Category: Talking about death

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How Planning My Death at 52 Helped Me Learn More About How I Wanted to Live

— As my health is markedly declining, I’ve made a list: places to see/go, things to do, things to no longer do

“I’m thinking more about living for the first time in…well, at least four years”

By S.C. Beckner

At the end of every year in the past, I anxiously waited to crack open my new daily planner for the coming new year so I could jot down resolutions. I like a clean slate.

Every year those resolutions tumbled to the bottom of my to-list before I’d finished humming “Auld Lang Syne.” Things like, be more disciplined/stop procrastinating, tackle my TBR stack/try a digital sabbatical, and cut out sugar/lose ten pounds/no more than one dessert a day, topped the list year after year.

This year, I’m Googling phrases like “Is an advance directive the same as a living will?” “Where is assisted suicide legal?” “What drugs are used in assisted suicides?” When I type the last question into Google, the first thing that comes up is the number “988” and encouragement for me to reach out for support.

My arm felt heavy, the muscles rippled beneath the skin and my finger strokes on the keyboard weren’t landing as efficiently as they once had.

I don’t have a solid diagnosis yet. Instead, I have a plethora of odds and ends symptoms, disorders, dysregulation, immunodeficiencies and viruses after I contracted a nasty respiratory illness that lasted for seven weeks at the end of 2019 after a return trip to the Midwest to visit family for the holidays.

The Downward Spiral

The downward spiral started with an episode of super ventricular tachycardia a week or so after I was “on the mend.” My resting heart rate hit 150 plus beats per minute which began a series of trips to the local emergency room, tests and procedures. That illness triggered a marked decline of my health and was likely the beginning of this chosen end that I’m facing now. 

But then, last March, three years after that first trip to the ER, I noticed weakness in my right forearm while I was working from home one afternoon. My arm felt heavy, the muscles rippled beneath the skin and my finger strokes on the keyboard weren’t landing as efficiently as they once had. Words were missing letters…Knoledge. Languge. Mariage. Muscles spasmed.

The next few months brought resting tremors, and trouble swallowing. My speech became sluggish in the evenings when I was most fatigued. I started to struggle with short-term memory, mixed up words in conversation, and it felt like words I used frequently had been stowed on shelves in my brain and I could no longer reach them.

I’m doing things like leaving the kitchen with the faucet running, burners on, and recently, I put a container of yogurt in the drawer with my Pyrex lids.

‘Maybe ALS’

In August, my rheumatologist referred me to a neurologist — my life inundated with ologists. Immunologist. Gastroenterologist. Rheumatologist. Neurologist. He suspected that rather than an autoimmune disease, a neuromuscular disorder was the root cause of many of my symptoms including the weakness, tremors and autonomic dysregulation which caused functions like heart rate, blood pressure and temperature to become unpredictable, and sometimes dangerous.

Now, after most physical exertions, like taking a mildly warm shower, my body temperature spikes to 102-104 degrees, my heart races to 130-150 plus beats per minute.

“Maybe ALS,” the rheumatologist said. Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. A terminal diagnosis.

Thus far, ALS can’t be ruled out with certainty as a diagnosis, but it also hasn’t been confidently diagnosed at this point in the MRIs, EMGs and blood draws. I’m being referred to another neurologist for further evaluation. According to the ALS Therapy Development Institute, some patients initially receive a “suspected, possible, probable, or definite ALS” diagnosis as other disorders and diseases are ruled out.

I think in terms of quality of life, and regardless of which of those diagnoses the doctors land on, my decision to end my physical, cognitive and emotional suffering remains the same.

On paper, ALS is the worst-case scenario in terms of outcome with a life expectancy of two to five years depending on the progression of each individual patient. Best-case scenario, this myriad of symptoms, this failure of my fifty-two-year-old body, is that my faulty, gone-rogue immune system that has already attacked my other organs — lungs, liver and spleen — has started its assault on my brain causing inflammation and/or deterioration.

