It wasn't until I started writing about insurance that I really delved into the industry's nuances, let alone did my research to get my benefit ducks in a row. Chalk it up to stereotypical millennial laziness or believe me when I say that for all my worrying, I didn't worry about my benefits. 

In early August, I compiled a list of life insurance facts for our September print issue. When I stumbled upon a statistic saying that millennials overestimate the cost of life insurance by 213 percent, I told my husband we should look into buying more coverage, especially as we near our one-year anniversary and begin planning bigger life milestones (albeit, not quickly enough for some of our eager family members).

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He assured me our coverage was more than sufficient, and because I've largely trusted him to handle our financial futures in the past due to my ineptitude and vocal disinterest, I took his word for it. 

It wasn't until after reading heart-wrenching story in one of our sister publications about a broker's experience doling out life insurance policies to 51 families in the wake of 9/11 that I emailed our HR department to better understand my employer-sponsored plan, and asked Sean to walk me through his additional coverage. Here's a snippet of that conversation:

Him: "Sh*t, I only get my annual salary, not $250,000. It's only up to that if I made that much a year."
Me: "Same with mine. So we basically have no life insurance."
Him: "Not true … It's just laid out really weirdly."
Me: "OK, then what's our coverage?"
Him: "Well, we have our two employer ones, and then I have additional coverage for $200,000."
Me: "So if you die, I get one year of your salary and $200,000, but if I die, you only get one year of my salary?"
Him: "I have no idea."

And now here I sit, worrying. What if something happens during our drive home tonight? We play soccer on Wednesdays, and my lack of actual skill is compensated for by my physical play, play that results in some type of injury nearly every week. What if it's worse than that this time around? What if my lingering headache is a sign of something worse? Is Sean's father's heart problem genetic? Should we put carpet on our steps to prevent slipping? Does our carbon monoxide detector work? What about our iffy pilot light? (I wasn't lying about the neuroses.) 

Research says two of the top reasons millennials like me don't buy life insurance is because we don't think we need it or because we don't think we can afford it. For me, my reluctance to purchase life insurance isn't due to perceived invincibility (obviously), or because I don't want to put the money toward a policy — forgoing my predilection for cheap champagne and expensive dog food wouldn't be too difficult. 

I haven't been in the workforce long and there is still plenty I need to learn — better time management, how to take initiative without overstepping, tempering my foul mouth in front of superiors — but until recently, I've never put my benefits package on that list. Why? Like my husband, I can honestly say, "I don't know." 

How did a worry-wart like me end up here? Maybe it's because worrying has always been easier than taking action, or because my mother has always instilled in me the mantra, "Everything will work out. It always does." Perhaps it's because I haven't lost anyone close to me, nor have I experienced the toll an unexpected death can take. Maybe it truly is millennial ignorance or entitlement. There are a lot of things it could be, but what it can no longer be is acceptable. 

With open enrollment around the corner, at least I know I'll have a chance to consider my options and prepare for the worst, instead of just expecting it. 

I guess what I'm really trying to say is, thanks, September. You've done your job. I'm aware, and I'm off to buy life insurance. I'll be driving there … carefully.