No matter how bad things seem, they can get infinitely worse. Perhaps not infinitely since there is death.
Distressing messages from CT yesterday about the deterioration in my father's state. I have been largely avoidant about his illness but yesterday was the first time I properly acknowledged it in my mind.
I feel slightly at a loss. On the one hand, I've been preparing for this day since 1994 and surely losing one parent should inure one to the potential loss of the second.
I want to rationalize this away and remind myself that death is the most natural and certain thing about living, and that this fear is perverse, but I can't help but feel a debilitating sense of anxiousness that is starting to interrupt my sleep patterns. I know I'm 'overdramatizing' something most people go through but it feels like my world is being upended, yet again, and that I will soon be losing the one thing I have tried to hold on desperately to.
Reading my previous entries, I'm starting to see a theme here.
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