This is the eye of the hurricane. This is a full confrontation with your demons. It’s the point of no return, yet at the same time it’s where you find your spirit and your courage. It’s the end of the line, the lowest of the low. It’s the full stop at the end of a wild sentence. It’s the carriage return before a new paragraph in your life.

It’s a stress induced hypomanic episode that’s escalated into a massive panic attack and the heart is struggling to cope with the pressure. You’re on your own with only that soothing light bulb for company. You stare at it, trance-like. You don’t even realise anyone else is in the room, let alone a team of doctors injecting your arm with large amounts of Haloperido and Benzodiazepines to stop you going into arrest.

It all feels quite peaceful even though you are aware that you are sweating on the outside. On the inside you feel compelled to let everything else go and fade into the comfort of the light bulb. Leave everything behind and go.

But you can hear your mum faintly crying in the background. She’s outside the room with the nurses and she’s in distress because she knows you’re dying. She feels it. Her tears and her stressed vocal chords strike a note inside your soul, your connection with each other helps you decide you cannot leave her like this. No one wants to out live their son.

So this life conquers the next life, in terms of unfinished business. At the same time as this monumental concept explodes in your consciousness, the drugs injected by the diligent medical staff begin to take effect but you’ve already made your choice to stay.

The body relaxes, the mind seeps into gentle unconsciousness and the episode is over. You live, to fight another day. The confrontation is complete and you are infinitely stronger for surviving,
full stop.