What My Near-Death Experience Taught Me About Fear

Mind the gap, that’s where the transformation happens

Earlier in this series, I gave some light backstory on my Near Death Experience and how it taught me some life-changing lessons on success and intuition.

Here’s How I Died

I died slowly.

I didn’t crash my car, suffer from a heart attack, or stand up just to collapse to the floor with a stroke or an aneurysm. At age 29 I caught a mild case of COVID, which attacked my already sensitive digestive organs, and I went from an active, 138-pound man to a 105-pound walking corpse within 65 days.

It’s nobody’s fault. I could not eat, so I didn’t eat, and nothing could be done.

Specialists’ offices in January of 2021 were still backed up from the pandemic, so I rallied and did what I could, but no doctor or ER would intervene. As the months went by I resigned to the fact that I was probably going to die.

It Sounds Cliche, But I Saw A Light

And it wasn’t Jesus. Sorry to disappoint.

I kept to my normal routines as a sense of peace and acceptance washed over me, and dedicated my time to being with my family. Above all else, I was savoring those moments.

In early May, I cut down my schedule at work and began relying on a cane to stay upright. My wife would walk with me, gripping my other hand tightly for support like a feeble old man. Sometimes I would just lay down on the floor so I could “rest for a minute”.

At the end the month, just after 4am, I woke up in my bed feeling very unwell and had a seizure. I won’t bore you with all the details, but I was placed into a hospital bed later that day and began to drift in and out of consciousness as an agonizing pain quite literally settled into my bones, where my marrow was failing.

I saw people, places, and things that were not there. I had conversations with people I had never met, and who did not in reality visit my room. My most noteworthy adventure was the one where I saw a bright white light.

“Are you afraid?” it echoed, and suddenly I was bodiless.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Are you afraid to die?” it asked.

“No, I’m afraid to die and leave my loved ones behind.”

“Do you want to stay?” It asked me, “This is going to be very hard.”

“I’ll do what I have to do, I’m ready.”

That was our conversation in a nutshell. After that experience I was scared straight, and during my next lucid moment I became much less concerned with being a good patient. So began my journey as a medical advocate…

Fear is a Lurker

Fear hides beneath the surface and becomes a subtle poison because fear is not a monster. It is an internet troll, it’s a lurker.

Fear speaks through what you continually avoid for no good reason. It whispers over the words left unsaid, drowning them in silence and locking them beyond the reach of your tongue. You can feel them there, but you cannot free them.

Fear holds resolution and freedom hostage because it lurks in the shadows. It is confident when it knows you won’t look in its direction to meet its gaze and ask the one question that will banish it for good,

‘Why?”

In our American medical system, there are three kinds of care: care that’s available to you, care that’s not suited for you, and care that will help you, but that you must fight to access.

Helpful yet unavailable care is often locked behind red tape for many reasons, but in my experience, doctors are too busy and distracted to consider it, have a one-track mind, or they don’t value patient feedback. To obtain this forbidden care, you must become an advocate.

I am a recovering people pleaser, and my inner people pleaser was the designated backseat driver for most of my life. Before my illness, and during the early months, I was terrified to rock the boat in most situations. It would trigger my deep-seated fear of instability, and avoiding conflict meant keeping things peaceful.

How else can you go with the flow?

But, I had been to hell and back. I had seen the light, and I wouldn’t settle for a hellish existence if it was within my power. I chose life, but it became clear that quality of life would not come easily. And honestly, when does it?

Perhaps this is what the “white light” meant by,

“It won’t be easy.”

I don’t hang my hat on the words of disembodied voices, but we have a history (google me for fun) so I don’t ignore them either. And, it might have been my own subconscious during a morhpine-induced hallucination. I haven’t decided.

Either way, that voice was right, because as I became sick I was afraid that my life would come crashing down. My health problems would also not be easily resolved. In fact, they’re probably an infinite carousel ride that includes life threatening illness, moderate, and major discomfort.

I thought that when everything I was maintaining collapsed my life and the life of my wife and kids would come down with it. When I faced those fears and looked into the shadows, I discovered something about myself that I had yet to accept: I am resilient.

Maybe you can relate. Have you ever faced a fear or major challenge, just to have it reveal you to yourself?

I have been doing just that, and I learned that there are few problems I can’t solve creatively. In addition to this, I underestimated my network of friends and family. Even my clients came out from the woodwork to support us and help us through the initial stages of figuring things out.

