Suicide Prevention: My Personal Handbook
Every September I get frustrated by the grand, albeit well-intentioned gestures of folks doing their best to put a dent in suicide awareness and prevention. So much of it feels commercial. Mental health merch that floods my social feeds: the #youarenotalone hoodies, the smiley face purses that ‘combat stigma’, the bracelets with dainty semicolon clasps, the waterproof stickers that reminding me “it’s okay not to be okay.” The sentiment I appreciate, but the consumerism bugs me.
Notes from a barf bag
Next to me, a remarkably slim 20-something is taking up all her seat and 50% of mine, a feat she manages while munching donut holes and watching Gillmore Girls on her laptop. It’s mystifying but rather than comment on her wildly swinging legs and arms that keep bumping me, I make my lg/xl frame as small as possible, smashing myself against the plane wall like I’m drywall putty. Oh, for paper! How’d I’d eviscerate her in fiction!