Thanatophobia infographic

In 2010, I created a Facebook support group for sufferers of thanatophobia (the fear of death). Managing this account can at times be stressful and difficult, but it is always rewarding - especially when someone tells me how much the group I created helped them.

A lot of questions get asked by newcomers to the group, as they struggle to learn if they are alone in the way they feel. With that in mind, I created a survey for members of the thanatophobia support group to take.

When more than 100 people responded, the only way to extract the complete data set was to pay, but the lovely members of the support group chipped in to raise the money to access the survey responses.

I have interrogated that data and designed this infographic to display, at a glance, some key facts about thanatophobia.

As I work in data analysis, I believe all of these results to be statistically significant, with the caveat that it is true of people who admit their phobia and seek help on the internet / Facebook.

For a high-quality version of this infographic, please follow this link: http://imgur.com/zDjCTjQ

Please note: You must credit SAMawdsley.blogspot.com if you reproduce this infographic.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

How to save a life

Oh picture it a little girl just a beautiful eight year old
Trying to live through this life in a crazy world
Years past and one bad move
She finds herself as a teen and her life in ruins
What could have happened if we stopped and took the time
Showed that girl she had meaning and a purpose to life
Maybe avoid that downward slide
Would you tell her the truth?
Or let her live in a lie? 

It all just seems to change
When you see it as a life to save 

So would you save a life, save a life?
If it was do or die
Would you save a soul, save a soul?
Even if it's not your own?
If you're the hands and the arms that reach
Would you save a life from drowning?

-Manic Drive 

I saw her as soon as I walked out of the front door at work. She was young, tiny and skittish. She should not have been out this late on her own. I was on my way from the closing shift at the pub and I had a friend walking me home. She swung around at the sound of our voices, but hurriedly turned away and kept walking. I fell in step behind her and she stole a look, eyes wide and fearful.

"Are you ok?" I asked gently.

"Yes, thank you." And she turned around. Please don't talk to me.

She crossed to the other side of the road. Please don't follow me.

My friend suspected drugs. I suspected mental health problems. Naive? Maybe.

I watched her - tugging at the arms of her jacket - feeling suffocated by her headphones - searching wildly for a direction to walk in.

"Excuse me, can you please tell me where I am?" Not a normal question. I crossed to her side of the road.

"You're in Harrow. Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yes." No.

"Where are you trying to get to?"

"I don't know."

"Well how about a train station? I can get you to a train station. You can walk with us."

I was offering a crust of bread to a small, frightened animal - and hunger got the better of her.

"Yes, please. Are you sure?"

"Of course. What's happened? Why don't you know where you are?"

"I ran away."

"Where from?"

"A & E."

"Why were you there?"

"... I cut myself."

"Oh... I used to cut myself too."

Her eyes snapped up to mine. Searching. She's lying.

"Thank you for not being judgemental."

"Of course I wouldn't judge you. Yeah, I used to cut my wrists. Just to feel something. What did you cut?"

"My arms."

"When?"

"About an hour ago."

"Can I see?"

No.

"Please? I just want to make sure you're ok."

She peels her jacket back. Blood is trickling down her fingers. I see scratches. Shallow, angry, red scratches. There is a tattoo on her wrist and it looks like she has been trying to erase it with something sharp (A protractor? Maybe that was just me.) She will feel a tight burning sensation there - I remember that feeling.

She turns her arms over.

Oh, that's where the blood has been coming from. I can see muscle. Clean slices, inches long, expose her flesh and her pain is oozing from the gaping wounds.

I don't react. Not with my face.

"You need to get those wounds stitched, sweetie." I don't know her name. "Please let me take you to the hospital."

"No, I'm fine. I don't want to go back."
Don't push it. Move on.

"Who was there with you? Didn't you have friends or family with you?"

Friends? Family? "No, they wouldn't let anybody from the ward come over with me."

"The ward?"

"I was on the mental health ward. They were taking me across to A & E but I ran. I don't know why."

"Well we need to get you back - just for the wounds. They're too deep. They won't heal on their own." I don't even know which wounds I am talking about.

"Please, no. I can't go back."

Don't push it. Move on.

"Why not?"

"I've been there for 11 weeks. Some of them are nice, but not all of them."

"Did someone there hurt you?"

"No." I don't know if she's telling me the truth. I've believed everything she's told me but I don't know if this is true.

A police car cruises past. She ducks behind me and emerges on my other side.

