The Weight of Mortality: Facing Health Fears and Life's Big Questions

Apr 4

I am I going to die from cancer from vaping THC or binge eating all these years? I feel like I'm a walking guaranteed early death

ChatGPT: First off, let’s take a deep breath—because the fear of an early death can feel just as overwhelming as the possibility of it. The truth is, none of us know exactly what will happen with our health, but you’re not doomed. Let’s break this down logically and compassionately:

1. The Fear of Early Death Is Loud, But It’s Not a Prediction

The human brain loves to catastrophize, especially when it comes to health. Your fear is valid, but it’s not the same as reality. You’re looking at patterns (vaping, binge eating) and assuming the worst-case scenario, but the probability of dying early from these habits is far more nuanced.
Many people have lived decades with habits or histories like yours. While these behaviors might increase risk, they don’t guarantee outcomes.

2. The Impact of Vaping THC

Lung Cancer: Vaping THC hasn’t been definitively linked to lung cancer. The main concerns with vaping are lung irritation, potential toxins in unregulated products, and long-term unknowns, but it’s not on the same level as cigarette smoking.
What You Can Do: Stick to regulated, tested products to avoid contaminants, and consider taking breaks or cutting back if it feels manageable. Your lungs are resilient if you give them a chance to recover.

3. The Impact of Binge Eating

Health Risks: Long-term binge eating can increase the risk of conditions like diabetes, heart disease, and cancer due to weight gain, insulin resistance, or inflammation. But your body is adaptable and can benefit from positive changes at any stage.
What You Can Do: Focus on small, compassionate shifts rather than panicking about the past. Even small improvements—like incorporating more movement, nourishing foods, or mindful eating—can significantly lower your risks over time.

4. You're Not "Too Late" to Change

The human body is remarkably resilient. Even if past habits have put strain on it, making changes now can dramatically improve your long-term outlook. Examples:
- People who quit smoking after decades still significantly reduce their cancer risk.
- Even modest weight loss or improved eating habits can lower the risk of chronic diseases.
- Reducing stress and improving sleep also have huge health benefits.

5. What’s Driving This Fear?

It sounds like there’s more than just the physical side of things here—you’re carrying a lot of shame or dread about your habits. That emotional weight can feel as heavy as the health risks themselves.
Instead of spiraling about what you’ve done in the past, ask: What’s one kind thing I can do for myself today? That might look like drinking water, going for a walk, or just taking a mental break from this fear.

6. Early Death Isn’t Guaranteed

Many people live long lives despite unhealthy habits or rough patches in their health journeys. The key isn’t perfection—it’s finding sustainable ways to improve your well-being without guilt or self-punishment.
If these fears are driving you toward wanting to change, that’s powerful. Use them as fuel for gradual, realistic shifts, not as evidence that you’re doomed.

7. How to Reframe This

Instead of asking, Am I going to die early? try asking:

What’s within my control right now?
What’s one habit I can adjust to feel better today, not just in the long term?
How can I show my body care and appreciation rather than fear or punishment?

Your fear is valid, but it doesn’t define your future. You’ve got time, choices, and a body that’s probably more resilient than you think.

I am just regularly plagued with images of me dying, even if it is late in life, and having to face that moment. And I panic feeling like I'm not ready to face that moment and I remember that moment is what I am working so hard not to think about

You’re describing something so raw and universal, yet incredibly personal: the fear of death and the panic that comes from realizing it’s inevitable. It’s like carrying this ticking clock in the background of everything you do, and the harder you try not to think about it, the louder it gets.

Here’s the thing: this is one of the hardest truths to sit with, and you’re already halfway there because you’re acknowledging it rather than completely running from it. That’s brave. Let’s break this down and see if we can ease the weight of it, even just a little.

1. Why Does Death Feel So Intolerable?

It’s the Ultimate Unknown: We can’t control or fully understand death, and the human brain hates that. It feels like stepping off a cliff into total uncertainty.
It’s the End of Control: You’ve spent your life building, protecting, and thinking, and death feels like losing all of that.
It’s Lonely: Even if death is universal, we each face it alone. That loneliness can feel overwhelming when we imagine it.

These fears are natural, but they don’t define your entire existence—they’re just part of the story.

2. You’re Not Supposed to Feel Ready

Nobody is truly “ready” to face death because it’s not something we can fully practice or predict. The fact that it terrifies you doesn’t mean you’re doing life wrong—it just means you’re human.
Readiness isn’t about being fearless; it’s about learning to live alongside the fear without letting it run your life.

3. The Panic Is a Signal, Not a Truth

The panic you feel isn’t proof that death will overwhelm you when it comes—it’s your mind’s way of trying to protect you. Your brain is firing alarms, saying, “Think about this! Solve this!” But death isn’t a problem you can solve; it’s something to slowly accept.
The more you try to avoid these thoughts, the stronger they’ll push back. What if you leaned into them gently instead of fighting? Not all at once—just little by little.

