I feel like I’ve returned from the dead and I have to say that after all I’ve been through in the past two weeks, there were times when I actually felt as though I wanted to hasten my demise. So, it is ironic that two of my celebrity idols took their lives in this period. These were people I followed through their careers and watched their creative work evolve over time. This made me pause to think about all that suicide entails. There have been many moments in my life when I have honestly contemplated suicide and yet I did not act on this impulse. Why? Was I just not serious enough? Too lazy on my follow through? Not committed to my goal in a way that was sufficient enough to complete the task?
No, on reflection, I think in each instance where I thought it would just be simpler to end the struggle rather than continuing on in futility, something crossed my path that stopped me and made me abandon the plan for my death. These things are too numerous in nature to outline here, but as an overview, I’m thinking of my dog and how terrible it would have been for her to be sitting there with a dead body for several days – no I’m not famous enough that I would be discovered the same day.
Or perhaps it was that one unexpected phone call from a friend who never knew how close I was to the final moment of decision.
This leads me to reason number three, vanity. A dead body, anyone’s dead body after a few days is a very unattractive sight. I simply wasn’t so broken that I could dismiss what the person who found me would think of my appearance after a few days of my body fermenting at room temperature.
Please don’t misunderstand, I am not casting aspersions on either of these tormented souls. I am not judging Kate Spade or Anthony Bourdain in any way. I have followed her work and loved Kate Spade’s designs from the beginning. I have been completely in love with Anthony Bourdain and his work since the moment I first saw him. I am heart broken at the loss of these two creative souls. I am just now in retrospect realizing that for whatever reason I just simply did not have the internal stuff to complete the task. Does that make me less broken or less courageous? Certainly not. It merely makes me here and alive, for better or worse. Perhaps in the final consensus that in and of itself really doesn’t even matter. Are we all following some sort of predestined life plan? I have no idea.
What this leaves me with however, is that life is precious in ways I have yet to understand. Even more importantly, once again, this drives home the point that all the stuff that I am constantly striving for, money, fame and recognition doesn’t mean a thing. These two people had it in spades and they both still were so ill at ease in their lives that they had to escape to death. Thus, I conclude, perhaps rather simplistically, that the search for meaning is an interior verses and exterior thing. I will try to hold this idea firmly as I progress through my daily travels.