"They're looking for me."

"Who?"

Everybody. Nobody. "The police."

"Why?"

"Because I ran away." Are you even listening?

I don't think anyone is looking for her. And that's a reflection on them, not her. She ran. They had one less patient to tend to.

Don't push it. Move on.

"Where are you going to go then?"

"I don't know." She looks up at me. Her eyes search mine. I don't know what she's looking for but she finds it there. "Don't judge me, but I want to jump in front of a train."

I don't react. Not with my face. Again.

"Sweetie, no." I still don't know her name.

"Why not?"

"Because I've been there. I tried. I understand. But if my family & friends let me do it, I wouldn't be here now."

I want to tell her if someone saved me one day when I was alone, my dad would be more grateful than words could express. I wanted to ask her to let me save her - on behalf of someone who loves her very much. But there didn't seem to be a someone.

I tell her about my own suicidal period. She tells me she's glad I'm still here. I tell her I am too. And one day she will feel the same about herself.

"Isn't that the train station there?" Why are we walking past it?

She noticed.

"I can't let you go. I have to take you to the hospital. I promise I'll stay with you." I mean it. "We'll just get your wounds tended to and then we'll leave."

"They won't let me back out. I'll be put back on the ward."

"I'll ask if you can be released back into my care." I don't know if I mean it. I just want her to stop bleeding.

"They won't let you."

"You have to get those wounds closed, sweetie. Please?"

She looks at me again - eyes searching. Is she trying to get rid of me? Or help me?

Don't push it. Move on.

"C'mon, sweetie." I smile and start walking towards the hospital.

It works and she comes with me.

"What is your name?" my friend asks. I've forgotten he is even there.

"Sam."

Now it's my turn to swing around. I stare at her. Why would she lie?

"My name is Sam too!" It's the first time I can remember introducing myself as Sam instead of Samantha.

For a moment we giggle and share this moment. It's like we're having a normal conversation on a normal street. We forget that I am a stranger trying to convince a suicidal runaway from a mental hospital to return to care.

A door slams and she jumps. The moment is lost.

"It's not the police. It's ok. Besides, they're looking for one girl - on her own. You're with us. You're not on your own anymore."

She believes me and looks visibly relieved. She's right. The cops won't find me now.

She looks up at me and smiles. It's a wary, untrusting smile. A jolt runs through me. I realise I read her wrong. She's right. I'm not alone.

She starts telling me about her sister. She died three years ago during an epileptic fit.

I don't know what to say. I ask if this set off her troubles. She says they started before that.

It was the wrong question.

Suddenly she stiffens and stops walking.

"I can't!"

I look up. If we turn this last corner we're at the hospital.

"Please, Sam. You need to get the wounds closed." Which wounds?

She runs across the road to the island in the middle. Her run is stiff and looks painful. She's not going to outrun me. But I'm not going to drag her either.

She turns to face me.

"Please, you don't need to worry about me. I'm fine. I'll go to a friend's house."

"Which friend? I'll come with you. Let me get you somewhere safely. You tell me which friend and I'll take you there."

She looks at her phone. I can see her scrolling through contacts.

"I don't know anyone who will be awake now." The saddest voice. The saddest lie. I don't know anyone who will care.

I don't know if she's right. I hope she's not. But either way, she has nowhere to go.

Then a car comes speeding towards us. She slowly starts back-peddling towards the road.

The train.

She's going to jump.

I can't remember the question I asked her, but she stopped and looked at me. The car passes safely behind her.

She turns and limps across the road.

"Please don't follow me."

"I'm not. I'm coming with you. It's that simple."

She turns and looks at me. Why aren't you going away? I'm pushing. Just leave.

She tries to run. I grab her with one arm and pull her to face me.

"Sam. I'm not letting you go. Please let me help you. I want to take you to the hospital. I can't make you, but I can stay with you. Please."

"No, you don't need to get involved."

"I know how it feels to see no other way but you need to believe me. You aren't meant to feel like that. Let them help you. Let me help you."

I see a car pull up on the other side of the road. It's a police car. I reach an arm out to block her exit - just as she sees the car too. As she looks over, police officers are emerging from the car.

She turns to run - right into my arm. I swing her into me and hold her - careful not to hurt her forearm.

"Nooooooooo."

"Please! Help her! Help me! Help!"

"Nooooooooo."

