They say when one is depressed, they have suicidal thoughts. I used to think these thoughts were about harming oneself or taking their own life. I have never thought of taking my own life, but I have thought about dying. Way too often.
I think about what dying would mean, how would my family and friends react? Am I ready to die? Will my affairs be in order at the time of my death? Am I right with God, will I find my way to heaven? What if I got a terminal disease, would I fight to live or would I start prepping for my demise? The latter is what I think I would do, start putting my things in order.
Sometimes, I get visual images of me dying. I have seen myself driving and getting hit by a truck. Last week, I dreamt about ramming into a truck and being under it. I was alive and could have crawled out, instead, I lay there waiting for the crush to happen. It was clear that given a chance to save myself, I would not. I would stay and wait for the lights to dim, for the crush to happen so it can all end.
I think about my funeral, what I would want done and not done. I think about writing a will so that my things are in order, and nothing gets lost because my family does not know about it. I have talked to my best friend and asked that they help my family process stuff when I die.
Once, I was conducting a major project and I kept thinking what if I die right now? Who will take it up? I thought about writing down a summary document that would outline the project plans, milestones, and the various stakeholder’s inputs, just in case I died.
The truth is, I would never kill myself. I honestly do not want to die. Not yet. I have so much I still want to do. I want to travel, I want to make money, I want to raise my family and build that home I have been dreaming about. I want to clear my debt so that no one will have to take it up.
I want to live, I want to heal, I want to be happy, I want to be normal, but these thoughts about dying keep flooding my mind every so often.