Why We Avoid Wills: The Psychology of Putting Off the Inevitable

Most Australians understand they should have a will. We insure our homes, our cars, even our mobile phones. We update our software, service our vehicles, and schedule regular health checks. Yet when it comes to planning for what happens after we’re gone, we freeze. According to Finder research from 2023, only 40% of Australian adults have a valid will. That means 60% of the adult population  (roughly 12 million people) haven’t taken this fundamental step. If we protect everything else that matters to us, why not our legacy? The answer isn’t found in legal complexity or financial cost. It’s found in the way our minds handle the unthinkable.

The Scale of the Problem

The statistics paint a stark picture of estate planning procrastination in Australia. Research shows that younger Australians are particularly underprepared, with the likelihood of having a will increasing significantly with age and asset accumulation. According to Australian Law Reform Commission data, whilst 93% of people over 70 have a will, the vast majority of younger adults do not. Beyond those who’ve never created a will, countless others are working with outdated documents that no longer reflect their current family structure, assets, or intentions. Divorces, remarriages, new children, and property acquisitions all demand updates that rarely happen.

The consequences are measurable. When someone dies without a valid will in Australia, their estate enters intestacy, a legal process that distributes assets according to rigid formulas that may bear no resemblance to what the deceased would have wanted. Probate costs and timeframes increase substantially. Whilst straightforward estates with valid wills can be settled within six to twelve months, complex or intestate estates often take considerably longer and incur significantly higher legal costs. Family disputes multiply. The very people we most want to protect end up navigating bureaucracy, legal uncertainty, and interpersonal conflict at their most vulnerable moment. So why do we still delay something so important?

The Denial of Mortality

Writing a will requires us to imagine something our brains are hardwired to resist: our own death. Psychologists call this terror management theory. Humans cope with the knowledge of their mortality by avoiding reminders of it. Estate planning isn’t just a reminder; it’s an extended meditation on non-existence. When we sit down to allocate possessions, name guardians, and distribute wealth, we’re forced to picture a world without us in it. The emotional weight of that visualisation triggers powerful avoidance mechanisms.

This isn’t weakness or irrationality. It’s a deeply human response to existential anxiety. Research in behavioural psychology shows that even subtle reminders of death cause people to postpone decisions, change topics, or find urgent distractions. Estate planning combines those reminders with practical complexity, creating a perfect storm of psychological resistance. The very act of writing “last will and testament” at the top of a document makes the denial of mortality impossible to maintain. We tell ourselves we’ll do it later, when we’re ready, knowing somewhere deep down that we’ll never truly feel ready to confront our own ending.

Optimism Bias and the “Someday” Fallacy

Humans are optimists. We believe, against all statistical evidence, that bad things happen to other people. This cognitive bias serves us well in daily life, allowing us to take calculated risks and maintain mental wellbeing. But it works against us in estate planning. When we think about writing a will, optimism bias whispers: not yet, you have time. Accidents happen to others. Serious illness is years away. You’ll do it when you’re older.

This “someday” fallacy is reinforced by increasing life expectancies. Australians now live longer than ever before, with average life expectancy hovering around 83 years. That statistical reality makes death feel distant, particularly for those in their 40s, 50s, or even 60s. Why rush to plan for something decades away? The problem is that life expectancy is an average, not a guarantee. Sudden illness, accidents, and unexpected events don’t respect our assumptions about longevity. Yet the optimism bias is so powerful that even people with serious health diagnoses often delay estate planning, convinced they’ll beat the odds and have more time than they do.

The language we use reinforces this thinking. We say “final” wishes and “last” testament, framing estate planning as something that belongs at the end of life rather than throughout it. This temporal misalignment encourages procrastination. If estate planning is for the old and dying, then doing it now would mean admitting we’re closer to that category than we’d like to believe.

Fear of Conflict and Emotional Complexity

Estate planning forces us to make choices that can feel impossible. Who gets what? How do we divide things fairly between children with different needs? What about the sibling who’s been difficult, or the child who hasn’t spoken to us in years? These questions don’t have easy answers, and many people would rather leave their family unprepared than risk confronting inequality, favouritism, or guilt whilst they’re alive.

