Anthony Bourdain’s death defeated me. It came in the worst possible time, when someone like him just HAD TO exist. Every day I witness the type of men that killed every ounce of joy I had for dear old life. They are uninteresting, aggressive, unintelligent; they stand for nothing, and most of all – they haven’t got a clue how to operate a woman.

Bourdain WAS all that. Joyous. intelligent. Articulate. Successful but relatable, no fuss personality. He was opinionated for all the right wrongs, always on the side of everything right. But most of all, what I think his legacy will be, even more than his epic career – is what he was to women. A rare breed of men, highly conscious, aware, woke to a woman’s struggle. A real, vital PARTNER. An ally.

One of the scariest things I discovered throughout my years on this planet, is the ugly, competitive nature men showcase towards a woman. When given advance and rejected, instead of concluding: ok I tried, let’s move on – the almost every man’s need to belittle, insult, one-up a woman, angry for the rejection, vindictive to make her life miserable – stuns me.

Al those movies we’ve been fed while growing up, where the man is your protector, someone kind to a gentler sex, then realizing in real life – (most) men are everything but that; having someone like Bourdain was of a crucial value.

The way he defended Asia Argento, Rose Mcgowan during the Weinstein ordeal, the way he called up everyone and anyone standing on the wrong track of humility and decency, it was VITAL.

How can he have not known how important he is, in the times of the biggest shift, biggest reclaim of respect women are conducting? When most men are oppressing, Bourdain was an ally. A vital ally. A partner. A friend. Bourdain was kindness. I’m sure he knew.

But does he owe us to exist? People say suicide is selfish, and I say its actually selfish expecting someone to carry on, no matter what, even when you might be the part of unkindness that makes this world unbearable to some.

For days after his death I keep seeing a flood of posts on social media from everyone with the following content – “If you’re depressed and need help of any kind, if you feel lost, I’m there for you, please call me anytime, 2 am, 2 pm, I’m there for you.” Sorry, but you aren’t! I literally saw few people I know well, posting – “I’m there for you or anyone that need help” – that were most definitely not there for me, when I needed help or support.

Wait, I don’t look like I need help? That’s the memento here. The sky police who decides the level of quality of each life and who might or might not “look” like they need help. Bourdain have everything? How can HE. How can YOU?

Every single day we wake up and get out of our houses, into the world. Every single one of those days manifest unkindness of some sort, before we come back home at night. People are exceptionally unkind. I get chills of how unkind many people that are pretending to be my friends are. People are competitive to one-up each other in every way possible; be it in personal or professional lives. Be truthful right now, no one’s watching: How many times you read something about someone, or heard something about someone, like they broke up with their partner or they lost a job and something inside you does a little dance, you feel a dash of warmth in your heart, thinking – thank god! It’s not just me!

Everyone is all hot and bothered and worried, and telling people, friends, strangers on social media to call them if they ever feel suicidal! Really? How about I tell you something groundbreaking: No one is going to call you when they already decided. Why don’t you, instead of asking people to call you when they’re about to off themselves, LISTEN to them while they’re still here. Listen to what they tell you. Listen to their wows. Don’t be thinking – “O fuck this person just lost a job and is calling me, I’m not gonna pick up, I have no time for negativity right now, my life is not great either, I rather watch Netflix right now” – THOSE MOMENTS COUNT. Those phone calls count. Seeing someone in person counts. Drive towards someone. Be there in action, not in words.

I feel very close to this subject. I know my friends like it better when I write funny, sarcastic articles, than these “deep” ones, but see – that’s the part of the problem. People around you are not around you just to give you some laughs or good times. People who seem the strongest, the funniest, the ones who help everyone else – are the ones who hurt the most, and need help the most. But they don’t have the luxury to stand up on the – “needy” stand. They are not “allowed” to hurt, to need, to quit, because they’re there for your ass.

But Anthony Bourdain was depressed, you say. It’s no one’s fault, you say. I’m not saying it is. But I’m saying it’s much more complex. As I said, I feel very close to this subject. I dab with depression. World depresses me. I always knew I’m on the spectrum (term for a group of disorders of brain development), and I’m not fully “normal”. Or in a psychological terms, I’m not Typical. Always knew I’m Atypical. But highly functional. It didn’t disrupt my life to an unlivable degree, but I always had problems with certain types of people. I lived in New York most of my life where people are honest, direct, fast-paced, quick, and that’s the environment where my particular Atypicality feels at home.

The problems started to arise, when I moved to Los Angeles. Where people are nothing like me. Where you can’t get a straight answer, direct sentence, detailed plan to stick to. Where things happen out of random acts, not logic. Where no one hears anything, and you need to repeat yourself until feeling physically unwell. All those things, for my still undiagnosed personality, felt like – putting a claustrophobic person into the small elevator, or the person with a spider phobia into a room full of spiders. I managed, somehow, but last year I reached a point of almost breaking apart. I could not deal with one living soul, I could not leave the house in fear of someone distressing me to the point of losing it.

