“I automatically think that closing down is safe, but really staying open and loving is safer, because then we're connected to all that life and love.” i am afraid to live. they say that an unexamined life not worth living, but an overly examined life is too painful to live. when the going gets tough, i do not get going; i curl up in fetal position and whimper. its easier to shut down and go to sleep than to stay awake and deal. my life is a search for salvation, for a perfect balance between selfishness and self-preservation. i am fond of telling people “other men’s crosses are not my crosses,” but perhaps this is my way of not dealing with the pain of others. in my efforts to preserve myself, i am losing my compassion. i am becoming cold, and numb. am i too closed down and self centered to feel love? i adore showtunes; i hear them trying to get through to me. “give in to love, or live in fear” “no day but today” “stay with me and hold me tight and dance like it’s the last night of the world” i do not live each day to it’s fullest. i probably live some of them to their emptiest. i just can’t be bothered by pain. my grandmother is old and dying and the nursing home is only 10 minutes away, but i only visit her every few months. when my girlfriend, my wonderful compassionate hypersensitive girlfriend, begins to cry for no reason, i am annoyed with her for ruining my mood. when one of my best friends tries to tell me about a difficult relationship that he’s going through, i am afraid to listen for fear of that sinking depression. i just want to curl up and hide in a corner, rocking back and forth and muttering “not my problem, not my problem.” i lose touch with my friends, with the world, under my self-imposed house arrest. i got fired from my job for not being able to leave the house; now that i don’t have a job, i have no reason to leave the house. i’ve lost the balance between healthy fear and paranoia. there is a saying, “there is no fear in love.” i don’t think that’s true. when you love someone, you make yourself vulnerable to fear. mainly, the fear of losing them. because bad things do happen to nice people. all of a sudden, all of the time. i don’t just mean people cheating or lying or falling out of love. i mean accidents, terminal illness, suicide. heck, the world could end. at any second, anything could happen to anyone, and leave you with your support system yanked out from under you. i have never lost anyone that close to me, and i know i’m not strong enough to deal with it i live in constant fear of these everyday tragedies, fear of losing the people i care about. if someone is more than 30 minutes late, i become convinced that they are splattered on a road somewhere. every time i bid someone a casual goodbye, i wonder if i should have given them a big gigantic hug and told them how much i love them, just in case i never see them again. a guy i know once kissed his girlfriend goodbye just to go pick up the telephone, because, as he said, “i might not make it back!” you never know what time will be the last. i am afraid to die. this fear is internal as well: i could die at any second. i could get hit by a bus, or struck by lightening, or the world could end right now. (which is another thing: every time i hear a strange noise or a loud wind, i immediately assume its the apocalypse....i’m totally going to end up one of those people walking around wearing a sandwich board reading “the end is near.”) i’ve lost a great deal of sleep and brain cells worrying, wondering, writing out wills and trying to keep myself in a constant state of preparation. wondering what would happen if i were to die right this second, just as i am. am i right with the world? have i made the most of my 18 years? i know i haven’t. so many things left undone, unsaid, uncared for. i’m afraid that if i died right now, i’d be forced to answer for these things, and that i would come up short. because its not the actual death that frightens me to the point of nausea—its the fear of what comes after. i couldn’t have been more than 13 when my philosopher-father handed me a copy of “no exit” saying, “here, you might like this.” (this was an especially bad move considering that i am an extreme introvert, and to me, hell is other people.) i stayed up all night reading it and ever since i have been absolutely, utterly, and completely terrified of hell. i mean, i hate even being uncomfortable, much less suffering an eternal agony so terrible that my human mind can’t even begin to comprehend it! i am afraid i’ll go to hell for swearing, for not always loving my neighbor, for being queer (the latter, of course, is a whole nother article). i am afraid i’ll go to hell for doubting, for not being sure what i believe. i mean, every religion claims to be THE WAY to salvation—they can’t all be right, can they? how am i (or anyone) to know? if i do find a spiritual calm, how will i know that its the blessed assurance of being “saved,” and not just complacency? then there’s the problem of motive (i don’t think that fear of hell constitutes a good reason to believe in a god/dess). so i’m still wondering, what happens if i die right now? do i go to hell? or does god/dess give me the benefit of the doubt? these questions only bring up more questions; and even if you don manage to answer one of them, there’s no way to really be sure. you could get down on your knees, gnash your teeth, tear your hair, and scream to the heavens for a sign—all for nothing. and while i’m aware that “god is not a short-order cook,” there’s nothing more annoying than people who say “some prayers aren’t meant to be answered.” i am afraid to feel. all of this may come across as childish and angsty, but i know i’m not the only one who feels this way. everyone is uniquely ill-equipped to deal with life. i also know that while suicide might be a way of escaping all the pain and anguish (angst, angst), it might also be a way of making that despair last forever. so, here i am, trapped between the two extremes. afraid to live because it hurts, afraid to die because of the consequences. there isn’t even a conclusion for this article: it, like me, is a work in progress.
–Anne Lamott
shipwrecked & comatose
a postmodern existential thanatopsis (tee hee)
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