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Death anxiety in psychiatry and society: Facing our fears and embracing life
Our fear of death is exposed often in medicine. It is not uncommon to hear the last moments of a patient’s life described as a series of futile, sterile medical interventions that attempt to prolong that life in quasi-sadistic fashion. So much effort is placed in making sure that “everything necessary” is tried that less emphasis is made on providing a comfortable death.
It seems obvious that a profession dedicated to prolonging health would have difficulty confronting death. But it should also be natural for psychiatry to be the specialty able to integrate this discomfort within the medical psyche.
Yet, in training, we have noted much more time spent on the assessment of capacity in patients in order to refuse medical intervention than on time spent educating about the importance to die at the right time, as suggested by Friedrich Nietzsche.1 A psychiatry resident may graduate knowing dozens of questions to assess the ability of a family member to consider the risk, benefits, and alternatives of continued intubation in a comatose patient, but may feel very ill-equipped in discussing the meaning of a rightful life and a rightful death.
Death anxiety can also come outside the context of not having endured enough traumas or successes in one’s life, or not having lived life right. As poignantly described by Dostoevsky in his 1864 novella, “Notes from the Underground,” death anxiety can manifest as a result of the deterministic nature of life.2 Doing everything which is expected of us can feel like a betrayal of our one chance to have lived life authentically. This concept is also particularly familiar to physicians, who may have – in part – chosen their career path in response to a recommendation from their parents, rather than a more authentic feeling. Dostoevsky goads us to transgress, to act in a rebellious way, to truly feel alive. This can serve as a solution for death anxiety – if you are scared to die then live, live your fullest. Even if that means doing the unexpected or changing your path.
The fear of being forgotten after death can also drive many to pursue a legacy. Even a parent choosing to have children and teaching them values and belief systems is a way of leaving behind a mark on the world. For some, finding ways for being remembered after death – whether through fame, fortune, or having children, is a way of dealing with death anxiety.
The Mexican holiday “Dia de los Muertos,” or Day of the Dead, and the Japanese holiday “Obon” are examples from cultures where deceased ancestors are celebrated through rituals and offerings. Such cultures may relieve the anxiety of death by suggesting that one’s descendants will still care for the departed, and their legacy may remain.
Coping with death anxiety
For others, the road to recovery from death anxiety may take a completely different approach. Some may find comfort in the position that, to extinguish death anxiety, one should not live to the fullest but accept the tragic and mostly inconsequential aspects of life. The philosophical movement of “absurdism” addresses this perspective.
In our modern world, where we are so deeply attached to finding the cause and reason for things, absurdism reminds us that most of our lives and world do not have to make sense. While Albert Camus, arguably the most famous of the absurdist philosophers, encourages us to create meaning and transcend the tragedy and randomness of life,3 some patients can also find comfort in the idea that life is absurd, and thus one should not judge one’s own life and not fear own’s inevitable death.
Death anxiety can also be therapeutic. Especially in the existential tradition, one can enlist the fear of death for motivation. Many patients come to see us with a lack of motivation or drive. They feel paralyzed by their predicament and mental illness. As in the experiments of Martin Seligman, PhD, who shocked animals at random, a human exposed to repeated failure and abuse can get a sense of learned helplessness.4 Such patients can be very hard to reach, yet ultimately their despondence is no match for the reality that life will end. Reminding a patient that any day spent not feeling alive might as well be a metaphor for death is a challenging interpretation, but one that can lead to significant growth.
When considering the fear of death, psychiatry has generally taken the position that it is pathological, a form of anxiety. Psychiatry argues that one should strive to find fulfillment and joy in life. It thus may be a surprise to find that this is not a universally shared perspective.
In his 2010 book, author Thomas Ligotti argues on behalf of pessimistic and antinatalist views.5 Throughout the book he emphasizes the suffering that life can offer and argues against the endless pursuit of more life. To some psychiatrists, such arguments will be understood as insulting to our profession. Some may even interpret his texts as an argument in favor of ending one’s life.
However, psychiatrists must ask themselves “what are my answers to those arguments?” Mr. Ligotti’s book is a series of arguments against the idea that life will be pleasurable. Understanding those arguments and formulating a rebuttal would be an important process for any mental health provider. It is foolish to think that our patients do not have a rich and complicated relationship to death, and that none of our patients find death attractive in some ways. After all, accepting our fears as an important part of our body is a natural coping skill, which can also be taught.6
Part of the difficulty in discussing death and the fear of death may come from society’s resistance at having complicated conversations. It is not uncommon, currently, to include trigger warnings at the mention of discussions about death, even abstract ones. While we appreciate and encourage the articulation of feelings that a discussion about death may raise, we worry that such trigger warnings may be a form of censure that only makes society more resistant to talk about those important topics.
For another example of the avoidance of discussions about death, recall the “death panel” debates of 2009.7 When the U.S. government considered encouraging physicians to have discussions with their patients about end-of-life care, politicians and pundits decried that such discussions were “death panels,” and claimed they were an encouragement to patients to “cut [their] life short.” Such public projection of one’s anxiety about death has made it particularly difficult for psychiatry to make meaningful progress.
