Can I, Susan, be the king of pop for a minute? Of course not! But, perhaps, just maybe, if I wore my empathetic gloves, can I understand the mental turmoil of the greatest entertainer of all times, Michael Jackson?

Here goes….

This is it!

“This is it! This is it! This is it!” In unison, we chanted the other day while announcing my last music tour. I want my kids to see me perform, for the first time! I want the world to get the same old same dose of my prowess in music and dance! I want to raise money for a special cause.

This is it, the greatest tour of all time, by the greatest entertainer of all times! My spirit is ready, and my soul is more than ready. One thing though- is my mind ready? Can my body handle it?

See, I have suffered from insomnia for a while now. I have tried the strongest sleeping pills that there is, but I just can’t have enough sleep.

Performing on stage as thousands of enthusiastic fans are screaming, and others fainting, is an adrenaline-inducing affair. Every hormone that gives you that energy is awake. I sing, I dance, I go all in.

Once the cinematic lights are off, and every flattering sound fades, I can’t quite get all those hormones back to normal. I need something for this, demerol, propofol….anything!

Tabloids of Death

My insomnia is not just induced while touring and performing. It also takes place while I try to rest and mind my own business. Being a performer, and a successful one at that, attracts the good, the bad, and the ugly.

While I love to entertain, the dark and ugly side of it is fatal. I am the best candidate for gossip, speculation, and lies. I can’t even watch the news anymore. In fact, I rarely do interviews.

The tabloids are brutal, the type of brutality that makes you want to escape. That escape is easily found in “my milk”, the beloved propofol.

Ready or not, here I come!

This is it! I may struggle sleeping, but I have to perform. I have come too far to give up. My team and I decide to find a doctor, Dr. Conrad Murray, to watch over me as I turn and toss in bed. He must come armed with “my milk”.

Meanwhile, we do intense rehearsals, and I get so tired. I know I need to Enter into Rest, to give my body time to rejuvenate and ready for the next day’s activities. Yet, my chemically-imbalanced mind is not having it.  I can’t sleep even if I was extremely exhausted.  Last time I checked, the only thing that works is propofol, one of the strongest anesthesia ever.

Doomed June!

On June 26^th 2009, I do my rehearsals and retire to my home, as usual. I toss and turn for a while as the anesthesia is dripping into my overworked and tired veins. I fall asleep! I will never wake up!

This is it!