Chapter 1: The Weight of Unresolved Emotions

It's a late autumn Thursday in 2021, and I'm isolated in the dorm I moved into just a few months prior. It’s my first experience being away from home for an extended period, and the loneliness is palpable. I find myself reflecting on relationships that never evolved beyond a certain point, which only deepens my sense of sadness and emptiness. The memories replay in my mind, and despite the time that has passed, I can't seem to shake them off.

Early on a Monday morning, I gaze out the window at the cemetery that surrounds our dorm. “I can’t move on; my thoughts are stuck,” I lament to my therapist for what feels like the umpteenth time. The silence that follows is heavy. “Are you familiar with the true meaning of a funeral?” he asks. Living next to a graveyard, I see funerals regularly, but to me, they seem unremarkable.

My therapist employs gestalt therapy, which, as I understand it, focuses on closing emotional loops to facilitate healing. Michael Schreiner, in his work on Evolution Counseling, describes funerals as necessary rites where individuals accept their losses and learn to say goodbye.

Letting someone go is a significant step, but truly detaching from the memories associated with them is a different challenge. I believed I had moved on, yet his memory continued to haunt me. I realized I had replaced the emptiness within me with an idealized fantasy of him—what could have been but never was. Naturally, this left me feeling despondent, possibly even angry.

“Hold a funeral for him,” my therapist advised. He suggested using it as a tool to facilitate my healing process. Here’s how I approached it:

I chose an uncomfortable spot in my room to sit, purposely avoiding comfort as a way to dissociate him from feelings of safety. I lit a candle and began to write, pouring out everything that came to mind. Writing often brings me to tears, and I found that this process became increasingly symbolic. In the past, I would suppress these feelings, but now I allowed myself to express them fully.

Speaking to myself aloud proved equally therapeutic. I stayed there until I felt an emotional release. I discovered that once I let those feelings escape, I didn’t want to linger with them any longer. They were painful and exhausting, unlike the time I spent clinging to them to fill a void in my life.

When I finally extinguished the candle, I took the trash bag filled with my thoughts and feelings outside. I envisioned each memory and emotion being cast away as I discarded the bag into the public waste disposal. The rain poured down as I stood there, drenched, and a passerby glanced over, perhaps questioning why this girl was crying at the garbage chute.

I had my reasons, I reminded myself, and for the first time in a while, I felt lighter. Afterward, I returned inside, showered, and the weight of loneliness had lessened.

This became a ritual for me. Whenever those feelings crept back, I would revisit that uncomfortable spot and confront my obsessions. Over time, I not only let go of him but also released the desperation for