A Decision Made

This brain that I’ve filled with ten years of study in higher education, ideas for essays, books yet to be written, language, memories of my children, their children, my parents when we were all much younger — has been damaged. There is no way to know if there’s any hope of recovering what’s been lost. But now, I think in terms of quality of life, and regardless of which of those diagnoses the doctors land on, my decision to end my physical, cognitive and emotional suffering remains the same.

I haven’t officially told my family, many of those relationships are estranged/strained, and, even as a child, I oft communicated in writing. As a child, I asked my mother if she was mad at me on lined steno pages left on the kitchen table, asked her to check yes or no.

I’ve written letter after letter to my husband throughout our nearly-twenty-year marriage — in the beginning, letters of love and wanting, more recently, letters of request and reflection. I’m sorry you ended up with a sick wife.

I have expressed my frustration and fatigue with being sick for so long to some members of my family, said things like “This isn’t sustainable,” or “I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.” But they are of the mindset that I need to get out more, that I can somehow right the ship of my sick and fledgling body with positivity. Even my husband has talked to me about the power of “mind over matter.” Those are all different conversations.

On my worst days, I’m frequently utilizing my newly-purchased rollator after being humbled by several trips and a few falls.

Now, I have to try to take a short walk or do some sort of activity after every meal to help my stomach empty itself of its contents, lest the gastroparesis cause the food to stagnate and form a solid mass in my gut. On my worst days, I’m frequently utilizing my newly-purchased rollator after being humbled by several trips and a few falls. Some days, I struggle to feed myself and swallow food and drink, regardless of consistency.

While my brain and my body continue to weaken, I think about the trivial, everyday things like not being able to make and pour my own coffee, think about how my hands are no longer strong enough to hold one of my beloved coffee mugs that I’ve collected over the years from my children or from pottery-making friends.

I can no longer stand in the kitchen for extended periods while I make doughs and roll them into glazed and streusel-ed pastries or stir a pan of homemade hot fudge that I gift to friends and neighbors. I worry that my arms won’t hold my new granddaughter expected in the spring.

Leaning Into End-of-Life Plans

On a grander, more humiliating scale, I’ve wet myself more than once trying to maneuver my faltering, quivering body out of bed in the morning. As my speech slurs with fatigue and my word recall is failing, I think about the joy I’ve always found in oral communication — it’s how I connect with the world around me. I’m a storyteller, a teacher, a talker. The idea of losing these things that make me me is unbearable, as it is for anyone diagnosed with a debilitating and potentially terminal disease.

See a meteor shower. I checked this one off the list.

I am leaning into these end-of-life plans, engaging both the creative and Type A aspects of who I am. I am taking online art classes, learning to sketch, to paint, trying to teach myself to knit while simultaneously writing my care plan, getting my “final wishes” down on paper. “Final Wishes” is such an odd statement. I imagine genies seduced from bottles and how you can’t “put the genie back” once it’s freed and am reminded of the permanence of my decision.

Making Lists

I don’t like the term “bucket list,” but I’ve been making one —well, part bucket list, part to-do list. In my mind, I’ve divided this into three parts: places to see/go, things to do, things to no longer do. The list has things like:

Places to see/go:
1. See the northern lights in Maine, hike while I’m there.
2. See fall foliage somewhere in the northeast. One more time.
3. Visit another country. I’ve settled on Algonquin Park in Canada’s Ontario province. Stargaze, see the northern lights from there too.

Things to do:
1. Go camping. Sleep connected to the earth.
2. See a meteor shower. I checked this one off the list.
3. Plant a garden.
4. Collect and compile recipes for my kids, make care packages for each one with sentimental items.
5. Finish/sell my book.
6. Write letters to loved ones. See loved ones.

Things to no longer do:
1. No more offering myself up to those who aren’t interested in genuine loving/considerate relationships.
2. No more hating myself for the past. I want to love the life I lived, flawed as it was in many ways.
3. No more finishing books that I don’t like.

It’s been four years now, counting that lengthy viral illness. I’m tired. I reached the decision to end my suffering after much thought and consideration. I don’t know exactly when, but I’m close to settling on an assisted end-of-life plan.

But now, instead of wondering how my disease/s and decompensation will progress, worrying about the logistics of needing a greater level of care, I’m thinking more about living for the first time in…well, at least four years, maybe more. I’m seeking joy, love and kindness and looking for everyday opportunities to pour those things back out into the world around me.

