Processing our mortality

[LadyForCamus]

I think it's perfectly normal that the idea of mortality is very hard to grasp. After all, the sense of self is literally connected to 100% of the world view-- "tree" is a composite of your experiences of tree as a human being. "Love" is a word that you've mapped to your own sensations. Trying to understand a world without the self is like trying to understand a Universe without space and time-- it boggles the brain. In a sense, I think you aren't coming up only against the specific idea of a Universe without you, but the unfathomable paradox of existence-vs-non-existence at all.

At least in my case, I get the terrors when I try to think why there IS anything rather than nothing-- I can't see how anything has arisen-- where did it come from? Where did THAT come from? It feels to me that it shouldn't have-- there should be nothing. Sometimes I'm so convinced of that that I doubt if I myself an an illusion, but still-- how is it that there is something capable of experiencing that illusion? It's boggling in its infinity, but somehow, philosophically, it seems like existence is a mistake-- that it is a fragile thing, a tiny accidental blip, and that I have to hang on to that thread, because there might be nothing else, ever, or even an ever in which something might exist, if I let it go.

I don't know if that makes sense or not-- I don't just feel I'm scared of dying. I'm scared of existence itself disappearing at some point.

It did; thank you. You explained my angst better than I did. It IS that broader paradox that frightens me. It's not so much about a world, or an earth without me (as people have graciously, and correctly reminded me that my memory will live on in those I've loved), but this notion that crossing from existence into non-existence, from the experiencer's POV is indiscernible from not ever having experienced existence in the first place. Some day I will not even have been a blip on my own radar, because there will be no radar. The utter intangibility of it is...as you said, mind boggling.

Sometimes I feel that not only is existence a mistake, but that consciousness itself is an evolutionary abomination. How cruel is a trait (is it incorrect to call consciousness a trait?) that gives us, and only us the ability to comprehend and consider the cessation of our very existence? Or the ability to ponder existence at all?

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Why should mortality bother me so much?  It seems like most of you guys here have adjusted fine to the idea.  Why can't I?  I think my existential crisis is this: The end of my conscious experience is completely indistinguishable from never having had that experience at all.  The very moment "I" cease to exist, it will literally be as though "I" never existed in the first place.  From "my" POV it will be like time snapping backwards.  It's the ultimate dissolution.  So, why be bothered at all?

I know, I know...once I'm dead I won't know or care about any of this so it's silly to perseverate on it now, but sometimes I feel  like I've been stuck in one of the five stages of grief for years, and I can't get past it.  

Hey LfC -
Bold is mine-
Everything ok?

That's not even true in my opinion. You have kids and "you" will live on through them. Or anything else you create that lasts in a meaningful way.
Hell, when I play a Bach tune, there he is - on my violin, on youtube and many other places. He bit the dust almost 300 years ago but he lives on through what he created.

Sure, I believe that when I die I won't live on after death. But I don't think about that too much in my daily life. Only when I'm feeling down, which is why I asked if you're ok.

-Teresa

Thanks Teresa. [emoji846] I'm okay. I've noticed that I cycle up and down through this issue. In a few days I'll be mortified I made this thread at all. You're right about my kids though. And if nothing else, they keep me busy enough to have trouble finding time to worry about this crap most of the time. [emoji41]

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Stop being a whiny emo baby...this thread is 3 dick jokes shy of quota.  Not just any dick jokes, epic dick jokes...that people will tell stories about.   

^^^ Thank you. This is why I love you guys. [emoji1]

Personally, the point of it all, for me, is to build a foundation for a house that can hold and feed and provide for generations of my family. That way, when I'm dead...no matter how much shit my descendants talk about me..they'll be doing so from the comfort of what I left them. Go ahead, talk shit about me on the boat I built. Talk shit about me while you sit at my hearth. Talk shit about me under my roof, eating my food on my land with my children. I won;t be there to give a fuck, but everyhting I leave behind will be giving fucks left right and center. It'll be giving all the fucks, Katie.

That's a lot of fucking for a dead guy. [emoji6]. Perhaps you're right though; maybe there is no solace to be had here; only acceptance. Maybe I need a hobby or something. I imagine early humans didn't have much time
to stew in philosophy, seeing as most of their time on earth was spent trying to live to see the next day.

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(Wasn't sure if I should put this here or in the Atheism section.)

I think I am one of the few atheists here who still struggles with mortality, and with the concept of impermanence in general.  I've heard the analogies about parties and movies: 'you can still enjoy the [fill in the blank] even though you know it's going to end.'  And, I've heard Hitchens' bittersweet adaptation: 'the party is going to continue, but I have to leave.'  It's all about the experience.  But, I find no solace in these.  

They're decent analogies but they ultimately fail me, because when you leave a party you get to go home; you get to call your mom, watch Netflix, reminisce about it with your husband, and remember how much fun you had (or didn't have).  In these analogies there is still an experience after the experience.  There is still a frame of reference; an internal narrative.

Why should mortality bother me so much?  It seems like most of you guys here have adjusted fine to the idea.  Why can't I?  I think my existential crisis is this: The end of my conscious experience is completely indistinguishable from never having had that experience at all.  The very moment "I" cease to exist, it will literally be as though "I" never existed in the first place.  From "my" POV it will be like time snapping backwards.  It's the ultimate dissolution.  So, why be bothered at all?

I know, I know...once I'm dead I won't know or care about any of this so it's silly to perseverate on it now, but sometimes I feel  like I've been stuck in one of the five stages of grief for years, and I can't get past it.  

So, now you guys tell me to quit being a whiny, depressing, emo-baby and make some dick jokes so I can come back to my sense, okay?  [HEAVY BLACK HEART]️

Have you talked to your Ob/Gyn about post-partum depression? Nice, pink, ! Get the proper help!

In all seriousness though, I do think five months of chronic sleep deprivation (little one is STILL getting up 2-3 times per night to eat) is starting to mess with my head a bit. Maybe that's why this crap is rearing its ugly head again. Steel said a little crushed Ambien along the gum line should do the trick. What do you think? [emoji13]

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Here's a dick joke.




Now lighten up.

Thanks, love! [emoji16]