Pink Elephants of Doom
Mental health at the end of the world.
Sometimes, I think about the absolute worst thing that could happen to me and my family. I know, that’s a weird way to start an essay.
Hear me out…
In the worst case scenario, ex-military or law enforcement pariahs team up and form their own doomsday militia. We’re talking about special forces types. They lift a bunch of armor and assault weapons. They start going door to door, searching houses for goods and taking out civilians as a preemptive action. I’ve read enough about these types to know it could happen. It’s a real possibility.
Something like that would negate most of my family’s preps. Even if we had guns to fight back, consider the reality. They wouldn’t leave us alone. They wouldn’t pick an easier target. They would fixate on eliminating us, or capturing us to extract value—things that make for awkward cocktail chat.
Even if you “won” against these rogue seals, imagine the aftermath. Your precious homestead would lie in ruins, and you would have no guarantees that another militia wouldn’t eventually move in to take over their territory, see what you did, and come right after you. You’d be so busy fighting, you wouldn’t have time to grow food. This could happen to anyone, even a community. Imagine living in a government so corrupt that it sanctions this kind of violence.
There’s a more mundane scenario, one where we survive for a while but one of us develops a health condition or a terminal disease. The way things are going, it’s not impossible for a jet engine to land on our house.
Yep, I’ve thought about that.
That’s probably the opposite of what most self-proclaimed optimists suggest doing if you want to alleviate stress. For me, it helps.
I’ll tell you why.