There are some things worse than death and they can be overcome simply by thinking about… death.
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I currently host two kinds of cancer in my 62-year-old body: prostate cancer and chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL). Of these two unwelcome hitchhikers on this road I’m traveling, the prostate cancer is the more serious.
I deal with the vicissitudes of my mortality every day, and have for most of my adult life; five other members of my immediate family have passed away because of various forms of cancer. In my case, neither cancer necessarily marks my impending doom any time soon, but I am always waiting for the 2nd (or 3rd) shoe to drop. The cancers my family members developed have been 100% fatal.
Now, you’d think that if a man in my predicament were going to wake up in the morning filled with anxiety, it would have mostly to do with his health. But that isn’t actually what fills me with the greatest fear. Quite honestly, I’ve accepted my limited time here and am quite a peace with it. After all, we are all “terminal”. It’s just a matter of when and how we exit.
Three years ago I pulled the trigger on major changes in my life, (two months prior to being diagnosed with any cancer.) I ended a 26-year marriage during which the last 11 years we were effectively roommates and therefore celibate. I ended a lucrative 18-year career as a highly regarded international technology speaker and author, because it was not feeding my soul. And I made a commitment to myself that I would no longer walk through life as a shut-down human “doing,” constantly striving for the next great achievement. Instead, I chose to live heart-open and vulnerable, in the moment. I chose to allow my human being to fully emerge.
I also chose to shift into a very different kind of work, where there was no guarantee of financial success or even of being of service in the way I truly wish to be. A whole new set of dreams and goals presented themselves to me, and I’ve been working my tail off to try to realize them in the time I have left.
What has literally scared me more than death itself and brought me a great deal of sleep-deprived anxiety is whether or not I will achieve these dreams and goals during my remaining time here.
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This morning when I woke up – a time where I often wrestle with huge anxiety – a new question bubbled up in my mind: What if I suddenly acquired yet another form of cancer? A form that is more aggressive and deadly – say in the liver, pancreas or brain? And what if my doctors told me for certain that this new cancer would take my life in about a year? My current circumstances and family history meant it was easy to really feel what that’s like, beyond the cliché.
And the funny thing is, instead of being depressed or hopeless, I suddenly felt truly light and free. Here’s why.
At some point in your life, you, too, will only have one year left. Take a moment to imagine this for yourself. You might be surprised at what shows up for you and what falls away.
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I know how to make money, lots of it. I’ve done it consistently for most of my adult life. Now, I struggle with how to do it and maintain my integrity and commitment to being fully heart-open. These two things are not mutually exclusive; I’m just still working on the details. Meanwhile, as I see my savings dwindle, doubts creep in. Will I really be able to achieve my dream of helping many people with the gifts I’ve been given while providing for myself and others financially?
Questions like these are tough to consider, especially for men of my generation, who have been encouraged to find so much of their self-worth in the world of work.
Really feeling what it would be like to know I have only 12 months on this planet made all those fears of “not making it” seem trivial. If I die early, that’s not my fault. But if I fail to achieve my dreams and goals – well, that certainly can feel like my fault, and that’s the true crux of my anxiety. I don’t want to feel the shame I imagine I’d feel.
The thought of dying early felt like a “Get out of Jail Free” card! How could I possibly blame myself for not achieving everything if my life is cut short? In that scenario, no shame would be necessary.
Thanks to this little thought experiment, I truly got how shame is a useless emotion that will never serve me. I choose to liberate myself from any stories I’ve told myself about having to achieve anything in particular in order to feel like my time on earth has been worthwhile. Now, I see how useless and self-punishing that whole trip has been. I’m letting go of it.
How I see myself as a man no longer rides on whether or not I achieve my goals during my remaining time. Sure, I’ll continue to work towards those goals with alacrity, and I suspect this new context will only help me achieve my dreams more effectively than ever – at the very least, far more enjoyably. I’ll be able to enjoy each moment along the way instead of setting myself up to fear an unforeseeable future.
This simple thought.“I have only one year left to live,” empowered me to live less anxiously and fearfully. It showed me, right away, what really mattered.
It’s part of human nature to not want to face our mortality, but the very act of doing so freed me from the clutches of self-induced fear and suffering and empowered me to live joyfully, purposefully, and in the moment, regardless of circumstances.
At some point in your life, you, too, will only have one year left.
Take a moment to imagine this for yourself. You might be surprised at what shows up for you and what falls away.
Thank you Michael for your article. It hit close to home for me as I was diagnosed with Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia (CML) last year. It wasn’t until I had to fully deal with the word “Cancer” and my own mortality, that I think I was truly able to live. As strange as this may sound, even with the hell I went through the first last 6 months, I’m thankful. Not just that the treatment seems to be working, but this whole ordeal is partly a blessing in disguise. I lost a very close friend last year, and one of the… Read more »
Some people, probably most people, don’t have a mission to accomplish or to abandon. They just don’t want to die. That’s what doctors are responding to when they try to extend life as long as possible. I remember when my son was dying of cancer (see “My Son Died” on this site) there was a doctor at Yale Medical Center promoting the idea that a positive attitude could cure cancer. Did that make people who were not cured feel guilty that they were not positive enough? I think he did more harm than good. Something about your experience with impending… Read more »
I too am coping with dancer (glialblastoma), one which will probably kill me within a year or two. I to do not fear death as much as I fear not living fully in the time left to me. My problem is this. I find myself entrapped in a medical system does not respect my priorities or offer me choices that might offer me a more satisfying end of life. I am in the hands of oncologists whose only goal is keeping me alive as long as possible, no matter the consequences for my quality of life. For me, those consequences,… Read more »