I have a confession. For the last two years I have been convinced I will be dead by the time I’m forty. Either by accident, illness, or my own doing.

This is not a cry for help. It is a fact. Now some would say, including my therapist, that I cannot know this for a fact. While a small part of me understands this, the larger, more in control part of me disagrees.

I have given myself this timeline so that I can take care of debts, my dog, and spend time with my family. I feel as though nature will take its course and take me instead of handling it myself. If it does not, I feel I will not be able to go on and will take matters into my own hands.

I am not prepared to live past 40 and I do not believe my mental state could handle going on for much longer. This is odd to write and probably odd to read. But it’s my truth.

XOXO