Acknowledging and addressing the fear
Death anxiety is such a common aspect of human life that most religions make some effort to address this fear. Many do so by offering a form of afterlife, often one described in idyllic fashion without anxiety.
Heaven, if one believes in it, is appealing for the person dreading death anxiety. Heaven is often described as being offered to those who have lived a rightful life, thus relieving the anxiety regarding the decisions one has made. Reincarnation can also be interpreted as another way of calming death anxiety, by promising a continual repetition of chances at getting life right. However, for many patients, religion doesn’t have the appeal that it once had.
Ultimately, the fear of death is a complex and multifaceted issue that can manifest in various ways. The medical profession, especially psychiatry, has a responsibility to address this fear in patients, but it also struggles with its own discomfort with the topic. The importance of providing a comfortable death is often overshadowed by the emphasis on prolonging life, which may manifest as a series of futile medical interventions.
The fear of death can be therapeutic and motivating, but it can also be pathological and lead to a lack of motivation or drive. The philosophical movements of absurdism and antinatalism offer alternative perspectives on death and life, and it is important for mental health providers to understand and engage with these views.
Yet acknowledging and addressing the fear of death is an important aspect of mental health care and a crucial part of the human experience.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Nietzsche F. Thus Spoke Zarathustra. 1883-1892.
2. Dostoevsky F. Notes from the Underground. 1864.
3. Camus A. The Plague. 1947.
4. Seligman M. Helplessness: On depression, development, and death. 1975.
5. Ligotti T. The Conspiracy Against the Human Race. 2010.
6. Hayes SC. Behav Ther. 2016 Nov;47(6):869-85. doi: 10.1016/j.beth.2016.11.006.
7. Nyhan B. The Forum. 2010 April 27;8(1). doi: 10.2202/1540-8884.1354.
Our fear of death is exposed often in medicine. It is not uncommon to hear the last moments of a patient’s life described as a series of futile, sterile medical interventions that attempt to prolong that life in quasi-sadistic fashion. So much effort is placed in making sure that “everything necessary” is tried that less emphasis is made on providing a comfortable death.
It seems obvious that a profession dedicated to prolonging health would have difficulty confronting death. But it should also be natural for psychiatry to be the specialty able to integrate this discomfort within the medical psyche.
Yet, in training, we have noted much more time spent on the assessment of capacity in patients in order to refuse medical intervention than on time spent educating about the importance to die at the right time, as suggested by Friedrich Nietzsche.1 A psychiatry resident may graduate knowing dozens of questions to assess the ability of a family member to consider the risk, benefits, and alternatives of continued intubation in a comatose patient, but may feel very ill-equipped in discussing the meaning of a rightful life and a rightful death.
Death anxiety can also come outside the context of not having endured enough traumas or successes in one’s life, or not having lived life right. As poignantly described by Dostoevsky in his 1864 novella, “Notes from the Underground,” death anxiety can manifest as a result of the deterministic nature of life.2 Doing everything which is expected of us can feel like a betrayal of our one chance to have lived life authentically. This concept is also particularly familiar to physicians, who may have – in part – chosen their career path in response to a recommendation from their parents, rather than a more authentic feeling. Dostoevsky goads us to transgress, to act in a rebellious way, to truly feel alive. This can serve as a solution for death anxiety – if you are scared to die then live, live your fullest. Even if that means doing the unexpected or changing your path.
The fear of being forgotten after death can also drive many to pursue a legacy. Even a parent choosing to have children and teaching them values and belief systems is a way of leaving behind a mark on the world. For some, finding ways for being remembered after death – whether through fame, fortune, or having children, is a way of dealing with death anxiety.
The Mexican holiday “Dia de los Muertos,” or Day of the Dead, and the Japanese holiday “Obon” are examples from cultures where deceased ancestors are celebrated through rituals and offerings. Such cultures may relieve the anxiety of death by suggesting that one’s descendants will still care for the departed, and their legacy may remain.
Coping with death anxiety
For others, the road to recovery from death anxiety may take a completely different approach. Some may find comfort in the position that, to extinguish death anxiety, one should not live to the fullest but accept the tragic and mostly inconsequential aspects of life. The philosophical movement of “absurdism” addresses this perspective.
In our modern world, where we are so deeply attached to finding the cause and reason for things, absurdism reminds us that most of our lives and world do not have to make sense. While Albert Camus, arguably the most famous of the absurdist philosophers, encourages us to create meaning and transcend the tragedy and randomness of life,3 some patients can also find comfort in the idea that life is absurd, and thus one should not judge one’s own life and not fear own’s inevitable death.
