mortality

I’ve been preoccupied with death lately. More specifically, my own mortality has been on my mind. I think about it during the day, and I dream about it at night. I worry about dying from COVID if I were to catch it, but there are many other ways to die: car crashes, falling trees, stepping in front of a bus, falling awkwardly and cracking your head on the pavement, falling off high places, having a heart attack or a stroke. I think of these things every day, and it has become tiring and unhealthy and obsessive.

There is so much to do before I die: wills, lists, preparing finances, helping secure my family’s future without me, and more. I feel like a squirrel with winter approaching, with so many nuts to gather and ever-dwindling time. I want to survive for many years still, despite the difficulty of life inside my brain, but I don’t know how long I can last.

I have been feeling pretty good mentally for the past few weeks, but this line of thought is trying to bring me down into another depressive spiral. Sometimes it is that easy for me to get sucked into a mood swing. I want to be free of bipolar depression and anxiety, but I believe that is an unattainable dream. I’ll settle for just eliminating this obsessive thinking pattern.

quiet moments

What do you think about in those quiet moments you have to yourself? Just before you fall asleep, or waiting for someone to arrive, or drinking a morning cup of coffee?

For me? Lots of things: regrets, guilt, shame, bitterness, pessimism, and self-loathing. Sometimes people I used to love, or hate. Sometimes, if I’m feeling good, I think of places I’ve traveled or sights I’ve seen.

Mostly regrets, though – stupid things I’ve done, people I’ve hurt, choices I’ve made, and missed opportunities.

I’m pretty well broken emotionally, but for some reason I have this stubborn streak that keeps me from giving in. The melodrama of suffering in silence, but telling everyone here about it.

As if anyone cares. Save the drama for your llama.