The way I'm holding her is more like a hug and she is forcing herself deeper into my chest, falling into my embrace. The cops are vaulting the fence now. She realises she's not going anywhere and stops fighting. Now she is hugging me. I hug her back, so tightly. My hand cradles her head. I'm crying.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Sam."

The officers pull her from my arms but she is holding on to me. I don't let go of her either.

"We've got her. We've found her." The officer is radioing his colleagues. He radios our location. They were looking for her after all. I'm glad.
She screams. They've grabbed her arm - the wounds. The congealed blood falls away and the wounds reopen with venom.

"Stop! Her arms! Be gentle! She's not running, let her go!"

The officers instruct her to roll back her sleeve. I help her as she winces. Another officer dives in with a medical kit. I help Sam to the ground. He winds a thick bandage around the first part of her arm.

"You. Hold this." he barks, placing my hand on hers, holding a bandage in place.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry." I'm still crying.

I can't see her. She's hidden by her hair and has slumped. 

I look up. We are surrounded by at least seven emergency vehicles. Cops are diverting traffic. About 20 people are surrounding us.

But I am here for Sam. I promised.

Her phone and headphones are in the way. I pull them off. It's an iPhone. She had her iPod playing and the last song's album cover art is on the lockscreen.

"Walk through the Fire" - Buffy the musical.

Who is this girl? What 18 year old listens to the Buffy soundtrack? I can't let her go.

"I am putting my number in your phone."

I try. She has a password on it.

"Sam, what is your password?"

She gives it to me. No pause. She just gives it to me.

They start to bundle her up and move towards the back of one of the police vans.

"Can she come with me?" She reaches towards me.

The officers look at me. I promised her I would stay with her.

They ask Tanya, a social worker.

"Are you her friend?"

Sam is right behind me, two cops helping her into the van. She's co-operating.

I look the social worker straight in the eye.

"Yes."

They put me in the middle part of the police van.  I have her bag over my shoulder. They open the door between us so I can hold her hand.
I see the tattoo on her wrist again.
"What does that say?" I can't make it out through all the deep, red scratches.
"Stay Strong."

We drive to the hospital and I walk with her to the emergency ward.

She is put straight onto the nearest bed.

They close the curtain between us. I need to pee. But I don't move. I take a few steps towards a sink. I need to wash her blood off my hands. But I can't leave her. Even though she can't see me. I promised.

A cop comes to talk to me. He asks me if Sam called me. Did I come to pick her up? I shake my head.

"I only met her tonight."

He asks me the same question rephrased a few different ways. He can't comprehend why I was with her - why I had walked so far and for so long with her?

"Because I've been there."

I ask him if I have to leave and he says no. Then I plead with him - when the time comes that I have to leave her, please make sure she knows I'm being told to go by the hospital or the police. Don't let her think I've abandoned her. He smiles and says he will.

A nurse follows him. She asks me to sign her mental health sanction papers. I do. Under relation, I put friend. I don't know why I don't own up to not knowing her, but I don't.

They leave me. My friend is still with me. I hadn't really noticed.

I realise I still have her bag on my shoulder. It's so light. What does someone like her have in her bag? I want to know who she is and I'm ashamed to admit it, but I looked.

Her phone. A red lipstick. A ventalin spray.

I see a bundled up wad of paper. It looks old. It's a folded up booklet.

I flip it to see the cover. A cry is choked in my throat.

Her sister's funeral booklet. It's from early 2010. It's dog eared and dirty. She has carried it with her everywhere. For three years. Since she was 15.

"Ok, Sam. We're going to have to take you back to the ward now."

I bury the booklet back in her back and arrange my face into a smile.

She comes around the curtain and her face is shocked. She's still here. Why hasn't she left me?

"I promised you I would stay."

I reach out and she falls under my arm. The police officer lets me walk with her to the ambulance that will transfer her back to the mental health unit.

I hold my arm around her. I am trying to make her feel safe. But I am also making sure she doesn't run again.

It's not an ambulance. It's the police van again. My heart sinks. They bundle her into the back again.

I go to make my way to the middle section again but the door is slammed before I get there.

A nurse tells me they have my details and will call me to update me on her condition. Ok.

She tells me I can then advise the rest of her family on her situation. Oh no.

I confess. I only just met her tonight!

She looks at me and then looks at the paperwork. I don't know if she's annoyed or confused. Maybe both.

"Well we have your phone number. If she wants to contact you, we can give it to her."

I tell her to remind Sam I put my number in her phone.

