Mental Funeral
A funeral for who you used to be — so the next you can walk out the door.
It isn't the thing you can't let go of, it's the version of you who carried it. Or maybe there's a part of you you'd like to end: the one who overthinks, the one who never dares to try, the one who hesitates a long time before moving.
This is a quiet, deliberate farewell: bring one small object from that time, write an obituary for who you were, and send them off properly in the ritual. Not sad, not forced, closer to a coronation only you understand. The old self retires with honor, and the person who walks out is the one who lives what comes next.
Before every new beginning, there has to be a real ending. This evening is that ending.
- Write the obituary: write down the version you're sending off
- The farewell: tear it, put it in water, watch it come apart. Then seal away the object you brought
- Being heard: write one gentle line to yourself
- Leave with new characters and new strength: meet what each of the twelve characters carries, choose two you want to grow into, and sign the declaration
- One letter before you leave: write down something recent and hang it on the tree, where it becomes someone else's strength
- A death declaration you signed yourself, with that version's name, the years it lived, and what it did for you
- Two character cards and their practice pages: one you need most now, one you want to practice growing into
- The object you brought, sealed with thread
- A gentle line written for yourself
- Available on site: the Night Murmur A6 binder, your practice pages fit right in
Bring one object that stands for that version of you.
- Small enough to hold in one hand, about a palm, no more than 15 cm
- Don't bring: anything valuable, anything you can't lose, photographs, anything fragile, anything dangerous
- If the object is too big, or you'd rather not bring the original, bring something that stands for it. A button, a key, a piece of paper all work
- If you don't have anything, that's fine. There will be something here
- There's a part of you you're tired of carrying, and you want to say a proper goodbye
- There's something you can't put down, and you keep blaming yourself for it
- It's long over, and yet something about it still feels unfinished
- You're currently grieving someone close who died. What you need now is company, not a symbolic ritual. This won't help, and it may make things harder
- You're in therapy, or working through trauma or a serious mental health condition. This is not treatment and can't replace it. Please decide together with your therapist
- Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your breath go short, or pulls you back into that moment. Whether it happened recently or years ago, this evening can't hold it. Please find a professional to sit with you first
If you're not sure which side of that line you're on, write to me and I'll answer honestly. If it isn't a fit, I'll say so.
This evening won't treat your trauma, and it won't make you whole.
It does one small thing: it gives an ending a form.
The form itself changes nothing, but sometimes an ending with a form makes the days after a little easier to walk.
If tonight you only want to sit there and write nothing, that's fine too.
This one runs by application. There are no open ticket sales. Fill in the form below. I read every one myself, then send you a ticket link. If it isn't a fit, I'll say so honestly, and point you somewhere that might be. When the date, place, and price are set, the people on the list hear first.