Death anxiety can also be therapeutic. Especially in the existential tradition, one can enlist the fear of death for motivation. Many patients come to see us with a lack of motivation or drive. They feel paralyzed by their predicament and mental illness. As in the experiments of Martin Seligman, PhD, who shocked animals at random, a human exposed to repeated failure and abuse can get a sense of learned helplessness.4 Such patients can be very hard to reach, yet ultimately their despondence is no match for the reality that life will end. Reminding a patient that any day spent not feeling alive might as well be a metaphor for death is a challenging interpretation, but one that can lead to significant growth.
When considering the fear of death, psychiatry has generally taken the position that it is pathological, a form of anxiety. Psychiatry argues that one should strive to find fulfillment and joy in life. It thus may be a surprise to find that this is not a universally shared perspective.
In his 2010 book, author Thomas Ligotti argues on behalf of pessimistic and antinatalist views.5 Throughout the book he emphasizes the suffering that life can offer and argues against the endless pursuit of more life. To some psychiatrists, such arguments will be understood as insulting to our profession. Some may even interpret his texts as an argument in favor of ending one’s life.
However, psychiatrists must ask themselves “what are my answers to those arguments?” Mr. Ligotti’s book is a series of arguments against the idea that life will be pleasurable. Understanding those arguments and formulating a rebuttal would be an important process for any mental health provider. It is foolish to think that our patients do not have a rich and complicated relationship to death, and that none of our patients find death attractive in some ways. After all, accepting our fears as an important part of our body is a natural coping skill, which can also be taught.6
Part of the difficulty in discussing death and the fear of death may come from society’s resistance at having complicated conversations. It is not uncommon, currently, to include trigger warnings at the mention of discussions about death, even abstract ones. While we appreciate and encourage the articulation of feelings that a discussion about death may raise, we worry that such trigger warnings may be a form of censure that only makes society more resistant to talk about those important topics.
For another example of the avoidance of discussions about death, recall the “death panel” debates of 2009.7 When the U.S. government considered encouraging physicians to have discussions with their patients about end-of-life care, politicians and pundits decried that such discussions were “death panels,” and claimed they were an encouragement to patients to “cut [their] life short.” Such public projection of one’s anxiety about death has made it particularly difficult for psychiatry to make meaningful progress.
Acknowledging and addressing the fear
Death anxiety is such a common aspect of human life that most religions make some effort to address this fear. Many do so by offering a form of afterlife, often one described in idyllic fashion without anxiety.
Heaven, if one believes in it, is appealing for the person dreading death anxiety. Heaven is often described as being offered to those who have lived a rightful life, thus relieving the anxiety regarding the decisions one has made. Reincarnation can also be interpreted as another way of calming death anxiety, by promising a continual repetition of chances at getting life right. However, for many patients, religion doesn’t have the appeal that it once had.
Ultimately, the fear of death is a complex and multifaceted issue that can manifest in various ways. The medical profession, especially psychiatry, has a responsibility to address this fear in patients, but it also struggles with its own discomfort with the topic. The importance of providing a comfortable death is often overshadowed by the emphasis on prolonging life, which may manifest as a series of futile medical interventions.
The fear of death can be therapeutic and motivating, but it can also be pathological and lead to a lack of motivation or drive. The philosophical movements of absurdism and antinatalism offer alternative perspectives on death and life, and it is important for mental health providers to understand and engage with these views.
Yet acknowledging and addressing the fear of death is an important aspect of mental health care and a crucial part of the human experience.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Nietzsche F. Thus Spoke Zarathustra. 1883-1892.
2. Dostoevsky F. Notes from the Underground. 1864.
3. Camus A. The Plague. 1947.
4. Seligman M. Helplessness: On depression, development, and death. 1975.
5. Ligotti T. The Conspiracy Against the Human Race. 2010.
6. Hayes SC. Behav Ther. 2016 Nov;47(6):869-85. doi: 10.1016/j.beth.2016.11.006.
7. Nyhan B. The Forum. 2010 April 27;8(1). doi: 10.2202/1540-8884.1354.
Our fear of death is exposed often in medicine. It is not uncommon to hear the last moments of a patient’s life described as a series of futile, sterile medical interventions that attempt to prolong that life in quasi-sadistic fashion. So much effort is placed in making sure that “everything necessary” is tried that less emphasis is made on providing a comfortable death.
It seems obvious that a profession dedicated to prolonging health would have difficulty confronting death. But it should also be natural for psychiatry to be the specialty able to integrate this discomfort within the medical psyche.
Yet, in training, we have noted much more time spent on the assessment of capacity in patients in order to refuse medical intervention than on time spent educating about the importance to die at the right time, as suggested by Friedrich Nietzsche.1 A psychiatry resident may graduate knowing dozens of questions to assess the ability of a family member to consider the risk, benefits, and alternatives of continued intubation in a comatose patient, but may feel very ill-equipped in discussing the meaning of a rightful life and a rightful death.
