This morning I woke up feeling as though a truck had run over me while I slept. I stumbled out of bed and made my way to the computer to check my email and Facebook messages, but before I logged on, I decided to look up the stages of grief – just to see where I was in the whole scheme of grieving things.
According to the ever-intelligent internet machine, the stages of grief are as follows:
I quickly went through the list to assess the state of my grieving mind. Here are the thoughts that popped into my mind when I read each stage and it’s definition.
- Denial – It’s fairly hard to deny that your baby’s dead when you held her while she died. Skip that stage.
- Anger – Yep. About a week ago, my every thought involved phrases such as, “F@#$ the Universe, it doesn’t hear any of my thoughts or adhere to my compelling prayers”. Now, though, I have stopped thinking anything about the universe, except that the book “The Secret” is a crock of s@#%. (Incidentally, I’ve also developed quite a fowl mouth in the last week and I’m hoping it will disappear in time. Otherwise, I may be looking for a career in construction or as a truck driver just to fit in!)
- Bargaining – if a person doesn’t believe in the Universe or God and her baby never had a chance to learn to understand or speak her native language, what is there to bargain for? How can I even begin to say, “If you’ll just live, I promise to never do such and such again,” or, “I will do such and such if you just bring her back”? Skip that stage.
- Depression – overwhelming feelings of hopelessness, frustration, bitterness, self pity, mourning loss of person as well as the hopes, dreams and plans for the future. Feeling lack of control, feeling numb…Yes, this about sums me up in one sentence. Most days, I can barely drag my butt out of bed, let alone eat, shower, etc., but Greg is a rock and he’s always right there beside me, encouraging me to get up and get going, even when I just want to stay in bed all day with the blind drawn and cry my heart out – which I do. Despite all that I’ve been through in my life and even though I’ve grieved for the losses of my baby son nearly 13 years ago and my mom 11 years ago, this pain is like nothing I have ever experienced. It hurts…a lot, both physically and mentally. However, I know myself and I know that I am not a negative, down trodden type gal, so I know that in time my positivity and generosity and all the things that I love about myself will eventually win over this pain and hurt. The thing I don’t know for certain is how long it will take. I’m not a patient person, so I’m sure it will be sooner rather than later. For now, though, I’m going to surf this painful wave until I hit the distant shore. *sigh*
- Acceptance – Yep, not quite there yet…may never hit that zen moment of acceptance…
So, here I am. I’ve blown through those first stages and seem to be sitting pretty in a depressive state. Good times. However, despite all this sadness, during the past few days I’ve discovered that my ability to laugh – genuine laughter, not that fake-it-till-you-make-it kind- is still here inside me. I first found it when Greg and I saw a little kid dancing his way out of the school grounds near our house and it surfaced again and again yesterday as we spent time with our families at a little gathering we had to mourn Cora. Laughter truly is the best medicine…
Perhaps I should go on the road, following comedy tours for a few months until I’ve laughed away all of my pain???
Have a good day my friends. I wish you all enough…