole bunch.
“I woke up in the emergency room of the Yale New Haven Hospital the next morning, having had my stomach pumped. And faced two years and three months of hospitalization—it was a long haul.
“I tell the story—it is painful—because there are so many young people who suffer…I was rescued by an incredible incredible doctor named Dr. Phillip Goldblatt, who wouldn’t put up with my bullshit, who wouldn’t just let me sit silently in therapy sessions. He was my third psychiatrist there—I went through a bunch thinking, “I can beat them at this game!” and I was pretty good at it, until Dr. Goldblatt said “You know what? If you don’t want to talk during these sessions that’s fine, I’ll just sit here, and you know what? I’m increasing your sessions from three days a week to five days a week.”
“And life is only successful if we look at it as being a big collaboration. That’s how we get through life—by having people whom we trust, loved ones who are important to us, and by reaching out and saying “I need some help.” And I am so grateful for the care that I received, and for the incredible individuals who rallied around me. And I am grateful to be here with all of you."
