Suicide and Serious Talk
One of my guilty pleasures in vintage buying and reselling (another life of mine besides the writing and painting – See Instagram: kandlrelics or FB K & L Relics) is the hunt for vintage clothing and shoes. For me, that equates to late seventies though mid-90s fashions and, as they say, “gently used” footwear, of the high-heeled design born in Italy and Brazil. What can I say? We all have our tastes.
I also happen across the occasional handbag I simply must acquire for some lucky next owner. It was only last week just below Wilmington, North Carolina, when Karin and I were perusing a shop in Carolina Beach, when she pointed out a colorfully patterned Lilly Pulitzer bag we ended up bringing back to Tennessee.
When Karin and I first started dating it didn’t take me long to realize that, though she wasn’t a terribly materialistic woman, she could be occasionally swayed by the temptation of a lovely Kate Spade handbag. These years and a few very pretty bags later, I’ve acquired a pretty good eye at spotting a fake out there in a world full of twenty-dollar vinyl knock-offs.
The news that Spade had taken her life this week was heartbreaking. Just as heartbreaking as losing rock stars at the rate we seem to be these days. Spade was a rocker in her own right. An artist. One we looked to for having established consistency in a world of head-spinning fashion. Again, an artist. A fellow creative. A relatable icon. Gone.
To wit: Watch for each other out there in the creative world. We’re a terribly vulnerable lot whether writing, painting, singing, or designing international fashion. I’m not suggesting we’re on Spade’s level of talent or stardom, but a poor artistic soul is an artistic soul. We all get into hard spots in similar ways. Pain is pain is pain. It kills. For some, so slowly it only catches up naturally. For some in a premature grave by our own hands.
Suicide brings unanswerable questions we can’t help but ask. Could we have done more? Might we have been a part of preventing such tragedy? Did I say the wrong thing? Did I say, do, enough? Did they offer warning signs? It’s a vicious, unforgiving cycle. Suicide, with all the terrible pain suffered by its victims, leaves behind the eventual work of healing.
Though it sounds cliché, the best we can do is be alert to those around us. We have to be aware of what’s happening in people’s lives. We can’t play a passive role when we know people are treading psychological waters and growing tired.
We hear hints from the troubled out there in conversation, don’t we? Yet we’re scared to ask the big question, aren’t we? Are you planning on hurting yourself? But you can, must, ask that question of your loved ones, your friends, acquaintances. But we’re afraid they might waver in their answer, or even say yes, and we’d not know what to do, or worse, be obligated, or even blamed if something actually happened. Or that we might be wrong. Or make things worse. Or lose a friendship. I’m speaking the truth.
Yet these can’t be the reasons we hesitate.
If someone is in a bad way and expresses a tendency to hurt themselves there are organizations you can refer them to. It’s all a quick Google away no matter where you are or who you are. You can be proactive. If you’re worried, call 911 on the spot. You can even make it anonymous. Have the police conduct a welfare check. This might be the chance they need to say, Yes, I need to speak to a professional. I’m in trouble. Take me to get help. Or it might snap them out of a decision. At least you’ve let professionals in on the conversation. Most of us are not equipped to make those evaluations.
Communication is the key. Real talk. Real listening. Real resources. Real intervention.
Hang in there, everybody.
Larry D. Thacker
M.Ed. (Counseling/Guidance), M.F.A, Ed.S.
One of my guilty pleasures in vintage buying and reselling (another life of mine besides the writing and painting – See Instagram: kandlrelics or FB K & L Relics) is the hunt for vintage clothing and shoes. For me, that equates to late seventies though mid-90s fashions and, as they say, “gently used” footwear, of the high-heeled design born in Italy and Brazil. What can I say? We all have our tastes.
I also happen across the occasional handbag I simply must acquire for some lucky next owner. It was only last week just below Wilmington, North Carolina, when Karin and I were perusing a shop in Carolina Beach, when she pointed out a colorfully patterned Lilly Pulitzer bag we ended up bringing back to Tennessee.
When Karin and I first started dating it didn’t take me long to realize that, though she wasn’t a terribly materialistic woman, she could be occasionally swayed by the temptation of a lovely Kate Spade handbag. These years and a few very pretty bags later, I’ve acquired a pretty good eye at spotting a fake out there in a world full of twenty-dollar vinyl knock-offs.
The news that Spade had taken her life this week was heartbreaking. Just as heartbreaking as losing rock stars at the rate we seem to be these days. Spade was a rocker in her own right. An artist. One we looked to for having established consistency in a world of head-spinning fashion. Again, an artist. A fellow creative. A relatable icon. Gone.
To wit: Watch for each other out there in the creative world. We’re a terribly vulnerable lot whether writing, painting, singing, or designing international fashion. I’m not suggesting we’re on Spade’s level of talent or stardom, but a poor artistic soul is an artistic soul. We all get into hard spots in similar ways. Pain is pain is pain. It kills. For some, so slowly it only catches up naturally. For some in a premature grave by our own hands.
Suicide brings unanswerable questions we can’t help but ask. Could we have done more? Might we have been a part of preventing such tragedy? Did I say the wrong thing? Did I say, do, enough? Did they offer warning signs? It’s a vicious, unforgiving cycle. Suicide, with all the terrible pain suffered by its victims, leaves behind the eventual work of healing.
Though it sounds cliché, the best we can do is be alert to those around us. We have to be aware of what’s happening in people’s lives. We can’t play a passive role when we know people are treading psychological waters and growing tired.
We hear hints from the troubled out there in conversation, don’t we? Yet we’re scared to ask the big question, aren’t we? Are you planning on hurting yourself? But you can, must, ask that question of your loved ones, your friends, acquaintances. But we’re afraid they might waver in their answer, or even say yes, and we’d not know what to do, or worse, be obligated, or even blamed if something actually happened. Or that we might be wrong. Or make things worse. Or lose a friendship. I’m speaking the truth.
Yet these can’t be the reasons we hesitate.
If someone is in a bad way and expresses a tendency to hurt themselves there are organizations you can refer them to. It’s all a quick Google away no matter where you are or who you are. You can be proactive. If you’re worried, call 911 on the spot. You can even make it anonymous. Have the police conduct a welfare check. This might be the chance they need to say, Yes, I need to speak to a professional. I’m in trouble. Take me to get help. Or it might snap them out of a decision. At least you’ve let professionals in on the conversation. Most of us are not equipped to make those evaluations.
Communication is the key. Real talk. Real listening. Real resources. Real intervention.
Hang in there, everybody.
Larry D. Thacker
M.Ed. (Counseling/Guidance), M.F.A, Ed.S.