Reflections on a death of identity that destroys who we were, prevents us from imagining who we might become, and replaces life with emptiness. Death, here, does not refer to the physiological kind; it is not the terminal event that happens at the end of life. It is a collapse of meaning itself, where what comes to an end is the ability to make sense of the world and ourselves. “Death,” understood in this way, discloses the structural vulnerability at the core of human existence and, as often happens in episodes of tremendous suffering, can occur a number of times throughout life. 

We are simultaneously alive and repeatedly dying; we continue to perceive and experience things, but activities and interests that used to be enjoyable lose all meaning. In these moments, the poignancy of the past no longer resonates, the future offers nothing to look forward to, and the motivation to engage with the world breaks down. 

The question is: How do we respond to this collapse? Do we deny it and stubbornly hold onto to what is familiar? Or, do we acknowledge it and recognize the contingency of the world and ourselves?


I lose myself, I reappear.