I’m big on mental health and self-care, so naturally, I went to see a shrink, to find some sense of it all. And after a lengthy process and some tests, I was diagnosed with Low Latent Inhibition. LLI is not a disorder, but its a condition. If you watched Prison Break; Michael Scofield, the main character has LLI. Only thing is, in the series, it’s made to look desirable and cute, plus it’s Wentworth fucking Miller, what can look bad on him? The series did it in a way – wow his brain works so fast, he’s able to tattoo a prison pipes on his body and find the way out. But in reality, its very very hard to live with it. Because you operate on a different frequency than almost everyone around you.

You can google Low Latent Inhibition if you’d like to know more about it, its too long to cover here, I’ll just touch the parts important for this article. LLI is a condition when your brain is hit with stimuli 24/7. What other people barely notice, people with LLI notice all the time, everything, all the time. Example, you see a door knob as something you need to grab to walk out of the room, right? I notice what kind of shape it is, what kind of metal, color, what kind of screws it has, where is it made, and so on. I notice every single word, error, mimic, detail, shape, color, sound, smell (similar to Autism) of absolutely everything. My brain is hit with influx of so much information that normal people barely notice. Normal people only notice what they need. For example, the door knob is there to open the door and get out of the room. I notice an enormous amount of detail that hit your brain 24/7.

The upside? We can memorize things without even listening. Hence being straight A student without really paying too much attention in school, or studying at home. I can participate in the conversation where I know medium about, on the level as someone who’s an expert on the subject. I can teach myself code, never having to take one single class. Downside? You name it. EVERYTHING. You can’t handle noise. You can’t handle repetitions. You are driven insane with repetitive noise. Empathy. You feel everyone’s problems as your own. You need to help everyone you can, to the extent of hurting yourself in the process.

And the main kick about LLI: if you have this condition and you have a low IQ, you have a very high possibility of sinking in mental illness, because you can not process all the stimuli you get hit with. Brain goes into a overload. Like a computer with to many open tabs and less memory. And if you have high IQ, you can reach a level of creative genius, BECAUSE your brain catches all the information, you are open to new information, new ideas, and able to intelligently and carefully edit and choose. Thank god I’m the latter.

Here is where the real problems start. You operate different than most people. People don’t like you. Advanced logical connections made by someone with LLI are like common sense, when in reality, normal people wouldn’t even have considered those connections as a possibility. So LLI people come across as intolerant, arrogant, short, rude. I need to be abnormally concentrated to not insult people with something that is common sense to me, and they need 6 hours to figure out. I see everything around me as an apparatus, and every part needs to fit in and work seamlessly, or I feel a physical pain. So in short people drive me insane, and I drive people insane.

I did feel better finally putting a name to the condition, researching about it, making sense of it, and learning how to live with it, but the unkindness of people towards my condition stunned me. Its a must when you get diagnosed with a condition or a disorder to call your family and your friends to explain what you have, so they know how to deal with you, so they can understand you, tolerate you a bit better when they think you’re being rude, whereas you really can’t help how you process things. And the response of the majority of people around me shocked me.

People didn’t care. When I told them I can’t be around repetitive noise or smells, they called me difficult. Kept on making noise on purpose. When I asked them to be specific with me, not change plans, details, without telling me, they laughed in my face. When I asked them not to move my stuff around (people with LLI get really emotional with not having our stuff where we left it, or in the condition we left it), they did it on purpose. No one I talked to never fully heard me, and understood the fact these things might be a joke to them but for me, its driving me to the edge.

Because I can’t have issues. “Look at your instagram Miranda, your life is amazing. Look at your life and all you did, and magazines you were in, you’re just playing! You can’t have any problems!”

And to be fair, I’m not helping my cause either. I’m always the strong one, the one who talks to everyone, takes care of everyone, manages everyone, takes everyone places they can get in, introducing them to people they can never get in touch with, getting them jobs, connections, agents, roles …. You name it. They are so used to you being the one that provides help, no one can comprehend your also need it.

There are an actual people in this town that did not pick up my calls when I needed, the same exact people that left empowering messages on their social media profiles, after the news of Anthony Bourdain’s death broke – “If you feel down, I’m there for you”.

Guess what, you aren’t. You weren’t there for me. Maybe I was on the edge, and I thought I can’t create more runway for me to go on, but did you know that when texted you I need to talk? You lied  and made up an excuse and went to watch Netflix, you are a part of an unkind world.

I’m tired. I’m tired of all the fakeness, all the social media properness, pretending something you’re not. Pretending you’re this amazing, caring friend, when you aren’t. It takes nothing from your day, giving someone a hand. But being preoccupied with your own hardness, and avoiding someone that might need you, there are no excuses and you are the problem.

Helping someone WHILE you’re having a rough time yourself, helps you equally. If not more. I couldn’t help myself, so I help others, to help myself.

We can’t pretend to know the accurate details about what drove Anthony Bourdain to want to exit this world in such dramatic way. But what we can learn, again and again, and again – strongest people hurt the most. Funniest people hurt the most. Don’t work on your messages of support on social media.

Work on yourself, how not to be a part of an unkind world.