Some days, I’m successful and other days, I’m not. I’m not a gracious sick person. But in all of this, I’m grateful that in planning for my death, I’ve finally learned what’s important to me…finally learned how to live.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

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“That’s for remembrance”

– A recipe for garlic and rosemary lamb

Rosemary in bloom

By

I wrote half of last month’s column in an airport, trying to get to my grandmother before it was too late. Neither of us made it; she was gone before I even boarded. When I was done ugly crying – on the phone to my cousin as he broke the news, then again in front of the alarmed workers of the airport Costa – I wanted to metaphorically tear up everything I’d written and start on this instead, even if I didn’t have a clear idea of what this was yet, beyond something about rosemary’s tie to memory and a roast lamb no one would ever make for me again.

But it was the Winter Solstice coming up, and my first entry in a column on the place where food and magic intersect; and, crucially, it was too close to that moment of raw grief to pull it together into something coherent, something worthwhile. So I finished that piece on tea and mead and spices and the interwoven debts that we owe each other, and I’m bringing this to you now instead.

Rosemary is the herb of memory. I miss my grandmother.

When dealing with traditional herbal correspondences it can be hard to separate the magical from the mundane. Partly because our ancestors didn’t make that distinction themselves, seeing magic, faith, and physical medicine as part of a single whole in a world entirely imbued with the sacred. But also because, as traditional herbcraft has faded out of practice, attributions which were once meant to be understood literally can seem like metaphor or mysticism, only to then surprise us when we rediscover their physical nature. Rosemary, and the impact it has on memory, is one such example.

When Ophelia includes the herb in her list of accusatory flowers, it’s easy to assume her famous quote, “rosemary, that’s for remembrance” is as metaphorical as the rest. But rosemary has long been a herb associated with funerary rites, with death, and with remembrance of the departed, traditionally being placed on the biers of the dead. Its strong smell, which lingers in the room like a memory, would have helped to cover the beginnings of decay, as well as indelibly tying itself to that moment of grief and loss in the mourner’s neurology. Scent is one of the key triggers of memory, even with substances that don’t specifically effect cognition – how much more powerful rosemary’s impact then, with the discovery that it does.

Rosemary has other folkloric ties to memory outside of the funeral parlour – with Ancient Greek students supposedly using it as a study aid, and Sir Thomas Moore declaring the herb sacred to friendship because it provokes remembrance of the living, not just the dead.

As modern medical research examines herblore to see if there are effective treatments that have been overlooked, or that can be made effective with modern scientific techniques, rosemary has had its turn in the laboratory. Studies indicate that ingesting rosemary enhances recall speed as well as improves episodic and working memory, and may even have a positive impact on Alzheimers, though more research needs to be done to understand why.

Even inhaling the scent of rosemary seems beneficial, though the impact is smaller, and works best if the subject is exposed to the scent both during the learning process and then again when asked to recall things later on – scent as a memory trigger, enhanced by the effects of rosemary’s unique chemical composition on the brain.

A bouquet of herbs, including rosemary, in a bowl

This puts us in a position where rosemary is uniquely suited to remember and honour the beloved dead. Symbolically linked to the dead through religious rites and burial practices, tied to love and the transition from one life stage to another (it is worn at weddings as well as funerals), rosemary also helps us to remember in a literal, physical way. Eaten regularly, it may help preserve the memories of those departed, as well as prompting us to remember meals shared or time spent cooking together when the familiar scents reach us and work their neurological magic.

To combine the spiritual with the physical is a very powerful thing, grounding us in both realms at once, and binding them together in us. That which is gone is never really gone.

Garlic and Rosemary Lamb

Growing up, my grandmother was the only person who could cook a roast lamb I actually enjoyed eating. I don’t know how she did it, and she was a cooking by instinct sort of person so there are no recipes left behind. I still don’t eat lamb that much, though it’s appeared more often in my house since I married a New Zealander, but I knew it was exactly what I wanted to make for this column, and my grandmother. I hope you like it.

