This past week has seen Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdin both decide to end their lives. They were not people burdened by the hopelessness of abject poverty. Which makes sense because studies on suicide reveal that those desperately poor don’t often kill themselves. Suicide is much more prevalent among those who have plenty but realize their material goods mean little or nothing.
I have been in treatment for chronic depression for 25 years. Suicide is in my thoughts every day. Even more so since Laurel died. Why not join her? The damage it would do to my children and my grandchild is all that stops me.
Depression blows. Nothing can cure it. Talk therapy is annoying particularly when you realize you are smarter than your therapist. Antidepressants only do so much. Sooner or later, if you have half a brain, you realize there is only one way out.
Since Laurel died, I can’t sleep easily unless I am drunk. At 65, the hangovers aren’t worth it anymore. So then I don’t sleep. Or I drink too much and feel like shit for two days. Death is the answer for those who can’t sleep.
What am I saying? That I totally understand why people like Spade and Bourdin made the decisions they made. That I could easily do the same. I haven’t so far. What about tomorrow? Don’t know. I don’t think I will. But who ever knows.
EDIt
I’ve been cutting my arms and legs the last two weeks. If anyone asks I tell them it’s from playing with my cat. It actually feels good. Who knew?
I have nothing concrete to tell you except that I am a friendly face and ears should you ever want to talk in person or skype or somewhere (I am not that far from you after all).
Also, may I suggest that you consider (just consider but not do)
