A couple of years ago, my best friend and I met up in Los Angeles for a “girlfriend getaway”… a weekend devoted to having fun and reconnecting without our husbands in tow.  One of the things we wanted to do was attend a studio taping, and I managed to land two seats on the front row for TV’s top-rated sitcom, “Two and a Half Men”.

Although I’m not a fan of the show, I’d seen it on TV and was looking forward to witnessing a sitcom coming to life.  It was a long but fascinating evening.  But what I really remember about the night was watching the show's star, Charlie Sheen, when the cameras weren’t rolling.   By that point, Charlie had acquired quite a reputation for his wild escapades, domestic disputes, and drug use.   I wondered how the audience would react to him, knowing his history, and I wondered what he would be like on the set. 

It’s true; Charlie conducted himself with great professionalism.  But, as I watched him, he didn’t seem at ALL to be “larger than life.” It struck me that in front of me stood not a world-famous face, not a millionaire, not a “winner”… just a man, a man with a lot of deep-seated problems.  A man who is, at his core, not so different from ill family members, or from people I’d assisted during my social work days. 

Charlie Sheen’s issues certainly are public, and should he choose to accept help, he has the resources and support to move his life in a different direction.  He is fortunate.  However, I’ve found that many people dismiss lingering emotional problems as a simple personality flaw, and therefore the people with problems never receive the assistance that could transform their lives.  And sometimes, the people we are closest to are the ones whose problems we can’t see so clearly.