Once, I thought about death. The thought scared me. At that point in my life, death was something so taboo and shouldn't be discussed. It was a bad subject and whoever thought about death was said to be weird. I was scared of myself for harbouring such thoughts, that I was a monster, that there was something wrong with me, that I was a deviant.

I couldn't get it out of my mind. 

One day, I decided to "confess" to my mom about it. Then she said, "throughout our lives, we are curious about death and thought about it once in a while. It's something we don't know. That's actually quite normal."

I'm not sure if she realised it, but at that point, relief washed over me, like I was being saved. I was looking for an approval that it was ok to have such thoughts.

I'm not an advocate for seeking external approval, but I guess when we are doubting ourselves, such reassurance and support can be quite comforting.