I’m not scared of dying.
To me, dying and becoming mortal are equivalently bad things that could happen to me.
As I am already mortal, the worst has already happened. There is no reason to be scared of something that has already happened. I do, however, rue my misfortune.
Having had no direct members of my family die yet( or loved ones.*) - even typing that seems like tempting fate! - I know that the biggest pain of my life is yet to come. Death can’t be any worse than that.
(* Discounting pets, although I shouldn’t.)
That’s a great quote. I’m a Dawkins fan, and I’ve not seen it before. What book is it from?
When I finally admitted to myself that there was no god, and therefore no afterlife, I went through a phase where the thought of death could set me to hyperventilating. The thought of just…not existing…was terrifying. I’ve come to terms with it now, and have joined the life is incredibly precious, so I shouldn’t obsess about dying camp, but it still pisses me off that I won’t exist someday.
Moreso because I happen to firmly believe that the human race will, at not some too-distant point, conquer aging and illness, and therefore greatly lengthen the average lifespan. People will still find creative and interesting ways to kill themselves and others, as they do now, so people will still die, just not of old age or sickness. It annoys me very much, because I think that I’m going to end up missing by this much, which I just find incredibly unfair.
I admire your optimism, but I don’t believe such technology will ever be available to anyone but an elite bunch of people, and the nearest the hoi polloi will get is maybe some mutant offspring of the technology.
Really afraid, and lately I have been fixating on it a bit. 
After dying once on the operating table, and having several events occur that damn near killed me, I’m not afraid of it. What I am afraid of is dying in some really slow, painful way.
When I do go, I want it to be short, painless, and totally unexpected.
More depressed by it than scared of it.
Well, I guess I’ll be real honest, you are lucky, very lucky. I worked in a rehab where more people than not were less than lucky as you. I hope you have tamed whatever demons are on your back, as next time, luck may not be a factor. I say this with a healthy dose of compassion because manytimes, there wouldn’t be anyone on the other end to read what I have written…they’d be dead.
To the OP. I’m not afraid of dying, in the traditional sense. It is a natural progression of life. Right now at this point in my life, if I had an awareness of dying, I would be extraordinarily sad for those I would be leaving behind. My wife, family, friends, unanswered dreams, unexplored locations.
In my circle of friends and those in my extended village believe that dying is a time of joyousness, and freedom. A time when the soul or ‘spirit’ can be set free from it’s organic shell and is allowed to wander to another plane. Some people in different faiths call this heaven, others believe this wandering spirit is reborn to learn from another lifetime on the earth. Opinions vary, but it is safe to say I am looking forward to that journey, but not for a long while.
I don’t fear my own death at all, I do fear the deaths of my loved ones and living without them. To me, the most terrifying thing is the world is the concept of immortality. I can’t imagine anything worse than living forever, long after the rest of humanity has passed on, to be stuck here or in the infinite void with no hope of it ever ending. THAT’s what I call morbid.
Death is a blessing, in many cases it’s just an end to the suffering of this world. It amazes me that more people don’t view euthanasia as one of the kindest things you can do for someone. Then it’s easy for me to have this opinion when I don’t have a specific relegion tying me to a specific afterlife.
I went skydiving a few years ago and wasn’t the least bit nervous, but yet I lack the ability to control my nerves enough to ask out an attractive girl. Humans are weird…
I’m not afraid of being dead, as I’m sure I’ll feel just like I did in, oh, say … 1935, which is to say, nothing at all.
I’m afraid of the dying process if it happens any time soon, because I have a 10 year old son who needs my parenting, as well as a husband who would be terribly grief-stricken if he lost me. If I were to be aware that I were leaving them prematurely, well … that would be a horrible feeling, and so I suppose I’d be afraid. Also, if the dying itself was painful, well, yeah, I guess I wouldn’t like that much either.
I did have a near-death experience when I was about 8 (hit by a car), and also a most vivid mystical dream when I was about 16, both of which made me feel very peaceful about being dead. So the thought of dying when I’m, say, 85 or so, doesn’t scare me. But that’s easy to say when that is still decades in the future.
