27/02/2026
I have never shared this publicly before. I am sharing it now in the hope it helps someone stay alive.
To hell with my career. Truth matters more. Always.
In late 2020 I found myself standing at a cliff edge, thinking how easy it would be to take just a few more steps and finally get some relief, to get some sleep, to let it all stop.
The symptoms of Lyme disease felt unbearable at that point. It was still undiagnosed. A profound fatigue that lived deep in my bones. A terrible brain fog. Insomnia. Muscle weakness. The constant ringing in my ears. Dizziness. Shooting pain. Spasms. Extreme sensitivity to light and sound, where even normal daylight or ordinary conversation could feel overwhelming. Moments of severe cognitive dysfunction where I would lose words mid sentence or feel like my mind was short circuiting. A host of other strange and frankly frightening symptoms I could not make sense of. I was told by people who should have known better: “It’s just anxiety.” “It’s all in your head.” “It’s just trauma.” “You can meditate your way out of it.” “It’s a spiritual uplevelling, just love and embrace it.” I began to question my own sanity. Getting through each day was becoming harder and harder, and I could not find relief or see any way forward.
Please know this: There was not a shred of me that wanted to die. Not a shred. I love life. I did before this happened and I did while this was happening and I do now. It was never ever about wanting death. It was only about wanting urgent relief from the relentless, unyielding Lyme symptoms that simply would not stop.
I am not ashamed to say any of this now.
I am so very grateful I did not take those few steps into the abyss. Something kept me on solid ground. I do not know if it was faith, or stubbornness, or some strange curiosity to see what might happen next, or perhaps it was love and care for the people who would have been left behind and forced to carry the pain.
But I stayed. And I am so glad I did. Because what felt like the end of my life was only the end of a chapter. If I had left, I would never have seen what was on the other side, the next chapter of the book, the next act of the movie I could not yet imagine.
Eventually I received the right diagnosis and the right treatment, and slowly, almost miraculously, the symptoms began to ease, to soften, to loosen their grip, one by one.
And now, as I write this, I am happily married, with a three year old daughter and another child on the way, living a life that feels so joyful some days I have to stop and pinch myself. I would have missed all of this. All the ordinary, extraordinary days I had yet to live.
How was I to have known.
And I am humbled. Humbled beyond belief. This kind of illness can happen to anyone. It can strike anyone at all. I never thought something like this would happen to me though - and you see a kind of innocence in that, perhaps even a subtle egoic protection, maybe something we all carry on some level, a childlike hope or belief that we are somehow special, immune, protected from the absolute worst of the worst, but how little we really know, and how fragile our assumptions about tomorrow truly are. The truth is we do not know. We are in the hands of God, always.
I will never forget the angels who appeared along the way, the friends, the practitioners, the people who held me when I could not hold myself. I carry you with me.
We all have days like this, days when we cannot see the way through. Heartbreak. Breakdown. Illness. Dark nights. Crises that rip the very ground from under our feet. Loss. Rupture. War. Something that shakes our world and leaves us disoriented, without the old anchors.
There is no shame in falling apart. There is no shame in asking for help. There is no shame in being vulnerable. Ever.
As Gisèle Pelicot said, “Shame must change sides.” Toxic shame is not ours to carry. That woman inspires me deeply.
I do not judge anyone who has stood at the edge, or who stands there now. I understand the urge to end things in a way I never did before, and that understanding has brought me deep compassion for those who reach that place. I pray they find a way through, and if they don’t, I feel only compassion for how much they must have been hurting and longing for relief. I refuse to add shame to their suffering.
I share this all to let you know I am human. I have stood at that edge myself and I have come back. I have emerged renewed, rooted more deeply in what matters, and I will speak up for our raw, messy, wild humanity. I will speak up against any philosophy or spirituality or person or regime that tries to make us more than human or less than human, that shames or minimises or denies our grief, that bypasses our rage, our heartbreak, our joy, our sacred doubts. That kind of spirituality has to end. It is not life. It damages people. It is toxic.
If you are thinking of ending your life, please hold on. You do not know what is waiting on the other side. The mind tells you it is over, that there is no hope, that nothing can change, but it is not over. It is very possible that life is reshaping you in ways you cannot yet see. It is very possible you are being stripped and forged and remade in ways that make no fu***ng sense right now.
Hold on.
Please just hold on.
And reach out to someone today. You do not have to walk this alone. You have gifts to offer this world. Your story is not finished. Just wait. Turn the page.
Hold on.
❤️
- Jeff Foster
[This photo is very special to me. It was taken by Alice as I was crossing the threshold from survival back into healing, a turning point I didn’t fully comprehend at the time, because life can only be lived forwards.]
