"If I Keep Moving, I'm Not Dead"
Personal Perspective: Observations on how death avoidance affects our behavior.
Posted September 28, 2025 | Reviewed by Devon Frye
Coming to terms with our mortality and accepting life as a nonpermanent journey can be a sizable psychological undertaking. There simply are not many options when we consider our death and dying.
Even with some measure of acceptance, there’s the mystery of life after death and a host of emotions accompanying our acceptance. We may feel fear , regret, worry, and sadness.
Then, there’s the second option: denial .
There seems to be a popular illusion: The more we deny death, the more life we have. The deluded thinking suggests that if we have less of one (death), then we have more of the other (life). Or, if we simply pretend that death isn’t an option, then it might go away.
The attractive deception is based on the belief that life and death are unrelated. This notion easily morphs into a series of life-denying behaviors, which result in numerous exaggerations of life. These embellishments actually distort our lived experience, leaving us less alive.
Here are several ways in which I believe that rejecting death has us engaged in a repudiation of life.
- Our adoration of speed.
We love speed. How quickly the internet delivers information, how fast a car travels, how quickly a work assignment is accomplished, how quickly we transition from one task to another, or how quickly we become acquainted with someone are all cherished dynamics. Speed vaults us out of the present moment into the unfolding next moment. Of course, if we’re moving, then we are likely not dead. How alive are we when driven by haste?
My own experience is that more people are speaking at an extremely high rate. At times, I can hardly decipher what is said. Words slip and slide into one another, making communication almost completely incomprehensible. The thinking might be, if I’m saying a lot, I’m not dead.
- Excessive task orientation.
The illusion is that if we’re doing a lot, we must be alive and not dead. Of course, a life mostly dedicated to doing stuff is a life half-lived. The risk is that we lose our lives, expressed through play, adventure, leisure time, socializing with friends, recreation, and engaging in some form of creativity .
When we move at the speed of light and fill our schedules, living in the present is compromised. Loss of the present is loss of life.
The mythologist Michael Meade recounts the story of his encounter with a young neighborhood girl as she got off her school bus. Shortly after he greeted her, she announced, “I can’t talk right now. I have to do my homework, and then go to soccer practice, have dinner with my family, and then attend dance class. I don’t have time right now.”
Meade explains that audiences had been asking him about the inevitability of the apocalypse (the end of time). After his experience with his young neighbor, he concluded that time had come to an end.
- Loss of a rich emotional life.
Whenever I hear someone asking another person about their holiday or weekend, the question is, “What will you plan to do that is exciting?” Excitement has taken center stage.
To me, the thinking seems to be that if you’re excited, then experiencing such exuberance is a sure sign you’re not dead. However, I worry that emotions such as sadness, sorrow, regret, fear, and melancholy are often overlooked as significant life experiences. We lose the life-giving energy of grieving.
- Loss of a capacity to experience closure.
We’re not saying “goodbye” when we leave for work or school. We may not be saying “goodnight” to family members. Words indicating the end of a phone conversation are often missing. People relocate or die in a neighborhood, and no one notices. People are leaving relationships without acknowledging that they are moving on ( ghosting ). The acknowledgement that something or sometime is ending for us is honoring what we shared and created together.
- Aggrandizing our own natures.
The anthropologist Ernest Becker spoke to this inflation: “The real world is simply too terrible to admit; it tells man that he is a small trembling animal who will someday decay and die. Culture changes all of this, makes man seem important, vital to the universe, immortal in some ways.”
We lose the sacredness of our ordinary humanity. All that reflects our creatureliness, our instincts, our hungers, our naked vulnerability, the desire to be remembered, and the courage to risk being fully alive, accepting that our time is limited.
We can begin to accept death as part of life and not an alternative to life by practicing small closures. Saying “goodbye,” “goodnight,” and getting honest about leaving a relationship. Noticing the tendency to rush and slow down, take a breath, and speak more slowly.
Build in transition time by not simply going from one task or event to the next. Pause and notice what you’re feeling and thinking. Sometimes we create stories that suggest we need to act with urgency.
Test the reality of needing to move urgently. Acknowledge other feelings besides excitement. Life is not supposed to be a host of endless exciting events. Make room for simple joys, gratitude , encouragement, and peace.
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Paul Dunion, Ed.D., has been in private practice as a psychotherapist and consultant for the past 45 years and has published eight books.
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This article is part of the Bringwise Psychology Journal — daily insights on human behavior, mental health, and personal growth.