I stand there, stunned. I didn't get to say goodbye.

Then a police officer comes around the back of the van.

"She's asking for you."

And he slides the door open.

I dive in and wrap my arms around her.

"I can't go any further with you. I'm sorry. I just wanted to help you. You'll get better. And when you do, you'll realise how wonderful it is to be here, I promise." I kiss her on the forehead. "Now promise me you will get better."

She looks at me and smiles.

I hold her cheek in my hand.

"You're very brave."

The door between us slams shut and the police van takes her away. She's alone again.

And I break down. Sharp wracking sobs rip through me until my chest hurts.

I wail about being 18. And her name being Sam. And Buffy. And losing her sister at 15. None of it makes sense, but I can't stop crying all the same.

We can't get back inside the hospital. Staff only entrance. So we walk down the hospital ramp.

Suddenly my phone rings. The nice police officer offers us a lift home.

I gladly accept.

At my door he shakes my hand. He promises to come into our pub soon. I hope he does.  He tells me I did something very few other people would do. This breaks my heart.

It's 2am. I collapse into bed, sobbing. I look down and realise I have Sam's blood on my shirt.

A few minutes later, I received a text message.

Dad told me that I may not be able to save her. But I gave her one more day. One more chance. And all I can do is hope that it's enough. And one day, we can look back on how we met and where she is now - and we will both be thankful for it.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

UPDATE: She texted me telling me she is feeling better today. I am hoping to get up to the ward to visit her soon.

Saying goodbye.

"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
~Annie

I leave for the UK in barely over a week. I will be gone for at least four months. So I have to say goodbye to a number of people. But goodbye seems so final, so inflexible. So one thing I make a point of when bidding farewell to people I know and love is to always say "see you later." If you know me in real life, it might be something you've noticed. And if you haven't, you probably will now.

I do this because I need that person to know I want to see them again. It is more a promise than anything else. Maybe a request or even a demand. And I do this fully expecting to actually see that person again.

I have said 'goodbye' twice, knowing full well it would be the last time I saw that person. They knew it too. One was my 80+ grandfather. The other was a two and a half day old baby. There was tears, heartache and a most surreal type of grief. It is something I wouldn't wish upon anyone, though I know it to be a stark reality of life.

But how do you word your goodbye when there is hope but you still know it may very well be the last time you ever see that person?

"Fare thee well! and if for ever,

Still for ever, fare thee well."
~Lord Byron

Tomorrow, I have to say goodbye to someone I know and have come to love and expect to be in my life. While I hope upon hope that it isn't the case, it is quite possible this person may pass away while I am overseas. I am devastated at the lack of support and hands on care I can offer. Together we fought this situation over the last year and we were told it was beat. And we rejoiced. But now, barely a week before I leave, we have been dealt the harshest of blows and the fight is back on. This time, with one less person to carry the burden.

A kind word and wishes for a speedy recovery mean a lot. Sitting by a hospital bed and being the smiling to face the greet the emergence from an anaesthesia means a lot more. I considered staying but it has been expressly forbade. Saying 'goodbye' is my only option.

But I've thought about it and I think the best thing I can do is to stay true to myself. Tomorrow I will say "see you later".

I request to see you later.

I demand to see you later.

I promise to see you later.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions

• Have you ever had to say 'goodbye'?

#WBFM Are dogs really man's best friend?

Do you remember in high school when you got an assignment and you would scan the task sheet for the essay topic? If it was hard you would feel yourself drown in a pit of despair. If it was easy, you would casually drop it in the bottom of your school bag to be completely ignored until the night before the due date. Come to think of it, that's what I did even if it was hard. Maybe that's just me. But this little task comes courtesy of one of the sweetest benefactors of my campaign, MK13.

Well this topic for my #WBFM campaign (which you can still donate towards) isn't either of the those things. It's a little bit painful for me actually. My family has always had two pet dogs (with occasional weeks of having one dog). In fact, this is the first time in my life we haven't had any dogs. Dogs are awesome. Our main reason for owning dogs was the security. Not that any of the dogs we've owned have been terrific guard dogs. The best one we had was Sasha, a poodle x cattle dog who would bark incessantly at any stranger but would do so while backing up and remaining a few metres away. For that purpose, we could have got an alarm system. Or a 6' razor wire fence. The dogs were of course wonderful company who we loved dearly but as far as best friends go? No. No, not really.

