When You’re Scared of Death

For the last couple of years, a little creeping thought has grown inside my head – starting as a tiny, slightly annoying menace, to a frightening monster frequently distracting me throughout the day.

Death.

I think about it probably too often. Not so much about what will happen to me once I die or about what death actually feels like. But how death, both mine and that of those I love, impacts loved ones.

If I go on a car journey alone, I consider how my kids will cope without a mother if another vehicle collides with mine. When I travel with my kids, I think about how terrible it will be for my husband if he loses all of his children and his best friend in an instant. What about if the bus driver taking my kids on a school trip turns up to drive them and is drunk, and then runs off the side of the road? What if my husband is climbing up the face of a rocky cliff and his equipment becomes unexpectantly faulty?

Recently, I had to go to the doctor to collect stool sample pots (as an aside, the surgery was filled with quiet people who were listening to me ask the receptionist for plastic vials to fill with poop) and have already jumped to the conclusion I have probably have bowel cancer. Possibly my fears were seemingly validated with the passing of Deborah James, but I have no evidence suggesting I have bowel cancer.

These types of thoughts swarm through my mind most days, even though death is not something I have had to confront much in the last 33 years.

I remember when I was about 24, my dad’s mom died. I got a phone call in the middle of the night from my sister. I was thousands of miles and an ocean away, but flooded with flashbacks of when I wasn’t. When I was in her Louisiana house, eating German Chocolate Cake and watching Wheel of Fortune.

But that really had been the only experience of death that impacted me prior to the two last years. The only person I had been very close to, who all the sudden, wasn’t here anymore.

I suppose as I get older, the more death will touch me. A friend just unexpectedly died. My neighbour who isn’t very well is only becoming more unwell. Two years ago, my uncle passed from cancer. I hear more about cancer, addiction, mental and physical health issues – all which threaten life – more than I ever have. And I know it won’t be lightening up in coming years.

We who are left behind are left mourning the loss, remembering sweet moments, regretting lost ones.

Perhaps this is why death feels scarier than ever – because I know what it feels like to be left behind.

Or maybe I’m thinking about it more because I have kids now. Every film, every single film, that deals with the loss of a mother, father, or child, makes me sob to the point of shaking. What it must feel like to lose a child or a parent comes alive on the screen, making me imagine what it will be like if that happens to our family one day. Will my boys cope by using drugs if I die? Will they go off the rails if their dad dies? Will I drown in alcohol if one of them dies?

From talking to lots of friends about this, death anxiety isn’t something unique to me. Seems a lot of people feel similarly, to differing degrees. But because so many identify with the fears, I haven’t been able to get advice on how to break free. So I started listening to therapists on podcasts who talk about death anxiety and heard some practical tips that I’m going to consider using.

One suggestion I really liked is reminding myself these aren’t bad thoughts, they are simply, thoughts. They aren’t based in fact, but usually in catastrophizing. I can accept I have them and then lay them to the side, not allowing them the power to make me anxious all the time.

I want to try this but won’t pretend to imagine it will be a magic fix.

Death is painful. Death is really painful. And there just seems no way to avoid the tragedy of it and the grief it brings. As with many things, life doesn’t always offer black-and-white solutions.

But if I keep dwelling on the possibility of my death or the death of people I love, I won’t enjoy the life I currently have. So something has to change. Death anxiety can’t become the status quo I continue to live with. It will steal away life before it’s actually gone.

When I went on a walk with my oldest son recently, we somehow got on to talking about when Annie (our dog) would die. After about a minute, he up at me and said, “this is making me sad so let’s not talk about it anymore.” Yes, love. Let’s not think about it anymore.