Lamb with rosemary and peppers

Lamb shoulder (900g)

Fresh rosemary (2 – 3 tablespoons, chopped)
3 bulbs of garlic
500g baby potatoes
125 ml red wine
Olive oil
Salt and pepper
Flour

Start by setting the oven to pre-heat at 240 C (220 C fan, ~450 F). While that’s heating up, mix four tablespoons of olive oil with eight cloves of crushed garlic, the rosemary, and the salt and pepper. When thoroughly mixed rub it all over the lamb shoulder. Halve the remaining garlic bulbs and place them with the potatoes in a roasting tray, drizzle with olive oil, crack salt and pepper over them, and then place the lamb on top. Finally, pour the wine over it all and cover with a tinfoil tent before placing it into the oven.

Let the lamb roast for fifty minutes and then remove the tinfoil for the final ten minutes to let it crisp up nicely. Once it’s done let the lamb rest for fifteen minutes. While the meat is resting, remove the garlic and potatoes from the tray so you can turn the drippings into a gravy by whisking in flour over a low heat until it reaches your preferred consistency.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

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Digital afterlife

– How to deal with social media accounts when someone dies

Untangling digital interactions after someone dies is becoming increasingly complicated.

Deciding what to do with a dead friend or relative’s online presence is complicated and time-consuming but there are shortcuts

By

Gavin Blomeley was lucky his mother was incredibly organised before she died. She left a note that included the passcode to her phone and access to all her online passwords.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult this could have gotten not having these passwords or knowing this note with all of her passwords existed,” Blomeley says.

“In the note, my mum had an alphabetised, formula-based logic to all her passwords including banking, pensions, social media – everything.”

Untangling the web of someone’s online life after they die creates additional stress on top of grief and funeral planning, and it is getting increasingly complicated as more and more daily tasks are carried out online. There are bank accounts, email accounts, online bills and streaming subscriptions, as well as various social media accounts to consider.

There is no one-stop-shop or single method to memorialise or delete accounts. Some companies, including Google, are now deleting accounts after two years of inactivity but there is no consistency across platforms.

“Facebook, in some ways, is probably actually pretty progressive and a leader in this space,” says Bjorn Nansen, a digital media researcher in the “death tech” team at the University of Melbourne.

“Over time, they’ve developed their policies; you can nominate a legacy contact, so that when you pass away that person … can follow your wishes, and either close your account or memorialise it.”

Nansen says other platforms don’t have the same policy.

“You just have to follow the same old workarounds, which is, you leave your passwords to somebody and your wishes as to what you want to be done with the accounts and content. Often, you’re breaching the terms of service.”

He says it is getting more complicated with the advent of two-factor authentication using biometrics to ensure that only the account holder can access the account.

Nansen says online companies should make the process easier but increasingly people are including directives in their will and this is likely to increase over time as baby boomers die.

“We’re entering a period that’s been referred to as ‘peak death’. The baby boomer bubble means there’s going to be a high volume of deaths and it’s always going to be the next generation that’s going to have to deal with it … it will make awareness of the issue wider and may help bring around change.”

Standards Australia says about 60% of Australian adults have made a will but not all of those have accounted for their digital legacy.

The nongovernment standards body is part of a group of organisations from 35 countries proposing core principles and guidelines for how organisations should manage the process when a relative or executor requests access to an account of someone who has died.

Adam Stingemore, general manager of engagement and communications at Standards Australia, says that means developing a common set of definitions that companies can then build into terms of service.

“The worst time to be dealing with a challenge like this is if you know someone in your family has died, and there’s a feud between parties,” he says. “What we want to do is get ahead of that on these different types of platforms. There’s common sets of questions and people can make choices about what happens to their data and assets.”

Nansen says another factor is the privacy of the person who has died, and whether they want personal messages and content to be seen by family members or deleted.

“There’s complexity and nuance,” he says. “You might have emails, you might have messages, you might have photos, you might have videos that for a whole range of reasons you might want deleted or not want certain people to see.

“If you really want to be thorough, it’s not just providing access and instructions to a digital executor; it might be quite detailed instructions about different platforms and different content.”