Well in 2006, for the first time ever, I got my own dog. I wanted my very own pure bread tri colour beagle. I had saved up a lot of money to buy a Mini and I had a little bit left over. I decided I wanted a little boy puppy and found a breeder. My best friend and I drove out on Valentine's Day and I had my pick of the litter. But instead of the little boy puppy I had wanted, I fell in love with a gorgeous little girl. She rode home on Jess' lap and on the drive home, I decided to name her Luna.

Luna and I were inseparable. I took her everywhere I could. She would sit on the passenger seat of my Mini and we would listen to Michael Buble on the old school tape deck. I would sit on my back step and she would come bolting towards me and just leap, with absolute faith that I would catch her so she could settle into my lap (see photo). I bought her everything she needed in red - collar, leash, bowl, toys. She had a little bunny that she absolutely loved. I would even take her with me to Hervey Bay - a five hour trip one way in my Mini and she would sit patiently, even as a little puppy and watch the world go by. I would talk to her or I'd sing and sometimes, when we got settled on the highway, she would crawl over on to my lap.

I may make this sound like a long time but it really was only the space of twelve weeks. Because one day, she slipped out of the fence and was hit by a car. She didn't survive. I was at work. When I got home, I walked into the garage where Dad was and asked him where Luna was. The look on his face. I couldn't describe it but I know he spent the whole day dreading me coming home. I collapsed. I literally collapsed. I screamed. I howled. I became so hysterical that I became allergic to my own tears and my whole face swelled up. The only other time this happened was when my uncle died. I don't remember a lot of the time after this. I have a vague memory of sobbing in my work lunch room. I thought things I'm not proud of and showed weaknesses I wish I didn't have.

She was everything to me and I had so carefully thought about what my life would be like with Luna. I would have her when I got married. My children would have her as their first pet. She would grow up with them. I would always need to live where I had a yard for her. I made those decisions and was prepared for them. But it never happened. She would have been six now. And while I have a best friend, a best friend #2 and a best friend #3, Luna would still be a special kind of best friend. She would always be there for me and I would always be there for her. It's a different kind of reciprocal friendship to my human friends but I can't deny, Luna was one of the best friends I have ever had. When I get back from England, I plan to try again and find myself a new furry best friend, but there will never be another Luna.

Miss SAMawdsley xx


Questions

• Do you think dogs can be man's best friend?
• What was the best dog you ever had?
• Do you prefer cats or dogs?

Just because...

Because I am tired.

Because every day I live is a hellish nightmare full of constant thoughts of death.

Because, believe it or not, sometimes it sucks to have everyone think you're wonderful.

Because if people expected nothing from me, anything I gave would be good enough.

Because I am so terrible at the art of self-soothing.

Because I'm not perfect but it's not for lack of trying.

Because just knowing the words to 'Defying Gravity' doesn't mean I can sing it.

Because I can't turn off my emotions.

Because if I drag my own sunshine out of my life, it is so exhausting trying to light it back up.

Because I enjoy attention, just like most people, but I feel like I am hated for it.

Because I am always there for everybody and I genuinely care.

Because when someone is there for me, I have trouble believing they genuinely care.

Because I am my own worst enemy.

Because my paranoia is exhausting.

Because I wake up screaming in the middle of the night.

Because my own thoughts and emotions contradict themselves.

Because my hands are always cold.

Because there are days when I hate myself.

Because there are days when I despise myself.

Because there are days when I loathe myself.

Because I can try to walk through a door and end up walking into a wall.

Because the touch of someone I love can burn like 1,000 fires.

Because my heart can't decide what it wants and yet it wants whatever that is so badly it hurts.

Because no matter how hard I try, I just can't cook.

Because my anger is intense, irrational and fleeting but by the time it passes, my pride is too stubborn to let it go.

Because people think I'm so good and sweet that I am not allowed to have moments of self-pitying.

Because sometimes I want to cut my own heart out and just hand it over to people who think I don't feel how they hurt it anyway.

Because I think every bit of pain, misery and suffering is my fault and if I can't determine how I caused it, then I blame myself for being so selfish.

Because being bullied has made me so insecure and I end up second guessing myself constantly.

Because I can't take a compliment truly to heart as I am always sure there are ulterior motives.

Because there are times when I feel like a human punchline.

Because I've been lied to and treated like I don't matter.

Because sometimes I can't handle the truth.

Because sometimes I really don't matter.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• Do you ever have days like these? Have a rant! Share what it is that makes you sad... Real, imaginary, stupid, legitimate... go for it!

