Pretty please tell me I’m not alone here.
Sometimes I find myself in the middle of a perfect, perfect moment with my family. Maybe we’re laughing until our sides hurt, or one of my kids does something that makes my cup runneth over with pride and adoration. In that single moment I feel full; so full that my heart can’t take another ounce of goodness.
A tidal wave of gratitude washes right over me and then, out of nowhere, ::record scratch:: I find myself thinking, “I don’t want to die.”
Whoa! Where did that morbid thought come from?! Skedaddle stupid death thought! But stupid death thought doesn’t skedaddle; it just kinda looms.
If you know me IRL, you know I’m the worst kind of hypochondriac out there. People find it hilarious. I find it exhausting. It’s not unusual for a hypochondriac such as myself to do things like self-diagnose cancer and cholera on a regular basis. It’s my thing. I know, at least for today that I’m not dying of a terminal illness. I’m young(ish), healthy, strong and happy. I have no reason to think about such darkness in my times of my brightest light. And yet, the perfect moments are so sweet and pure that I fear ever losing them.
It’s not the death that I’m so afraid of; it’s the idea of being without my children. Sure, I know my kids need me but perhaps not half as much as I need them.
Do you ever have these horrible thoughts? Am I crazy (please be kind)? Is it a “mom thing”?
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