Blomeley says his best advice is to ensure power of attorney is arranged beforehand, and access to accounts included as part of a regulated will.< He says the process of shutting down his mother’s accounts was time-consuming, despite having all the passwords. It took several weeks to sort out, through the grief of losing his mother. “Thankfully, we were all in a position where we were able to take time off work … but I can imagine this being much more complicated for certain individuals, based on varying circumstances.” Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

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Talking About Death and Dying

— There are many benefits of having an open and honest discussion about our eventual death with those who love and care for us.

By

Last summer, my 88-year-old mother was diagnosed with late-stage colon cancer and opted for in-home hospice. She died three months later.

Talking about death can be difficult. It can bring up feelings of fear, anxiety, and sorrow. It can also feel awkward as it requires acknowledging one’s own (or a loved one’s) mortality. In some cultures, death is openly accepted and celebrated (think of Mexico’s lively, colorful, loving Day of the Dead ceremonies, which include costumes, parades, and feasts), but in others the topic is ignored and avoided.

However, there are many benefits of having an open and honest discussion about our eventual death with those who love and care for us. It can offer solace to grieving families to know what a family member most desires. When a person is nearing the end of life, family may be under enormous stress. Letting those who love and care for you know about end-of-life decisions ensures your wishes are known and respected, eases the burden on loved ones, and helps prevent the kinds of in-fighting that sometimes surface. Additionally, to talk openly about such things can be a profoundly intimate act.

I was lucky that my parents spoke openly about death. Years before my mother’s diagnosis, she asked me to be her healthcare proxy. After signing paperwork to that effect, we met with her primary care doctor, working through our questions and concerns together.

Around the same time, when Mom was still perfectly well, she showed me what she called her death file, which contained paperwork she felt I’d need later, including information about the family tomb in New Orleans, people she wanted notified upon her death, insurance information, and more. Over the years, we added papers that we thought might be helpful (a copy of her birth certificate, a notarized letter reiterating her wish to donate her organs, etc.).

Because we had been so open with one another, when Mom chose hospice at the end of her life, I asked her a question that some might find unusual. “Mom,” I said, “would you like to help me write your obituary?” She very much wanted to. I wrote a rough draft, which she marked up in pencil from her bed. We worked until she felt it was right; then she chose the photo she wanted to accompany it. Reviewing her life and legacy together in this way is one of my most cherished memories.

One afternoon just a few days before she died, she asked the hospice nurse, “Why is it so painful for me to swallow?” The nurse told her something perfectly reasonable, but for some reason, Mom asked again. I leaned over where she lay in her hospital bed and said, “Mom, you’re having difficulty swallowing because you’re dying.” The hospice nurse looked shocked at my directness, but Mom clutched my hand and said, “Oh, honey, that’s very reassuring.” Because I had listened to her over the years, I knew that she did not want to be spoken to like a child, and that she longed for direct, open talk.

If I were to offer advice about how to begin such conversations, I would suggest listening with a nonjudgmental heart. If a loved one brings up the subject of their own aging or death, try to just listen. Ask about their wishes and thoughts rather than immediately offering opinions. Being a good, loving listener without judgment allows the people we love to explore and develop their own personal philosophy around end-of-life issues.

Our culture has many taboos around illness, aging, and death, and we are directed in may ways to never speak about it. As my mother demonstrated, though, death can be approached with kindness and pragmatism. Like the proverbial “monster under the bed,” avoiding the topic altogether only increases people’s anxiety.

I’ve taught Death Studies classes, and while every family and situation is unique, my college students almost uniformly wished they could talk about such things more openly with their families, but they didn’t know how to bring up the subject. The Conversation Project — a nonprofit dedicated to helping people talk about their wishes for end-of-life care — created a free guide to help get the conversation started (theconversationproject.org/get-started). And there are many other resources available — books, videos, and podcasts — that can be a huge help.

