This article started life as a somewhat po-faced piece about ceremonies for divorce.; Here, at the end of my time at college, I realised it needed to be a little broader than that.
The first time I recall consciously 'performing' an ending ritual was about 3 years ago, in the bath (as you do) for my back. To get a perspective on this, I have to share a little history.
I slipped a disc' in September '95, and it was hell. I was a single parent with 2- and 4-year-old kids and my most vivid memory of that whole time is sitting in the hall crying because I couldn't reach my feet to put my shoes on. The doctor offered physiotherapy, which didn't work. I bought myself a TENS machine, which had a similar effect. Eventually, after more than a year of continuous pain, a hospital consultant diagnosed a prolapsed disc and recommended an operation to remove some of it. I went on a waiting list and considered my options. In a way the diagnosis was an immense relief; it verified that something real was wrong with my back, and gave it a name. On the other hand, an invasive spine operation is incredibly risky and it felt like I'd carried a bluff too far - did I really want to do this? I paid to see a chiropractor, and she offered no magic cures, said she could well help but if not, she'd recommend the operation and that I'd still have to be careful with my back for the rest of my life. I was 26 years old. I went home and wept. At some point after this I made two decisions. One was to go ahead with the chiropractor and take the (financial) risk involved. The other (in the bath) was to give up everything the back pain stood for and be willing to be healed. For a year it had defined my life - I was the one with the bad back - and it gave me certain rights and privileges, as well as restrictions. I think there are a few key points here that would hold true for any ending:
Acknowledgement. My pain had been acknowledged (no one can give up something that may not have been real).
Benefits. Clichés are clichés because they're true - all that stuff about silver linings and an ill wind blowing no good mean that most people extract some kind of pay off from the strangest circumstances. I had to acknowledge that before I could let it go. I really feel I could have stopped my own healing by not seeing it, and it didn't make my pain any less real.
Welcoming the next stage. Knowing it was time to move on, and affirming it.
Decision. Making a positive decision can mean action or inaction, but it's important to be clear about what it's going (or not going) to be.
To go back to the idea of a separation ceremony, I think this framework fits - acknowledging the marriage (it really happened, the idea of this ceremony is not to wipe it out and turn the clock back). The benefits - and not just the obvious ones like 'the children', that's a cop out! I mean the kind of things you'd rather burn on a piece of paper than speak aloud, maybe that him being a git meant you could look noble and self-righteous. Or that because she spent money like water you could feel justified in indulging your mean and penny-pinching streak.
The decision to separate is what the ceremony is to reflect, of course. And the celebratory aspect could be in welcoming the next chapter of your life.
Part of the acknowledgement could involve grieving. This is especially important if the person having the ceremony initiated the divorce…they may be unprepared for the force of grief lurking round the edges of their joyous new freedom. Is grief inevitable after divorce? I may well get a dozen letters disputing this (oh goody, says Cheryl) but I believe it is. Our culture still views divorce as failure, and if you've had a remotely traditional wedding then to divorce means breaking vows. With the rise in Handfastings we may see an increase in people amicably parting company with no harm done when it isn't working, but I think a sense of grief at parting is entirely appropriate when young children are involved - even when you've had to leave for their sake.
As to me and college, I don't know if I need a ceremony, but I certainly need an ending. I missed the ball because I just couldn't be bothered to go. (I'm pregnant: I can't drink alcohol, my dress doesn't fit and I can't stay awake.) Rumour has it that there will be a bit of a party for the music dept after the last performance tomorrow night, so that might do the trick if we don't all avoid the issue. However, there's more to endings than the surface stuff of physical being. I've finished my last exams and I'm not going back in September - it's sad, it's a relief and it's completely apparent. The tricky bit is when I find myself being really ratty with my partner or kids, and I realise 2 hours later that it had nothing to do with them and everything to do with the fact that I fear re-entering the 'Mum' role, when what I want to do no longer has a mystical priority and has to wait till everyone else is in bed.
While on the subject of endings, I'd like to share one of a very different kind. This is one that does not fit my neat structure, but it is one that is often disregarded and goes unacknowledged by our cuture. I have Mary Ellen's permission to print the following, sent me by her friend. She is a mid-wife in America.
(The story of) a woman who had lost a baby at 17 weeks. The woman had lost the child on Friday and Mary Ellen went to see her on Sunday. Since it had been a home birth, the family had the remains of the baby, a little boy.
They wrapped the child in layers of fabric and herbs...the fabric being items belonging to the older children, ages 5 and 3. Each person took an opportunity to hold the baby and say goodbye...and of course, they named him. Then they built a fire and the mother put him in it...she stayed at the fire until he was gone, over an hour.
A lot of people might really struggle with the idea of a 3 and 5 year old being given a dead baby to hold, but it certainly brings death back home as a reality, and perhaps will make it easier to face in adulthood. A friend of mine had a most appalling experience having miscarried in hospital - the medical staff treated her twin babies as having no more consequence than a removed organ. The biggest irony of the story quoted above is that had the baby been nearer to term, it would have been a legal 'person' and the likelihood is that the family would not have been allowed to build a fire and 'dispose of the body' at home.
Interestingly, legal language is often very powerful and ceremonious in and of itself. When a person I know separated from her husband, she wanted to choose her own name. To make it legal for her passport she instructed a solicitor to draw up the relevant document, and it was quite amazing, calling upon a person to '…deny, refuse and revoke utterly…' the aforementioned name. Be warned! If you're not ready for it, the power of the words and the finality of it can catch you off guard.
Our lives are a journey, and full of endings at every bend in the road; preparing us, perhaps, for the inevitable big one. A good deal of unnecessary stress is created by people who don't know when to stop. Two obvious examples being the parent who goes on trying to 'look after' offspring that stopped requiring it years ago, and the organisation that goes on perpetuating itself long after it has ceased to fulfil its function. A good indicator of mental health is how one deals with a crisis, rather than ignore it, and endings need to be dealt with properly, not skirted around. We need to give each other and ourselves the time, space and permission to do it.
I couldn't see a way of adding to this the detail that the chiropractor fixed my back in 9 sessions, with two subsequent 'top up' sessions a few months later. It worked by creating a vacuum to suck the disc cartilage back in, like toothpaste into a tube. I can run and jump and climb things again, and survive a long car journey, and even walk a few miles without developing a pronounced limp. And I can sit cross-legged or at the piano for an hour, and even sit up in bed although to do so too often would tempt fate. I don't think of myself as 'having a back problem'. It's good.
The other thing I wanted to mention is that the party after the jazz concert didn't really happen and it all felt really difficult and miserable. I kept feeling I was doing and saying the wrong things and I was just glad to come home. Today I made a point of returning my things (library card, store cupboard key, etc) quite slowly and deliberately, wandering round campus for an hour longer than it need have taken, and this evening I feel better. I suppose, on Wednesday, it felt that few people cared that they weren't going to see me again (my good friends I will be seeing) and I didn't care all that much about them either. I can't bear pretence and I hate small talk, so what did I want to happen? Today, I was wrapped up in myself and my own process, and moved at my own pace. I saw a few people I needed to speak to, and did what I needed to 'sign off'. I finished in my own way.
And I promise to go to my graduation
ceremony….