Death anxiety can also come outside the context of not having endured enough traumas or successes in one’s life, or not having lived life right. As poignantly described by Dostoevsky in his 1864 novella, “Notes from the Underground,” death anxiety can manifest as a result of the deterministic nature of life.2 Doing everything which is expected of us can feel like a betrayal of our one chance to have lived life authentically. This concept is also particularly familiar to physicians, who may have – in part – chosen their career path in response to a recommendation from their parents, rather than a more authentic feeling. Dostoevsky goads us to transgress, to act in a rebellious way, to truly feel alive. This can serve as a solution for death anxiety – if you are scared to die then live, live your fullest. Even if that means doing the unexpected or changing your path.
The fear of being forgotten after death can also drive many to pursue a legacy. Even a parent choosing to have children and teaching them values and belief systems is a way of leaving behind a mark on the world. For some, finding ways for being remembered after death – whether through fame, fortune, or having children, is a way of dealing with death anxiety.
The Mexican holiday “Dia de los Muertos,” or Day of the Dead, and the Japanese holiday “Obon” are examples from cultures where deceased ancestors are celebrated through rituals and offerings. Such cultures may relieve the anxiety of death by suggesting that one’s descendants will still care for the departed, and their legacy may remain.
Coping with death anxiety
For others, the road to recovery from death anxiety may take a completely different approach. Some may find comfort in the position that, to extinguish death anxiety, one should not live to the fullest but accept the tragic and mostly inconsequential aspects of life. The philosophical movement of “absurdism” addresses this perspective.
In our modern world, where we are so deeply attached to finding the cause and reason for things, absurdism reminds us that most of our lives and world do not have to make sense. While Albert Camus, arguably the most famous of the absurdist philosophers, encourages us to create meaning and transcend the tragedy and randomness of life,3 some patients can also find comfort in the idea that life is absurd, and thus one should not judge one’s own life and not fear own’s inevitable death.
Death anxiety can also be therapeutic. Especially in the existential tradition, one can enlist the fear of death for motivation. Many patients come to see us with a lack of motivation or drive. They feel paralyzed by their predicament and mental illness. As in the experiments of Martin Seligman, PhD, who shocked animals at random, a human exposed to repeated failure and abuse can get a sense of learned helplessness.4 Such patients can be very hard to reach, yet ultimately their despondence is no match for the reality that life will end. Reminding a patient that any day spent not feeling alive might as well be a metaphor for death is a challenging interpretation, but one that can lead to significant growth.
When considering the fear of death, psychiatry has generally taken the position that it is pathological, a form of anxiety. Psychiatry argues that one should strive to find fulfillment and joy in life. It thus may be a surprise to find that this is not a universally shared perspective.
In his 2010 book, author Thomas Ligotti argues on behalf of pessimistic and antinatalist views.5 Throughout the book he emphasizes the suffering that life can offer and argues against the endless pursuit of more life. To some psychiatrists, such arguments will be understood as insulting to our profession. Some may even interpret his texts as an argument in favor of ending one’s life.
However, psychiatrists must ask themselves “what are my answers to those arguments?” Mr. Ligotti’s book is a series of arguments against the idea that life will be pleasurable. Understanding those arguments and formulating a rebuttal would be an important process for any mental health provider. It is foolish to think that our patients do not have a rich and complicated relationship to death, and that none of our patients find death attractive in some ways. After all, accepting our fears as an important part of our body is a natural coping skill, which can also be taught.6
Part of the difficulty in discussing death and the fear of death may come from society’s resistance at having complicated conversations. It is not uncommon, currently, to include trigger warnings at the mention of discussions about death, even abstract ones. While we appreciate and encourage the articulation of feelings that a discussion about death may raise, we worry that such trigger warnings may be a form of censure that only makes society more resistant to talk about those important topics.
For another example of the avoidance of discussions about death, recall the “death panel” debates of 2009.7 When the U.S. government considered encouraging physicians to have discussions with their patients about end-of-life care, politicians and pundits decried that such discussions were “death panels,” and claimed they were an encouragement to patients to “cut [their] life short.” Such public projection of one’s anxiety about death has made it particularly difficult for psychiatry to make meaningful progress.
Acknowledging and addressing the fear
Death anxiety is such a common aspect of human life that most religions make some effort to address this fear. Many do so by offering a form of afterlife, often one described in idyllic fashion without anxiety.
Heaven, if one believes in it, is appealing for the person dreading death anxiety. Heaven is often described as being offered to those who have lived a rightful life, thus relieving the anxiety regarding the decisions one has made. Reincarnation can also be interpreted as another way of calming death anxiety, by promising a continual repetition of chances at getting life right. However, for many patients, religion doesn’t have the appeal that it once had.
Ultimately, the fear of death is a complex and multifaceted issue that can manifest in various ways. The medical profession, especially psychiatry, has a responsibility to address this fear in patients, but it also struggles with its own discomfort with the topic. The importance of providing a comfortable death is often overshadowed by the emphasis on prolonging life, which may manifest as a series of futile medical interventions.
The fear of death can be therapeutic and motivating, but it can also be pathological and lead to a lack of motivation or drive. The philosophical movements of absurdism and antinatalism offer alternative perspectives on death and life, and it is important for mental health providers to understand and engage with these views.
