Below is a column I wrote in April, 2009. What struck me as I looked back over it today is that my husband and I could probably say we are having a similar day, only ten months later. One difference is that instead of crawling back into bed, I purposely chose to do something for someone else. Sometimes doing for others helps us get our minds off our own problems.
Here is the column:
This morning, I didn’t want to get out of bed. In fact, after my husband left for work, I crawled back in bed and cried, before falling back to sleep. That was the first time I felt like staying in bed since we moved to a different house two months ago.
I was missing my son, Jacob, like I do every day. But this was one of those REALLY hard days.
Jacob died in a car accident over 2 ½ years ago, but my emotions can still be unpredictable. Some days are good. I can smile, laugh and not be overwhelmed by sadness; other days, I can hardly get out of bed. My husband also struggles. Two days ago, he told me he felt himself slipping into a mild depression.
Shouldn’t we be beyond this stuff? Hadn’t we already worked our way past isolation, despair and depression?
Of course we had. Multiple times.
That’s the interesting thing about grief; it’s complex. Numerous authors have written about the grief experience. I know, because I’ve read dozens of books on the topic in the past 2 ½ years. Some are better at capturing the nuances, complexities and realities of grief than others. Some of my favorite books are: Shattered Dreams by Larry Crabb, A Grace Disguised by Jerry Sittser, Sit Down, God…I’m Angry by R. F. Smith and A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis. These books steer clear of the clichés and platitudes found in some other books I’ve read.
Of course, I would be completely remiss if I did not include Randy Alcorn’s book, Heaven. While it doesn’t focus so much on the topic of grief, it gave me more hope than any of the grief books. Another book I cannot leave out is the Bible. It not only brings me great hope every single day, but it most definitely deals with the topic of grief. Reading the devotional Streams In the Desert by L. B. Cowman was like applying a daily balm to my hurting soul.
Brilliant researchers who have studied grief categorize it into stages or cycles. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross is probably the most well-known researcher on grief. She categorized grief into five stages: Denial and Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. Of course, we compartmentalize and name our grief in an attempt to understand the process a little better. We like to think that we’ve got grief figured out and controlled.
Except grief doesn’t work that way. There is little clarity or neat beginnings and endings. Instead, grief is more like a ball continuously bouncing between two walls. Along those walls you find different aspects of grief.
One moment, grief hits a place known as anger. The next moment, it hits an area of acceptance, only to bounce over to denial a little while later. These areas of grief can overlap as well.
It is this unpredictability of grief that often leaves me wondering if I’ve lost my mind. I ask myself, “How can I be feeling so good one moment and so lousy the next?” Just when I think I’ve turned the corner, I find myself staring it in the face again.
It’s all normal.
More contemporary research refutes the concept of “stages” or “cycles” in grief and acknowledges the ebb and flow of emotions that are a natural response to loss. This research suggests there are no simple formulas for grief that apply to every person and every relationship. John Bowlby and C. Murray Parkes have softened the concept of stages by defining the four dimensions of the mourning process which are: Shock and Numbness, Yearning and Searching, Disorientation and Disorganization, and Resolution and Reorganization. Bowlby and Parkes acknowledge that the dimensions do not follow a specific order and a person can experience feelings from several stages at one time.
So when you find yourself back at square one, you don’t need to panic. Accept it for what it is—part of the normal process. If it means you need to take a day off work (hopefully you have enough sick days left to do that), or if you need to cancel plans with friends, so be it.
You need to allow yourself time to do what helps you most, even if that means doing nothing but crawling back into bed.
Journey Of Grief ~ Journey Of Grace 