“So we’re gonna live. We’re gonna jump off cliffs into oceans” (Gareth Emery)

 We had a zoom call on Friday to catch up with everyone from the retreat plus one facilitator, Neils. 7 of us made it, and it was really nice to see everyone again. It did truly feel like a family reunion. Someone said that I looked like Retreat Phil’s younger brother, which was lovely. We did some breathing exercises again to get us settled, and then did a round Robin to tell everyone how we were feeling a couple of weeks afterwards. We did it in the order that we sat around the circle, and I just want to take a moment to remember the room. Neils got us to remember coming to the retreat, walking through the door, taking our shoes off and going upstairs, left over the bridge and into the session room. It’s quite a large room, with one set of windows, which were covered with a curtain. My “spot” was by a radiator under the window and I usually left my glasses off on the window sill. The pallets were laid out around the room, and we would lie on them feet towards the centre. Each of us had a round firm pad to sit on when we were sitting up, with blankets for warmth and security. In the centre of the room there were candles and tea lights. Incense was burning, giving off a really nice comforting scent. The room was warm and quiet. Extremely peaceful. There was some Christian ideology in the room such as a statue of Christ, which I did my best to ignore! Just thinking of the room now makes me feel quite calm and peaceful. I think if I meditate that’s where I’m going to go, and I’ll immediately feel the love and compassion of my fellow travellers, and the calm reassurance of Neils and Femke. 

I’m obviously not going to go into details about either them or their particular experiences, but a few things did come out that were pretty common to all of us. We seem a lot more settled and content than we were before. We are sleeping less as well, which surprised me. I have got a sleep app for my phone which records my sleep patterns, deep sleep, light sleep and so on. I knew I didn’t sleep much and now it’s official - I sleep for less than 6 hours a night on average. About 5 hours 50 minutes, and that’s neither good or bad, it’s just what it is. We all feel calmer and more at peace than we were before. Some of us, like me, have come to terms with the death of loved ones. Some have been able to get a handle on their anxieties, some have decided to try and reconnect with people that they have been estranged from in the past. One or two didn’t quite reach the places they perhaps wanted to go, but were still happy with what they got out of the experiences. 

As for me, I’m still feeling very calm and peaceful these days, even if I did shout out at another driver today (which I was justified for, so I’m ok with that!) I’ve also got a lot more confidence in myself. I did something really scary, even if I didn’t have any anxiety about the actual experience. My intuition that it was the right thing to do was absolutely correct, and I’m beginning to trust myself more. I used to only plan to book in the bare minimum of things to do in a week, but this week I’ve got a difficult meeting with a bunch of people who really don’t like me, and I’m perfectly ok with that. I don’t need to be liked and in fact have the courage to be disliked by people. I’m less interested in being a people pleaser these days; you can’t please everyone, so the only person you do have to please is yourself. You don’t have to be a dick about it of course, just firmly and quietly state your position and stand by it. Some people will hate it, some will like it, or admire you for taking a stand, and that’s their choice. I’m not responsible for them or their feelings. What they think of me really isn’t my business, and if they have an issue they can talk to me about it and we can discuss it, or they can keep it to themselves. 

My anxiety levels have dropped a lot as well. Sure, I still get anxious about some things, but I’m not obsessing about it as much. It is what it is, and if it’s something I can’t control, I’m more accepting of that. I still worry, but it’s a damn sight better than curling up into a fetal position and crying over it. Boy, I was in such a mess back then. 

A few other random things - I am more capable these days and things don’t loom as large. Rather than let a task prey on my mind and assume ridiculous proportions I can just do it. And then do the next one and the one after that. I’m meeting up with three friends at different times this week as well, which I’m looking forward to. I’m still having therapy sessions, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll need those for. But I’m still enjoying talking to my therapist, and it’s a form of self care, so I’ll do it for as long as I want. I’m consciously trying to reframe the words I use about myself, using more positive terms, and less critical ones as well. I’m continuing to travel the new railway tracks of thoughts in my mind, replacing the old damaging ones with the new. I’m not really meditating as such, but I’m ok in my mind as it is. But if I need to, I’ll go straight back to that room in the Netherlands, and immediately feel calmer. And I have such a strong mind as well. And it’s so powerful. By that I mean I can look back at holding 16 years of mind numbing grief in check, which is a thing in itself. And it fought really, really hard against the psilocybin for a ridiculously long period of time. Even ChatGPT thought it was “highly unusual”, so I’ll take that. I also got through the intense grief and I came out the other side. That took real strength to do, and that also gives me more confidence in myself. Go me! I’ve been strong and open enough to share my journey, with all the successes and failures along the way, which is far more than most people could do, but I wanted to do mainly for myself, but also in the hope that it could help other people learn a little more about grief and mental health issues. Not only am I a good writer, but I’m also a good teacher as well, not just professionally but in other areas as well. I couldn’t have said, or admitted that to myself before the retreat. 

Finally I have taken a picture of Jill, which is framed, from its place hidden away on the floor behind a pile of books, and put it up on a shelf where I can see it all the time. I can finally look at it, and by extension at her. I know that I did the very best for her that I could. I nursed her, I loved her, I fought for her, and as she died in my arms the last thing she would have been aware of was me telling her that I loved her. I gave her the very, very best death that I could; loved and in my arms. She would have been content at that. So instead of “it was my fault” I’m replacing that with “I did the best that I could have done, more than anyone else could have done.” She was always proud of me, and would have been absolutely bursting with it for going on this journey and coming out the other side. And if she could be proud of me, I bloody well can be as well. All of us who took our journeys can be proud of ourselves and I hope Neils and Femke can be proud of themselves for facilitating our experiences so well. 

I am content and finally at peace.