My tea party funeral

I went to a funeral today. If you've ever read my blog, you'll know I have thanatophobia (fear of death). My aunty expected me not to come but I always feel I should honour the life of someone I knew & loved, even if it makes me terribly uneasy.

On the way to the funeral, I had a chat to Dad about our funerals. The funny thing is we would be the one to organise the other's funeral if we died any time soon. I have ideas about what I would do for Dad & I shared those with him. His idea for his own funeral was a big football game that all attendees have to play! But I was also curious what he would do for me.

He said he would bury me dressed like Alice in Wonderland. That made me so happy! I'd never considered what I would wear, I guess I just thought a pretty dress but with this idea, I imagined, rather than being buried, I would be tumbling down a rabbit hole & this thought made me smile. I actually find this thought comforts me!

Goodbye...

Music wise, he would play 'You'll never walk alone' by Gerry & The Pacemakers. It's the Liverpool anthem, it was sung at my grandfather's funeral & it will be sung at my dad's, my brother's and my funeral too. I don't know what other songs Dad would pick.

Dad told me he would, rather than have a traditional wake, have everyone attend a Mad Hatter's Tea Party. I could just imagine all the people I love best gathered together eating scones & drinking tea from mismatched tea cups - sharing (hopefully fond) memories of me.

I asked Dad if he could invite my Twitter followers. That may sound weird, but when ever I feel alone, I remember I have a stack of people who enjoy my "company" - even if it is on the Internet. And if they felt they would like to attend to say goodbye to me, I would love them to do so.

One thing I did say was I don't know who would speak at my funeral. I am the public speaker in the family & none of my friends are enthusiastic public speakers. I would like to know who would step up & do it. I would love to know who would share stories & what their favourite stories would be. Would they write a script or poem like I would or would they tell stories, off the cuff?

Isn't it funny that the occasion that supposedly represents your entire existence is arranged by people other than you. It will not be my party, it will be the party my loved ones have for me. Firstly I hope it's a long way off & secondly, I hope it is a happy occasion full of people who love me but smile because they knew me!

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• What thoughts or plans do you have for your own funeral?
• Who would plan your funeral & what do you think they would arrange for you?

Panic attacks & thanatophobia

Imagine you know for certain that tomorrow you will die. There is not a thing you can do about it, tomorrow will be your last day on earth and tonight will be your last night. How would you feel? I can’t imagine many people, if any, would answer with anything that isn't fear, frustration, anger, confusion or sheer panic. Well I don't know for sure that I will die tomorrow. But what I do know for sure is that there will come a night that will be my last. Following that last night will be my final day on earth. It may not be tomorrow, it may not be the next day. It may not even be for the next 50 years, I don't know. But it will come.

I guess the best way to sum up my thanatophobia is to explain the feeling you would probably be overcome by, knowing you are about to die, is how I feel almost all the time. It is a constant state of fear, of worry, of anxiety. Sometimes the sheer desperation of the situation, the situation that everyone who is born must inevitably face, manifests in what I am forced to call a panic attack.

Panic attacks are defined as "episodes of intense fear or apprehension that are of sudden onset and of relatively brief duration." To clearly define a panic attack, many specialists believe that at least four of the following symptoms should be experienced:

• Clear intense panic
• Palpitations, or accelerated heart rate
• Sweating
• Trembling or shaking
• Muscle tension
• Blurry vision
• Sensations of shortness of breath or smothering
• Feeling of choking
• Feeling waves of being flushed
• Chest pain or discomfort
• Nausea or abdominal distress
• Feeling dizzy, unsteady, lightheaded, or faint
• Derealisation (feelings of unreality) or depersonalization (being detached from oneself)
• Fear of losing control or going insane
• Fear of dying
• Paresthesias (numbness or tingling sensations)
• Chills or hot flashes
• Weakness in the knees
• Confusion
• Tunnel vision
• Blank mind
• Sensing time going by very slowly
• Feeling the need to escape
• Feeling of warmth inside, expanding from within
• Head pressure, unlike headache

In my moments of thanatophobia-induced panic, I have at some point, experienced all of these symptoms and consistently experience 15 of the 25 symptoms. However (and this is very much a point of interest to my psychologist and my psychiatrist) the most glaringly obvious sign of my panic and distress that he hasn't heard of before is my uncontrollable, piercing and blood-curdling screams. I actually reach a state of such frenzy and desperation that I scream, so long and so loudly I often lose my voice for up to four days.

