I'd just got in from a funeral when the call came in from one of my chaplaincy colleagues at the hospice. "We've had a bit of an unusual request, and I thought you'd be able to help" she began, before going on to tell me how Leanne, one of the patients on the inpatient, had asked about the possibility of arranging a commitment ceremony for herself.⁠ That’s right, she wanted to marry herself. “To be honest,” my colleague went on, “it’s not something I’ve ever heard of - have you? I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Actually, I had heard of self-marriage - sometimes known as sologamy - before. But, in my five years as a celebrant, I had certainly never performed a ceremony like that. And neither had any of my Humanist colleagues. But, being the sort of person that I am, I was intrigued, and arranged to drop by the hospice to see Leanne and to talk about her plans. In the meantime, I started reading up on the subject.

Advocates argue that sologamy can be a really powerful way for an individual to recognise and celebrate their own worth, and to rediscover themself. It’s a declaration of self compassion (which none of us are very good at most of the time), and a promise of radical self-love - giving ourselves the same time and care that we commonly give to others.

To its detractors, sologamy is self-indulgent at best. Some people raised concerns about the request and the motives behind it, or suggested that it hadn’t been fully thought through. That it was a whim.

My goodness, nothing could have been further from the truth. As soon as I met Leanne and talked with her, it became clear that she had been considering this carefully for some time as part of a long journey of discovery and self-love. She knew exactly what she was doing, exactly why - to her, it was ‘an important part of acceptance and peace with all this’ (meaning her diagnosis).

Just like the hospice’s wonderful clinical team, I was only too happy to help make it happen for her. As with any wedding, it was an honour to be asked - but especially so in Leanne’s case, where she was living with secondary cancer.

It was the most beautiful day. Leanne’s bridesmaids, two of the healthcare assistants on the unit, helped dress her in a favourite bright pink dress and headscarf. There was the most beautiful bouquet, handtied like it had been made by a professional florist, of hellebores and tulips from the hospice garden. Together the nurses and I strung lights around the sanctuary (the hospice’s multifaith space) and lit candles. We also flung the folding doors open so that Leanne’s bed could face out onto the peace of the garden.

I had written some words - just as I would for any wedding - to begin the ceremony and to guide Leanne through it. She had written her own vows, which she recited there, in the peace of the sanctuary, with her sister by her side…

I promise to love myself and trust my intuition with self-worth and acceptance. I am whole. Falling in love with my life itself, unconditional love for myself, knowing my worth. I have the key within me, as I got the pearl and the pearl is me.

We also played the song ‘Valium’ by Lisa Mitchell - the song that Leanne had wanted to be played at her own wedding, a day that she had hoped to see but had realised would not now happen. And we included a beautiful poem, by Rupi Kaur, which Leanne felt summed up all the promises that she was making to herself…

we think we are lost
while our fuller
found and complete selves
are somewhere in the future
we get on our hands and knees
thinking self-improvement will
help us reach them
but this finding ourselves bullshit
is never going to end
i’m tired of putting off living until
i have more information on who i am
i’m a new person every month
always becoming and unbecoming
only to become again
our fuller selves are not off in the future
they’re right here
in the only moment that exists
i don’t need fixing
i will be searching for answers my whole life
not because i’m a half-formed thing
but because i’m brilliant enough to keep growing
everything necessary to live a vivid life
already exists in me

The moment the ceremony was finished, and I looked at Leanne’s face, I knew. I just knew it had been the right thing for her. It was the most beautiful day, and I can only thank her for allowing me to be a part of it.

And yes, I did cry. But I always do at weddings.

Read more on the hospice website here: https://www.arhc.org.uk/supporting-you/personal-stories/detail/30-year-old-marries-herself-at-the-hospice/