Inheritance discussions expose family dynamics we’d prefer to keep buried. Choosing one child as executor over another signals trust and competence in ways that can wound. Leaving unequal amounts to different beneficiaries, even with good reason, can feel like quantifying love. Blended families add layers of complexity, with decisions about step-children, ex-spouses, and competing claims creating emotional minefields. Research shows that inheritance discussions are among the most stressful family conversations Australians avoid, ranking alongside discussions about divorce and serious illness.

There’s also the fear of conflict before death. Some people worry that family members will discover the contents of their will and create tension whilst everyone is still alive. Others fear being pressured to change their decisions if their intentions become known. This fear of emotional complexity creates a perverse incentive: better to leave chaos after death than navigate difficult conversations now. The irony is that avoiding these conversations virtually guarantees worse conflict later, when there’s no opportunity for explanation or reconciliation.

Decision Fatigue and Overwhelm

Even for those who’ve overcome the emotional barriers to estate planning, the practical complexity can trigger avoidance. Where do you start? Do you need a solicitor, or can you use an online service? What’s the difference between a will, a power of attorney, and an advance care directive? How do you value assets? What about superannuation, which often sits outside the estate? The cognitive load of unfamiliar decisions causes paralysis.

This overwhelm is compounded by decision fatigue. Modern life requires constant choices about work, family, health, and finances. Estate planning demands yet another set of complex decisions at a time when most people’s cognitive resources are already depleted. It’s easier to defer to someday when we’ll have more mental energy, more clarity, more time. That day rarely arrives. Digital will platforms have tried to reduce this friction by simplifying the process, but technology can’t eliminate the emotional barriers that make estate planning one of the most delayed decisions Australians face.

The Cost of Delay

The practical consequences of avoiding estate planning are significant. Whilst NSW Supreme Court filing fees for probate vary by estate size –  from no fee for estates under $100,000 to over $1,000 for larger estates – the total legal costs of administering an intestate estate are substantially higher once solicitor fees, advertising requirements, and additional administrative work are included. These costs can easily reach many thousands of dollars beyond what a properly planned estate would incur. Timeframes also extend considerably, with complex or disputed estates sometimes taking years rather than months to resolve.

Beyond the financial cost, there’s profound emotional damage. Families already grieving must navigate legal complexity, bureaucratic delays, and often bitter disputes about who deserves what. Adult children find themselves in conflict with stepparents, siblings become estranged over perceived unfairness, and relationships fracture permanently. The absence of a will doesn’t just create legal problems. It creates a vacuum where assumptions, resentments, and competing narratives about what the deceased “would have wanted” fill the space that clear instructions should have occupied.

The data on intestate estates reveals patterns of avoidable suffering. Assets frozen for months whilst courts sort out claims. Children unable to access funds for education or housing. Business interests that deteriorate without clear succession plans. Charities that never receive intended bequests. Every delayed decision, every postponed conversation, every “I’ll do it next year” compounds into consequences that ripple through families for generations.

Towards a Cultural Shift

Perhaps the problem lies in how we frame estate planning itself. Instead of treating it as preparation for death, we might view it as an extension of living responsibly. Parents protect their children through insurance, education, and guidance. Estate planning is simply another form of protection, ensuring continuity and minimising harm when we’re no longer there to provide it ourselves.

Younger generations are beginning to shift this conversation. Millennials and Gen Z discuss digital assets, ethical investing, and sustainable legacy with an openness previous generations lacked. They’re questioning inheritance traditions, exploring creative approaches to wealth transfer, and treating estate planning as part of financial wellness rather than a morbid chore. This cultural evolution suggests that avoidance isn’t inevitable but rather a product of how we’ve been taught to think about death, money, and responsibility.

Planning for what happens after us isn’t about endings. It’s about continuity. It’s about ensuring that the people and causes we care about are protected, that our values extend beyond our lifespan, and that our absence doesn’t create the very suffering we spent our lives trying to prevent. The question isn’t whether we’ll die but whether we’ll choose to make that transition easier for those we leave behind.

Disclaimer: This article is for general information only. It does not constitute legal, financial, tax, or professional advice. Readers should consult qualified professionals including solicitors, financial advisers, and estate planning specialists for decisions relating to wills or estate planning specific to their individual circumstances.