Deep thoughts...I've had a post brewing for at least a week now, but when it starts coming together in my head, it never seems to have one direction. I don't like writing things that are unorganized... but I'm afraid this might be a little more stream of conscious than usual so I'm apologizing in advance.
Lately (and by lately I mean pretty much as long as I can remember) I've been really struggling with my hypochondria. I'm so terrified that I have some awful disease or something's wrong with the pregnancy or I have some sort of blood clot leftover from the crash a few months ago. These fears always get worse when I'm pregnant because it strikes me how awful it would be to not witness my babies grow up... to not be there to be a mom to them. A few weeks ago I was praying about it in adoration, and I realized that these fears of being sick are really just a lack of trust on my part. If I truly believed God was here taking care of things and helping me, then I wouldn't be so darn scared of always getting sick or dying. And then I think... even if I do get sick, there's nothing for me to do but deal with it... so why should I be worrying in advance? And as much as it has helped to pray over it (because it definitely HAS helped), I just can't seem to stop being such a hypochondriac.
Well, in reflecting on my hypochondria, I started wondering why I've always been like this. I know that I was always freaking out when I was a kid about something being wrong with me. And I had at some point in my preteen years somehow convinced myself I wouldn't make it past 17 years old. I think that thought probably started when my best friend's older brother passed away when we were in junior high. I think I just figured I was destined to go like that. I even remember feeling relieved when I hit 17. That's got to be abnormal.
And then I think maybe all of these morbid thoughts are coming back so strong this month because it's been 8 years since we lost my cousin Zack to cancer. I mean... we were both 19 at the time. And I watched him go through something that no one should have to go through. And I've always wondered what it would be like to find out that you only have a few months left. And I even wonder if anyone ever told him that for sure or if they just let him keep the hope that he could beat it. And Zack inspired me... and so many people with how strong he was and how silly he was even when he was really really sick. And he changed my life, because I went back to college my sophomore year vowing not to waste another day. And sometimes I wish so hard that I could know him today. Because I bet he'd be married with 2 or 3 of the cutest babies and he'd be the craziest weirdest cutest dad ever. But for some reason, that wasn't in God's master plan. I know in this life I'll never fully understand why, and I wonder if missing him will ever go away.
I remember in the months after he died, that I thought if anyone else in the family had to get sick like he did that I wanted it to be me... because I didn't want to watch anyone else go through it. I really don't know if that was a selfish thought or a sacrificial thought. Either way, I'm not sure I still feel that way. I'm terrified of cancer. I don't want anyone to get it... EVER. And I'm not too comfortable with death despite the insane number of funerals I attended as a kid and teenager.
I thought our wreck in April was enough of a brush with mortality that it might at the very least calm my hypochondria a bit. Life is too short to worry so much. I know that... but somehow I can't quite convince myself of it.
And maybe the whole point of this post is just to hash out these thoughts and see if any of you feel the same way. Am I the only one who is crazily uncomfortable with death? And shouldn't I not be that way if I'm a faith-filled person? And how do you get "okay" with it?