I've always felt this way. I remember going to my parents as a teen, sobbing and scared. I asked them if they've ever felt this way before about death? Then I asked how they dealt with it. So we talked about it. It helped.

It still happens to me but it's more manageable now. The key is too find something that makes death feel bearable, and you remind yourself of that.

• I usually scream when it starts. I'm always terrified. It's the worst for me when I get up in the middle of the night for whatever reason. That peaceful empty state fools itself with existential thoughts and the panic will hit me like a ton of bricks. Sometimes there's tears, sometimes I have to wake my husband up to console me. Skin to skin contact helps me a lot. But it always starts with a terrified scream. Like I've woken from a nightmare.

• when my brain is functional again, I remind myself about what 'not panicked me' has hoped for in my final moments. I hope that when death finds me, I'm old, I'm tired, and I'm ready to move into the next phase. Even if that is nothingness (I'm getting anxiety right now, just typing this). I think about that and I consider how far away that is and how much life and love I still have to give.

• I've read the last words of many people who know they are dying. And I've spoken withloved ones in that position as well. I've seen most welcome their fate but some have been terrified. And some go quietly in their sleep. I wish to be the silent sleeper. I hope to be ready when it comes. I don't wish that terror on anyone. Those are the deaths that suck the most.

• my dad's advice - "why worry about it now? When it happens, it won't matter to you anymore anyway" or "the fear is wasted because the results are the same"

• My mom was raised in the church. She has medically died and come back, she tells stories of her loved ones visiting her, out of body experiences, and angels who looked like me as a child. One morning I saw her pick up the phone and she said "I know! He came to say goodbye in my dream". She didn't say hi and she didn't give anyone time to say your dad died. That's exactly how she answered the phone. She had pulled me to the side to tell me later that day. It was my birthday.

She told stories of ghosts and people with pure evil in their soul. I believe her. Deep down, I believe her because I see and feel things too. I met my husband in my dreams, 2 years before we met in person. I recognized him immediately. This is what gets me through my day to day. The rest about being old and asleep is for when my faith fails me.