Paula Froelich, an ex-girlfriend of celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain, has written a powerful post about depression in light of the chef's suicide.
The journalist and author, who dated Bourdain in 2005, took to Twitter to express her sadness and solidarity with other depression sufferers when news of his death broke on 8 June.
Bourdain was found dead in a hotel room in Strasbourg, France, where he had been working on on an upcoming episode of his programme Parts Unknown.
In one post on Instagram, Froelich shared a picture of the couple together, and wrote:
To a good man, a great friend, a loyal love. That’s all I’m going to say.
Since then, she's penned a moving piece on Twitter, that explains the reality of depression and loneliness. It opens with the tweet:
Here's the thing about depression: it's a sneaky little B****.
You can be rich as hell, totally successful but still lonely AF and the "you're nothing but a fraud" voice only goes away when the ambien takes effect.
After explaining to her 20,000 Twitter followers the embarrassment, humiliation, and loneliness that can be experienced by depression sufferers, she then pays tribute to those battling the disease.
But take heart in knowing: only the best, funniest, loveliest, most empathetic, wonderful, talented people have depression. You’re in a good crowd. Now. Let’s go fight that black dog. Together.
Bourdain isn't the only high profile celebrity to have lost their lives to depression this week. On June 5, it was reported that fashion designer Kate Spade was found dead in her New York apartment, after taking her own life.
Since his death, many celebrities have paid emotional tribute to the much loved chef, some expressing their anger at his passing. Actor Val Kilmer called the suicide "so selfish" in an angry Facebook post.
Ex-President of the United States Barack Obama, however, reacted with sadness to the news of Bourdain's death.
Writing on Twitter, he shared a picture of himself enjoying a beer with the chef at a restaurant in Hanoi, with the caption:
'Low plastic stool, cheap but delicious noodles, cold Hanoi beer.'
This is how I’ll remember Tony. He taught us about food — but more importantly, about its ability to bring us together.
To make us a little less afraid of the unknown.
We’ll miss him.