It’s not often that you would get the opportunity to attend your own funeral, and there isn’t a whole lot that you can do to prepare yourself emotionally, for that type of experience.
A couple of years ago, I was at a place in my life where my circumstances had taken me pretty close to rock bottom. I was deeply unhappy with my life and didn’t know what I needed to do to fix that. I needed a change. I attended a retreat with the intention of getting some intensive therapy and learning some new coping tools, but when I left… I walked away with a second chance at an authentic life and a sense of gratitude that will not soon be forgotten.
It’s true; I attended my own funeral, and it was the most profound and life-changing day of my life. A day I continue to reflect on over and over again, and one that still changes me. Sometimes, an experience can be something so incredibly substantial that the reflection of the experience after the fact truly impacts you in such a way that you won’t ever forget it. It is so prominent in your heart and mind that each time it replays in your head; it can be even more meaningful than the time when you first lived it. Talk about a defining moment, only to me this was THE defining moment. It was the first day of the rest of my life.
As soon as I saw the line of cars, I instinctually knew that I was going to be part of a caravan heading to a funeral. What I didn’t realize, however, was that I was on my way to MY funeral. Nobody thinks about ever having to go through something like that, so it’s no wonder that I was in complete and utter shock. I knew when I signed up for this 10-day Retreat that I needed to be ready for “real” change, but I was panicked at the idea of this exercise. I hate cemeteries and have never done well at funerals. I just couldn't come to terms with the idea of sitting through MY funeral. What would that feel like?
When we drove up to the gravesite, my heart sunk. I felt sick and downright uncomfortable. I walked up to the headstone and sat on a bench nearby. The entire cemetery was silent, and the air was crisp and cool, especially for a summer afternoon. As I sat there and stared at the grave, my entire life slowly played through my mind. I thought about every trial and tribulation, every person who had impacted me, and every person I had possibly disappointed along the way. I wondered what they would all say or think about me now. I had a writing prompt and visualization that took me through the entire experience of my own funeral, TWICE. Once, reflecting on what friends and family would think about me should I die with my life exactly the way it was, on that same dark path. Then a second time, this time considering how friends and family would feel about me had I been on a new path, a changed path living the real and authentic life I was meant to live.
In truly imagining my life coming to an end right then and there, I had so many regrets about how my story ended. I was full of intense emotions and remorse and so many epiphanies that seemed too little too late. The amount of clarity you can have for circumstances once they no longer exist are shocking and sobering. I deserved better than this life I was living. I knew my loved ones deserved better and more than anything I knew that there was a better version of myself deep inside that had been suppressed over the years because I had allowed negative people and circumstances to compromise my view of my own self-worth. That realization alone was so painful for me to accept. I recognized that I had allowed bad relationships to define me. I had nobody to blame but myself.
I could look at every defining moment in my life and see how other people’s selfish choices and words had gradually eroded the person I was supposed to be. I had a rough childhood that was dark and traumatic at times; I was abandoned as a child and allowed those circumstances to be the mirror of my value to the rest of the world. Then, as an adult, I ended up in a less-than-healthy relationship, hopelessly committed to somebody who was never actually committed to me in the way that I wanted and deserved. I settled out of desperation for a life that felt anything different than abandonment and pain. I got married young, had children young, and when my marriage fell apart, so did the facade I wore of having it all together and feeling good about myself. My marriage and my “perfect family” were what I held onto to make up for the crappy hand I had been dealt earlier in life. Once that crutch of false happiness was gone, I could no longer keep up with my fantasy life because the realities of my circumstances were so cold and sobering that my divorce opened up so many insurmountable childhood wounds.
To be honest, I hated myself for not being able to have the life I wanted and deserved, and I blamed myself for things that were far beyond my control. I believed the false truth that people in my life didn’t stick around and love was merely conditional. I had believed those lies for so many years, and it wasn’t until that day that I was able to see my actual truth, through my potential death.
That day at my graveside, I pictured my children growing up with the memory of a mom who was easily wounded by what other people’s choices and words had inflicted on me. A mom who lived in great sadness over the life she lost in the divorce, rather than focusing on the future she gained with a new family of 3 and the endless possibilities to start again. A person whose circumstances had defeated her. A woman who was too afraid to be herself and allowed the people in her life to tell her who she was.
I envisioned friends sitting around talking about my potential and my strengths, instead of the life I should have made for myself and my children had I only had the courage to put one foot in front of the other and live my true fate. There were so many regrets about how I had chosen to handle my pain and how I mourned a life I could never have again. I was afraid to move on, to find the happiness that I deserved, and to be the "real" me, or to find out who I really was. After all, what if that wasn't enough?
As I reflect on that day standing over my grave, I remember how much of my life was controlled by fear. I was SO afraid to be myself, to be real with the people around me. Like many women, I had become good at being “fine” and as soon as I wasn’t, I desperately wanted to do anything I could to conceal that from the rest of the world. That becomes such a heavy burden; to try and hide the real mess of a person you are, just so those around you won’t be bothered by your truth. What I’m realizing more and more from that experience is that my life before that day lacked true connection. I was missing out on a lot of genuine relationships because I wasn’t being honest with myself or with others about who I was or where I was struggling in life.
Most of my closest friends knew nothing of my childhood. A huge part of what makes me, me. Most of my closest friends knew nothing about the details of my failed marriage because I was too embarrassed to admit that I allowed myself to be treated in that way. I never wanted to soil his name because, in fairness, this was a situation where I had ignored all of the red flags, and I definitely felt some responsibility.
When I walked away from that grave, I made a promise to myself. I vowed that I would work hard everyday to own my story and to use it. That I would find healing from things that had happened to me and that I would own those battle wounds like a warrior. That I would model for my children what it means to have dignity, strength, and self-compassion. Most of all that I would embrace THIS life I am living because even if it doesn’t look exactly the way I imagined it, there is beauty in the ashes, and somehow I am exactly where I am supposed to be.
That day, I laid to rest the old facade of myself, and I accepted who I really am and where I have been in my life. The only thing I can hope for now is that when the day comes, and my loved ones are standing at my actual grave, that they will see me for exactly who I am. Somebody who lived life as a constant work in progress, somebody who was eager to learn and hungry to inspire others, somebody far from perfect but perfect in my own way and somebody who desperately wants to leave the people in my life just a little bit better than how I found them. A beautiful mess...I guess that’s what my headstone could say someday, but hopefully, not anytime soon because I have one hell of a life to live, and I intend to live it authentically with joy.
