This one is hard to share but I think it matters. About eight or nine years ago, my life fell apart. The details aren't the point. What matters is that I went from a happy family in a beautiful home to a separation, a flat on my own, and a level of darkness I hadn't known existed. I was drinking a lot. I was super fucking self-destructive. I wasn't painting. I want to be careful how I say this next part. That night, I genuinely believed the world would be better without me. People talk about suicide as selfish, but in that headspace it felt like the opposite. It felt like the most selfless thing I could do. I had let everyone down. I had let my daughter down. I couldn't see any other version of the story. I was staying in a flat that was three storeys at the front, six at the back. I stood at a window in the middle room and I wanted to jump. The only thing that stopped me was a horrible thought: what if I jumped and survived. What if it left me worse. So I called the Samaritans. Not to be talked out of it, but to ask whether the drop was high enough. I know how crazy that sounds. At the time it was the only logic I had. The man who answered was called Peter. Another guardian angel in my life, like the stranger in the Bangkok airport (see the work COPY OF A COPY). He didn't panic and he sure as hell didn't lecture. He just talked and asked me questions. He found out I loved writing, and somehow we ended up making a list together of all the letters I'd have to write before I could go. Books I'd have to finish. People I'd have to say things to. By the end of it we worked out I'd need about fifty years minimum to get it all done. We were laughing by the end of the call. I don't know how he did it. I don't think he knows either. He told me I had a bright future. He told me to call back anytime. I hung up the phone and I didn't jump. Here's the part that still gets me. My husband and I are separated now, but he is one of my best friends. He knows about that night. We've talked about it. He's been there for me in ways I couldn't have imagined back when I thought everything was ending. My daughter is the best thing in my life. The painting, the studio, the work, the people, Rocketgirl - none of it would exist if I'd jumped. What felt like the end of the line was actually the end of one version of my life. Not the end of everything. If you're reading this in a dark place: there is always hope, even when the situation seems impossible. The story is never over when you think it is. Please call the Samaritans (116 123 in the UK), they are amazing people doing amazing things. This is dedicated to Peter wherever he might be today. - end of the line. (oil on canvas (16" x 20") - physical included.)