Contending with mortality is one of the main pillars of existentialism. And although I enjoy writing articles about existential psychotherapy, I haven’t been able to quite figure out how to write about death until now.
That’s because I’m not worried about my own death. I am, in fact, friends with death, so I didn’t feel equipped to speak to why people struggle so much with the idea of dying.
But I have some theories. There’s a primal response to the idea of our own annihilation. If survival—avoiding death—is a core biological drive, striving to make peace with our death overrides our deepest instincts. This makes us unable to even think clearly about our mortality—it’s too big to consider, much like other existential questions you may grapple with.
Furthermore, people want to matter. Death threatens our mattering, causing us great existential anxiety. Some people try to assuage this anxiety through leaving a legacy, whether that’s family, money, a creative work of art, or something else. Others do so through maximizing their present-day experiences. Still others choose a belief system that promises some kind of continuation of existence after death.
Confronting death anxiety is important because, unexamined, this deep existential concern can produce chronic depression, despair, more generalized anxiety, panic, or unwanted but compulsive coping mechanisms. We might not consciously connect those forms of distress to fears about death, but under the surface, they’re entwined.
It’s scary stuff, but this work can motivate you to fill your life with what matters most.
Death gives life meaning
Meaning is also a pillar of existential psychotherapy. We create meaning to shape who we become, which is a central project of our existence. And knowing that our existence is finite, that we can’t be, do, or have everything we’d like, makes each of our choices important.
When you have to choose, you take a stand. Your choice says, “this matters to me.” You invest, emotionally and materially, in what and who you value. In doing this, you show yourself and others who you are and what you’re about. And you enhance your daily life by bringing into it that which gives you pleasure, satisfaction, and purpose.
Irvin Yalom, one of the pioneers of existential therapy in the U.S., wrote, “Though the fact of death destroys us, the idea of death can save us. In other words, our awareness of death can throw a different perspective on life and incite us to rearrange our priorities.”
“The idea of death can save us.” Knowing that we will end can save us from losing energy to empty relationships, acting out of alignment with our values, and betraying our deepest selves through bad faith.
At the beginning of this article I said I wasn’t concerned about my own death. I was confronted with the fact of my finitude in a different way—by becoming disabled—but coming to terms with that fact did save me, in many ways. I had to get real with myself about prioritizing my well-being over the pursuit of capitalist success and about nurturing only the relationships in my life that nurtured me in return. I had to decide if I wanted to try to thrive or just keep surviving.
Facing your own mortality in existential therapy doesn’t have to look like peaceful acceptance of death. Death is the biggest ending there is, and endings are hard. Make space for the grief and anger that come with such a loss.
And then make space for the intoxicating possibilities that can emerge when you decide to “earn one’s death by confronting with passion the conundrum of life.” (James Baldwin)
