Take Me Away From All This Death

An empty cicada husk on the palm of a handOver the past few months, my life has been touched by death repeatedly. Cultural icons of my youth are dropping left and right, and I’ve learned a new hesitation to track down old friends and acquaintances. I’ve known elders who commented that everyone they knew was dead or dying, but I hadn’t expected to experience that in middle age. It has suddenly become difficult to ignore the inevitability of my own death, which I had fully expected to go on denying for another two or three decades, at minimum.

I try to face my discomfort with death head on. What am I afraid of? Because I am afraid.

It’s the uncertainty of the the thing. We have no clue what death is, subjectively speaking. Have I spent a lifetime deciphering my own identity, only to have it wash away like one grain of sand among billions on an ocean beach? There are forms of beauty that are especially poignant because of their transience and fragility – a flower, a sunset, a butterfly, a perfect performance. But surely a unique complex identity is composed of sterner stuff.

Best Before….

There is a generational component to identity, a collective consciousness of a moment in time that is interwoven into the self-sense of teenagers when they begin to recognize their membership in a greater cultural entity. It peaks early, strongest when they strike out into the world with tremendous energy, but have not yet formed the more differentiated self that evolves with experience.

They are largely unconscious of this, until the next generational consciousness begins to emerge. Then they begin to comprehend that their generational ambiance is one of many. And for awhile, we co-exist with overlapping eras. The others never influence us quite as much as our own, nor are they as completely merged with our personal identity, yet we may still recognize and participate in them to a substantial degree.

However, a time comes when the ranks of those who shared our generational moment begin to thin. We become conscious of the impermanence of living history, carried only by those who participated in it, and once gone, gone forever. I am beginning to understand why Tolkein’s elves sailed away into the west. Being the final vessel of a passing era is too lonely and too sad to endure.
The ruins of a Greek temple, crumbling pilars wiht no roof
I am newly conscious of my role as one pillar – of a now-numbered set of pillars – of generational memory. It doesn’t seem like that could even be a thing. Sure, people the same age experience the same objective events, but we interpret them through an infinite variety of personal filters.

Nevertheless, millions of tiny experiences that we are hardly aware of construct a common temporal context – ads and songs, wars and elections, weather and assassinations, TV and technology. Eight track tapes. Themes by Henry Mancini. Bazooka bubble gum. Where we were when Kennedy was shot. There’s a reason people who meet up with their high school sweethearts later in life so often marry them.

My Left Mind

I know I’m not just thinking about this stuff because I’m in my late 50s. There have been many deaths close to home in my life this past year. It’s been a bad year for SAD, too, now that the persistent sunniness of three years of drought has abated. And my business is improving, but not quickly or steadily enough to stave off the stresses of poverty. Top it all off with a windy spring and a minor but persistent injury that has kept me inactive and indoors.

So I tell myself this too will pass, like my panic at 32 when I realized I probably wouldn’t fulfill about 99% of my dreams. The loss and shock I experienced then seem funny now. Many of the things I thought I wanted then weren’t my dreams at all, and I’m relieved I didn’t pursue them. The life I’ve lived instead has been interesting enough.

But I’m not ready for it to end yet, or to even think about it ending. There’s so much more I want to know. What if my life turns out to be about getting answers, not having them? What if, once I learn all I want to know, the cycle is complete, and I don’t have a chance to enjoy it?

I started this post before a teenager was murdered under my workplace windows. Needless to say, that hasn’t helped my anxiety. I often go in to the office during off hours, when it is quieter. Now the idea of empty corridors disturbs me. I’m afraid of the place, afraid to be alone there. Which is utterly irrational, since she was killed outdoors on a busy sidewalk during rush hour.
A photo of a tree, with bare branches and a stormy background on the left side, and leaves , green grass and a blue sky on the right side.
I try not to take thoughts like these too literally. Depression and anxiety are very good at tying up the mind in tangles of concept and emotion. The issues seem so close, so huge, so vividly real. But I know they can melt away with a little light therapy, or a regularized sleep cycle. There’s a transconsciousness I have experienced now and then, where I suddenly looked down upon all of that frenetic activity in my head from a place outside of it. I remember that state, but I’m not feeling it.

Wish I was.

2 thoughts on “Take Me Away From All This Death

  1. I feel the same way! All this death and death in general has really been upsetting me this year more than passed… But I can’t shake it either once it comes out of nowhere it stays there… No matter what I do to stop the thoughts it is always there in the back of my head – it is hard to explain it really – it is just depressing lately to the max…

    • Rachel, that sounds like it might be depression, literally. Grief can be an intense process, but it is a process – that is, it keeps moving and evolving. If you are stuck in the same painful emotional state, and can’t seem to move through it, your brain chemistry may have gotten a little off kilter, and you may need some additional help to get back to a place where you can respond to life’s ups and downs without being crippled by them.

      If that sounds like it could be the case for you, or if you find yourself thinking that ending your life sounds like a reasonable or attractive solution to escape the constant pain, please talk to someone with expertise in depression. Or, if you aren’t comfortable with that, consider a supplement that can help with mood support, such as the herbal adaptogen (helps with stress) rhodiola rosea, or L-tyrosine (an amino acid that occurs naturally in our bodies, but in reduced quantities as we get older). Both of these are inexpensive, and for most people, very safe and free of side effects in the right dosage. Check with your doctor first, of course, to make sure it won’t conflict with your particular medical state, or anything else you are taking.

      Many years back I went through another period of feeling overwhelmed by death, and the stresses of life in general. Several people in my life had died, though none of them were people I was very close to, and there were conflicts at my workplace and in my home. I couldn’t stop thinking about hurtful and unfair incidents in which I was disrespected or rejected, and I felt helpless to do anything about it.

      I couldn’t envision the future looking any brighter, and continuing life under those conditions didn’t seem rational. I had a suicide plan, which luckily I was too immobilized to carry out. I was going to jump off of a particular tall bridge. Not long afterwards, I learned of someone who actually had jumped off that bridge. Though the bridge was high above the water, it turns out the water was quite shallow, and he had not died, but had been injured so severely he became quadriplegic. I had thought things couldn’t get any worse for me, but when I heard that, I realized they could have!

      Depression is not a natural state, or a phase of grieving. It’s a malfunction of normal systems that causes unnecessary, non-growthful suffering. I write more about this in my post, The Black Hole of Depression. The study I mentioned near the end of the post has now been published. The paper can be downloaded here.

      Please take good care of yourself. You are the only you in the world, so you are important. Things CAN get better. I didn’t believe that for decades, but in the end, they did.

Post a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s