***This will be considered sensitive material to some of you. Read at your own risk.***
I've never been afraid of dying. And frankly, I've never understood those who are. It's inevitable. There is no way around it. No way out of it. It just...is.
People generally think that they are in control of their future. Their destiny. Their fate. And while that may be true to some degree, none of us knoww when our time will come. It could be tomorrow. It could be 60 years from now.
But tomorrow or 60 years from now, one thing remains in constant: NONE OF US KNOW HOW LONG WE HAVE IN THIS LIFE.
Pretty deep, huh?
Now, picture it: Georgia Street, 2011. August. 2011. And a Monday to top it off.
I was sitting at my desk this morning typing and emailing and such. All of a sudden, a weird feeling came over me. I shook. I held back tears. I...don't know. Something happened.
In an instant, I became eerily aware that someday, at some unknown time and place, I will cease to exist.
I will die.
I will no longer be here. Anywhere.
Caput. The end.
I would leave behind unfinished business. Memories. Probably some debt. Many worldly possessions. A family. And a child. A child who would hopefully be grown...maybe even with children of her own.
And what would be left? I don't know.
And of all of this...there isn't a damn thing I can do about dying. It WILL happen.
Folks...I was bowled over by my own mortality. In the blink of an eye.
I was unsure of how to move forward. I mean LITERALLY move forward. I was frozen in my seat. Afraid to move. Terrified of dying.
There is no other experience in my life that I can compare to this experience. A seemingly mundane Monday at work turning into a life-altering moment. I hadn't a clue what to make of it.
By the time I composed myself, it was lunchtime. Chris and I headed out to Mexican Monday.
I raised my concern to him. And to my surprise, he knew exactly what I was talking about...except this apparently happens to him often, as he's always had fear surrounding death.
My next comment was, "This makes me think that something is wrong with me. With my brain."
He replied, "Why? I think most people are somewhat afraid of death even though it's inevitable. You shouldn't wonder why you are too."
I then rephrased my concern. "So...you've always been afraid of dying. What would you think of yourself if, one day while just sitting at your desk, you just suddenly became completely okay with death? How would you feel about that?"
That struck him. He then knew the severity of this situation...atleast the severity in my mind. I tend to want to analyze things that seem normal to most people simply because they aren't normal to me. Even though MOST people are afraid of death, I was NOT until this morning.
And I'm TERRIFIED.
I'm terrified of my own mortality.
I asked Chris, "How do I feel better about this? I don't want to be afraid to drive the car, play with the kid, etc."
His response was less than helpful. "I don't know. I've never been okay with it. You just live."
And while I agree with him, I don't agree with him.
I've been "just living" and I feel like I've cheated myself in some respects. Here I am, doing the same thing and expecting different results. THAT, my friends, is the definition of insanity.
I took this morbid epiphany as a call for motivation. There are things. Things in this life that I want. That I want to do and to have and to experience. And I won't be here forever. Changes need to be made.
Time for change. And a plan. Change AND a plan AND "just living." They CAN coexist.
I need a plan. A REAL plan. A LIFELONG plan.
I am constantly telling people to "make it count."
I can't control when I'll go, but I sure as HELL can make it count along the way.
Well, here I go, friends. I'm going to make it count.
Stay tuned for the Two Year Plan. This should be interesting.
No comments:
Post a Comment