I’ve been petrified of death my whole life. I know everyone’s afraid of dying but some people just shrug it off and accept it with a calmness I’ve never understood. I remember being 5 years old, running in to my dad’s bedroom and having a panic attack about dying. I’ve had these panic attacks my whole life and they’ve always been triggered by the same image that I couldn’t describe accurately if I tried – but it’s like the emptiness and years rolling out after…

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I’ve realised lately that I spend about 50% of my day dreaming about our upcoming holiday to Mexico. I use the word ‘upcoming’ loosely as it’s not until December. But seriously, I am living for this holiday. I am quite literally wishing a whole 5 months of my life away, which is just terrible. But what about when the holiday passes? Do we just book another holiday and count down to the next escape? Shouldn’t we be excited about just living in general? I’ve realised…

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