A Grief Revisited...The Five Stages

In my last grief post I talked about how surreal my life had become. Today I'm going to talk about my experience with the Five Stages of Grief that Elisabeth Kubler Ross first introduced in her book, On Death and Dying, in 1969, two years before I was even born.  I recalled studying about them in school but I was amazed to discover just how right on they really were...

These stages did not necessarily happen in order for me as I am sure they don't for most people. The first one I recall experiencing was Bargaining... I think I knew he was gone before I ever even knew he was gone, if that makes any sense.  I felt it in my bones and in my soul before I ever got out of the house.


I remember trying to bargain with God though.  I begged him not to let this happen... promising, vowing to be a better wife, a better person, a better Christian, if he'd just let him live.  As if this was somehow my fault...like I was being punished for my imperfections. I realize now how irrational and self-centered this belief was but when you're in the midst of something so monumentally tragic, your thoughts are anything but rational.  


I think I experienced a little Anger pretty early on, before we had even left the hospital, but what I was mostly feeling then was shock.  I remember the Denial clearly because once the finality of it sunk in for me, I was mortified by some words of denial I spoke to Devin a few days after his death. But I know I fully believed them at the time which is so bizarre to look back on because I've always considered myself a person with a pretty good understanding and grasp of reality.  


I don't remember the date exactly but I know it was probably within just a few days after the funeral. Devin was only four so I can only imagine how he was processing this in his mind since I was finding it so difficult to comprehend myself.   We were in the living room, just the two of us, and he was lying on the couch when he said, very matter of fact-like, "My daddy has been gone for a long time now. When is he coming back?"  


And I spent a lot of time later on beating myself up for this but God help me, I was in such a shattered state at the time that I actually thought it was possible.  I said, "He's in heaven now, remember?  But maybe God will let him come visit us sometimes...like as an angel."   And I believed that somehow.  I really did.  


Grief does some crazy things to us.  


The Anger and the Depression seemed to come and go as they pleased.  One minute I'd be pissed at Darin for allowing such a thing to happen to himself and leaving me with so much responsibility and two boys without a father.  The next minute I was shouting at God for allowing this to happen.  I wanted to know where his guardian angel was that day!  I wanted to know WHY?  Why me?  Why him?  Why us?  


If I wasn't angry, I was depressed.  I hated sunny days because the sun and singing birds seemed to be mocking me.  I wanted them to be depressed too.  Misery often does love company.


Yeah, the anger and the depression took turns for quite awhile.  I sometimes felt like I had more personalities than Sybil, never knowing which emotion I was going to be hit with when I got out of bed each day.


Finally there is Acceptance.  It, however, was not the final stage.  It wasn't as if I woke up one day and said, "Okay, this is it.  He's not coming back so I'm going to stop grieving and get on with my life now."  Grief is nowhere near that simple.


Looking back, I'm going to say I probably entered the full on acceptance stage sometime just after the one year mark.  It was like a turning point for me.  I had survived all the firsts. And for me, that was huge.  I knew that everything was going to be okay from there on out...Not perfect... (I mean whose life ever really is?)...But okay.  


I felt like a true survivor for the first time in my life and I was ready to start rebuilding...

   

What I've Learned From Extroverts...

I am an introvert.  No two ways about it. I think many of the kids in my elementary and middle school probably suspected something was seriously wrong with me because I rarely spoke to anyone. And if they didn't think something was wrong with me?  They thought I was a complete and total snob who thought she was too good for them all.  


Of course neither of those things were true.  Social situations were just extremely difficult for me.  


And while I have improved my social skills greatly over the years, I'm still the same ole introvert I always was. But because I find it hurtful when I hear that someone concluded that I simply did not like him or her (thanks to the extroverts in my life telling me so) I have learned to make more of an effort to appear a little less aloof.


And that's not the only lesson I've learned from the extroverted people I have known and loved over the years.


Here are just a few more that come to mind...

~Other people, even the ones you are closest to, really cannot read your mind. I seriously think I forget this from time to time.  An introvert internalizes everything.  Our wheels are constantly turning within even when we may appear to be in a complete state of rest on the outside. So I now try to make more of an effort to actually speak or write some of my emotions, wants, and needs rather than keeping them locked up tight in that little box in my head. 


~Paying someone a compliment can often turn their day around. (Just do it.)
I know this because I have been on the receiving end of such compliments.  I don't think I ever realized though that while I often thought of them myself, I rarely spoke them.
  
