I work alone.
And when the words are finished
and the ink is dry
I put them in a bottle
and throw them out to sea.

Lots of people have helped me
but none have truly healed me.
I guess that's more my failing
than theirs.
They can give me
all the tools in the world,
but if I don't use them
it is my fault I fail.

Today I want you to find a stone,
a small smooth stone
that fits into the palm of your hand.

It's not shiny or colourful.
It doesn't have a professional polish.
You will not find it at the store.
And it's not inside your house.

It's somewhere outside on the ground.
where you walk by everyday
when you are heading to your car
or on your way to the park.

When you spot it, you'll know.
Everyone else sees an ordinary stone
but you see why it's special.

I want you to pick it up
and hold it in your hand,
first with your fingers out flat.
Feel the weight.
You'll know it's just right.

Now close your fingers tight around it.
It should fit perfectly into the space.
No part of it should show,
completely protected in your hand.

There's no need to carve the stone.
There's no need to stretch your hand.
It just fits, perfectly.

Your hand will not grow any bigger.
The stone will not change
its shape or size.
It will always fit,
just as the first day you found it.

Don't ever try to be more of "what I want".
You already are.

I just want it to end.

The hopelessness, the fear,
the constant critic in my head:
I've lived with them all for too long.

All I've ever known is this war, this endless battle.
There's nothing wrong with wanting it to end.
To wish that it didn't is cruel.

But why can't the best solution be the simplest?
Why do I have to keep fighting?

At times it's deafening,
and I'm so exhausted.

Why can't I just lay down in no man's land
and let this battle fall silent around me?

Why can't that be the end?

Because... I'll never know what's possible.

For most of my life
I've walked with my head down
looking at my feet
and the shadows I cast.

Then one day
I'm not exactly sure why
you chose me.
One day
for the first time
in my life
you roll back my shoulders
filled up my lungs
and held my head high.

What a difference
to see the world
from your perspective!'

I never realized
what I was missing
until you directed my eyes
to the bright blue sky,
painted with sunlight
and dappled with clouds;
to the vibrant trees
and fragrant flowers;
to people's faces
full of life and laughter
and so much more.

My neck is still too weak
to hold my head up for long
but each day I'm trying
and each day my muscles
grow a little bit stronger.

Every day
you do something for the last time.
You don't realize it.
You don't know why or how.
Only when you look back
do you understand
what has happened;
that something you
once did or said
is no more.

The world is still,
its colours depleted,
vague and waiting,
hoping
for that first light
to break the horizon,
for that first warmth
to settle
on the grass.

I close my eyes,
and open my mind
and let
that first deep breath
wash over me.
Its invitation
is like no other.
I'm reborn,
ready to try again,
to take that first step
one more time,
confident
that this time
I'll succeed.