3 Liberating Lessons From Overcoming Death Anxiety: How to Live Despite Fear And Uncertainty 10 min read

14 years ago, I was old enough to know my best friend was murdered by a man.  Old enough to know my uncle’s brain was splattered across the floor by a group of men. Old enough to remember the times my father and I ran for our lives, stepping over dead bodies, hands over our heads.  

Maiduguri was a battlefield. The main players were the military and the terrorists. The citizens were just Non-Player Characters bleeding and dying in someone else’s game.

We survived. Exited the game by moving out. However my family got to southern Nigeria with almost nothing. 

I moved from state to state, staying with relatives, trying to find something—anything—that felt like purpose. But deep down, I knew something had shifted. I no longer saw the world the same way. I was mentally compromised.

Who knew that losing family members and friends either to death or distance could unravel your sense of stability? The long wait to get into college only made things worse. What started as genetic introversion turned into chronic isolation. This endured for years.

And just as I was trying to make sense of it all, the pandemic hit in 2020. The news, the lockdowns, the rising death toll, everything fed my fear. Not of dying like my friend or uncle, but of being taken by something I couldn’t see. Something I couldn’t even fight with my fist.

Nightmares kept me awake at night. I developed tinnitus and somatic symptom disorder, convinced I had a serious illness despite no (or mild) symptoms. I obsessively checked my body for signs, interpreting a headache as a brain tumor. My thoughts constantly revolved around me dying — I was experiencing death anxiety.

But people were quick to write their own versions of stories about me in their heads because of my unusual and isolating behaviours.

Some included:

• He’s unemotional 
• He’s retardard
• He’s a cultist
• So uptight
• A proud
• Weirdo

And so on, and on.

But I never cared and still don’t. 

So, this is not a pity story. Don’t offer me one. 

I urge you to read to the end, to see the lesson I learned from my death anxiety. 

Be careful who or what you listen to

Going back to the year 2020—it was lockdown + death anxiety for me. I was tired of being stuck indoors, tired of the voices in my head telling me I was going to die soon. So when a friend invited me to some church, I tagged along, hoping for a change of scene. 

We got there, and the prophetess or whatever title she preferred, looked at me and said she saw a vision: I’d die in 2023.

Well, this is 2025. Seems the angel of death missed his appointment with me.

But here’s the thing; our minds are quick to seek out confirmation, even when it’s wrong, even when it hurts us. Despite my skepticism of spirits, ghosts, or whatnot, her words sank in. They fed the anxiety + nightmares that I was already trying to manage, adding a mystical flavour to it. I started paying more attention to my body, to every ache, every cough. I won’t refrain from saying; damn you prophetess. Your voice echoed in my mind longer than it had any right to. 

That’s the power of what we feed our ears even for a second. It doesn’t have to be a prophetess. It could be the news—death tolls, disasters, naira crashing, end-time prophecies. Or endless scrolling through social media, watching people live their best lives while you’re just trying to get out of bed. All of it becomes noise that convinces you something’s wrong, even when you’re fine.

The lesson is as clear as; Be careful who or what you listen to. Not every voice deserves a place in your head. And don’t believe everything you think. Or else, they will manifest somehow (somewhat of a self-fulfilling prophecy). I learned this the hard way, I hope you don’t.

Live Your Life Forward 

It wasn’t until I gave my ears to a different kind of voice—Alan Watts, Don Williams, J. Cole, Robert Greene, Sean Tucker, Shawn James and other artists who didn’t shy away from the dark, that my fears began to loosen their grip. Not all at once, but little by little I saw the light. 

They showed me that life isn’t short. Not really. Think about it: we humans can live up to a 100. Some make it to 122 and beyond. That’s longer than most creatures on this planet will ever get. If you ask me, it sounds like enough time: enough to love, to learn, to build something meaningful.

They also taught me that mortality isn’t the enemy. In fact, it should be a constant reminder to stop waiting for the ideal moment and just begin. The only way to feel like we have enough time is to stop wasting the plenty we already have.

What does that look like for you?

Maybe it’s:

• Working on your relationships.
• Raising your kids with intention.
• Visiting your aging parents more often.
• Learning a skill that scares you.
• Starting the business you keep sketching in your head.
• Showing up for your health.
  

