If I had superpowers at my disposal one would the uncanny ability to remove soapscum from a bathtub at will.
Being a human capable of flight sans an airplane is a superpower I’d love to have. And never finding onseself in a situation of saying or doing something that would end in regret would be another.
I’m about to quote someone once heard Dr. Phil ( I’m not a fan) quote Will Rogers, “Never miss an opportunity to shut up”, or something like that. Knowing when to completely self-edit is something I’m keen on trying.
Lately, I’ve been so incredibly angry. Hotel reservationsists, and several poor saps at a call center in Mumbai have experienced it firsthand.
And it’s not so much anger as it full on rage.
I’m mourning the loss of a friend and a ten relationship that ended in his taking the perpetual dirt nap just over two months ago. It was a complex duet that most most people admitted they didn’t understand. I’ve been mourning him as such which means, I’ve been doing a lot of that all by myself, partly on purpose, partly because it’s awkward for people.
It’s awkward for me. But I’m making progress.
There are supposedly here are five stages of grief, first proposed by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her 1969 book On Death and Dying. They are denial and isolation; anger, bargaining, depressions and ultimately, acceptance. I understand there are caveats to all of these. A grief stricken person won’t necesssarily go through the stages precisely as Ross determined them, or experience all of them. We shift into them like a car, but for me I’m stuck in gear.
I understand isolation and anger, as little Habib who instists for English speakers, his name is Greg Jones, can surely attempt. But I consider myself too rational to bargain. There are no ‘what ifs’ in life, much less death. Depression? Hardly anything new. Denial? Too much of a realist and acceptance was /is something I’ve always had. Acceptance of all things is immediate with me. Once I knew my friend was dead, I acceped it. I just didn’t like it. It was too quick, too sudden, too out of the blue. For me, acceptance is like breathing. Automatic.
But the anger!!!
I’ve been doing dome thinking and Ive realized there are subtexts to anger and isolation Ross never considered.
1–The pajamas phase. It’s very important that we exeperience a denial in terms of personal hygiene. This means a complete lack of desire to bathe or shower and a full on need to be consistent in our filth. Such as wearing the sweat pants, pajamas or caftan for days and days and days. Usually there’s weight loss or signifucant weight gain during this time. And if we eat at all, the majority of foods becomes part of the daily uniform. We wear our food. And the kind of food also matters. We either have it delivered or if that’s not an option, we eat whatever we can find in the fridge, because going to the grocery store requires to much effort. This can lead to some very weird combinations. Peanut butter and mint jelly on stale potato chips.
2–Isolation: Mourning is personal . In the beginning, well-meaning friends and family try to come by and we tell them, no, no, we’re fine, all is well. We tell them not to come by and we refuse to answer the door if they stop by. Then, they eventually stop dropping by, they stop calling as much, which can be a double edged sword. We want to be left alone, but we still appreciate their calls. Wether we admit or not, the concern makes us feel relevant, a little less alone. But grieving really is a personal process…even with four people living in your house,
3–We become mini-hoarders. We endure this isolation and anger sub-phase by becoming quite messy. There is no order if grief– why should life have any? Our environmental hygiene suffers, too. Dishes are piled high in the sink. Junk mail is everywhere, mixed in with bills that have gone unpaid. Days old pizza still in the box on the couch. Shoes everywhere. The ever growing pile of Mt. Laundry is in the corner of the room with new foothills that can be found throughout the house. These brief dalliances with hoarding behavior comes as no surprise. Hoarding is a direct response to loss. I don’t necessarily get how one feels compelled to cling to an outdated page of Burger King coupons, but I understand that’s part of it.
3-Emergence. It can take a month or three, but newfound singles who earned that title through the death of a mate or divorce (loss is loss, my friends) will eventually come around. Most of us have to. We have work. It’s only when opportunistic mental illness comes to visit and stays that this phase becomes a very real and treacherous problem. If you can only traverse your parts of your home through the tunnels of junk you’ve created then yes, you’re smack dab in the middle of a crisis; a very serious problem. You might not realize there’s problem until a few TLC producers, a camera crew and a HAZMAT team knocks on your door. While those sad cases we see on the TV show, Hoarders: Buried Alive” are the exception rather than the rule, most of us who get to the messy phase rarely stay there. We arrive at point where our reactions to death start to wear thin. Basically, boredom can set in. This doesn’t mean we no longer love our dearly departeless, or their death becomes any less significant. It simply becomes a matter of moving on.
It pains me to quote Dr. Phil (I’ve actually gotten more psychological assistance from watching reruns of Frasier) but he often asks people, “What are you getting out of this?” Or worse, “How’s that working out for you?”
Shudder, but there’s truth to the queries.
Living life in a perpetual state of mourning for staters means you’re not living. It can never be right, and if you think it is, then mental illness has overtaken everything and is doing your thinking. You can’t eat your way through this….or sleep through it. Stockpiling garbage isn’t a healthy response. There’s not enough Scotch or Vodka in the world, not a Xanax big enough. There aren’t enough carbs to eat your feelings and by contrast, refusing to eat won’t work either. When your life stops working for you for whatever reason, it’s time to make a change. Yes, you’re heartbroken. The death of a mate or spouse or a relationship of any kind means the death of an ideal. It means the death of plans, hopes and dreams and these things are horrendously painful. So yes, Loss hurts. Break ups, divorce…terminations of all kinds. The death after a loved who one lingered with an illness, a suicide, a sudden massive coronary or aneurism, are all very painful. After a point, the process by which one arrives at death doesn’t matter; the end result is the same.
If the sadness is overwhelming, if guilt has become an unwelcome roommate who won’t leave, if your grief has literally taken over your life, then please seek help. And if you keep glancing over at that bottle of pills and that quart of whiskey, please, PLEASE seek help. Death + death only = more heartache. It’s the simplest example of negative math. And if by some chance you are thinking of taking your own life, well depending on your faith, you won’t end up in the same place as your dead friend , so why bother?
So, rid yourself of ‘end it all thoughts’. Embrace your curiosity about life and maintain your fear of death. Be brave enough to dare yourself to wake up tomorrow just to see what the day brings. Until then, go with your pain….cry, or not get angry, wear sweats AND the four basic food groups for a week. There’s no rule book. No game plan. Just understand that you have ultimate control over all of your feelings. Please look for that break in the clouds.
His or her death is final. Your new reality. This death is now a part of your life, a fact that mercifully becomes something you’re just going to have to live with.
