Fear of Death

Between this interview and reading everyone's comments, I am now a puddle.

Having seriously attempted suicide several times, followed by years of simply not wanting to exist without having the energy to bother trying to off myself, death does not—nor has it ever bothered me.

I got my tubes tied a year and a half ago and was under general anesthesia. I went out, and there was nothing—just simple sweet blackness and peaceful relief until they woke me up. If that is what death feels like (which I realize are ideal circumstances, and I probably won't have much say in the matter), then I can honestly say I have no fear of death.

After 25 years of suffering from paralyzing depression, I've finally found a medication that works, and I no longer have passive or active suicidal thoughts. However, death still doesn't seem like a bad or scary thing. I've put my body through hell, so I don't expect to make it through my 70s or 80s, and I'm fine with that. What I do fear is losing my mind.

My grandmother had dementia due to uncontrolled HBP and diabetes, and she was hateful before she couldn't remember who I was, shrieking that I was the devil and accusing me of stealing her worthless crap. I fear going out like she did, where nobody showed up for her funeral and my mother had to bribe me and my brothers to go. I'm terrified of losing my mental faculties, incapable of wiping my own ass, pissing on myself, and leaving my excrement-laden underwear under the bed, surrounded by hundreds of dusty Santa and baby doll figurines with the 50-cent price tags still attached in a three-bedroom hoard-filled condo with rotten food in my fridge, tarting myself up and fucking any man with a pulse because I'm the whore of the old-folks community, married to the 4th man I don't know who leaves boner pills on the kitchen counter for his wife's granddaughter to find, treating everyone who ever cared about me like absolute dog shit while still feeling entitled to their time, assistance, and affection. I'll fight to my very last breath to make damn sure that doesn't happen, or so help me, I'll take myself out behind the barn and kindly spare everyone from the agony and trauma inflicted by the monster I've become.

Dying isn't the part to be afraid of. Who you are before you die is.

Thanks, Aron. Thought-provoking conversation, as usual.