Dear Demi Moore (and every other well-to-do celebrity suffering from “exhaustion”),

I wanted to write you this note to express my sadness at your current condition. I’ve always enjoyed your work (even the stuff that was panned, because it was you) and admired your strength — you came from nothing and created a wondrous life for yourself. It was, and still is, very rare to see an actor make it on their own, without parental connections, etc. Not only that, but by your own admission, your relationship with your mother was terribly strained, yet you persevered and you were with her when she passed away — absolutely, positively admirable.

You earned your star.

All that said, I wanted to tell you — and many of your colleagues in showbiz — how unimpressed I am with you inability to cope with life’s hardships. I can’t help but roll my eyes at your latest cry for help……… I am not going to pretend to know what is going on in your orbit (a cheating spouse? whip-its? really?), but from my own brief fling in the world of tabloid (ahem) “journalism,” sources are usually publicists, people who are somehow connected to you.

Ms. Moore, heartbreak is terrible and any kind of betrayal is absolutely devastating — no, crushing. But I implore you to take a moment to stop………………… to step outside of your gilded cage and step into my iron cage or anyone else who is struggling to keep their own emotional head above water. Life is hard. Life is suffering, but that’s LIFE.

In the most recent issue of Harper’s Bazar, you describe yourself as a seeker, “a seeker of the truth.” Go inside and take a good, hard look………………… and then digest it.

You are blessed…………………….. WAY more than most people in this country, and then there’s the planet to consider……………………… suffering is more common than not, so to lose yourself to your own demons, well, it’s a pity and frankly, it’s something most caregivers of demented loved ones wish they could do.

But we can’t.

We are the ones who must carry on. We are the ones who have to keep going, no matter how much we’d love to hospitalize ourselves for exhaustion. We are the one’s who have to go to work day-in and day-out to earn in a year what you likely spend in a month. We are the one’s who sit on our loved ones bedside and watch the daily horrors of dementia unfold before us. We are the ones who make do…… it is what it is. We are the ones who swallow our medicine and deal with whatever this grotesque disease throws at us……………………… including poop.

In that same article you said that “any kind of unhappiness, conflict, or chaos … is fear-based, insecure behavior that is playing out of some kind of pattern from our childhood.”

I take it, that your unhappiness is rooted in your childhood…………….. well, I am not always happy. I am probably more unhappy than happy and I can tell you, while I may have had issues with my own parents growing up, my unhappiness does not stem from that……………. from the past. It stems from the fact that my mother is slowly dying from a horrible disease that is consuming her gray matter…………………. I am unhappy because her disease has taken a toll on my father, too. I fear for my father. I fear that his sadness might be so profound that it will one day consume him. I am unhappy because I do not have parents who I can talk to about my life, my work, my fears, my joys, etcetera etcetera etcetera……………but that’s life. And life is suffering.

And life can break you……………………….. if you let it.

I refuse to let it.

I wanted to write this letter (it’s actually a blog post) to you and to all of the over-paid, over-glorified celebrities who seek solace in a bottle of booze, drugs, or whatever vice floats your boat, because you know nothing of pain……………… your suffering is gilded.

You (ALL) seek fortune and glory and then you shun it. But here’s a news flash: I helped you afford your homes (yes, plural), the designer duds you sport on your back even when you’re just going to Whole Foods, your children’s posh education……………….. me and my movie ticket (and in the case of other famous people, CDs, magazines, etc).

You read a few books about spirituality, life and it’s meaning and wear a red string around your wrist…………….. the masses follow you, they want to be like YOU………….. and when life hurls a pile of caca at you — a big pile and in public…………… and you let it defeat you. You appear to feel sorry for yourself…………….

Countless caregivers come face-to-face with the devil himself, every single day when they care for a demented loved one………………and I am sure each one would love to call it a day. To say, I don’t want to do this anymore. To walk away from their daily horrors. To check themselves into a place for exhaustion. Because believe me, these people are TIRED.

Frankly, I would love to regain my balance with lots of yoga, a personal chef and views of the Pacific………………… sounds positively healthy.

Alas, I live in an iron cage called reality.

Sincerely,

A girl who really liked you in Ghost.

P.S. I hope you feel better soon.

>>Flickr pic by OlestC