The sound of my screams, usually somewhere between 1am and 4am, would wake my father up with a chilling fright. He has often marvelled that our neighbours have never called the police to report a potential crime. He's explained this as being due to us living on acreage or thanks to the Genovese Syndrome, the bystander effect where witnesses often tend to believe someone else will help. It is because of this that I even found myself in the uncomfortable situation of explaining to my new neighbours, who shared apartment walls with me in my new unit block, that if they were woken by my late night screaming I was simply having a panic attack. I actually had to promise my neighbours that if I was ever in danger I would scream real words such as, "help me, please!" so they would be able to assist me.

I don't remember much about these intense screaming panic attacks. My psychologist is even wary of calling them that, but I have no other word for them. I've been told I scream 'What if I'm wrong?' This alludes to my Buddhist beliefs but obviously, if I am wrong, what is there? Is there nothing? And that is ultimately my base fear. Ceasing to exist. And then I scream.

I do not have these panic attacks in daylight hours – although I have come dangerously close in cinemas. I do however have the traditional panic attacks. I will feel as if everything is closing in on me, the sheer inevitability and overwhelming desperation at my lack of control of death renders me unable to function. I will gasp for breath, my heart will race, I will sweat and I will need to call someone to talk. I often choke down the phone, “talk to me! About anything!” My network of friends and family know not to ask questions and to just start rambling about the first thing that comes to mind – their job, football scores, traffic, the weather, anything to distract my mind. I focus on their voice and their words until I feel it’s safe to open my mouth without a blood-curdling scream escaping.

Miss SAMawdsley xx


PS: For help with Thanatophobia, please join my Facebook support group: Thanatophobia / Fear of death

Questions:

• Have you ever had a panic attack?
• Have you ever perhaps lost control and started screaming?
• What are your thoughts on thanatophobia or anxiety?

When are you "faced with death"?

My last post on death for a while, I promise! xx

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Someone I've known for a long time and who is very close to me has been told he may die soon. At worst, he may not live to see Christmas.

He is facing death.

I run the 100+ Club. Every member of this club is aged 100 or more. Considering the average life expectancy in Australia is 81.5 years, it's fair to say these people are living on borrowed time and that inevitably, and somewhat soon, they will die.

They are facing death.

Consider someone who has been diagnosed with cancer and has been told they have 18 months to live.

They are facing death.

A 25 year old with cystic fibrosis has, on average, another 10 years to live.

They are facing death too, right?

Would you feel a pang of sympathy for all these people and their bravery in knowing death is imminent? I do.

Would you be at all surprised if the people who live these realities (and they are real) were afraid? If they questioned their purpose, their death and what was beyond that? I wouldn't.

Now I have, at best, 80 years to live. Am I facing death? At what point on the winding down clock do we feel we are "facing death"? How much sand needs to be left in the hourglass to keep us comforted, unfazed by our mortality and confident in our existence?

"Like sand through the hourglass, these are the days of our lives..." (think about it)

For help & support with thanatophobia, or to chat with like-minded individuals, please click here --> CLICK ME!

Miss SAMawdsley xx

He's coming for you, you know?

Yesterday I asked, are you afraid of dying? Interestingly, the response was less enthusiastic. Here are the responses I got.

Samantha: Love the blog hun! I have never been afraid of dying until recently. I'm a Christian and believe that I'll be going on to paradise. I don't know what it'll be like but i know it will be fab! I think it was a Jewish man that once said 'We have as much concept of the afterlife as an unborn baby does of the outside world' but that doesn't bother me. I don't fancy the idea of drowning but the actual moment of death i imagine to be very peaceful. HOWEVER... since having my baby boy I'm terrified of leaving him. I'm also scared that something could happen to me while my husband is at work and my baby would be screaming until he got home! It's amazing how having a child changes your outlook on life! X

Lee: I'm not afraid of dying, or death, but I do worry about those I would leave behind if I did pass on.

WWKnight: Im afraid of living an insignificant life, and thus I am afraid of dying without having achieved anything. But I am not actually afraid of the dying itself.

Karen: No I am only afraid of the way I will die as long as it is painless and with dignity I have seen so many deaths in my life and know how horrible death can be so I am hoping i go quickly and in my sleep. I also would rather die than live with dementia or alzheimers disease. 

@paolavanessa: I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of dying too soon.

