I have been doing too much thinking lately. A really bad practice for someone with OCD, as you all know. I've been wondering about my husband and how my OCD affects him. I have been thinking about my son and what he will think of me one day when he figures out what OCD is. And I have been thinking about things I fear, why do I fear them, what do I fear about them. And I think I have figured out most of my fears, doubt, anxieties, etc. can all be traced back to my fear of death. I fear it in such an out of control way. Not a normal fear of death someone, most folks, have, because it is something we have no idea about. I fear it every single day. Seriously, I think about it pretty much everyday, which is awful. I think about people's bodies in coffins a lot and it makes me want to cry. When celebrities die for some reason I always think about what their bodies looked like when they were found. It isn't because I am sick and morbid or something…I just wonder as I think about what their bodies must look like, did they look different when they were still alive seconds earlier? Did the life departing their bodies make the appearance of the body change somehow? I know, what an odd thing to think about. I;m odd, sorry, I don't know how to explain. And then I worry about the death of my husband or son or family members. I fear finding their bodies, them already gone, and being unable to talk to them. Being unable to say I love you to them one more time. Being unable to see the color of their eyes or the crinkle of their lips as they smile or the sparkle in their eyes. It makes knots form in my throat. And I carry out compulsions all the time to try and ward off this doom. I kiss my husband goodbye in a particular way. I say I love you to a point that drives folks nuts. And I have to be the last to say it. Have to be. Why do I fear death so much. So very, very much. It is such a scary, horrifying thing to me. Devastatingly scary.