Huh?

If there’s one thing I don’t get it’s suicide.

Or why people feel they have to tell me they’ve been thinking about it–twice.  I’m not shrink in this family. So how come I get the honour of being so easy to talk to?  What are you supposed to say to someone when they tell you such a thing?

So my mind goes like this: On one hand I’m thinking I’ve got an incredible basis for a novel (Hey, come on, I’m a writer. We use real life to fuel our imagination), on the other, the humanist in me, the person who feels responsible for my fellow man,  is screaming, “Now, stay calm and remember the thing Shrinky says!”

Problem is I can’t remember anything Shrinky sez about how to handle someone telling you they think about topping off their day by topping off their life. 

So what do I do?
First, I think of Freddie Mercury and Queen and hear their song  Don’t Try Suicide.

Then I listen, calmly, to what this person is saying while there’s a bit of internal panic happening.

And I try to remember the number for Lifeline’s helpline (13 11 14). 
Then I’m really glad when JD emails me with some ways of putting this into perspective and giving me suggestions for how to cope with the situation.

Finally, I’ll be really happy when Shrinky gets home.

But I can’t stop thinking about how I can turn this into a story.

Which of course, make me feel evil.

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