My dog was sick in the middle of the night. It took me about an hour to clean up after and take care of her. When I was finished it was 5am. I looked at my phone and saw the NYT alert that Anthony Bourdain had died.

I am devastated. I feel heaviness in my body and my heart hurts.

I admired him for his irreverence, curiosity, adventurousness, insight, sensitivity and openness about his struggles including drugs.

He did exactly what I do to pull myself out of funks: explore, risk, place himself in unknown sometimes dangerous situations, tell stories about it to connect with others.

Today, I can’t imagine taking my own life in a Paris hotel room, or anywhere else for that matter. But what he did makes me wonder about me, or any of us for that matter.

My sister attempted suicide twice. She was hospitalized, medicated, and by the time she died of a brain tumor, by the time she was facing a second battle with chemotherapy, she lost the will to fight. She succumbed. “Too big. Can’t fight,” her last sentence as the tumor quickly ate away at speech and she slipped away.

Her brain got the best of her.

Don’t let your brain get the best of you.
I’m holding up my end over here, and as long as I am, I’m here to help hold up your end for you.

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