Yet acknowledging and addressing the fear of death is an important aspect of mental health care and a crucial part of the human experience.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
References
1. Nietzsche F. Thus Spoke Zarathustra. 1883-1892.
2. Dostoevsky F. Notes from the Underground. 1864.
3. Camus A. The Plague. 1947.
4. Seligman M. Helplessness: On depression, development, and death. 1975.
5. Ligotti T. The Conspiracy Against the Human Race. 2010.
6. Hayes SC. Behav Ther. 2016 Nov;47(6):869-85. doi: 10.1016/j.beth.2016.11.006.
7. Nyhan B. The Forum. 2010 April 27;8(1). doi: 10.2202/1540-8884.1354.
Overcoming death anxiety: Understanding our lives and legacies
Disappointment – “I failed this exam, my life is ruined” or regret – “I am getting a divorce, I wasted so much of my life.” Patients present with a wide variety of complaints that can be understood as a form of death anxiety.
Fundamentally, patients come to see us to understand and explain their lives. One can reinterpret this as a patient asking, “If I died today, would my life have been good enough?” or “When I die, how will I look back at this moment in time and judge the choices I made?”
Other patients come to us attempting to use the same maladaptive defenses that did not serve them well in the past in the hopes of achieving a new outcome that will validate their lives. While it may be understandable that a child dissociates when facing abuse, hoping that this defense mechanism – as an adult – will work, it is unlikely to be fruitful and will certainly not validate or repair the past. This hope to repair one’s past can be interpreted as a fear of death – “I cannot die without correcting this.” This psychic conflict can intensify if one does not adopt a more adaptive understanding of his or her life.
Death anxiety is the feeling associated with the finality of life. Not only is life final, but a constant reminder of that fact is the idea that any one moment is final. Other than in science fiction, one cannot return to a prior moment and repair the past in the hope of a better future. Time goes only in one direction and death is the natural outcome of all life.
Death may have some evolutionary purpose that encourages the promotion of newer and more fitter genes, but one doesn’t have to consider its origin and reason to admit death’s constancy throughout humanity. People die and that is an anxiety-provoking fact of life. Death anxiety can feel especially tangible in our connected world. In a world of constant news, it can feel – for many people – that if your house wasn’t displaced because of global warming or that you are not a war refugee, you don’t deserve to be seen and heard.
This can be a particularly strong feeling for and among physicians, who don’t think that the mental health challenges generated by their own tough circumstances deserve to be labeled a mental disorder, so they designate themselves as having “burnout”1 – as they don’t deserve the sympathy of having the clinically significant impairments of “depression.” Our traumas don’t seem important enough to deserve notice, and thus we may feel like we could die without ever having truly mattered.
This can also be applied in the reverse fashion. Certain individuals, like celebrities, live such extravagant lives that our simpler achievements can feel futile in comparison. While the neighbor’s grass has always felt greener, we are now constantly exposed to perfectly manicured lawns on social media. When compounded, the idea that our successes and our pains are both simultaneously irrelevant can lead one to have very palpable death anxiety – my life will never matter if none of the things I do matter, or my life will never matter because I will never achieve the requisite number of “likes” or “views” on social media required to believe that one’s life was worth living.
A way of alleviating death anxiety can be through the concept of legacy, or what we leave behind. How will people remember me? Will people remember me, or will I disappear like a shadow into the distant memory of my near and dear ones? The idea of being forgotten or lost to memory is intolerable to some and can be a strong driving force to “make a name” for oneself. For those who crave fame, whether a celebrity or a generous alumnus, part of this is likely related to remaining well known after death. After all, one can argue that you are not truly dead as long as you continue to live in the memory and/or genes of others.
Legacy thus serves as a form of posthumous transitional object; a way of calming our fears about how we will be remembered. For many, reconciling their feelings towards their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety.
A case study
The case of Mr. B illustrates this. As a 72-year-old male with a long history of generalized anxiety, he once had a nightmare as a child, similar to the plot of Sleeping Beauty. In his dream, he walks up a spiral staircase in a castle and touches the spindle on a spinning wheel, thus ending his life. The dream was vivid and marked him.
His fear of death has subsequently reared its head throughout his life. In more recent years, he has suffered from cardiovascular disease. Although he is now quite stable on his current cardiac medications, he is constantly fearful that he will experience a cardiac event while asleep and suddenly die. He is so anxious about not waking up in the morning that falling asleep is nearly impossible.
Mr. B is single, with no close family besides a sister who lives in another state. He has a dog and few friends. He worries about what will happen to his dog if he doesn’t wake up in the morning, but perhaps most distressing to him is “there’s so much left for me to do, I have so much to write!” As an accomplished author, he continues to write, and hopes to publish many more novels in his lifetime. It is unsurprising that someone without a strong social network may fear death and feel pressured to somehow make a mark on the world before the curtain falls. It is scary to think that even without us, life goes on.
