And in the past year I've come to realise that at least some of my "positive attitude" is actually not positive at all but reflects a belief that it's terrifying and unthinkable to die, and that I mustn't ever allow it to happen to me. I've somehow slipped into viewing death as something to be staved off with willpower, which leaves me feeling almost totally responsible for keeping myself alive (ideally indefinitely). I guess it's a kind of superstitious belief, and since it demands constant vigilance it's exhausting. It's also quite scary (what if I'm not doing enough?), and it makes it hard to enjoy things (including being relatively well at the moment) in case I tempt fate by relaxing and thinking things are OK, and thus cause everything to go pear-shaped. And of course I'm setting myself up for failure, as - whether it's sooner or later, from cancer or something else - I will still die. (Obviously I've always known this intellectually, but I think I've been trying to convince myself that I can make sure it doesn't happen if only I eat the right food / do the right treatments / refuse to countenance the mere possibility....)
Although this attitude has probably served me reasonably well up to now, it's pretty hard work, and probably isn't the best use of my mental energy, especially at the moment. So I decided it was time to plunge into the murkier bits of my psyche, and signed up for a weekend workshop exploring death and dying, with the aim of facing the fears, making some kind of peace with the fact that we're all finite beings, and hopefully becoming able to live without constantly worrying about whether I'm fending off death well enough. I found the workshop very helpful, and although naturally it was quite intense at times, and certainly brought up a lot of emotions, it was very clearly life-affirming: what I took from it was that by accepting the fact of death, and the impossibility of knowing when it may come, it should be possible to live with less anxiety about it. Similarly, by no longer fighting the fact that everything's impermanent, and wasting energy worrying how long it'll be till things change, it becomes easier to fully enjoy things while they last. I'm not there yet, but I'm perhaps a few steps closer!
I also found it particularly helpful to remember that it's not just me who's facing this - yes, it may be that not many of my peers are thinking much about it right now, but being reminded that mortality is universal (not a tragedy which affects only poor little me) was something I found very reassuring and comforting. I think that being able to face doing the workshop at all was a significant step - previously I think I was afraid that if I accepted that death is inevitable (for us all), it would automatically mean giving up on life, or no longer seeing any point to living or fighting for health. (I've also found that people who care about me often have mixed feelings about me delving into this area, in case it's a sign of me "giving up hope" or in case it upsets me.) However I think it's probably more like the opposite - that acknowledging that death is natural and not a sign of failure allows one to embrace life more fully - and I found the weekend left me with quite a noticeable sense of relief. (The workshop's held a couple of times a year, so if anyone's interested in more details about it, let me know, or have a look at the website www.livinganddying.co.uk.)
I also found it particularly helpful to remember that it's not just me who's facing this - yes, it may be that not many of my peers are thinking much about it right now, but being reminded that mortality is universal (not a tragedy which affects only poor little me) was something I found very reassuring and comforting. I think that being able to face doing the workshop at all was a significant step - previously I think I was afraid that if I accepted that death is inevitable (for us all), it would automatically mean giving up on life, or no longer seeing any point to living or fighting for health. (I've also found that people who care about me often have mixed feelings about me delving into this area, in case it's a sign of me "giving up hope" or in case it upsets me.) However I think it's probably more like the opposite - that acknowledging that death is natural and not a sign of failure allows one to embrace life more fully - and I found the weekend left me with quite a noticeable sense of relief. (The workshop's held a couple of times a year, so if anyone's interested in more details about it, let me know, or have a look at the website www.livinganddying.co.uk.)
I must admit I didn't tell many people exactly what the course was about - it felt not quite the thing to drop into social chitchat! - and I'm aware that it's not only me who finds death a difficult topic, so I'm sorry if this post is hard to read (though I'm guessing no-one reads this blog for light entertainment!) So I'll do my usual smoothing-over in order to finish on a more cheery note (of course with some nice pictures): the course was held in the far west of Cornwall, and having never been to that part of the country before I took the opportunity to rent a self-catering apartment and stay a couple of nights longer. I hired a car and spent a day exploring Lands End, Penzance and St Ives. I loved the feel of the place, wild yet peaceful, and it was great having a bit of time to process things and let them settle before going back into mundane life.
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| View from my apartment over Cape Cornwall |
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| The coastal walk just north of Lands End |
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| St Ives harbour |
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| Spectacular sunset (no metaphorical meaning intended!) |
Hmmm, an interesting insight into everyone's least favourite topic! However, the 'six months to live' line covers their backsides; if they said you had five years to live, and you only lasted four, you'd be pissed off. By aiming low, everyone gets plenty of bonus time, and there's back-slapping all round on how well you did.
ReplyDeleteSeriously though, Jane Tomlinson is a good example of someone who beat the odds by a long way. I guess you know her story and know it provides a lot of inspiration. It also shows that by 'doing the right things' and with a large helping of luck you can stave off the inevitable for quite a while. In the meantime you'll probably find a few unlucky members of your cancer-free peer group and family die before you do.
As regards death itself, I can speak from personal experience of nearly dying fifteen years ago. At the very end, when it seemed like I was on my way out, all I wanted to do was live, so I hung on in there. Looking back, I put it down to the natural instinct of all animals to stay alive as long as possible. Any species which did not have that instinct would die out.
Coupled with the basic instinct to survive, there is also the fear of death. Partly this is cultural, but I think it's largely the fear of the unknown. What is in The Void? Heaven? Hell? Fun? Fear? Pain? Pleasure? Meet up with old friends and family who have gone before? The truth is we do not know. Religion provides us with some alternatives, but are we really sure they're true? What if they're wrong? What if it's all black and cold and horrible? What if I don't meet my family and friends, but my worst enemies, and Adolf Hitler and Jack the Ripper and all the bad guys and girls? What if there's nothing but an empty nothingness where I cease to exist at all?
All very scary, and that's why we fear death. The fear of the unknown, and the known known that it might be horrible. I didn't want to find out, so I hung on in there.
Having been given between six months and two years to live when I left the hospital, I've had fifteen years to think about what it'll be like next time round. I know death is not necessarily painful - you can end up just slowly slipping away, literally like slowly dropping off to sleep. As to what's on the other side, in The Void? I now view it like it will be going on a journey, almost like emigrating. Some people emigrate to Australia, I'll be emigrating to Death, or where at least where the dead people go. Scary, yes. But it can't be that bad as billions of people have made the journey before us. And at last we'll find out what's in The Void. We'll know something that all the living people back there at home don't know, but would love to find out. And they will find out, we all do in time.
So what to do? Having recovered, I find less interest in material things. You can't take your money, your flash car, your big fancy house, your Bose Hi-Fi, your 3D TV, etc, with you. But I reckon you can take your memories, so I spend my time doing rather than acquiring. The world and its people and its cultures and its nature are fascinating. Maybe the land of the dead is on the other side of the galaxy, but if I'm not coming back at least I can take my memories. So stock up on memories to take with you, of all the best bits of life here with the living, with the rest of us, ready for your journey. And don't forget we'll all be making the same journey too.
Don't fret... Live!
Glad the workshop was so helpful, Sylvs, and that you've found ways of moving your thinking on - like lots of worthwhile things, it sounds as if it was scary to make yourself face it, but doing so has made things easier for you now.
ReplyDeleteGlad you liked West Cornwall - I'd not spent time there before, but it's very important to Clare, so since we've been together I've been quite a bit, and do love it now!