Pinball Wizard

Nothing about the grieving process is easy. Nothing. Not even the sitting around and crying. Those tears are the most gut-wrenching tears many of us will ever shed and each one slashes through us as if our flesh were nothing more than a suggestion.

The meaning behind so many of the things that occupy our time on a daily basis just evaporates. We question everything. We lose our ability to process events rationally and our perspective on life totally skews.

It’s more than simply a loss. It’s an upheaval. Picture an ant hill—life humming furiously, activity abounds—and then a swift wind or a child’s curious hand destroys the lot. One second everything is completely normal and then the next, worlds are destroyed and utter chaos ensues.

That’s us.

People try to help us and eventually we stop resenting them for their efforts. Because, let’s face it, early on in the process we just want everyone to go away. We just want everyone who isn’t our missing piece to take a hike and let us wallow. Maybe if everyone just stoped reminding us of our misfortune, it would cease to exist.

We would cease to exist.

And we could simply drift off into the universe to reunite with our love.

PLAYING THE SILVER BALL

One of the most popular tools for helping those of us that are grieving is the process known as the stages of grief.

The number of stages have changed over time, from five to seven and sometimes twelve, but one thing remains true—if you’re going through a loss, someone is going to share with you this process and then the process itself is going to slap you across the face. Multiple times. At varying speeds and with force.

Knowing these stages can “help” us navigate our way through grief but the quotation marks I put around help are there for a very good reason.

Help itself seems like a joke and a cruel one at that. It can take an excruciating amount of time to feel any kind of healing and even then, the realization is a painful one. The knowledge that time is moving forward is no solace. Our wound from the loss, although healing, starts to feel infected, breaking us down from the inside now.

We’re plagued with guilt and anger for feeling like we’re moving forward and this starts immediately. The first day that you make it through without having ideations of throwing yourself into traffic can be another kind of death. It doesn’t matter if you spent the day in a numb fog or plying yourself with work or tasks to take your mind off of reality, the mere knowledge that you are capable of surviving feels like a betrayal.

Somehow, the fact that we didn’t wither away and die ourselves means that the love we felt wasn’t as strong or powerful as we had thought.

In my case, I thought my husband and I were destined to be one of those couples that either died together or didn’t last very long apart. With each day that goes by, I feel wrecked by the universe. I was so sure. I could feel it in my gut. My husband felt the same. We were the Titanic couple, holding each other on their bed as the water came flooding in.

I don’t want to be wrong. In the worst way, I don’t want to be wrong. But my survival is proving just that and I hate it. I hate it with every molecule in my body. I’m absolutely sure that the love we shared was as special and important as I thought, so why am I failing to hold up my end of the bargain?

And that’s what I mean when I say the stages of grief are a real punch to the neck. All of that along with a false sense of what’s to come can leave you fully winded, speechless and in literal, physical pain.

BECOMING PART OF THE MACHINE

Hearing the term stages of grief makes it easy to picture a step-by-step process that flows from one area to the next. It’s not so much a flow, though, as it is a rushing white water rapid that throws you about and makes you lose your lunch over the side of your raft.

Or, as I like to think of it, a pinball machine. Each bumper a different part of the process and us that damn ball being flung about for fun.

Sure, there is a sort-of path that we all follow: the feeling that grounds each stage being the overwhelming emotion of that time. However, to over-simplify the process as a series of bullet points that we tick off as we go can turn an already overwhelming experience into absolute treachery.

We find ourselves in the midst of one emotion, feeling firmly planted in all its dreadful set dressings and stage lighting, only to be forcefully pushed head-first into another. And that trip may only be momentary. Or it may last days. There’s no way to know until you’ve been launched into another phase, for as long or as short as your psyche dictates.

THERE’S GOT TO BE A TWIST

The most important thing we can do at this time is be kind to ourselves. It’s not going to come naturally as evident by my earlier accusations towards myself of betrayal and guilt but, nevertheless, it’s essential.

Those stages of grief are going to work us over and the last thing we need is adding on to an already tough process. Plus, we just don’t deserve it. No matter what our natural inclinations are try to remember that very few people in this world truly deserve to be additionally put through the wringer during this period of time. So barring the bad habits of serial killing or mass genocide, please be kind to yourself.

And keep people around you who will remind you of that fact. A strong support system doesn’t have to be huge, it just needs to be made up of people with your best interests at heart, those who are empathetic and compassionate, and people with whom you can be truly honest. Nothing compares to someone that you can hug and then, very lovingly, say “go away” to without them becoming alarmed or offended.

So, to repeat, be kind to yourself. We are the only people we have that will stay with us forever, regardless of circumstance. We’re stuck with us and that means we should be our own best friend. We should be able to laugh with ourselves, cry with ourselves, be honest with ourselves and be empathetic…to ourselves.

I’m convinced that one day I will see my husband again and that will be the next best day of my life but until then I need to treat myself the way that he would be treating me, with care and with kindness.

Please do the same for yourself.