Redefining Death
I remember my first panic attack like it was yesterday. My mind spiraled into a dark place, and the sheer overwhelm of everything I found there scared me so much that my brain tricked me into thinking I was dying. My body responded to my thoughts by simulating the symptoms of death. My mind went blank, my limbs tingled, and I felt an undeniable sense of impending doom. I could feel life fading away, and I accepted then and there that those were my final moments. Everything that ever mattered to me flashed before my eyes. And the only thing I remember feeling was unreadiness. I wasn’t done with life. And life wasn’t done with me.
The thoughts and sensations of death were so vivid, it took me days to convince myself I hadn’t actually died that night. The following weeks passed by like a blur. Every morning I woke up unsure of the realm I was in. I was absolutely certain I had died and moved into purgatory. Everything and everyone felt off. Eventually, I accepted the not-knowing of the state I was in. Maybe I died. Maybe I didn’t. But it didn’t matter so much anymore. The place I found myself in was observable and comprehensible, unlike the things we’re told about death. No darkness. No nothingness. Just me, the world, and a completely different awareness than the one I had before everything happened.
I’ve been scared ever since. I’d never given death much thought, but ever since I thought it came to collect its prize, I couldn’t stop being afraid of it.
It wasn’t until later that I began to reflect more deeply on that fear, especially after I started understanding our inevitable nature. The sun slowly dies down in the sky and makes space for fall, while the trees let go of their leaves in a spectacular brown-and-orange farewell before winter freezes everything it touches. Time pauses. The world waits in stillness, until the sun is ready to warm it again. And then spring arrives, cradling the child of nature in her womb. The ice defrosts, and the world is reborn. Death. Change. Renewal. This cycle is what keeps existence moving. Endings never stand alone. There is always a beginning waiting beside them.
So with this beautiful phenomenon, one we are no exception to, why are we so terrified of death?
Maybe because of its unpredictable and mysterious nature. I imagine that if caterpillars were as conscious as we are, they would be terrified when they begin to slow down. One moment, nibbling on a fat green leaf. The next, feeling life fade away. They crawl off to find a quiet place, then build their own casket, a cocoon, to die in. Little do they know, they are not preparing for death. They are preparing for rebirth.
Could they ever imagine having the most vibrant wings, lifting them into places they never dared dream of? Would that possibility be the last thing on their mind before surrendering to the unknown? Let me answer that for you: they couldn’t. Because they don’t need to. They live in full alignment with their path, not analyzing, not resisting. Just being. And that is what makes their transformation so magnificent.
Cue the panic attacks.
The death-rebirth metaphor made me revisit that night. A new thought had begun to form. What if I had died that night? What if that moment marked the death of a part of me, a part that was no longer necessary for survival? I remember having a profound breakthrough just before spiraling. What if that awakening caused an inner death, and my unconscious fear of letting go mimicked the feeling of dying, triggering the panic and leaving me afraid for years after?
It made me realize why so many people avoid descending into the depths of their soul. Because it feels like dying. And when they reach those moments that ask them to let go and evolve, they retreat. Back to the last safe checkpoint. Back to what they know.
This realization came to me again after another awakening. And another panic attack. I found myself doing breathwork and affirmations, trying to calm my racing mind and heart. And in that moment, in the middle of what felt like dying all over again, I felt the presence of God, holding me gently in the palm of their hand. That’s when I knew I was standing at the edge of transformation. And I had two choices. I could resist the unknown and abandon the path I was on, or I could surrender. I could trust. I could walk into the mystery, not alone, but with God by my side.
I chose the latter.
Every change feels like death because we are forced to let go of what we know. And in those moments, we have nothing to depend on but ourselves and God. But if there’s one thing God continues to whisper, it’s this: do not be afraid. For when you have Me, you have everything. You’ll make it through. Just like the caterpillar once did.
The answer to the question why our nature scares us so much is because transformation feels like death. And most of us aren’t ready to die, even symbolically. Especially not alone. The death of who we were is the beginning of who we’re becoming. And God never asks us to go alone.
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