Thank you. Honest and moving.
Of course I have lots to say on the subject of anxiety, but I will leave that to upcoming posts. Instead, here, I want to pick up on your parenthetical gobsmack: death. Indeed, we tend to be quite delusional about the whole enterprise. Either death is central to the debilitations of anxiety stemming from low probability danger filling Facebook and Twitter feeds (our macro tigers, if you will: climate catastrophe, terrorism, plane crashes, Trump) or death has us with our fingers in our ears while loudly repeating nonsense.
Personally, this has struck me all my life. My father died when I was 3, before I knew him, before any real memory. Although his death was abstract, the aftermath was very real and dominated the structure of home life. Thus, I started thinking about death, in a very accepting and matter of fact way, from a young age. So I was especially shocked when a few months ago my 65-year-old sister, who is recovering from a relatively minor stroke, broke down while revealing that she had never really ever considered her mortality. How is that even possible?
Actually, maybe I need to consider a full post around this. Thanks for the trigger…and the beautiful post.