Death is a topic that the wider human race often avoids. It is an uncomfortable truth that one day, we will be gone from this world. It’s as though much of human kind is pre-occupied with a collective denial of our mortality. Of course, this somewhat makes sense; if we acknowledge the temporary nature of our existence, it raises complex questions about purpose and the value in striving to achieve more.
For neurodivergent people, particularly Autistic people, this conversation is further complicated. Our life expectancy is generally shorter, and we live with an increased threat of death via interpersonal violence. My own personal experience of the topic is wrought with trauma. Death is at the core of my acquired neurodivergence. It is my fear of death that drives my Schizophrenic paranoia. It has taken many years of reflection to realise that.
So, I find myself constantly battling with the question of whatnthe purpose is in my existence, and if there is any point in trying to achieve good things if one day they’ll be largely forgotten anyway. Having recently been diagnosed with liver cirrhosis these questions are prominent to me.
I am, of course, a parent. A major part of my existence is for the love I have for my children. My departure would cause immense pain to others, and I would rather that wasn’t my legacy. However, on the broader question of my purpose as a mortal creature, I find myself again returning to Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell:
The nature of our immortal lives is in the consequences of our words and deeds, that go on and are pushing themselves throughout all time.
Sonmi-451
My physical, even conscious existence in this world may be temporary. That is the truth of most human experiences. However, the words and actions that I release into the world forever alter the trajectory of the future.
Even in simple terms, I am constantly changing the path of photons that have travelled through space. They reflect off my body, and their path will never be the same again. I talk to others, and they internalise the little comments that I don’t even notice, then carrying them to others, who carry them to others, and so on.
Simply by existing, I alter the path of the universe.
As such, I find I am less lost when it comes to the purpose of my temporary existence. Because, it would seem, my physical body is the only temporary part of this existence. The ramifications of my being here will go on for all of time, even if only in a small way. In fact, it is likely that the result of my existence will grow exponentially as time continues.
So, while mortality drives a lot of my existential dread, there is a strange comfort in the fact that my actions, and the actions of my neurokin, will long outlive the human race. It would seem that there is something we owe to this world, and that is to release as much mindful kindness into the world as we can before our temporary embodiment ceases.
We are not as mortal as it would seem.
I'm dyspraxic with both C-PTSD and GAD. I exercise religiously, eat very healthfully and thus am very healthy for a middle aged American man. In fact, I had a doctor tell me that he wouldn't be surprised if I reached my 100th birthday. Yet I find myself pondering my mortality probably more so than what would seem reasonable given most of my circumstances.
Much of this has to do with me being a vulnerable road user due to my inability to drive related to my dyspraxia. I thus travel largely by walking and cycling. American roadway infrastructure is very unsafe for pedestrians and cyclists. In fact, the reason why I have C-PTSD is because of all the times I have nearly been ran over by careless and aggressive drivers. I also deal with symptoms of nervous system dysregulation stemming from my C-PTSD. These are health problems that I deal with which stemmed entirely from my environment.
It goes to illustrate how late stage capitalism does not create a healthy environment for anyone, especially neurodivergent people.