When I was younger, I sometimes had trouble sleeping because I was afraid my mom would die and I’d wake up and not have her. This was probably compounded by the fact that my sister actually did die. Kind of fucks a girl up.

This problem really affected me for a short time. I had a difficult time falling asleep and when I would, I’d have nightmares. I’d run into mom’s room crying. I’d try to sleep in her bed. This usually didn’t work.

I can’t remember how or when this fear passed. Occasionally, I will still feel a debilitating fear about some subject. A few years ago, I could barely crawl out of bed because I was afraid that my life was too insignificant to matter. Just thinking about it makes my stomach turn. That, too, passed.

I don’t feel particularly fearful now, which is great. I also feel significantly less fearful in my dreams–a fact that I can attribute to dealing better with my anxiety in the waking hours.

I’d probably experience a bunch of anxiety if you were to die. So, don’t die.

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