For Example

I would like to be an expert in something besides psyching myself out. I would like not to be sitting here worrying needlessly about things I can neither predict nor control, too, but anxiety is a bitch. For instance, say your mother’s surviving parent and both your father’s parents are having serious health problems of both the physical and mental varieties. You can think that sucks pretty hard and try to be there for your parents, or you can spend a lot of time thinking about how old your grandparents are, and how this is the point where people tend to, well, die. You can think about the fact that you’re not close your grandparents and never were, and how that makes you utterly terrible at taking care of your parents now and how it will be much worse when your grandparents actually do die. And when they die, which they will, you will have to go to their funerals—because what kind of shit child would you be if you didn’t, and also you promised—but what if they die while you’re at school? They probably will, considering that you are home for three months and gone for nine. Of course, it is also true that all three grandparents are deteriorating at about the same rate at about the same time, so worst case scenario: there will be overlap and you will have to choose—Actually, come to think of it, that’s likely, considering your family’s track record—no, that’s stupid—but what if it did happen? What on earth would you do? Not to mention the fact that you can’t really just up and leave school—I mean you can, to go to a funeral, but how can you just go to the funeral and then leave when your parent’s parents just died and your father lives all by himself in that godawful messy house and really doesn’t have anyone else but you even though you don’t take good enough care of him, by the way, and you really should keep that irritation of yours in check when all he wants is some attention what is wrong with you—So if you leave for the funeral you will have to stay home for a while to take care of everyone otherwise you are a horrible person, but leaving means you neglect things back there and god knows—forget schoolwork—god knows there are people you cannot fucking leave alone, especially if they think you’re not okay because for some reason you not being okay for any reason even if you are handling it sets off this whole nightmare domino chain that you then have to deal with no matter how not-okay you are and let’s face it—can you really persuade anyone you are okay, no matter how convincing you are, when they know all the shit that’s going down? Oh god, look, here you are doing that thing where you’re stupid again. You know that if you do this it will just make everything worse because you won’t be able to deal with it when it happens on account of being a nervous wreck. This tendency of yours will be the end of you. If it’s not the end of someone else, first. I mean, how much longer can it go on before…etcetera, etcetera. Do you get it? That’s what it’s like.

No, that’s not what it’s like.

It’s like being tied to the railroad tracks. You can’t hear anything yet; the train isn’t coming—but it is coming. That’s the point. It’s a beautiful day—sunshine, birdsong, a nice breeze, little puffy clouds sailing by overhead—but the fact is that some time in the indefinite future, you are going to get hit by a goddamn train. You don’t want to wait for that, really, or think about it at all, but you’re human and you’re alive, you’re alive and you can’t move, and every part of you that can seek it out is looking for a sign of that train. The distant rattle. The slight shaking of the ground. The whistle. You don’t know what the first warning sign will be. You don’t even know that. All you know is the waiting, your blood, your heartbeat as a measure of time. Your whole body a clock, counting down. All you know is the inevitability of impact.