Written in Ink
Written in Ink

My ex boss killed himself, that's actually why he is my ex boss. I'm pretty sure that if he hadn't of killed himself he would still be my boss. It's kind of a dirty little secret where I work, which is kind of sick if you consider the industry in which I work. We really shouldn't be doing this dirty little secret thing, but we are. It's a dirty little secret because my supervisor killing himself shouldn't have happened. I know, you're going to say that people killing themselves shouldn't ever happen. But here's the thing, my supervisor killing himself is like Hamilton Nolan becoming a racist wall street banker who eats lots of pork while drinking beer and not doing squats. He knew the signs and symptoms of depression, he knew about suicidal thoughts, he knew where to get help. On the other side, we (his fellow staff) know the signs and symptoms of depression, we know about suicidal thoughts. We know how to make someone get help. We are the "make someone get help" place. That's what we do.

But here's the thing. No one saw it until the very last second. No one. Not his co-workers, not his friends, not his family. No one. One day he was making plans for a meeting he was going to have next week, the next day, literally the next day, he fled our business with his co-workers trailing him calling 911 because there was something so wrong with him. We didn't know what, we didn't know why, but that day he came in and there was something not right. But he got away. The cops came and took a report and left. The next day there was an article in the paper about a man who shot himself in the head while sitting in his car. He was dead. He'd never gone home, he'd brought his gun to work with him that day.


Then there were the comments under the article, "where was mental health?", "oh if only we had mental health services!" and such. Little do they know that we were there, we tried but we were too late. Because my boss was one of those people who didn't get help. Who hid his depression until it exploded out of him in a furious instance of gun violence. He joked with us and made plans with us and never let us see inside of him. Never let us see the pain, or the plans; never let us help.

So now his family has to move on, hopefully they can. As for anyone out there who reads this and thinks ab0ut how great it would be if they weren't here anymore, how they don't feel anything and death would be better, or how the pain is too much and can't they sleep forever; if that is you just know that there is help. And please get it.



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