I’ve always been pretty curious about what it will be like to die–though I’m in no hurry. I’m not afraid of dying, though obviously I’m not a fan of pain.
I was talking last week about fear of dying and afterlife with a friend who used to believe in an afterlife and no longer does; she finds it awful to contemplate no longer existing. I, OTOH, though I believe there is an afterlife, am not bothered by the thought of non-existence, and I can well imagine it being more comforting* not* to believe in an afterlife.
In my belief system, the one thing you can’t do is not exist. Everyone will always exist. There is no getting out of it. IOW if I’m an awful person, I’ll have to live with myself forever. While we have plenty of opportunity for repentance, and the afterlife is going to be very nice for most of us–I can only too easily imagine myself doing something terrible and remembering it–not because God won’t forgive me, but because I can’t forgive myself. (I guess this is a flaw in my faith and I need to learn more about forgiveness.)
So, dying–no problem. Afterlife–possibly not as comforting as you might think. There’s no copout.
“Don’t worry about it, you are not going to know your dead.”
Sometimes I feel death is better than a life of dispair, for myself I hope the next world is better, like the line from Old Man River, I’m tired of living but scared of dying.
I don’t see why it shouldn’t be available, in the same way that other radical life saving treatments are available. There are hoards of people in the world, for instance, that don’t have access to heart transplants or chemo, but those of us living in the industrialized world have a reasonable expectation of access to them. In fact, I would think that insurance companies would love to pay for such treatments…radically reduce the amounts they have to pay out, and in return, they get maybe double the years worth of premiums per person.
I have been surrounded by death my entire life. I’ve never understood people’s fear of dying. I just don’t get it.
Everyone dies.
I sometimes feel like the audience in Monty Python and want to yell out, " Just get on with it!"
Probably of heart disease, cancer, stroke (the big three) or complications (pneumonia, usually.) of those. It is very rare that anyone gets a quick, easy death with a mortal accident and , if you are lucky ( you won’t be, sorry. Someone else gets to be a lucky bastid.) just nod off one day and never wake up.
90% of your health care dollars will be spent in the last 30 days of your life. ( A doctor told me this years ago.) Which is why I plan to kill myself 31 days before I actually die.
It is my firm and out-there-like-fookin’-Pluto- belief that many, many generations from now there will be medically assisted suicides to help those who are suffering horribly from their diseases to pass on and then families can have rituals to help the ill (and themselves.) with their big send off. It just isn’t happening any time now.
I can honestly say that I’ve never been afraid to die. Learning how to live and get involved in life, is another kettle of worms entirely.
I’m not the slightest bit afraid of being dead. In a way, it seems the easiest thing, all you worries are over.
I’m very afraid of dying. It’s the pain I fear. I hope it’s not long and painful. If I could be guarenteed of a quick, painless death, I wouldn’t be afraid of death at all.
I’ve never understood why criminals fight being given lethal injection. It seems like a great way to die! And better than a life in prison.
I accepted the inevitability of my death a long time ago, and I’ve been a much happier and well adjusted person ever since.
I don’t know and don’t care what happens afterward, although I’m betting on the “return to nothing” scenario.
I’ve done many things, some bad, most good, and had a positive impact on the lives of people I care about. My great hope is that, after the initial grief, they’ll choose to find joy in the fact that I lived rather than sorrow in the fact that I died, but that’s their choice to make.
I welcome death in the way I welcome dawn. It is inevitable and, like all experiences, when it is time for it to happen, it should be embraced as an essential component of life. Were it not for the fact that death will one day come, no life would have any value.
I’m not afraid. It’s the price we pay to live.
Nobody gets out alive. Nobody.
I lost one of my closest friends 3 years ago to brain cancer.
We were there to confort her.
At the end she said “no matter how many friends you have, you die alone. Now is my time to go there alone.” 20 minutes later, she was gone.
I still think how powerful that statement was.
I still greive.