Charlie (one of the most extroverted people I've ever met) helped me see this a few years ago... He was wearing a light turquoise-colored polo and I said, "You look really good in that color. That's your color."    A huge grin came across his face and he said, "Thank You! You don't give compliments very often."  My reply was, "I don't?  Well...I think them."  


So now I try to remember to actually pay the compliment forward rather than keeping it to myself.  


~Someone not remembering your birthday or another significant date/detail does not mean they don't love you.  I think this was one of the hardest lessons for me to learn.  We introverts think, observe and listen much more than we speak which makes it easier for us to remember such things. I rarely ever forget someone's birthday. Ever.  Once I file something like that away internally, it is always there.  


Most extroverts are not like this.  I am aware now that this is a gift and that I should not take it personally when someone else doesn't remember every single detail about me and about our past together.  They are just wired differently, that's all.  


~Go ahead and point out the obvious because chances are pretty good that it may not be as obvious as you think.  Again, introverts internalize things and we listen to and observe our surroundings A LOT because we aren't busying ourselves with chatter.  So what may seem obvious to us may go completely unnoticed by everyone else.  


I can't tell you how many times I've kept quiet about something important simply because I thought it was obvious to all, only to find out later (from an extrovert) that I was the only one who noticed.


~People are not nearly as focused on you as you are. So lighten up.
I think that we [introverts] spend so much time within ourselves that we sometimes assume that the rest of the world is just as focused on us which leads to more social awkwardness and anxiety. 


They are not.  


And the extroverts in my life have taught me this.  Chances are pretty good that nobody else is noticing that tiny zit beside your nose, that little scuff you just got on the front of your boot, or that your black t-shirt is a shade off from your black yoga pants (something you did not yourself notice until you got out into a brighter light and are now freaking out inside about.)


So now when I feel myself having an inner panic attack over something so insignificant and trivial, I remind myself of what my beloved extroverts would do...



And I just roll with it...


Shrug it off, carry on, and roll with it. 


And maybe even laugh at myself a little in the process.


**This post is part of the Writer's Workshop at Mama's Losin' It.

The closet gets cleaned and SpongeBob gets dissed.

I am happy to come here today and report that my closet is no longer hazardous to my physical well-being because the pics I posted of it here yesterday succeeded at shaming me into straightening it back up...again.  And I am quite positive that I would not have carried it out had it not been for that.  
Because I was so not feeling it.  


It was not, however, as bad as it looked or that I had originally thought because the complete organizational job I did in there back in September was still partially there.  I just had to uncover it.  


See?

I should probably think about maybe getting around to taking that trash bag full of clothes that is sitting just outside it in the bathroom to the Salvation Army sometime soon though because it has been there since September. Also, I could probably stand to bag up a few more things because who needs a hundred and ninety two t-shirts?  I have no idea why it is so difficult for me to do things like that but it always has been.  


Procrastination is my middle name. 


In other news, Brisco Darling will go in dark and early in the morning for his teeth cleaning.  Why in the h.e. double hockey sticks it is necessary for him to be there before the roosters crow is beyond me but it seems that is always the case even with any type of human surgery.  


Not that this is surgery but dogs do have to undergo anesthesia in order to have their teeth cleaned which is why it costs about triple the amount of having my own teeth cleaned.  And also leaves me in a state of worry until I can go and pick him up because Worry is my other middle name.  I have a few.  


I'm trying to get Li'l Bit out of having hers cleaned this time.  Hers aren't nearly as bad as his and the dog doc suggested I try an oscillating toothbrush, telling me that dogs seem to do better with those than with the back and forth brushing of a regular toothbrush.


Although I strongly suspected this would not be the case, Dracen and I bought them both battery operated SpongeBob (because the kiddie ones looked to be the only ones that would fit in their mouths) toothbrushes at the grocery store yesterday and let's just say that she did not take to it the way I had hoped.  I only wish I had a video of it because the look she gave me just before she began thrashing her head from side to side in an effort to escape was all kinds of priceless.


Maybe I should've gone with Spiderman. Dracen was worried that "they" (I guess the cashier, bagger and other Food Lion shoppers) would think that the SpongeBob toothbrushes were for him.  Possessing a toothbrush shaped like a talking sponge nerd apparently becomes uncool around the age of eight and a half. 


And now that I've seen it in writing?  


I think that may just be a good thing.