What if I die.

Have you ever had an unexplainable ailment and wondered if you were dying? Of course you have, we all have. For me, that’s a daily occurence, and I’m sort of grateful for it. I know, it sounds crazy, but let me explain.

I live with an almost-constant, lingering realization that, at any point, I could go. I could get hit by a bus. I could have a sudden, unexplainable heart attack. I could develop some strange disease that will kill me within the week. I could choke on this m&m. I don’t know how it will happen, but eventually I will die. It would be pretty cocky for me to assume that I will die of old age, happy and wise somewhere, in a nursing home. Sure, if I’m lucky I will, but anybody who assumes that they will be that lucky is a dummy.

Try to stay with me. Now that I’ve created a gripping panic in all of you, let me explain why this is a useful tool.

Every time I feel like being mean to someone who I love, or yelling at a child because they aren’t listening, or blowing someone off when I just don’t feel like going out, or not writing because I’m tired and don’t feel like it, I think about the fact that I could keel over at any moment. What if I die and the last memory that my mother/best friend/significant other/teacher/boss/whoever has of me is of me yelling at them? What if I cancel plans on someone, and then I die in my sleep? What if I skip writing and get hit by a bus on my way to Walgreens? The last thing that anyone would have to memorialize me with would be this blog post…about dying. This is all too much responsibility and guilt for me to handle, and I am driven by that anxiety.

More important than my own death, what if I am mean to someone and then they die? Sit with that feeling for a second, because I need to. Hurts, doesn’t it? What if I skip going to see someone perform, and then they die? What if, what if, what if. I could give scenarios all day. What I’m saying is, we’re all dying. Right now. Dying. For the love of all that is holy, don’t die a dummy.

Go to the shows, hang out with your friends and loved ones, even when you’re mad at them. Stop being mad at them as quickly as possible, and go hang out with them. Spend too much money on airfare to see friends who you miss. Hug a baby, because that baby’s time is also limited. Do all of these things, because you’re dying. Figuratively speaking, we will all be dead in a minute, so for Gods sake, go do something with yourself.

Do scary things, things that scare the daylights out of you and make you shake and think that you are going to die. The only thing worse than being so scared of your limitations that you feel like dying is…dying. Feel a gripping panic in your chest that you’re not doing enough or loving enough or forgiving enough, because you’re probably not.

Nothing really brought this on, I haven’t lost anyone recently and I’m not afraid of death. I am driven by panic and fear, though. Panic that I’m not doing enough, or that I’m taking life for granted, and I’m grateful for it. Yes, I just said that I’m grateful for panic. No matter how scared I am or how mad I am at someone or how much I want to blow someone off, my stomach churns and a little voice in my head whispers, ‘but what if you die?’…and I (usually) push myself to do the “annoying” thing. I don’t want this fear to go away, because it’s not really even a fear. It’s reality. We’re dying. Be nice to yourself, and be nice to everyone who you love.

Please.