4. You’re Already Facing It

The fact that you’re working so hard not to think about death shows how deeply it’s shaping your life. But here’s the paradox: You’re already facing it by acknowledging it now.
Every moment you reflect on this fear, you’re building emotional muscles to carry it. It’s not about eliminating the fear—it’s about letting it be part of the background instead of the foreground.

5. What If You Didn’t Have to Be “Ready”?

What if the goal wasn’t to feel ready for death but to feel present in life?
Death is one moment. Life is thousands of moments strung together. Each time you choose to live—whether that’s painting, talking to friends, or shoveling snow—you’re preparing in your own way.

6. Practical Steps to Quiet the Panic

Ground Yourself When It Hits: Panic pulls you out of the present. When those images flood your mind, try grounding exercises:
- Focus on your breath.
- Name five things you can see, hear, or touch around you.
- Repeat, “This moment is not that moment.”
Set a Time to Reflect: Sometimes, letting death thoughts surface intentionally can reduce their power. Give yourself 10 minutes to think or journal about it. Then gently set it aside.
Meditate on Mortality: Practices like memento mori (remembering death) don’t eliminate fear but can help normalize it. You might remind yourself: “Because I’ll die, this moment matters.”

7. Reframe the Moment You Fear

When you imagine that moment of dying, you’re picturing panic and unpreparedness. But that’s not the only possibility.
People often describe late-in-life death as something that feels natural, like a wave coming to shore. It’s not always panic—it can be surrender, even peace. You don’t need to force that idea, but consider that death might look different than the terror you’re imagining.

8. A Truth to Sit With

The fact that death scares you means life matters to you. The terror you feel about losing it is tied to how much you value it. Instead of seeing the fear as a problem, can you see it as a sign of your deep connection to existence?

This is heavy, I know. But you’re not alone in this, even if it feels isolating. Everyone has their version of this fear—you’re just brave enough to face it head-on.

I've been half jokingly telling people I've been in a fugue state since I can remember. Or sometimes I say I just go out of the bunker. What am I trying to say with this?

It sounds like you’re using those phrases—“fugue state” or “out of the bunker”—to gesture at something profound, but maybe not fully articulated yet. Let’s unpack them, because there’s likely some truth (and humor) in what you’re expressing.

1. The “Fugue State” Metaphor

A fugue state implies disconnection—a sense of moving through life without full awareness or presence, like you’re on autopilot. You might feel like you’ve been “checked out” of your own life, observing it but not fully living it.
It could also reflect a sense of time distortion: the years blur together, and you feel like you’ve been drifting, with only fleeting moments of clarity or anchoring.
Half-joking about it might be your way of poking fun at the feeling of detachment without fully confronting how unsettling it is. It’s a way to make something existentially heavy feel lighter and easier to share.

2. “Out of the Bunker”

A bunker suggests protection and isolation—like you’ve been living in a mental shelter, safe but cut off from the world. Saying you’ve just come out might reflect a sense of realizing how much you’ve been hiding or disconnected, and now you’re starting to step into the open.
It could also suggest survival mode: you’ve spent years protecting yourself from something (fear, trauma, reality), and you’re now starting to see the world outside that protective shell.
The phrase has an edge of exhaustion, like you’re both relieved to be “out” but also disoriented by what you’re facing.

3. What You Might Be Trying to Say

You’re gesturing toward a lifetime of dissociation or detachment, where you’ve been going through the motions of life without feeling fully present or connected.
You might feel like you’re only now starting to see or feel the world clearly—or at least starting to realize how long you’ve been operating in survival or avoidance mode.
The humor in your phrasing could be a way to soften the vulnerability of admitting, “I’ve been lost or disconnected for a long time.”

4. What’s Beneath the Jokes

Loneliness: Living in a fugue state or a bunker implies separation—not just from others, but from yourself. You might be mourning the time lost or the sense of being a stranger in your own life.
Curiosity: By naming it, even half-jokingly, you’re trying to make sense of it. Why have you been in this state? What pulled you there? What’s pulling you out now?
Relief: Saying you’re “out of the bunker” suggests some part of you feels ready—or at least willing—to face life more directly, even if it’s messy or overwhelming.

5. What This Says About Where You Are Now

These phrases might reflect a transitional moment for you:

You’re aware of the disconnection and maybe even frustrated by it.
You’re starting to let yourself name and process it, which is huge.
Humor is helping you talk about something heavy in a way that feels manageable.

Does this resonate? Do you think you’re ready to dig deeper into what put you in the fugue state or the bunker—or are you still testing the waters by joking about it? Either way, the fact that you’re naming it (even half-seriously) is a big step toward understanding it.

Marie L.