I have found enduring comfort from the certainty that I was able to help my mother have the death she wanted, at home, pain-free, watching the birds from her bedroom window. It was a gift from her to leave me with no lingering regrets. I suspect it will comfort me for the rest of my life, and I wish for this level of intimacy and comfort for all families.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

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Terror Management Theory

— How Humans Cope With the Awareness of Their Own Death

By Cynthia Vinney, PhD

Terror Management Theory (TMT) suggests that human beings are uniquely capable of recognizing their own deaths and therefore they must manage the existential anxiety and fear that comes with knowing their time on Earth is limited.

The theory was developed by psychological researchers Jeff Greenberg, Sheldon Solomon, and Tom Pyszczynski, who published the first TMT article in 1986.1 They based TMT on the writings of Ernest Becker, who spoke of the need to protect against the universality of the terror of death.

In this article, we’ll review key concepts of TMT, look at empirical evidence in support of TMT, explore real-life examples of TMT, and discuss how it is used across different fields.

Key Concepts and Principles of Terror Management Theory

Terror Management Theory explains that people protect themselves against mortality salience, or awareness of one’s own death, based on whether their fears are conscious or unconscious.

If they’re conscious, people combat them through proximal defenses by eliminating the threat from their conscious awareness. If they’re unconscious, distal defenses, such as a sense of meaning, like cultural worldviews, or value, like self-esteem, diminish unconscious concerns about death.2

Cultural worldviews and self-esteem are key concepts of TMT. They are both central to protection against mortality salience. David Tzall, PsyD, a licensed psychologist in New York, notes, “TMT suggests that individuals gravitate towards and defend their cultural worldviews more strongly when confronted with thoughts of mortality.”

Through cultural worldviews, people can achieve literal or symbolic immortality. Literal immortality, the idea that we will continue to exist after our death, is usually the domain of religious cultural worldviews. Symbolic immortality is the idea that something greater than oneself continues to exist after their death, such as families, monuments, books, paintings, or anything else that continues to exist after they’re gone.

TMT suggests that individuals gravitate towards and defend their cultural worldviews more strongly when confronted with thoughts of mortality.

Self-esteem plays a significant role in TMT too. “When faced with the awareness of death,” Tzall says, “people often engage in activities or behaviors that boost their self-esteem as a way to manage the anxiety associated with mortality.” In so doing, they provide the sense that they are a valuable participant  in a meaningful universe.3

These have led to two important hypotheses in TMT. First, the mortality salience hypothesis says we have negative reactions to individuals from a different group, called “outgroupers,” who present a threat to our group, and have positive reactions to those who represent our cultural values, referred to as “ingroupers.” Second, the anxiety-buffer hypothesis says strengthening our anxiety-buffer by, for example, boosting self-esteem, should reduce the individual’s anxiety about death.4

Review of Empirical Evidence Supporting Terror Management Theory

There are over 500 studies conducted in countries around the world supporting TMT. For example, one study found that raising self-esteem reduces anxiety in response to images of death.5 Similarly, increasing self-esteem reduces the effects of mortality salience on the defense of one’s worldview. When the researchers provided positive personality feedback instead of neutral feedback, their preference for a US-based author was equivalent to that of the control group, whereas participants who received neutral feedback far exceeded the control group in preference for the author.6

Another study found that worldview threats increase accessibility of death thoughts. When Canadians were exposed to a website that either derogated Canadian values or Australian values, they had far more thoughts about death when they encountered the anti-Canadian information.7

Real-Life Examples Illustrating the Application of Terror Management Theory

There are many ways that terror management theory can be applied to real life. Tzall provides some examples, such as “religion where religious beliefs and practices offer explanations for life’s meaning, purpose, and what happens after death. People will turn to religion to alleviate existential anxiety and find solace in the idea of an afterlife.”

Believing in religion may provide a chance at literal immortality, but beyond that, it can provide a cultural worldview that brings meaning and purpose to life and can alleviate mortality salience.

Likewise, Tzall gives the example of belonging to a nation that “provides a sense of identity and belonging, which can help individuals feel connected to something enduring. People may strive to achieve success, create meaningful relationships, or contribute to society in ways that leave a lasting impact.” There are all sorts of ways that people can find meaning and achieve symbolic immortality, including being part of a nation that will go on after their death.