And, when it came to medical advocacy, I discovered that I did not have to do everything on my own. Most of my fears revolved around needing to be the hero in my story, taking on every challenge alone, and operating at such a high level of output that failure was not an option.

That was the troll talking, the lurker, and I had finally cornered it.

Let’s Break This Up With a Subheading, and Some Animals…

Dragons aren’t really animals, but I soon discovered that while the dragon in me could dominate the world of routines and consistent effort to soar, I had little confidence in the wise and cunning snake I had feared and buried. It taught me how to travel underground, in the darkness, to resolve difficult uncertainties despite incredible odds.

I like to personify things, sue me.

Dragons represent magic and power, but snakes represent knowledge and transformation. I began shedding some skin, and it was terrifying yet liberating, helpful but overwhelming.

First, I broke my silence about my illness, which I had been hiding. Then, I waged war on the medical system that was failing me (that’s why I’m still alive). During this chaotic medical coup, I bravely discussed my needs with my family and started navigating the thousands of changes in daily life with them. And, I began to do something I had not done since I was a child;

I let myself feel.

Fears of failure, death, conflict, and disappointing others paled in comparison to the monstrous, lurking fear surrounding my own emotions. They were an overwhelming storm, and if my health issues were the wind in this hurricane, they were the water.

Emotions became violent visitors without any warning at all. They were title waves, looming over me and threatening to drive me to insanity. At my worst point, three months after I was released home from the hospital I was in an overwhelming stage of grief.

It felt like a huge setback.

My medical team was again, letting me die and I was unable to eat enough to live, even through a feeding tube. I could barely get around and relied on a walker, a stair lift, and a wheelchair. I had to move out of the house I lived in with my family to remain in a quiet room and rest undisturbed, and I thought I was losing my mind because my body was so weak with malnourishment I couldn’t hold a steady stream of thought.

I cried often, breaking under the weight of it all.

This is when I began writing again. Writing was, and has been, a lifeline because it helps me remember what I know, who I am, and how to apply my experiences positively. It puts my whole world into perspective, and it helps me process my inner world in ways that nothing else can.

In our minds, there is an echo chamber where every thought twists and turns through a series of funhouse mirrors. On paper, it’s very difficult to lie, and we are challenged to find the words to describe an experience.

My therapist told me,

“Do something every day that gives you purpose,”

So, I looked my fears in the eye. I saw madness, death, and loss, and I met them with baby steps. That’s how everything began to turn around.

Introducing: The Real You

My first grade-school presentation left me, a trembling and snotty Johnny Appleseed, sobbing in the hallway, wearing a pot on my head. My shirt was covered in streams of mucus and bits of apple that I’d unknowingly grasped hard enough to leave no less than five distinctive finger holes through core-and-all.

I spent every day with the kids in that class, but my confidence in myself to be seen in front of them, or anyone else just wasn’t there. I think many people can relate; it’s not easy to be seen, because being seen can mean being judged. I just couldn’t handle that kind of criticism, not even the vague threat of it.

Today’s me has had to learn to accept myself. There are tubes in my body, awkward stares, judgmental doctors, and people who just won’t understand. This all should have broken that fragile grade schooler, but instead, it revealed me to myself.

Fear presents a few things; direction, information, and choices. Stupid people are not afraid, but fear makes intelligent people act stupid (just watch how people act during a pandemic, or an election). The key is to feel your fear, own it, talk to it, and look it in the eye.

We should be asking our fear some tough questions. Grill that son of a bitch. It is not all-knowing, it doesn’t have the answers. It’s living in a fucking loop.

Let your fear reveal you to yourself, and those things you’ve been carrying for weeks, months, years, decades…they can stop being your everyday experience, your driving motivations, your story.

My story doesn’t have an end yet; I’m still writing it every morning and digesting it before bed. But, I’m less afraid, even amidst all the uncertainties.

If I’m trying to say anything at all, it’s this:

Go ahead, take those baby steps. Corner your fear, break the spell, meet the real you.

Hi, I’m Yale and I write as “Chronic Wellness.”

I’m new to Medium, so I’d love to make new friends. Check out my other work, and if you like it you can follow me. If I like your work, I promise I’ll follow you too.

If you’re interested in learning more about my day job, check out my website. I like to help people and I often get told that I’m good at what I do.

Thanks for reading!