It’s the middle of the night and I’m sitting on the toilet thinking, “Is this what death is like?”
My bladder isn’t what it used to be. But what does remain the same, is getting up in the middle of the night when my body is woken by the low ache of fullness that needs to be released. Lights aren’t needed to find my way and there’s a faint glow on our mirror since my husband decided to build a mirror display. It was annoying at first, but over time I came to enjoy looking over the weather and our shared calendar while I brushed my teeth. It did keep me from focusing too much on myself. If I gave the dark circles under my eyes too much attention I’d just feel worse about myself. Best to pretend it doesn’t exist because there’s no way I’m wasting time putting on make-up to impress people I don’t care about while grocery shopping with my toddler.
For nearly a year after giving birth to my child, I went to sleep thinking about death. As someone who grew up with no faith, I didn’t have a solid place to turn. I’d started to have panic attacks. Cuddling up to my sleeping husband helped. Reading cheesy romantic comedies helped. Anything to completely avoid the topic I believed was helping. This existential thinking eventually passed as I started to take care of myself – eating healthy, walking outside, drinking water. All the basic things a doctor will tell you to do.
Looking at the stars before light breaks with my dog outside really makes you wonder what people thought before electricity. I’ve experienced the stars without light pollution and a clear sky once camping. How can you see a sky like that and not believe there’s some bigger power out there? Connecting with the natural world has been the most comforting. No organized religion. No ending therapy. Just being outside in the sounds created by mother nature. Living in a small town in the woods has its advantages. I realized, I have always been kind of a tree hugger.
These people who have the need to wear ear buds all day long are insane. Just making themselves more isolated instead of being in this world. There are exceptions, audiobooks are fun while strolling in the local park, but constantly wearing ear buds is insane to see. There’s no disconnecting from devices. But what do I know? I don’t know these people I see. I’m just making judgments based on the surface. Maybe my shift to being content and less negative on life and death has led me to be curious about why people do the things they do rather than a harsh judgment stemming from my own insecurities. I suppose that’s growth.
After all this change in thinking, it still creeps up though. It’s always on the toilet. In the darkness I’ll sit and think, “Is this what death is like?”