So Anthony Bourdain took his own life (as reported by CNN) Friday (which is still today in my land). My first reaction, when told by my friend K, was shock and sadness. Not surprise, per se, since he seemed like a fellow who had demons. I am sad, however, that he gave into those demons. I am boggled by how someone so popular didn’t feel (that’s an assumption) that he could reach out for help in battling his demon. He had fans. In general, fans are supportive. Coworkers are supportive. Family members are supportive. Friends, by the definition, are supportive. True friends are actually supportive.
At least, they should be. Damnit.
If you think you do not have value – that your life is not worth anything so might as well end it – but your friends/family/fans think your life has value. Trust them.
Ugh.
The news providers say that suicide happened more often in 2016 (their most recent data I guess) than death by car accident or homicide.
The demons appear to be winning. Don’t let them. Fight back!

Of course, we – the public – will never have the true story. Maybe he had terminal something medical? Maybe he just faked his death and is going to go be a secret agent for New Zealand or Mars?
Another thing my brain did, being a writer and currently reading a JD Robb book, was “Oh, he’s famous. I wonder if it was murder made to look like suicide – just like that fashion designer (Kate Spade).
Ah, brain, stop for a moment, eh? We don’t need to write that story.
Does thinking it’s murder make it more acceptable?
No, but
I guess I have strange coping mechanisms.

They tell us that suicide is preventable. It can’t hurt to try to prevent it. Check out Mental Health First Aid.

sigh.