I used to have Panic Disorder too, mostly associated with death and fears of dying. My greatest fear, other than dying afraid and in pain, is finding out there is an afterlife, and being judged. What frightens me about the thought of death is that you can’t take back anything you did or thought or said while you were alive. I have tried really really hard to be this ultimate ideal of a good person–not because I think I’m better than everyone else, but because I’m scared shitless of the consequences of not being that person. I genuinely care about others, but I also feel the need to prove my right to exist.
This anxiety about death has mostly gone away, but there are always some lingering fears. When I’m falling asleep at night, I worry someone is going to break in and stab me (having two deadbolts and a chain lock on the door has improved this fear tremendously, I must say.) I still have the occasional jumpy moment in a movie theater where I think someone’s about to walk in and shoot up the place. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve thought, ‘‘It’s over; I am now going to die,’’ I’d be a rich woman. Take comfort in the fact that, as a person with Panic Disorder, you’ve faced the reality of your death a million times. Most people aren’t strong enough to live with terror on a daily basis.
Two things have happened lately that have got me thinking about death in a new way. One, this Spring my uncle died at the age of 30 of a drug overdose–this was my first experience with death. Though we had a troubled relationship, I took it hard because we had grown up together and it changed the entire family dynamic. I think a lot about how much of an asshole he really was, how many words of comfort I never said, how little I cared when he was alive, and wonder if this tragedy could have been prevented. In the very least, I wish he’d known that I loved him, and how much I looked up to him as a child, and how much he’d hurt so many of us.
Two, I started a new job working near the World Trade Center. I never took terrorism as a statistically credible threat to my life and I still really don’t, but it seems more possible when you pass the gaping chasm on a daily basis and think of all those people whose lives ended on a beautiful, sunny day in September. They never saw it coming. And chances are, when my day comes, I won’t see it coming either.
These two experiences in conjunction haven’t really made me fear death more–rather they’ve lit a fire under my ass with regards to understanding the immediacy and unexpected nature of death. There is no way to prepare for it other than living every moment you have to its fullest, finding gratitude where you once did not, etc. I’ve learned to make every moment of my life important, because you just never know. I can’t stop the reality that I am going to die, much as it scares me–but I can control the way I live now. As a result, I have less patience with fear and procrastination. I’m doing all those things I ‘‘should’’ be doing – exercise, nutrition, meditation and socializing. I am finally living the exact life I’ve always wanted to have.
I recommend a book that helped me greatly with my anxiety: No Death, No Fear by Thich Nhat Hahn. It is a beautiful work of art.
If I were to die soon, and I knew about it, even a few seconds in front of a mad man or bus, I would be immensely frustrated. For the first time in my life I have a reason to be hanging about, my little daughter, who’s only two years eight months. I’m insured for a healthy (heh) amount of money, but I think I’m capable of giving that bit more.
Other than that, my DNA is marching onwards, even if it’s held by only my daughter, I’m satisfied that my time on Earth has been so far not a complete waste.
Yeah, me too. One advantage that believers have is that they feel there will be a better life beyond this one. There’s comfort in that. The thought that I’ll no longer be able to look out upon the world and upon my spouse is unbearable, but I guess when you’re gone, so are the regrets.
Given how he described the experience in his first post, it doesn’t seem like he really needs a lecture.
Am I the only one that finds this intensely comforting? It’s how I’ve always imagined it.
Man, that sounds creepy.
I am not afraid of being dead. I believe that in the next life I’ll be in Heaven forever, in the presence of God for eternity.
However, I am afraid of dying. The thought of a long, painful, crippling, disabling decline really bothers me. Or, say, being in a plane that’s spiraling downward, knowing it’s going to be messy. If I die in an accident I hope it’s so fast I didn’t even feel it. Or if, like some of the WTC deaths, I have to choose between jumping and burning, I’d jump. I just want it to be as fast as possible.
Well I would suppose it would only be comforting if you woke up right?
Of the studies I have seen on being unconscious and near death expriences they tend to fall into two distinct categories. 1) a surreal, heavy, happiness and pleasure encompasses you. 2) scared, fearful, not in control, nothingness.
