Good Grief

Most of us are familiar with the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.  We expect grief when a loved one dies.  Perhaps we are wise enough to anticipate it in a divorce, which is after all the death of a relationship.  Do we also expect it in other traumas: abuse, a job termination, a serious illness?

I think we should. 

Over the past 10 months I have becoming well-acquainted with grief, sometimes without even realizing it was grief sitting beside me.  One thing I am unhappily discovering is that each event owns its own grief.  You cannot shorten the process, no matter how you may want to.  Neither can you dictate how to grieve....the process drives you, not the other way around. 

Some people may experience mostly anger, some mostly depression.  You may handle one situation in a completely different manner than another.  My recent experiences with grief include my divorce and another family trauma I am not at liberty to discuss at this time.  

(This second is also the reason for my suddenly-sparse blog entries.  Please be patient with me as we work through this!  I look ahead to a time when I can again blog meaningfully and prolifically!)  

With these events I experienced a short bout of denial, a poignant attempt at bargaining (mostly of the "why didn't I do X, Y, or Z to avoid this situation?!' variety), an intense period of anger, a significant depression (primarily marked by unrelenting fatigue and irritability), and finally peaceful acceptance.  

At least, I had come pretty close to the acceptance stage as far as my divorce was concerned.  I wasn't angry.  I had stopped playing the "what if" game.  I was feeling happier, working more efficiently and joyfully, and looking forward to my new single mom life.  I had even grown thankful for the unexpected "benefits" of divorce: a few hours a week to rest, work, and do home maintenance while the little ones enjoyed Daddy Days.  

Then the boom got lowered.  

Had I pondered the issue before, I might have concluded that a person undergoing separate heartaches simultaneously could somehow morph both griefs together, suffering "once for all," so to speak.

No such luck.  

Suddenly I find myself back in the grieving process, this time mourning not only some long-held expectations and dreams but also some of my newly-acquired ones.  

For the past few weeks, I've been berating myself for my sudden fatigue, wondering why I was dealing with the emotions I had felt at the beginning of my divorce.  Why was I not past this already?  

It was just yesterday that I realized my emotions are to be expected in light of a new trauma.  The fact that it is occurring at the tail end of one grieving process does not suggest that it could--or should--be folded into the other and easily dismissed.  Nor does it mean I am backsliding in my post-divorce healing. 

No.  

Just as my divorce claimed its own time, so does this new event. And it makes sense.  Would I want my lawyer, for example, to put less time or energy into my divorce because she was also concluding another?  Not hardly.  So it is with grief.  Each trauma deserves to be recognized, acknowledged, named, and grieved on its own merits, not shortchanged because the timing is inconvenient.

I am finding this to be both comforting and a little disappointing.  

On the comforting side, it's nice to know I am demonstrating the normal responses to abnormal situations.  I don't like it, however.  I am normally a high-energy, up-beat person.  I was starting to see glimmers of her returning, and to feel as if she has retreated into the shadows again is most annoying.  

I have the tools to handle this second blow, though.  My counselors, my family, my friends, and most of all my God are loving on me and my children in amazing ways.  And I am letting them.  I am taking the offers of childcare so I can temporarily work at jobs that require less mental flexibility than writing.  I am taking rest when I can.  I am snuggling with my little ones and working in my gardens.  (Look ahead for a post on that!)  

My fellow grievers, follow my lead.  "Be gentle with yourself," as my counselors say.  Listen to your body, your spirit, your mind . . . and obey their commands.  Give yourself license to grieve.  Do not burden yourself with recrimination.  

And when God occasionally blows you a kiss--a funny comment from your kids, a pumpkin pie from your neighbor, a caring email from a distant friend--grab hold of it.  Breathe it in.  Rest in it.  Even if you must do so with tears.