I received the text in aisle 3,192 of the Super Walmart -my husband informing me that Anthony Bourdain committed suicide. We appreciated his shows, Trevor and I. They were part of a handful that both he and I could sit and watch together-satisfying both of us to be physically close to each other and watch something that appeased both of our appetites. Bordain was easy listening- a voice that was often just randomly playing in the background of this screen-addicted home.
I suppose because his voice was always so immediately recognizable that I kind of just felt it would always be here for us. I thought of that term, here for us. I can’t imagine the total amount of perfect strangers that also felt the same way, that Bourdain was simply unstoppable, not in a flashy way- more in a “he’s a fighter way” making his rounds of our globe with such unaffected glibness that it further endeared him to all. Imagine the burden of feeling that so many people assume you have to be there for them; you are everyone else’s fighter…!
As a plucky gal who suffered Peripartum (Postpartum) Depression with each pregnancy and currently work (ha) with Persistent Depressive Disorder (basically an aberration if you will-of my brain chemistry) , I struggle with “what could have been” if only I had been treated with depression and anxiety as a teen rather than taking so much of my adult life to soothe and mellow my brain waves. My friend “Darla Downer” was an absolutely life-altering and all consuming companion for so so long. Without my amazing therapist and her ability to match me with proper medication, along with my fab fam, I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish anything close to what I have over the last several years (which includes anything from becoming re-certified to teach to making it through the day without bursting into ferocious tears listening to the Edie Breckell CD that is permanently stuck in my car player on my way to the Dunkin Donuts). Sidekick Darla nearly killed me over the decades in a myriad of wonderfully depressive and potentially devastating ways and my empathy nearly doubled me over right there in the Dorito Dome. I wasn’t ashamed to feel my face burn and my tears begin for his family left behind. Each tear and stomach cramp and deep yoga breath-dedicated to his legacy.
Val Kilmer’s letter to the public regarding Mr. Bourdain isn’t an easy one to read. But read,we must. We have to acknowledge all sides affected from this horrifying rippling effect called suicide. For the Robin Williams’, the Kate Spades, the Kurt Cobains, the Alexander McQueens, L’Wren Scotts, the Scott Hutchisons, the Annabelle Neilsons-they selflessly shared their raw and honed talent with the world, sacrificing much for others, yet did not have the POWER to sustain their own lives. Let their fall into personal canyons from which they couldn’t climb out of be a call of action for better services that can spread awareness and outline the signs of depression for all people, ages, colors, religions, and economic and health care status. https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/