Death anxiety is one of those things that you don’t tend to discuss around the dinner table. Or ever, actually. But as one of my favourite psychotherapists – Irvin Yalom – writes: ‘Death, however…itches all the time: it is always with us.’
Death anxiety is all around us. I see it in the therapy room, in the myriad of ways that humans strive to avoid their own mortality (being famous, having children, building a corporate or political legacy, never slowing down to name but a few) and I also see it in myself. In fact, my own experiences of death is what led me to pursue my understanding of this little-talked-about but inevitable event.
Death anxiety or avoidance of death is hardwired into us as a survival instinct – if it wasn’t we’d all be walking into traffic like lemmings. So, although death anxiety is normal for everyone, to a certain extent, from my clinical experience it can be severely exacerbated by life experiences, particularly early ones. I should add – death anxiety isn’t just about dying. It isn’t always obvious. It’s also about loss, grief, regret. An underlying sense of panic. The tiny deaths that happen every day with every choice we make, or don’t.
Childhood neglect or abuse (and no, it doesn’t have to be significant) can really shake the core of our feeling of inner safety. From an attachment theory perspective, we need to form attachments to our caregivers as babies/young children – they literally keep us alive. So if your early experiences teach you that your caregivers can’t be relied upon to keep you safe? The chances are you’ll have a heightened sense of death/impending death. Fun times.
Death anxiety doesn’t just show up in ‘oh shit I’m going to die one day‘ (although it can, and does, totally common). It waves its little scythe at you through health anxiety (obsessively worrying about symptoms and what could be wrong), perfectionism and control (because uncertainty equals vulnerability and vulnerability can mean death), fears of flying, hospitals, chemicals and smells, or environmental/eco anxiety (I think these are probably self explanatory), all the way to complete avoidance of close connections and intimate relationships. Can’t lose anything if you don’t have it in the first place, right?
When I began my journey of facing death anxiety, for me this meant first of all really understanding death. I wanted to demystify the process, so I could provide a more solid space for those who were navigating their own concept of mortality. The biological process. The cultural process. I wanted to know more about the invisible industry of death where everything moves in hushed tones, poetry and velvet drapes – beautiful, yes, but avoids the gritty stuff.
I began by reading ‘Staring at the Sun‘ by Irvin Yalom to get to grips with the existential side of things, but my curiosity didn’t abate. I moved on to more practical explorations – and devoured ‘All the Living and the Dead‘ by Hayley Campbell, a confrontingly raw read about mortality – embalmers, mortuary workers, crime scene cleaners. It moved me (and prompted a lot of discomfort) in ways that are difficult to capture in words, but ultimately, after each new bit of information I assimilated, I came to the conclusion that nothing is more human than our understanding that we are mortal.
Death anxiety can both propel us and paralyse us. Because every choice we make in life also means losing something else – for some this can mean making all the choices all the time never stop making choices never stop doing all the things don’t say no don’t turn down that invitation keep doing everything – and for others it can be debilitating. What if I make the wrong choice? What if I have to grieve something? What if I have to think that I’ve done my life, this one life I have, wrong?
As a quick side note to the ‘one life’ mention – I’ve purposefully not explored the concepts of religion within this piece, mostly because I’m a staunch Atheist/Humanist and I’m not a religious expert, but also because the majority of religions are there to pat your head about death and basically side-step mortality altogether. I have something akin to envy of those who are able to package themselves into immortality – it won’t be something I’m ever able to do.
The English (and much of the West) are terrible at talking about two things: sex and death. As a culture, we really do go for that stiff upper lip thing. We outsource death, and grief. But the cost of pretending that death isn’t reality, that this doesn’t really happen is disconnection, fear and anxiety. Think back, for a moment, to your earliest experiences of death and the ‘rules’ of how it was discussed, or not. As a child you are curious about every aspect of life – including death. When the family pet died, how was it handled? When your grandparent died, how much were you told or permitted to see? When you asked that big question, upon realising that you, too, will die someday – were you met with compassion and connection or disconnection and dismissal?
If you want to start exploring your own existentialism, your own fears of mortality and your death anxiety – I recommend beginning with the following reads: Staring at the Sun by Irvin Yalom, 10 minutes and 38 Seconds in This Strange World by Elif Shafak, All the Living and the Dead by Hayley Campbell. Each have a very different perspective, each of them hold the topic with consideration, respect and human-ness.
And of course, books are great but to really meet yourself – therapy. Therapy – good therapy with an existential therapist – is a rare place where death anxiety can be named and explored without feeling like you’re going to poison everyone around you with its essence. One of my favourite things to explore in therapy with my clients is death, life and meaning. There are no richer topics, in my opinion.
Therapy is not, however, about fixing the fear. There are no magic answers here. We’re meant to be afraid of death. We are meant to have anxiety. These are things that keep us safe, and have done since the dawn of time. But if, instead of treating death like the monster under the bed, we can acknowledge our death anxiety, maybe even befriend it, there’s a chance we can live more fulfilled and open lives.
And maybe, just maybe, soothe the itch.
Thanks for reading. If something in this piece stirred something in you, or you’re wondering what it might be like to explore these themes in therapy, you’re welcome to reach out. I offer sessions in-person at the therapy and counselling centre I run in Cheshire, and a limited amount of online sessions across the UK. You can find out more by heading to Insightful Life – Therapy & Counselling Centre
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