Accepting my Lack of Acceptance

Last night, I read an article entitled “The Five Stages of Grief” in which the author argues that grief doesn’t really begin until after the five stages of what he has more accurately named “The 5 Stages of Receiving Catastrophic News” have been experienced and resolved. The article can be found at http://www.counselingforloss.com/article8.htm.

While I understand and agree with the author’s opinion and while his assertion makes perfect sense to me and his article has cleared up much of my confusion concerning my own progress through my “grief”, I am left wondering if I haven’t even begun to grieve yet.

The five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I know these stages are not supposed to occur in any predetermined order, but looking at the list I have realized that I have only experienced four of them. Acceptance is the last piece for me, and I haven’t yet accepted what has happened to Chris or me. I can’t accept it. I don’t mean that I can’t believe it happened or that I deny any of the horrors of this entire sordid episode. What I mean is that even the word “acceptance” steals the breath from my chest and labors my breathing.

If the truth is that I truly have not accepted what has happened, yet, and I believe that is the truth, as I can’t even say what has happened without denial charging back in to protect me, then according to this author, my real grief has not even begun, yet. This is concerning news for me. How much longer will I go on having periodic episodes of crushing depression and anxiety? And will another man be able to find enough patience and understanding in his own heart to know that I am trying to move forward, or will the rest of my life be spent fighting for my right to feel?

I have always subscribed to the philosophy that I have a god-given right to feel what I feel and that nobody has the right to tell me otherwise. I shared that philosophy with Chris and reflected it back on him and I know he appreciated my patience and ability to move alongside him through both the ease and difficulties which arose for him throughout our lives together. In effect, we cultivated an environment in which absolutely every emotion was experienced and allowed, no matter how good, bad or ugly.

I don’t know if I will ever find that again.

I guess what it all comes down to is that we’re all moving forward, wearing blinders, not able to see anything but the first few steps ahead, but that’s a whole other discussion on acceptance...or lack thereof.

Frustratedly, yet strangely upbeatedly,

Shneed