For me, it’s my family, my friends, my girlfriend, my writing, my photography, and my dream to tell people’s stories either as a photojournalist, or documentary photographer. Everything else is just background noise, not necessary for the real show.

I’ve stopped waiting for the perfect moment. I’m building with the scraps I’ve got, and surprisingly, they’re getting me somewhere.

Do I have it all figured out? No. But I’m learning forward, even if it means stumbling along the way.

While I am learning forward, I have also been trying to…

Stop Seeking Answers To All Life’s Questions.

Most of our fears are rooted in one simple urge: the need to make sense of everything right now or never. 

• You want to know if there’s another life after death.
• You want to know if today’s efforts will pay off tomorrow.
• You want to know if your relationship will last—if you just do everything right.
• You want to know if your hard work will lead to success or end up as another quiet disappointment.
• You want to know what happens when the plan falls apart.

But you won’t always know. You can’t always know.  

Trying to know by all means feels more like an investigation—draining, obsessive, frustrating.  At worst, most of the time, the answers don’t come. Even when they do, they rarely fix the fear underneath.

When I was deep in death anxiety, I missed out on things I now wish I could hold onto. I was physically present with my family, but my mind was off trying to solve the unanswerable. I hesitated to form new friendships. I forgot to count my blessings, because I was too busy counting what-ifs.

• Now, I act differently. I wear my heart on my sleeves,
  • love passionately, 
  • make time for my family 
  • try out most interests. 
• I redefined my beliefs and philosophy.
  • I reject the limitations of social labels. I am not a Christian. I am not a Muslim. Not an atheist. Not a stoic. I am nothing.
  • Just the guy who can step into a church, a Buddhist temple, or a mosque and walk out—without feeling like my soul is going to heaven or condemned to the external lake of fire. 
  • I only seek and practice knowledge that feels logical and resonates deeply with me; whether it comes from the Bible, the Dhammapada, the Qur’an, or science books. That’s how I shape my values and build my spirituality.

Not all of life’s questions have answers or were ever meant to be answered. And, no one lives long enough to figure it all out, anyway. So, why insist on finding all the answers?

Our goal isn’t to master life, but to move through it fully awake, fully present, fully grateful, while learning to make peace with the two things that give it all meaning: mistakes and death.

Conclusion: Just Live

You see, most of us rush to explain what we don’t understand—to make sense of life before it makes a mess of us. We hold onto the first half-baked idea that fits our fear or frustration, then serve it to the next person like gospel.

That’s how it starts and spreads.

A prophetess predicts your death. A neighbour calls you retarded. Another labels you proud, cultist, weird, or cold.

Maybe they don’t always mean to ruin you, but their words still burn. They settle into your mind like seeds, and if you’re not careful, they grow into doubts and fears that shape how you see yourself.

But I’ve learned: I have an experience. A story. Something uniquely mine that shaped the way I see life. So do you.

And that should be your real compass. Not their opinions. Not the noise.

Because the people who end up doing something meaningful with their lives aren’t the loudest, smartest, or the fearful—they’re just the ones who faced their pain, made sense of it, and turned it into something useful. For themselves. For others.

That should be your aim.

To wrestle with your fears and confusion, and build something real from it. A solution. A perspective. A light for someone still stuck in the dark.

That’s why I’m writing this—for you. So it might steady your hands, clear your head, and remind you: you’re not alone, even if it’s just for a while.

And when it gets hard (because it will), remember Bukowski’s gravestone: “Don’t try”.

Not because you shouldn’t care. But because trying too hard distracts you from living – from doing and enjoying those things that come naturally and are already available.

So just live. Learn. Stumble forward. Let it be messy. Let it be honest. Let it be yours.

***

Thank you for reading to the end. If you found this helpful, please share it with family, friends, or a colleague who might need or appreciate these ideas. 

Here are some blog posts you might find interesting:

• Death Anxiety In 20s: Why You Shouldn’t Fear Death, And How To Cure Thanatophobia.
• Self-fulfilling Prophecy: 10 Steps To Using Your Beliefs To Make Things Happen
• Limiting Beliefs: 10 Tips To Overcome Thoughts That Hold You Back.
• Purpose: The Most Important Thing You Can Do With Your Life.
• Should We Abandon Religion? Growing Beyond Blind Faith