Discovering your 'True Self'

My friend Mary died this week.

It had been expected; she had been ill for a while and she was certain that if she died, she was going to Heaven. So, in one way, I can’t be sad for her. However, processing my own loss of this witty, charming, spiky artist mate, well that’s another thing entirely. 

There are a bunch of us that are all friends of Mary’s and we are chatting on WhatsApp about how we are sure she is dancing now, happy now, at peace now...but saying it doesn’t mean that the pain of her going has now been dealt with and is over. And of course, we will all process the loss differently because we have different experiences of her friendship, different experiences of loss or death, and different ways of grieving.

When I read the news in the wee hours – On WhatsApp – I felt ok at first, but as I shared it with my husband, I cried. I’m crying now.

I have a similar kind of hot, queasy sensation in my belly that I had off and on for years after my son Dan died. I’m reminded of that time again. I’m reminded that Mary’s Mum will be feeling like I did after my child died – a grief so deep, dark and terrible; so black and miserable. Actually, I mustn’t assume anything that anyone is feeling. Those who loved Mary will be grieving, that’s true, we will all be sharing that experience and journey. But we will all grieve differently, at different speeds, at different times, with varying emotions and depths.

We have all had an opportunity to say goodbye to Mary – a visit, a card, a call. Whereas, when Dan died it was so sudden and traumatic, for quite a while I believed that my grief was bigger, wider, deeper than anyone else’s including his Dad, his sister and brothers. I actually can’t believe that I believed that, but I did. Somehow, I felt that as his mother my grief was more significant and more real. I believed that because I had given birth to him, I was the most important person in his life. For an even longer time I believed that there is a kind of hierarchy of grief – some points system that makes some worse, some easier, some lighter…. whatever.

This resulted in a kind of a judgement about self and others that is so wrong as to be laughable really. 

It seems to me that one useful and true measurement of grief or pain is that I am feeling it more or less than at other time in my life. Maybe the same is true for you?   Since that very dark time in my life I have woken up from that particular brand of insanity and seen that my emotions are just that – mine and mine alone. My emotions are internally sourced and processed through all my life experiences. So, how can I know what you are going through, or what you are feeling in times of grief, sadness, loss or loneliness? All we can truly know, I believe, is that other people may be feeling something similar. We can know that they are feeling, because that is some of what we share as human beings – these odd, weird, strange, wonderful emotions, thoughts and feelings. My honest acceptance of you and your journey comes from my True Self – not my thoughts because they lie to me a lot. They are just thoughts, but they pretend to be all of me!

My True Self accepts my own and others human-ness with gentle care and thoughtful attention. My True Self, and yours, will respect and honour the bits about us that we discover are different. My False Self, that I have created to impress you and others, or to just survive in a challenging world isn’t even real, but pretends to be clever, intelligent, beautiful and talented and wants to be better than you! My True Self is clever, intelligent, beautiful and talented and is delighted that you are too!

I have discovered that life is full of little deaths and small losses, from not getting the toy I wanted when I was 2 years old at playschool, to deciding not to buy the hot tub this weekend.

I am on a lifelong journey of self-love, self-acceptance and living from my true identity and that was what my friend Mary did. In December, Mary danced for us, a dance of love and grace. It was very moving as she was quite sick then. She inspired me, she annoyed me, she challenged us all. There was not a dry eye in the house when Mary danced for us that day. Her eyes and face were full of beauty, love and grace even though her body was evaporating before our eyes. I am so proud that she was my friend.

Jill McLachlan