In addition to feeling like a part of the nation, people will want to put their own stamp on the nation whether through success in industry, meaningful relationships that have a lasting impact, or other options like volunteering, having a family, or writing a book.

Implications of Terror Management Theory across Different Fields

Different fields can use TMT in different ways. For example, the most obvious may be the field of therapy and counseling. As Tzall explains, “TMT sheds light on how individuals’ psychological well-being, self-esteem, and behavior are influenced by thoughts of mortality.” Tzall continues, this “can help therapists understand existential anxiety and develop strategies to address it.”

The theory can similarly be used in marketing and advertising, but the emphasis is different. “TMT can inform advertising strategies that tap into consumers’ desires for symbolic immortality,” Tzall says. In this conception, marketers and advertisers advertise goods or services in a way that communicates their desire for symbolic immortality can be met.

Similarly, political science “can help explain the polarization of political ideologies,” explains Tzall, “and the ways in which leaders appeal to their followers’ existential concerns to gain support.” Through cultural worldviews that appreciate others like them but reject others that are not like them, leaders can exploit their followers and even lead them to rise up against others that do not agree with them, in wars, conflicts, or events like January 6th, where a small group of like-minded citizens stormed Congress.

Significance of Terror Management Theory in Understanding Human Behavior and Beliefs

Though some studies about TMT have failed to be replicated, Terror Management Theory has continued to resonate with many people. And researchers still use it to describe various events.

For example, a group of researchers used TMT to detail the COVID-19 pandemic during its height, explaining that regardless of how deadly the virus is, the risk of dying was highly salient.8 As a result, in response to the pandemic, people responded to the constant fear of death in both proximal and distal ways.

In proximal ways: drinking and eating in excess to arguing that the virus isn’t nearly as lethal as health experts claim. And in distal ways: affirming an individual’s cultural worldview to maximizing one’s self-esteem, in line with the TMT literature. As threats that remind us of our own deaths continue and expand, TMT will continue to be a leading source of understanding human behavior and beliefs.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

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Deadass Podcast’s host Bryan Perry on mission with Nicholas Smithson to talk about death openly

Deadass Podcast host Bryan Perry (left) talks with Nicholas Smithson openly about death.

By Jasmine Hines

When Nicholas ‘Nicko’ Smithson was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, he would lie awake at night terrified of dying.

The tradesman spent years labouring in the sun and was diagnosed with melanoma when he was 38 years old.

He was given just six months to live.

“I was quite petrified of whether there was life after death,” Mr Smithson said.

“They didn’t catch it (the cancer) in time … it spread throughout my entire body, my bones, my liver, everything like that.”

Mr Smithson, who lives in Rockhampton in central Queensland, underwent intense immunotherapy and two years later is in remission.

A man with brown hair, a mustache and arm tattoos lies in a hospital bed
Nicholas Smithson at a hospital in Brisbane.

He has teamed up with his best friend, Bryan Perry, who owns a crematorium business to help demystify and start the conversation about death through their Deadass Podcast.

In denial about death

Leading palliative care researcher Adjunct Professor Elizabeth Lobb said Australians live in a “death-denying society”.

A close up headshot of a woman with short brown hair smiling
Elizabeth Lobb says it is important for people to talk about their feelings after a diagnosis.

She has spent 28 years of her life dedicated to the psychological impact of oncology, palliative care and grief.

She said people avoid the topic because it is confronting and people fear the unknown.

“It’s not something that we talk about, [but] certainly when someone receives a diagnosis of cancer, it’s one of the first things that comes into their mind,” Dr Lobb said.

She said when you did not know how to respond or help those with life-limiting diagnoses, the first step was to give people a chance to talk about their feelings.

“I often say to family members that sometimes words aren’t needed, it’s just important to listen, we can’t solve this,” Dr Lobb said.

“People who are facing a life-limiting illness can become very isolated and it can be lonely because no one wants to talk about it.”

Sharing eulogies

Mr Smithson, now 40, works for the podcast creating digital content and has been featured in episodes to share his life story, or “eulogy”.

He has been warned by health professionals that his cancer could return, and he has decided he will not seek further treatment because of the harsh impact on his body.

a man with brown hair, a mustache and blue eyes is in front of a microphone
Mr Smithson has shared his story with the podcast.