By bringing to Mr. B’s attention that his ever-present anxiety is rooted in fear of death, he was able to gain more insight into his own defensive behaviors. By confronting his death anxiety and processing his definition of a life well lived together in therapy, he’s acknowledged his lack of social connection as demoralizing, and has made significant strides to remedy this. He’s been able to focus on a more fulfilling life day to day, with less emphasis on his to-do list and aspirations. Instead, he’s connected more with his faith and members of his church. He’s gotten close to several neighbors and enjoys long dinners with them on his back patio.
At a recent meeting, he confessed that he feels “lighter” and not as fearful about sudden cardiac death, and thus has noticed that his overall anxiety has diminished greatly. He concluded that experiencing meaningful relationships in the present moment would give him greater joy than spending his remaining time engaged in preserving a future identity for himself. It seems elementary, but if we look within, we may find that we all suffer similarly: How much of our daily actions, thoughts, and fears are tied to the looming threat of death?
Conclusion
While modern psychiatry continues to advance with better understandings of our neurobiology, improved knowledge of pathophysiological processes of mental illness, and expanding discovery of novel pharmacotherapeutics, the modern psychiatrist should not forget fundamental truths of behavior and humanity that were once the staple of psychiatry.
Death anxiety is one of those truths; it is the ultimate stressor that we will all face and should be regular study and practice for psychiatrists. In this article, we explored some of those facets most meaningful to us but recommend you expand your study to the many more available.
Patients often come to physicians seeking validation of their lives or trying to use the same maladaptive defense mechanisms that did not serve them well in the past to achieve a better outcome.
In today’s world, death anxiety can feel palpable due to the constant exposure to global news and social media that can make us feel irrelevant. However, legacy, or what we leave behind, can serve as a way to alleviate death anxiety. For many, reconciling their feelings toward their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety. Therapy can help individuals gain insight into their defensive behaviors and process their definition of a life well lived. By focusing on a life worth living, individuals can alleviate their death anxiety and gain a sense of fulfillment.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
Reference
1. Badre N. Burnout: A concept that rebrands mental illness for professionals. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2020 Mar 5.
Disappointment – “I failed this exam, my life is ruined” or regret – “I am getting a divorce, I wasted so much of my life.” Patients present with a wide variety of complaints that can be understood as a form of death anxiety.
Fundamentally, patients come to see us to understand and explain their lives. One can reinterpret this as a patient asking, “If I died today, would my life have been good enough?” or “When I die, how will I look back at this moment in time and judge the choices I made?”
Other patients come to us attempting to use the same maladaptive defenses that did not serve them well in the past in the hopes of achieving a new outcome that will validate their lives. While it may be understandable that a child dissociates when facing abuse, hoping that this defense mechanism – as an adult – will work, it is unlikely to be fruitful and will certainly not validate or repair the past. This hope to repair one’s past can be interpreted as a fear of death – “I cannot die without correcting this.” This psychic conflict can intensify if one does not adopt a more adaptive understanding of his or her life.
Death anxiety is the feeling associated with the finality of life. Not only is life final, but a constant reminder of that fact is the idea that any one moment is final. Other than in science fiction, one cannot return to a prior moment and repair the past in the hope of a better future. Time goes only in one direction and death is the natural outcome of all life.
Death may have some evolutionary purpose that encourages the promotion of newer and more fitter genes, but one doesn’t have to consider its origin and reason to admit death’s constancy throughout humanity. People die and that is an anxiety-provoking fact of life. Death anxiety can feel especially tangible in our connected world. In a world of constant news, it can feel – for many people – that if your house wasn’t displaced because of global warming or that you are not a war refugee, you don’t deserve to be seen and heard.
This can be a particularly strong feeling for and among physicians, who don’t think that the mental health challenges generated by their own tough circumstances deserve to be labeled a mental disorder, so they designate themselves as having “burnout”1 – as they don’t deserve the sympathy of having the clinically significant impairments of “depression.” Our traumas don’t seem important enough to deserve notice, and thus we may feel like we could die without ever having truly mattered.
This can also be applied in the reverse fashion. Certain individuals, like celebrities, live such extravagant lives that our simpler achievements can feel futile in comparison. While the neighbor’s grass has always felt greener, we are now constantly exposed to perfectly manicured lawns on social media. When compounded, the idea that our successes and our pains are both simultaneously irrelevant can lead one to have very palpable death anxiety – my life will never matter if none of the things I do matter, or my life will never matter because I will never achieve the requisite number of “likes” or “views” on social media required to believe that one’s life was worth living.
A way of alleviating death anxiety can be through the concept of legacy, or what we leave behind. How will people remember me? Will people remember me, or will I disappear like a shadow into the distant memory of my near and dear ones? The idea of being forgotten or lost to memory is intolerable to some and can be a strong driving force to “make a name” for oneself. For those who crave fame, whether a celebrity or a generous alumnus, part of this is likely related to remaining well known after death. After all, one can argue that you are not truly dead as long as you continue to live in the memory and/or genes of others.