I’ll take the pleasureable experience myself. There is a wonderful move called One, there religious and non-religious spiritual leaders from around the globe talk about 20 central experiences to life. One of them is , “What happens when you die”
Many of the people talk about a pleasurable experience, one marked by an awareness of your own being or soul. If you believe in that kind of thing.
In that case, I do recommend a good ol’ heroin overdose. I felt incredible for a moment, then was out cold without even a split second of time to think, “hmm, something’s not right here.”
In all seriousness, though, I can’t tell if you’re trolling us or if this is a genuine cry for help. If it’s the latter, I’m begging you to seek out professional help. There are a multitude of therapies and medications out there, and I can personally guarantee you that there’s a solution out there for you that will make every day a million times brighter; that will make you feel as though life IS worth living.
I know that depression can come in two forms. There’s the kind that where you have nothing tangible to actually be depressed about, where you lead a seemingly decent life on the outside, but it feels like hell on the inside. You don’t have a “reason” to feel the way you do, and yet you feel it anyway. This is absolutely treatable. Your brain isn’t functioning properly; it simply isn’t producing the right amount of the right chemicals. Medication is a miracle solution because it will help your brain produce the right amounts of the right chemicals that will make you feel ok. Combine it with some therapy, and you’re all set.
There’s also the kind of depression where you DO have something to be utterly miserable about – divorce, loss of a loved one, loneliness, unemployment, whatever it may be – and you feel you just can’t possibly make it through to the other side of the situation(s). But guess what? You will. I promise. That’s how the life works. Bad things happen, life gets shitty – sometimes really shitty – but you wait (or wade) through it, and life gets better. I know that while you’re actually living through it, it seems IMPOSSIBLE that things will ever turn around for you, but they eventually will – they always do. I assure you, situations are purely temporary, and they always get better. Of course, something bad will happen again, but you’ll get through that, too. It’s life. If this is what’s going on with you, you need therapy. You need someone to hold your hand and get you through it, to teach you how to cope with the bad things that happen to you so that they don’t bring you down this low anymore. Medication is also a great idea here, as if you’re seriously considering suicide for any reason, you probably have the messed up brain chemical thing going on as well.
In my experience, people who openly talk about their desire to commit suicide don’t really WANT to die, they just want someone to help them, someone to make everything better. They want something to take the constant pain away so they CAN bear to go on living. Are you one of these people? I promise you, I am here to help you. I want to help make everything better. I will find you a doctor, I will explain your situation to them, I will make you appointments, and I will gently encourage you to actually go to them. I will be your friend, I will listen to everything you have to say, I will share my experiences and advice on how to just get through the day, and I will be at your disposal 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
I am leaving it up to you to contact me, but again, I beg of you to do so. My private messaging is enabled, my email address is listed, and I have AIM up at all times. Please, even if your mind is completely made up, if you refuse to seek out professional help, if you’re certain that nobody can help you at all: contact me anyway. Even if you do go through with it in the end – first, tell me your story. Tell me what you’re going through and tell me what brought you to this point. I want to hear it all and I want to be there for you.
rae
I used to be a lot more afraid of death than I am now. I never really bought into my parents’ religious beliefs, so even as a child I used to lie in bed thinking about what it would be like if I just…didn’t exist. The idea was terrifying.
Now, I guess I’m more afraid of dying young, before I’ve had the chance to do anything important with my life, than death per se. I mean, if death is just not existing, then it’s not like I’ll be aware that I’m dead and able to feel afraid. But I’m really disturbed by the idea that life is inherently meaningless, especially my life. Thinking about how I’ll never know why we are all here makes me sad. I wish I had faith to give me comfort. But I don’t, so the only thing I can do is hope that my life is a long and fulfilling one.
Like some others have said, I’m afraid of dying, not of being dead.
My grandfather died in his sleep and my father dropped dead in his tracks, both of massive coronaries. I pray I’m that lucky when my time comes. My paternal grandmother was given six months to live and lived another two and a half years. She’d have been much, much better off if she hadn’t dragged it out so long.
I told my doctor once, “if you ever have to tell me I have something terminal, go ahead and say your goodbyes then, because my next stop will be the pawn shop.” I would never say that now, though. Because I own guns now.