Long Live The Shelly

I don't know when it started, but this habit slowly creeped up on me - I am a slave to the idea that I will die unexpectedly.

In the shower I always expect to slip and smash my head on the tile and end up in a crumpled pile in my bathtub bleeding profusely with nobody around to find me. At every intersection I picture someone crashing into me, demolishing my car and ending my life. Walking down the stairs at work, I imagine missing a step and then the preceding tumble down a flight of stairs. I picture hurricanes and earthquakes and zombie attacks and cancer, all of which will inevitably do me in.

In response to this negative mindset I've adopted, I have started making provisions. Making my bed, not leaving dishes in the sink, keeping my car tidy, ensuring my finances and corresponding paperwork are in order, putting my dirty laundry in the basket, and not storing excessive amounts of junk at my condo... These are just some of the things I do on the chance that I die unexpectedly.

I have literally had my hand on the door knob to go out and have had this thought hit me - "My dirty dishes are in the sink - what if I die and the police have to come to my condo?! They will think I'm a slob!"

I picture my funeral and how sad it will be. I guess at who will speak and who will No Show. I imagine their outfits and guess at the flower colors. I hope there are no lilies. I hope they bury me in sweatpants. God knows I don't want to be in a dress and heels for eternity. 

It hit me the other day that this mindset is definitely an issue and I find that if I blog about something I am then answerable to it. Hopefully writing this will stop the negative thoughts, or at least make me more conscious of them. I am not ready to die. Long Live The Shelly.