I’m not a dog lover.

Today I’m in less pain, my cough has dried up a lot, a lot of medics have appeared on the ward, and everything seems better than it did.

Yesterday my mind was full of dark thoughts. I couldn’t keep them away, despite knowing that things WOULD get better, and it was just a matter of time, and healing.  As I’m used to this happening, I am able to understand what’s going on in my head, and what will happen given a little time. I’m not so good at it, however, that I can stop the despairing thoughts washing over me altogether. They still materialise, and they still affect me profoundly, even though I know for a fact that they WILL pass.

I understand totally how people commit suicide, and  it being a complete surprise to their friends and families – they are apparently happy people, but inside their heads they suffer spells of abject despair. Those spells may be short lived, but while they’re enveloped in them, all/ everything seems hopeless and committing suicide seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Had they held off for another few hours, or a day, or talked to someone, or had a decent sleep, then many would perhaps not have committed the final act. I’ve been there myself, and had these notions so many times. I know how perfectly rational suicide seems when you’re in that mindset.

I’m glad to say that I’m not in that mindset today, that the black dog isn’t looking at me, willing me on, as he does so well.

Today, I’m looking forward to seeing a few lovely friends instead, and getting out of this room for the afternoon.

If you read this and you know somebody who you think might be in this situation, then you really never know  ( or you do actually now ) what a visit from you, or a call, or an invite to do something tomorrow,  might do – just enough to stop someone doing something irreversible.

Thanks to my gorgeous friend, Cherie, for helping to shoo that dog away by coming last night, helping me outside, and making me drink wine. ❤️

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