Wanna Be Sedated

Ah I miss Joey Ramone-yet another person who didn't live all that long.
So this blog basically started because Meg and I noticed that our primary perspectives on life have shifted since our mothers have died. One of the most noticeable changes in my personality is that I’ve become hyper-cautious about my physical well-being. I think a lot about death and become panicked at times because I think I’m going to die soon. A headache is no longer a headache, but a tumour in my brain. My tiredness must be a blood disorder and of course terminal, or at least debilitating. My chest pains always signal a heart attack. I have chest pains once or twice a week and no doubt the pains themselves are psychosomatic. When my arm or foot falls asleep and gets all tingly it means there is probably a blood clot somewhere, which means I’m about to have a stroke. You get the picture; nothing is ever just a common ailment. When I have these conclusions I never act upon them. I don’t share my thoughts with anyone in my daily life and I rarely go to the doctor or stay home from work. I simply panic. I completely stress out about aforementioned symptoms which inevitably make them worse. The cycle continues.
I haven’t articulated these thoughts to anyone other than Meg. I do have a very concrete awareness of the fact that A) these thoughts are largely irrational and B) these thoughts must be directly tied to my mother passing at such a young age. I never use to think like this but in recent years have become downright fatalistic now and I believe it’s because my mum died. That event in December of 2007 instilled in me the ridiculous reality that you really can just die one day. So I can’t help but dwell on the fact that I’m next. I mean we share everything else…same knees, same thumbs, same fine curly hair, same skin allergies why shouldn’t we share the same way of dying?
Living with this acute awareness of my body and health has been very difficult these past 2 ½ years. It has been so hard to believe that I am healthy and that I am ok and that I am not going to die at 52 out of the blue from some abnormal blood vessels.
Furthermore, this pseudo hypochondriac lifestyle I’ve taken on has made it very hard for me to honour my mum’s life and her living mantra of always being positive. She was the eternal optimist before she had the brain bleed, then during her recovery and even coming out of her operation. She instilled in my brother and I the absolute necessity of positive thinking and appreciation for every small thing in life. She really and truly always looked on the "bright side of life" (cue song 'cause she'd sing it). This is what she wanted for her children. To be honest, it's been over two years since she's been gone and my life is still stuck in such a deep malaise. I don’t enjoy things. I’m so afraid of ending up like her and so depressed for not living like her.

-Tara