Responding to the Loss of Kate Spade & Anthony Bourdain

Content Warning: This post contains discussion on and a poem about depression, self harm, and suicide. Please do not read it if you are not able to process these topics.

I’ve just spent the last hour or so sitting here at the computer, writing and rewriting a post on my feelings about the recent suicide deaths of Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade and the national conversation they’ve started about depression and mental health. I don’t think I have the words to explain what I’ve been thinking and feeling in the wake of it all, though. I am a survivor of suicide and the conversations being had this week have not been easy for me to participate in or emotionally process, and I wanted to write a post about this. So, since I can’t quite put down everything that’s been going on for me but I do want to share my feelings in one way or another, I will instead share with you all the following poem, which I wrote a while ago and is a reflection on my suicide attempt, which happened just over six years ago as the culmination of just as many years of intense depression and regular self-harm.

❤ If you or a loved one are struggling, please visit or call 1-800-273-8255 for help. You are not alone, no matter what you are going through, and I promise the world will notice if you disappear, so please don’t. ❤

The Day I Disappeared

It was beautiful,

the day I died.

The sky was perfect,

lightly freckled white

as it gently invited

all those around to

come outside, to turn upwards,

to enjoy the warm embrace

of Spring.


She was wonderful,

the day she broke my heart.

Her smile was sublime,

crooked and dimpled

into a rose-colored moon,

the celestial purity of it

unmatched only by the idea

she had of

her Soul.


I was hideous,

the day I took my life.

My wrist was so bare,

so ripe and ready

for the explosion of red

it knew was coming,

which had been inevitable

since I realized I

was Alone.

She was relieved,

the day I left.

Her shoulders were freed,

the weight of me,

of the darkness I was,

now lifted from them,

now gone from her life,

no longer

her Burden.


The world continued,

the day mine ended.

Its features just the same,

unaffected by neither

my presence nor my absence,

continuing on blissfully,

my spot filled before the blood drained,

me so eternally lacking

in Importance.


Nobody noticed,

the day I disappeared.




6 thoughts on “Responding to the Loss of Kate Spade & Anthony Bourdain

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