Anonymous: As terrified as I am of public speaking, I would choose that over the coffin only because the thought of my kids without me breaks my heart.

The following conversation also took place on my blog...

Anonymous: Death doesn't worry me - why spend your life worrying about death. I don't believe in after life's, heaven and pet cementaries so there isn't motivation to end up in the fluffy clouds or worry about burning my toast in hell. Death isn't something I contemplate or consider the ramifications of. Those who fear death - in what way does this fear impact on your living? 

Samantha: I am afraid of death. Well, I am afraid of ceasing to exist. The impacts for me are huge. I have suffered panic attacks since I was 11 and have been in and out of therapy since then. Nothing has helped. Most recently, I was in hospital with a burn and while on pain killers, lost complete control and started screaming, I mean really hysterically screaming because I thought about the fact I am going to die. So it definitely impacts on my living. 

Anonymous: yeah, death itself doesnt phase me, I wont know about it when I'm gone. Losing someone else close (children, husband etc, not parents cos I see that as the natural order of things)and experiencing that pain again is enough to put me into a state of manic terror.

Samantha: "I won't know about it when  'I'm gone". It is exactly that thought that terrifies to the point that I can't breathe... Literally being unable to think, feel, love... oh God... :( 

I also posted a poll on Facebook asking if respondents were afraid of dying. My boyfriend & another friend responded. That is it. And they both said no. So what am I to gather from this response? I may just be inferring but from what I am lead to believe, most great scientific discoveries started out as mere hypotheses. I wonder if maybe people are more willing to talk about other fears. Other fears like heights, spiders, snakes and insects can be avoided. Theoretically, you could survive the rest of your life without ever climbing a ladder again. If you were lucky enough, maybe, just maybe, you would never have to come across another spider ever again. But death? I could live for another week and die or I could live for another 80 years and die. But whatever happens and however long it takes, I am going to die. You are going to die. Every single person you have ever known, or will ever know, is going to die.

He's coming for you, you know?

I know this is a morbid topic and people don't like to think about it. It is my belief that people without thanatophobia / fear of death are not void of a fear of dying. I believe they simply don't think about it.

Tell me I'm wrong.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Are YOU afraid of dying?

Yesterday I asked, what is your biggest phobia? Here are the answers I received on my Facebook.

Samantha Mawdsley: is doing a quick poll. Dear friends, what is your biggest fear/phobia? 

Nikki: Probably death, oh and spiders :-/

Sarah: Snakes and losing another baby/child.

Tea Man: Bears that can roller blade

Robert: that this is all i shall be

Matthew: Quick spontaneous Polls....

Matthew: Agggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Nikki: Good point Sarah, ill add losing someone you love to my list!

Simon: Buried alive...

Brad: Not finding out who Ted marries

Nikki: haaaaaave you met Ted?

Mandy: Geckos and heights...in that order!

Karen: Spiders and snakes in no particular order

Samantha: Phobia of posting letters (?!) and fear of something happening to my baby

Kimberley: Entomophobia (fear of insects). Especially when the damn things are within breathing space of me

Rebecca: my parents dying. .

Sharyn: That all my kiddies will forget me (including the adopted ones)

David: Stagnation, irrelevancy, spiders.

Kate: the dark, losing the people close to me and the future

Twitter gave me the following responses.

@iVerbalise: #foreveralone

@lycanlife: People knowing my fears & taking advantage of them.

This quick poll taught me a few things. Firstly, I have some funny, funny friends. Matt & Brad crack me up! Also, some people don't take fear and phobias seriously. This is something I have learned already. Few people understand my fears and while I admit my story about why I'm scared of flying is quite amusing, my resulting fear is not a laughing matter. I am terrified.

Interestingly, spiders pretty much top the list, closely followed by snakes. Many of the things on this list can kill you - with the obvious exceptions of geckos and posting letters. The other common fears also relate to death. There are six responses directly involving death but only one person actually lists death as their biggest fear. If I am to believe my unprofessional and pretty non-scientific poll, one in 19 people is actually afraid of dying? This brings me to my next question and this is going to be hard for me, but in the interests of "scientific" research, I need to ask. Please comment and share your thoughts and feelings on the subject.

Are you afraid of dying?

Miss SAMawdsley xx

PS: I once heard that more people are afraid of public speaking than dying. Which means that at a funeral, most people would rather be in the coffin than giving the eulogy...

Where would you rather be?

* * * * * More to come tomorrow * * * * *