Death, do you ever wonder how it will happen to you?

Do you ever wonder about your death? How it will happen? Traffic accident, disease, murder even. I do. I will listen to the news and hear about the death of someone and think, "how will I die?" Sometimes it scares me not to know and I wonder if I have the right to decide when and how. But I believe this is considered suicide and thankfully today I am not feeling suicidal. There have been times in the past when I was seriously considering taking my own life and that was different than what I am talking about today. That type of thought process is horrible and very painful. I am so grateful that for today I have been relieved of that lonely, depressive way of  thinking and feeling.

It is amazing to me sometimes of how innocent or naive we americans really are. How we live our lives with the sense of freedom from war or the possibility of being bombed. When I mention this to people I run at work or somewhere else, I get this look as if to say, lady you are crazy, (maybe I am); but what about 911? Did anyone think such a tragedy would hit us back then? OK then, I rest my case.

Back to this dying thing. Am I the only one that lays awake at night pondering the possible ways I might die? Or think about it as I am driving down the highway and how I could be hit by a flying object that has fallen off a vehicle five cars ahead of me. (It has happened,  not to me of course but it could)! Or maybe I will be sitting in a restaurant or walking through the store spending money I don't have and a shooter will come in and just start  unloading his semi-automatic. You read about that all the time, and yet I bet you my pay check that those innocent victims didn't get up that morning and say, "wow, I bet I'm going to get shot today" or, "I think an object is going to fly through my windshield and decapitate my head on the way to work today". No, we get in our cars and assume we will return home after work.

Sometimes, and I know this is going to sound really out there, I believe those who are terminally ill are luckier than the sudden death people. I mean, none of us wants to die really, but the fact is we all will some day some how. At least if you are terminal and know it is coming you have time to plan, to day good byes, and best of all, you no longer have to wonder to yourself, "How will I die?"

In case it hasn't become apparent to you yet, I am a projector. A negative one most tell me. I am working on it and trying to project positive things for my future, but the old thinking continues to come in and haunt me at times. It's the powerlessness maybe, the sense of not having control over an aspect in my life. I need control in order to feel safe. And yet that too is a fallacy, but that's another post. I just am afraid sometimes of my future. And sometimes I am more afraid of living than dying when I obsess about the ways my last years might be spent. Like crippled out on the streets because we lost our jobs; or as a prisoner of war. Or maybe even through a dreaded disease like Lou Gerigs where I would have to rely on trusting the person who is caring for me. Yeah, that sits well with a non-trusting person.

As we age, both my spouse and I feel our vulnerability to the world around us. We see how little respect and fear the younger generation have for us older people and have realized that now we are the ones afraid of these arrogant little people. We are at the mercy of young people who are filled with anger and violence and have no concept of what another human beings life is worth. We are also at the mercy of our jobs. Will we have one next week? Will our companies, both of which are small, still be in business a month from now? Or will the greedy corporations over take them? Then what will happen to us? Will we end up on the streets and die of starvation or murder? I know I would never survive living on the streets for long. Look how afraid I get and I live in a nice home with a comfortable bed to sleep in every night.

As I write these thoughts I start smiling. Not because they are wonderful things to think about and I am excited they might happen to me, that would be insanity. No, I am smiling because earlier today I had lunch with three wonderful ladies who I am feeling are becoming friends, and it reminds me that I am not alone in this world. We have friends in our lives who would never allow us to live on the streets. And more importantly, I need to remember I have a God in my life today that would give me the courage and strength to face what comes, including the very bad. But to be truthful, I don't want to experience it. I don't want to be uncomfortable or afraid just so God can prove his existence in my life. I would rather learn this through others going through suffering and seeing their strength because of their faith in their God. My faith is still developing, I'm not ready for the really bad stuff that can happen in life.

So I wonder, how will I die? I don't know. That's the problem. Or is it? Do I really want to know? Would it change how I am living or what I do with my life? Not sure it would. But the fear of how quickly I am aging and life is passing by makes me feel this anxiety within; an anxiousness to do everything right now. It brings up a sense of time is running out and I am not going to be able to do it all. Plus I don't know what "it all" is that I want to do yet. I drive my husband crazy sometimes because I get compulsive during these times and have to go buy all these items right now for all the craft projects I am going to learn how to do, like sewing, painting, you name it I am going to learn it before I get hit by a boulder driving down the mountain! Then I end up having all this stuff and not having the serenity to sit down and do any of it. I have gotten myself so worked up about not having enough time before I die or am killed that I can't relax enough to start any of it. I get home and suddenly I am struck with a weariness, or exhaustion and I suddenly have no energy for any of it. But thats not the only thing stopping me from accomplishing the things I desire, it is not lack of time, though I work full time. Its lack of motivation, discipline and not having friends in my life who share the same interests that could push me to get these projects started or finished. (Is that another excuse? Crap, I hate when the truth pushes into my writings).