Mr Smithson said the double doses of immunotherapy led to ulcerative colitis, and his colon had to be removed.

He said working on the podcast has helped him come to terms with death.

“It’s kind of shed a bit of light and helped ease the anxiety a little bit of, if it does end up happening, I’d be OK with that,” he said.

Mr Perry, who hosts the show, said he wanted a platform to share his mate’s story, as well as other people’s eulogies before it was too late.

“We were contemplating his own mortality and discussing some of the things we’ve done together over the years and taking the opportunity to record those memories,” Mr Perry said.

“The intentions were to either keep those or to share them and even potentially have his own funeral.”

A man with facial hair and tattoos smiling bending down and posing with his medium sized white dog
Mr Perry spends so much time with death, he even named his dog Rigor Mortis.

Preparing for death

Mr Perry, who has worked in the funeral industry for more than 20 years, said people were hesitant to think about death.

He urged more people to think about it practically.

“Jot down what you want, put down what sort of songs you want, where you want to have it,” he said.

“It’s just peace of mind for the people that you’re leaving behind so that when your time does come, the family knows exactly what you want and it just lessens the burden for them.”

A man with facial hair and tattoos looks at a casket. There are stacks of caskets in the background
Mr Perry says he wants to capture more people’s eulogies while they’re still living.

Dr Lobb said not everyone was able to communicate their final wishes but she recommended those who could to consider their financial affairs and where they want palliative care to take place, whether it be at home or in a hospital.

“There’s no right or wrong and it’s very individual,” she said.

“Yes, it is devastating, it’s overwhelming, but not necessarily as fearful as [it’s] perhaps being portrayed.”

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

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Overcoming Death Anxiety

Although death is an inevitable part of life, most people don’t like talking or thinking about it. But for some, the dread and fear surrounding death is so intense that it interferes with their ability to live a healthy life. Here are ways to cope with your fear of death, and move beyond death anxiety to death acceptance.

What is Death Anxiety

Death anxiety, or thanatophobia, is characterized by a fear of one’s own death or a fear of the dying process. Death anxiety can manifest in a variety of ways. While older adults may be confronted by overwhelming thoughts about their own mortality, people of all ages can experience death anxiety. Some may have an excessive fear of losing their loved ones. Some may obsess over the ways they might contract a terminal illness. Others may frequently visit their doctors and request medical tests or body scans, out of fear that they have a chronic disease. Still others may worry about leaving loved ones behind after they die.

Feeling uneasy about the end of life is completely natural. Fear of the unknown and what happens after death is a legitimate concern. But when negative thoughts about death and dying prevent you from living your normal life, it may be necessary to address your anxiety towards death.

How to Cope

The first step to cope with the fear of death is to recognize that fearing death is often a normal part of the human experience. When we accept that death is natural and inevitable, we can come to terms with it and find peace. The Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh’s book No Death, No Fear: Comforting Wisdom for Life is a practical place to start for those looking to overcome their death anxiety. He uses guided meditations and personal stories to help readers live a life free of fear.

People experiencing death anxiety will often avoid talking about it, which in turn negatively affects their mental health. But talking about our fears with our loved ones can be a powerful and healing strategy to overcome the fear of death. If you’re not sure how to break the ice, The Conversation Project offers free toolkits for starting conversations about death and dying. Attending a Death Cafe is another great way to discuss death in an open and supportive environment.

Another helpful way to feel more comfortable with death is to practice rituals. Whether you are religious or not, rituals can help create a sense of meaning and comfort to prepare for your own death as well as the death of your loved ones. You may choose to contemplate the loved ones you have lost and light a candle for them, or practice a death meditation to ease your mind about the inevitability of death. Diving into your family’s religious traditions and exploring new spiritual ideas can also help you move away from death anxiety toward death acceptance.

Finally, focusing on living in the present moment and enjoying every day that you are alive can serve as a powerful tool to curb death anxiety. One of the best pieces of advice from others who have conquered their death anxiety is to focus on living authentically, passionately, and well.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!