Legacy thus serves as a form of posthumous transitional object; a way of calming our fears about how we will be remembered. For many, reconciling their feelings towards their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety.
A case study
The case of Mr. B illustrates this. As a 72-year-old male with a long history of generalized anxiety, he once had a nightmare as a child, similar to the plot of Sleeping Beauty. In his dream, he walks up a spiral staircase in a castle and touches the spindle on a spinning wheel, thus ending his life. The dream was vivid and marked him.
His fear of death has subsequently reared its head throughout his life. In more recent years, he has suffered from cardiovascular disease. Although he is now quite stable on his current cardiac medications, he is constantly fearful that he will experience a cardiac event while asleep and suddenly die. He is so anxious about not waking up in the morning that falling asleep is nearly impossible.
Mr. B is single, with no close family besides a sister who lives in another state. He has a dog and few friends. He worries about what will happen to his dog if he doesn’t wake up in the morning, but perhaps most distressing to him is “there’s so much left for me to do, I have so much to write!” As an accomplished author, he continues to write, and hopes to publish many more novels in his lifetime. It is unsurprising that someone without a strong social network may fear death and feel pressured to somehow make a mark on the world before the curtain falls. It is scary to think that even without us, life goes on.
By bringing to Mr. B’s attention that his ever-present anxiety is rooted in fear of death, he was able to gain more insight into his own defensive behaviors. By confronting his death anxiety and processing his definition of a life well lived together in therapy, he’s acknowledged his lack of social connection as demoralizing, and has made significant strides to remedy this. He’s been able to focus on a more fulfilling life day to day, with less emphasis on his to-do list and aspirations. Instead, he’s connected more with his faith and members of his church. He’s gotten close to several neighbors and enjoys long dinners with them on his back patio.
At a recent meeting, he confessed that he feels “lighter” and not as fearful about sudden cardiac death, and thus has noticed that his overall anxiety has diminished greatly. He concluded that experiencing meaningful relationships in the present moment would give him greater joy than spending his remaining time engaged in preserving a future identity for himself. It seems elementary, but if we look within, we may find that we all suffer similarly: How much of our daily actions, thoughts, and fears are tied to the looming threat of death?
Conclusion
While modern psychiatry continues to advance with better understandings of our neurobiology, improved knowledge of pathophysiological processes of mental illness, and expanding discovery of novel pharmacotherapeutics, the modern psychiatrist should not forget fundamental truths of behavior and humanity that were once the staple of psychiatry.
Death anxiety is one of those truths; it is the ultimate stressor that we will all face and should be regular study and practice for psychiatrists. In this article, we explored some of those facets most meaningful to us but recommend you expand your study to the many more available.
Patients often come to physicians seeking validation of their lives or trying to use the same maladaptive defense mechanisms that did not serve them well in the past to achieve a better outcome.
In today’s world, death anxiety can feel palpable due to the constant exposure to global news and social media that can make us feel irrelevant. However, legacy, or what we leave behind, can serve as a way to alleviate death anxiety. For many, reconciling their feelings toward their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety. Therapy can help individuals gain insight into their defensive behaviors and process their definition of a life well lived. By focusing on a life worth living, individuals can alleviate their death anxiety and gain a sense of fulfillment.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
Reference
1. Badre N. Burnout: A concept that rebrands mental illness for professionals. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2020 Mar 5.
Disappointment – “I failed this exam, my life is ruined” or regret – “I am getting a divorce, I wasted so much of my life.” Patients present with a wide variety of complaints that can be understood as a form of death anxiety.
Fundamentally, patients come to see us to understand and explain their lives. One can reinterpret this as a patient asking, “If I died today, would my life have been good enough?” or “When I die, how will I look back at this moment in time and judge the choices I made?”
Other patients come to us attempting to use the same maladaptive defenses that did not serve them well in the past in the hopes of achieving a new outcome that will validate their lives. While it may be understandable that a child dissociates when facing abuse, hoping that this defense mechanism – as an adult – will work, it is unlikely to be fruitful and will certainly not validate or repair the past. This hope to repair one’s past can be interpreted as a fear of death – “I cannot die without correcting this.” This psychic conflict can intensify if one does not adopt a more adaptive understanding of his or her life.
Death anxiety is the feeling associated with the finality of life. Not only is life final, but a constant reminder of that fact is the idea that any one moment is final. Other than in science fiction, one cannot return to a prior moment and repair the past in the hope of a better future. Time goes only in one direction and death is the natural outcome of all life.
Death may have some evolutionary purpose that encourages the promotion of newer and more fitter genes, but one doesn’t have to consider its origin and reason to admit death’s constancy throughout humanity. People die and that is an anxiety-provoking fact of life. Death anxiety can feel especially tangible in our connected world. In a world of constant news, it can feel – for many people – that if your house wasn’t displaced because of global warming or that you are not a war refugee, you don’t deserve to be seen and heard.
