“I used to wear those shoes…” he said poignantly as he stared off into space. In this moment, he was wearing socks and hospital slippers. During my time, this was almost always the foot attire of everyone in the psych ward. What you wear is guided by how you feel. You wear certain shoes based upon your surroundings and environment.
He then looked at the group director’s feet. His shiny, black dress shoes seemed to glisten and emanate success. My friend wiped away the frustrated emptiness from his eyes. He scratched at his hospital band: It was irritating him. He felt so small and claustrophobic in this place with locked doors.
Before his visit to the hospital, my friend was a successful businessman. He was the head of a prestigious company. Pride and desperation knocked him down, and now we sat side by side in a blank room as Charlie Brown’s teacher lectured us on choosing life.
Suicide is a beast. It can creep in, slithering its way around your neck trying to squeeze the life out of you. Suicide is no respecter of persons. It does not discriminate between gender, ethnicity, size or color. It is a sneaky predator lurking about eyeing its next prey.
So I bring to your attention, be careful with your dress shoes,
because one day you might be wearing slippers.