I was setting up the Christmas tree, bittersweetly aware that it would be my last Christmas, when my (grownup) son joined me for a bit, and reminisced about bits of decoration – a garland he had made in primary school – little fake parcels he had thought as a kid to contain lollies, only to discover to is great disappointment that they just contained tiny blocks of styrofoam – no matter how many of them he opened LOL
For some reason that broke through to me. All the sudden the abstract “my sons love me” became alive again.
So lets just say, I am now a bit more motivated to fight back from this particular relapse. I’ll still continue to put my life in order, that’s a good thing to do anyway, whether I live or die. If I continue to live, it will make my life more manageable and enjoyable, otherwise at least I don’t leave a mess and organisational nightmare behind.
I’m not saying with conviction that I won’t end my life within the next few weeks, for that I’m still hurting too much, but at least it’s now again with a question mark. It’s a bit like the experience you described, Hazy Day Sunflower, that really spoke to me on a deep level! X