This can be a particularly strong feeling for and among physicians, who don’t think that the mental health challenges generated by their own tough circumstances deserve to be labeled a mental disorder, so they designate themselves as having “burnout”1 – as they don’t deserve the sympathy of having the clinically significant impairments of “depression.” Our traumas don’t seem important enough to deserve notice, and thus we may feel like we could die without ever having truly mattered.
This can also be applied in the reverse fashion. Certain individuals, like celebrities, live such extravagant lives that our simpler achievements can feel futile in comparison. While the neighbor’s grass has always felt greener, we are now constantly exposed to perfectly manicured lawns on social media. When compounded, the idea that our successes and our pains are both simultaneously irrelevant can lead one to have very palpable death anxiety – my life will never matter if none of the things I do matter, or my life will never matter because I will never achieve the requisite number of “likes” or “views” on social media required to believe that one’s life was worth living.
A way of alleviating death anxiety can be through the concept of legacy, or what we leave behind. How will people remember me? Will people remember me, or will I disappear like a shadow into the distant memory of my near and dear ones? The idea of being forgotten or lost to memory is intolerable to some and can be a strong driving force to “make a name” for oneself. For those who crave fame, whether a celebrity or a generous alumnus, part of this is likely related to remaining well known after death. After all, one can argue that you are not truly dead as long as you continue to live in the memory and/or genes of others.
Legacy thus serves as a form of posthumous transitional object; a way of calming our fears about how we will be remembered. For many, reconciling their feelings towards their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety.
A case study
The case of Mr. B illustrates this. As a 72-year-old male with a long history of generalized anxiety, he once had a nightmare as a child, similar to the plot of Sleeping Beauty. In his dream, he walks up a spiral staircase in a castle and touches the spindle on a spinning wheel, thus ending his life. The dream was vivid and marked him.
His fear of death has subsequently reared its head throughout his life. In more recent years, he has suffered from cardiovascular disease. Although he is now quite stable on his current cardiac medications, he is constantly fearful that he will experience a cardiac event while asleep and suddenly die. He is so anxious about not waking up in the morning that falling asleep is nearly impossible.
Mr. B is single, with no close family besides a sister who lives in another state. He has a dog and few friends. He worries about what will happen to his dog if he doesn’t wake up in the morning, but perhaps most distressing to him is “there’s so much left for me to do, I have so much to write!” As an accomplished author, he continues to write, and hopes to publish many more novels in his lifetime. It is unsurprising that someone without a strong social network may fear death and feel pressured to somehow make a mark on the world before the curtain falls. It is scary to think that even without us, life goes on.
By bringing to Mr. B’s attention that his ever-present anxiety is rooted in fear of death, he was able to gain more insight into his own defensive behaviors. By confronting his death anxiety and processing his definition of a life well lived together in therapy, he’s acknowledged his lack of social connection as demoralizing, and has made significant strides to remedy this. He’s been able to focus on a more fulfilling life day to day, with less emphasis on his to-do list and aspirations. Instead, he’s connected more with his faith and members of his church. He’s gotten close to several neighbors and enjoys long dinners with them on his back patio.
At a recent meeting, he confessed that he feels “lighter” and not as fearful about sudden cardiac death, and thus has noticed that his overall anxiety has diminished greatly. He concluded that experiencing meaningful relationships in the present moment would give him greater joy than spending his remaining time engaged in preserving a future identity for himself. It seems elementary, but if we look within, we may find that we all suffer similarly: How much of our daily actions, thoughts, and fears are tied to the looming threat of death?
Conclusion
While modern psychiatry continues to advance with better understandings of our neurobiology, improved knowledge of pathophysiological processes of mental illness, and expanding discovery of novel pharmacotherapeutics, the modern psychiatrist should not forget fundamental truths of behavior and humanity that were once the staple of psychiatry.
Death anxiety is one of those truths; it is the ultimate stressor that we will all face and should be regular study and practice for psychiatrists. In this article, we explored some of those facets most meaningful to us but recommend you expand your study to the many more available.
Patients often come to physicians seeking validation of their lives or trying to use the same maladaptive defense mechanisms that did not serve them well in the past to achieve a better outcome.
In today’s world, death anxiety can feel palpable due to the constant exposure to global news and social media that can make us feel irrelevant. However, legacy, or what we leave behind, can serve as a way to alleviate death anxiety. For many, reconciling their feelings toward their legacy is an avenue to tame death anxiety. Therapy can help individuals gain insight into their defensive behaviors and process their definition of a life well lived. By focusing on a life worth living, individuals can alleviate their death anxiety and gain a sense of fulfillment.
Dr. Akkoor is a psychiatry resident at the University of California, San Diego. She is interested in immigrant mental health, ethics, consultation-liaison psychiatry, and medical education. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Badre and Dr. Akkoor have no conflicts of interest.
Reference
1. Badre N. Burnout: A concept that rebrands mental illness for professionals. Clinical Psychiatry News. 2020 Mar 5.