I need to join sewing, writing, painting and knitting clubs so I can learn all these things. I know all the basics and can do them as a beginner. However, when it comes to going further in any of them I get confused and can't move on. Instead of seeking out help because "I don't want to bother anyone", I give up on the idea and stick to what I can do. Thankfully though, I am meeting women who do these crafts and are willing to help me learn. Again my god is bringing into my life who and what I need in order to feel creative. Because that is who I am. I am a creative being and since learning this about myself a while back I have become more anxious about my death. (You thought I got off that topic didn't you). Whenever I find I am happy about something or decide I am going to do something enjoyable, maybe even make a living out of it somehow, I become obsessed with dying. I start thinking it is too late and if I start I won't be able to succeed because I will probably find out I have cancer or something, so maybe I shouldn't get too excited about this stuff I am liking. Isn't this pathetic?

So now I have a new perspective on life that I am going to try to live by. I am going to look at each day as a possibility to succeed at something. Anything. Whether its starting a new project or finishing one. Or perhaps I will do what I am doing right now, go out on the deck with a cup of coffee and my lap top and write something. ( I used to dream about the day I would own a lap top and be a "real" writer typing away her stories). Of course I get so involved in what I am writing that my coffee gets cold, but what the heck, its the idea of sitting on my deck and enjoying it for a little while instead of lying on the couch wasting another beautiful day that matters. Wasting it because I don't want to get too used to enjoying something that might be taken away by sudden death. Am I the only one that thinks this way? Being afraid to enjoy something because it probably won't last and I don't want to miss it later? I sure hope not. But again, I am trying a new way of thinking; what if I thought instead, "I have the time why don't I do it while I can, even if it is only for a day?" (Cause we don't know if I will die in a car accident tonight on the way to an event or something).

What I do know about my death is, I don't want to suffer. Who does. But I don't want to suffer in a way that is full of agony and fear, like with Lou Gerigs Disease where I am at the mercy of someone else's care. Just shoot me please. I don't have enough trust in God yet to handle such a way of death. Where my life is in the hands of someone who might be having a bad day and forgets I might need my breathing tube checked. Or that my last moments will be long and torturous like you read in the news of kids or adults being tortured before dying. Ok, I can't move on in this thinking and I am sure you can not move on reading it so lets move along shall we? Lets for now accept we are alive, we are well and we are safe at this moment. Lets breath in and out while we can. As a matter of fact, why don't we try breathing in and out SLOWLY, and try to enjoy it. Bet you can't.

It felt good to get these thoughts out. They have had me in turmoil for some time. A few weeks ago I was at a friends and we were just talking when suddenly there was a very loud thunder. No lightening to warn us it was coming. We both jumped out of our skins. And it got me thinking. Again, we are so naive, so arrogant really, that it never occurred to us it could have been a bomb. Why would we. We are convinced as US citizens to believe our country could never be penetrated by another lesser country. How conceited of us! Read the papers people, listen to the news. We are not all that loved by all these countries we keep trying to save. Do you really think any of them would come to our rescue if we were to be attacked? I don't think so. So this brings me back to my main concern on how will I die. Will it be as a POW? I can't survive that. I am too old, too fragile and too spoiled to survive encampment or worse. I barely make it through a day of sitting in a chair for eight hours without suffering from back pain, how the heck will I survive a work camp? I guess I really don't have to worry about that, the captors would take one look at me and say, "shoot her, she's useless to us." That may not be a bad thing actually.

Well, once again I have to remember there are somethings I have no control over and worrying and obsessing over them isn't going to make it any easier or less frightening. It will however take away the joy and fun away that I could be having at that moment instead.

This for instance, sitting on my deck, alone, except for my neurotic dog (of course I couldn't owe a quiet, well adjusted animal), and heavy loud traffic the whole time I have been writing on my blog. Which, by the way, was another thing I never believed I would have the courage to do. Too afraid someone would read it, tell me I suck as a writer and should try something else, even though it has been a passion since I learned how to put letters together to form words. I can't remember a time when I didn't think about a story idea or didn't journal. If I could make a living by writing and reading I would be spending my latter years in glory. But I don't see that happening. But then I never saw myself owning a lap top and writing a blog for the public to read either, so I guess I will take that idea off the "never" list and put it on the "possibly" list! Now that's different. I won't let the fear I will get to do what I love for a living and find out I am dying stop me from continuing  my passion to write. I will continue to write and maybe find out I am not alone in my insane thinking, and I will also continue to write out story ideas for small magazines. How is that for positive thinking? Who knows, maybe I will get back to writing poetry like I did as a kid. It was sad poetry about the things going on in the home and how I felt, but to be honest it was good if I do say so myself. I wish I had kept it. But I never keep what I write, only what I journal. So blogging will help with this as well.

Ok reader, I will let you off the hook now and end this dreadful piece with a positive note. I have two choices today;  I can allow my obsession on how and when I might die keep me from doing things I enjoy because I won't be able to continue them; or, I will do what I can when I can while I am breathing and able to. So what if it is only for a day or hour? At least for that day or hour I was at peace and enjoying myself. I was free from worldly fears and chaos. I think I will pick number two. I hope you will as well.