I thought about
a lot of things today. I thought about anxiety. I thought about
depression. I thought about death.
The odd thing is that death aside, I feel almost scarily comfortable thinking about such subjects. Maybe it’s because I’ve never experienced depression or anxiety. Not that I’d really want to experience them either. Obviously they’re serious issues, but how exactly is it that I don’t feel the slightest bit of discomfort pondering them?
One factor to consider would be my lack of experience with those issues. I do have acquaintances that either have or have had depression, but even they are ever so few. I do have a vague idea how depression works, but that idea is ever so vague. Much less experience do I have with anxiety. I’ve never known anyone with anxiety, or if I have, I either don’t remember them or didn't know they had anxiety.
To me, depression and anxiety are rather trivial subjects. If they happen to be brought up in casual conversation - I hate to say “happily” in this case, since they’re not particularly happy subjects - I’ll discuss them just about as openly as any other subject. Death, on the other hand, is a subject I try to steer clear of as best I can.
The inevitable fact is that everyone dies. So did my grandmother three years ago. But for some reason, if death is brought up in conversation, it triggers a feeling of uneasiness and even mild anxiety in me. Strangely enough, that’s not the case if I think about death by myself. Strangely indeed, wouldn’t you agree, dear reader?
On a side note, I guess I do have some experience with anxiety after all, and it’s even personal.