When I was younger, I could easily picture my future. I imagined myself as an adult with a stable job, earning good money. I could even dream of getting married and having children. Back then, the idea of growing up felt exciting and natural.

Now that I’m older, something has changed. I struggle to see myself as an elderly person, let alone as a grandmother. My mind refuses to project my life beyond a certain point, as though my journey will somehow end before then. It’s not that I feel hopeless—I’m actually content with my life as it is. Sure, things could be better, but overall, I’m grateful for what I have.

Still, I sometimes catch myself thinking about death. Not in the sense of taking my own life, but rather in the form of an illness, an accident, or even a natural disaster. It makes me wonder—does this count as a suicidal thought? After all, the idea still revolves around leaving this world, even if it’s not by choice.

Perhaps it’s just a peculiar way my mind processes the unknown. Maybe I’m not alone in feeling this way. Do others also find it hard to picture themselves growing old? Or is it just me?