Yesterday the ground disappeared beneath me.

In the morning I was talking about gravity and laughing at small things. By afternoon I was staring into a darkness I hadn’t felt for a long time. The thoughts were not vague sadness — they were sharp, intrusive, sinister. Images in my mind that felt like they had been waiting for me.

I told people. The Samaritans. My sister-in-law. My daughter in my own blunt way. Saying the words out loud felt like dragging something poisonous into the light.

The strange thing about these days is how quickly the storm passes once it breaks. A film in the background. Andrea nearby in the house. Medication settling into my bones. A hot chocolate warming my stomach.

By night I was writing poetry about sleeplessness and birds and trees that outlive us.

Today I wake tired, embarrassed, and strangely grateful.

Yesterday I walked along the edge.

And I am still here.

Excerpt: Yesterday my mind tried to kill me.
Week 4 – Buprenorphine Taper – Day 2 reflection on one of the darkest days I’ve had in a long time.