What would you do if you had two years to live?
TW: Suicide (feelings, ideation, spectrum), Mental Illness, Eating Disorder
It’s not often that I pause before I respond to a question. Decades of working in corporate communication have made me the master of the soundbite. Pithy, catchy, memorable, I can do it all. When I was a younger human I used to read the one-line interview responses from celebrities in movie magazines (I am dating myself. This was the 90s.) and practice answering those questions.
Who is your greatest inspiration? My cat. (It’s always a cat. From the fierce independence of Kitty, to Mexa’s regal approach to rest, to Deva and Durga’s enthusiasm for play.)
What is your greatest weakness? Caring too much, for too long.
What is the greatest challenge facing your generation? Laziness. I had hoped it was stupidity, but I was wrong.
So I should have had a quick, ambitious, well rehearsed response when
posed this question at the end of an email about something partially related.What would you do if you had two years to live?
I’ve been thinking about it since I received it on August 12. Maybe it’s because September is Suicide Awareness Month here in Canada where appropriately 12 people a minute die by suicide. Maybe it’s because this 2024 article in the Lancet indicates that “compared with patients with other mental health diagnoses who died by suicide, patients with eating disorders were younger, more often female, and less likely to have evidence of conventional risk factors for suicide such as living alone.” Maybe it’s because I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have an end of life date of my choosing mapped in my mind.
I joke, in a funny/not funny way, that I have a date because without a dead-line I wouldn’t get anything done. I am quite externally motivated when it comes to deliverables. In some ways, having a tangible expiry date (because there is not much difference between me and a milk carton), ensures that I will achieve the immortality I’m invested in. Like the only secret that people keep, per Ms. Dickinson.
For people who know me well, it will probably explain my relentless approach to life. The deep understanding that my experience on this mortal coil is finite informs all of my decision making. I have a deep dislike for people who don’t respect my time, because it’s the non-renewable resource that means the most to me. I wonder if it’s also why I’ve broken every watch I’ve ever had. Perhaps the physical reminder of seconds literally ticking away triggers a destructive impulse.
Ironically (maybe?) having a pretty detailed exit plan, with multiple “back up” options in case of failure, has made it possible for me to live through some pretty traumatic (though very common for female bodied systemically excluded people) experiences. If I had to point to a root, it would be living with what felt like unceasing, crippling joint pain as a child.
It can be hard to imagine a child living with daily pain at a 7 or over, and still navigating the world of schoolyard social drama, homework headaches, and extracurriculars. Knowing that I could “opt-out” of the entire experience of life if it felt like too much made it a little easier to show up with an upper lip so stiff it would probably have shattered.
The mental game that I still sometimes play with myself when it gets really hard (the last time was during a 2022/23 episode of burnout) is, “How much is too much?”. As someone invested in existing in the liminal, my curiosity (thanks cats!) keeps me invested in finding the edge and walking it. Some days it’s a minute by minute calculus. Other times it’s a weekly check-in. Is this too much? Or can I lean into my rich toolbox and find a way to regulate my nervous system, manage the sensory overwhelm, advocate for myself, and try to get through the next 2, 5, 7, 10 breaths? All of the therapeutic yoga practices - pranayam, mantra, visualization - help me get through those moments. Then I re-assess, and so it goes.
I’m still here. Almost 40. I didn’t plan on being older than 16. Then somehow I was. I found a kindred spirit, and we had our midlife crisis at 20 because we couldn’t imagine living past 40. We were grappling with so much physical, psychic and social pain - not that either of us could articulate it clearly to ourselves, or each other. We recognized that “old-soul” wisdom that comes from early life trauma. It enabled us to be honest, in that reckless way that world weary 20 year olds have. We knew it was all down-hill from 20. Bodies would fall apart, and maybe relationships would as well. That one certainly did. Each of us needed more care than the other could provide.
If 40 is when I tap out, I have less than 2 years left. It brings me back to the original question. What would I do, as I continue to slide along the suicide spectrum? Because let’s be real, suicide is not a binary yes/no, on/off experience. There is a spectrum of thinking, planning, and acting on intent. We do ourselves and each other a disservice by choosing not to recognize that, and, if I’m honest, by paying for mental health training that doesn’t acknowledge it.
Because I’m a list maker, here are my immortality projects that I intend to do before I turn 40. Not because I don’t plan on being 41, but because I love a dead-line:
finish the manuscript of The Yoga of Leadership book (no, it’s not a biography of a right-wing Hindu leader who has co-opted yoga for it’s cultural power), and submit it to publishers and/or self publish it. As someone who has found so much solace in the positive dissociation of reading, being published is my #1 immortality goal.
finish funding the scholarships established my parents names at my Alma Mater so they can start paying out to students while my parents are alive. Philanthropy is one of my favourite routes to immortality. Being etched in stone, and gifts that keep on giving after we’re gone will ensure our names our remembered, even if momentarily.
purchase an investment property. While I have feelings about land ownership, capitalism and colonization, as the grandchild of refugees, building a sense of “home” means owning land. Depending on the nature of the purchase it will either become part of a trust or be left to an Indigenous community once I’m gone.
I am tempted to add more things to this list. 3 things feels like too few. But I have learned, after years of working with
that setting a few goals with clear milestones that are achievable within the timeframe is far better than setting 15 goals and not making any tangible progress on any of them.Two years is enough time to change the world in meaningful ways. I look forward to getting it done. After that, we’ll see where things go.