I’m afraid I can’t offer too much help, as I agree with the OP too strongly. Except that the idea of nothingness doesn’t depress me, but rather does, well, nothing for me. Intellectually it is not worth worrying about, but these concerns never arise on an intellectual level*. Emotionally though… I don’t no what to suggest, other than perhaps learning to embrace the idea of nothingness?
Sorry if this post is crap. It’s 5:30am and I am normally a late riser. My brain no good now.
*Or if they do, they can be easily dismissed by your brain.
I am pretty scared to die. I think it is the worst thing in the world, but I also recognize how lucky I am to be here.
I used to have anxiety attacks about it, too, when I was younger. I found C.S. Lewis’s “A Grief Observed” an interesting read during that time, even though I’m not religious at all. I’m still not sure whether or not it made me feel better or worse.
Either way, I just try not to think abut it too much.
This is exactly the sadness about death that I have. One day I’ll no longer have anything to say, anything to think about, anything to feel, anything to add. I will just stop, and that’s a bummer. I don’t want to stop!
Damn, I feel sorry about the people with anxiety disorders. I know what your going through and I wish I didn’t.
I was strolling through life just fine until one day the thought of dying just crippled me. I went into a deep depression where everything I enjoyed doing made me nauseated. It is disturbing, let me tell you, to go from have a strong reason to live, to believing nothing in life is worth the effort.
Right now I could tell you that if I ate a cookie, I would feel better. Back then I did not think anything would make me feel good. I felt sick every time I thought about do anything. I had to struggle to get through life minute by minute.
I’m over it now. No medication, but gradually as time went by, life started to make more sense again. I had to do things that jolted my mind out of its depression. I had to distract myself from all my bad thoughts and remind myself that the good ones are better because they let me live better. I guess I eventually got used to the thought that I will die one day. What worries me now is that I will die before I can accomplish certain things in my life.
If I hit a period where I don’t do anything for a while, it will hit me again. I can’t sit around and do nothing anymore. Fear of death is now my motivator for living. Ironic, I know, but I think it was meant to be that way.
How much worse would it be to lose a wasted life than to live a fulfilled one?
I’ve not had anxiety attacks, but I know from experience that my first line of defense against depression is to get off my arse and do something. Sitting around and worrying about the things I have no control over is not good for me, or anyone who has contact with me. If not for myself, then for my loved ones I work at being happy.
I’m not afraid of dying. I am bemused when people say “if” I die instead of when. It’s the one sure thing life - you and I will die. I find that thought comforting.
I am absolutely not afraid of dying. I do have the survival instinct like we all have, but I firmly and fervently believe that when I want my life to be over I should have the choice to end it. I think I should be able to set an appointment with a physician, sign a million consent forms, say good-bye to my family and friends, and be done. I don’t think I need to be terminal to do this.
I think about it often. I’ve been surviving, not really living, all my life. I’m exhausted and I think that two more decades or so is about as much as I’m going to be able to take.
I appreciate you defending me, but it isn’t necessary. I didn’t interpret Phlosphr’s words as a lecture. I see it as him being very truthful with me in a supportive way, which is something I can appreciate. I AM very lucky. Very, very lucky.
I actually started my own thread to tell my story: The story of a former junkie. I must warn (generic) you, it’s quite possibly the longest post that wasn’t written by Sampiro (and much less interesting than if it had been), but I elaborated on my response to this comment more at the bottom of it.
I’ve heard that before, somewhere - it seems like the obvious question is, is there any correlation between the person’s life, and what category they fall into? People of a certain religion experience happiness, others don’t? C’mon, we can get some real empirical religious evidence going here! (I’m only half serious about this… but it would be interesting if ‘good’ people, according to some set of moral values, tended to fall into category 1)
Count me among those who find death depressing. I think if I found out that I was going to die tomorrow, I’d be very sad at all the things I won’t do, or won’t do again, as well as sad for family and friends. Possibly a bit fearful - I strongly suspect this is the result from growing up in a somewhat religious environment, and therefore feeling a residual gut truthiness about the existence of an afterlife. But my brain is very much atheist now, so it’s not afraid at the notion, just annoyed.
Yes, my username is misleading.