OK, confession time ...
for the past four days I have been ill. A stomach bug. It's left me dehydrated, my blood sugars squiffy. Add toothache and earache into the mix ... and you are left with a woman lying on a sofa for most of that time, crying for her dead husband, pleading with him to come home.
I revisited that deep dark place for four whole days and am just crawling out of it again. Tomorrow I'll be returning to work, thankfully - back to the anchor in my life.
I feel life seeping back into my body. The same body that felt deadened to life only hours ago.
I feel sanity seeping back into my mind. The same mind that was contemplating ending it all only a few hours ago.
Looking back, it almost feels that the woman who had those dark thoughts was someone else. But I know it wasn't. It frightens me that I was so close, so ill, so alone. It stuns me, yet again, that the line between sanity and insanity is so thin, so fragile, so near.
Three things reached through to me -
My dog's eyes
My niece's text when I was wishing my parents were still alive
My friend's words on Facebook, "don't put your wishbone where your backbone should be"
These things reached me just as I was beginning to recuperate and gave me the strength to get to the shop and buy some food.
And I find myself here, writing about it, instead of the unthinkable.
Wow, he'd have been so pissed off with me. I'm going to be okay. But I need to have a support system in place in case I get ill again ...