For any of you who are interested, here's a link to the New Yorker story Cara mentioned. Excellent reading.
Finding a better way to grieve: newyorker.com
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Further Thoughts
I've been thinking about yesterday's post all day and I think what bugs me the most is the way these sorts of things - seeds of pop-science wisdom - seep into the culture. They affect the way all of us are treated by our physicians, how we're perceived by the people around us, and even how we view ourselves. More distorted scales and faulty yardsticks by which we can weigh and measure and find ourselves lacking or failing or falling behind.
Yesterday's example is cranky-making one, but the most egregious example I can think of is the continuing misunderstanding of what we have come to call the Stages of Grief. Forty-ish years ago, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross* wrote a wonderful book called On Death and Dying in which she examined the psychological process of coming to terms with one's own, imminent death. Her work changed for the better the way we deal with the terminally ill on every level. Somehow, early on, her research was co-opted by the culture of grieving and soon everyone dealing with death (their own or anyone else's) or just about any form of loss (being fired, getting divorced, moving, etc.) was urged to 'work the stages.' You remember the stages, right? 1.Denial 2. Anger 3. Bargaining 4. Depression 5. Acceptance. And, following Acceptance comes the unofficial sixth stage: Moving On.
Moving On is also known as 'getting back to normal' or 'getting over it.' And that's the stage that other people are really waiting for. Unfortunately, this life I'm living now isn't about stages. Nor should it be. There's plenty of current research on grief and bereavement that does not support the Stages model and, increasingly, therapists and support organizations that specialize in bereavement are moving towards recognizing that grief and grieving are not a cookie-cutter, step-by-step process. Unlike preparing for one's own death, there's not a definitive end in sight...there's just life - as much of it as might be left - to navigate. Unfortunately, it's taking a while for that message to reach the general (and not so general) public.
So, consider this me doing my part to spread the word. Because, I assure you, when your child dies, there is nothing neat about grieving; it does not happens in stages. It just is.
*I wanted her to have her umlaut, and I still don't know how to make them. I am reduced to stealing umlauts.
Yesterday's example is cranky-making one, but the most egregious example I can think of is the continuing misunderstanding of what we have come to call the Stages of Grief. Forty-ish years ago, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross* wrote a wonderful book called On Death and Dying in which she examined the psychological process of coming to terms with one's own, imminent death. Her work changed for the better the way we deal with the terminally ill on every level. Somehow, early on, her research was co-opted by the culture of grieving and soon everyone dealing with death (their own or anyone else's) or just about any form of loss (being fired, getting divorced, moving, etc.) was urged to 'work the stages.' You remember the stages, right? 1.Denial 2. Anger 3. Bargaining 4. Depression 5. Acceptance. And, following Acceptance comes the unofficial sixth stage: Moving On.
Moving On is also known as 'getting back to normal' or 'getting over it.' And that's the stage that other people are really waiting for. Unfortunately, this life I'm living now isn't about stages. Nor should it be. There's plenty of current research on grief and bereavement that does not support the Stages model and, increasingly, therapists and support organizations that specialize in bereavement are moving towards recognizing that grief and grieving are not a cookie-cutter, step-by-step process. Unlike preparing for one's own death, there's not a definitive end in sight...there's just life - as much of it as might be left - to navigate. Unfortunately, it's taking a while for that message to reach the general (and not so general) public.
So, consider this me doing my part to spread the word. Because, I assure you, when your child dies, there is nothing neat about grieving; it does not happens in stages. It just is.
*I wanted her to have her umlaut, and I still don't know how to make them. I am reduced to stealing umlauts.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
It's The Little Things
It really is. The small smile-making things that can turn a day around. And also the littlest indignities and slights that can spawn a thunderstorm in your head.
For instance, earlier this evening I was wandering around a website that belongs to a friend of a friend. Just clicking through pages, really, getting a feel for the layout and the sorts articles they publish when a comment about stressors caught my eye: divorce was the second most stressful event, topped only by the death of a spouse. Seriously? Who makes these lists?
Now, I don't fault the website, or even the person who wrote the article, because you can find these "life stressors scales" just about anywhere (I've seen dozens of them) and - unless you are reading a list specifically ranking types of grief - you're not going to find "Surviving The Death of Your Child" on any of them. And, I'm not arguing the stress-factor of either of those events; I've been divorced (okay, a few times) and while I've not buried a spouse, I have read enough about grieving to know I'm in no hurry to. However, most of these lists are based on the Mother Of All Lists, also known as the Holmes-Rahe Scale. There's no child-death mentioned on the HRS...and so no child-death on any of the other lists either.
I wish I could make this go away by ignoring it, but I can't. The grief is huge and real and everyday is, as Renee once said, like walking a minefield. Even if it isn't on the list.
This is my Buddha Frog, dusted with snow. Imagine.
For instance, earlier this evening I was wandering around a website that belongs to a friend of a friend. Just clicking through pages, really, getting a feel for the layout and the sorts articles they publish when a comment about stressors caught my eye: divorce was the second most stressful event, topped only by the death of a spouse. Seriously? Who makes these lists?
Now, I don't fault the website, or even the person who wrote the article, because you can find these "life stressors scales" just about anywhere (I've seen dozens of them) and - unless you are reading a list specifically ranking types of grief - you're not going to find "Surviving The Death of Your Child" on any of them. And, I'm not arguing the stress-factor of either of those events; I've been divorced (okay, a few times) and while I've not buried a spouse, I have read enough about grieving to know I'm in no hurry to. However, most of these lists are based on the Mother Of All Lists, also known as the Holmes-Rahe Scale. There's no child-death mentioned on the HRS...and so no child-death on any of the other lists either.
I wish I could make this go away by ignoring it, but I can't. The grief is huge and real and everyday is, as Renee once said, like walking a minefield. Even if it isn't on the list.
This is my Buddha Frog, dusted with snow. Imagine.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Other People's Words
John Dufresne (one of my favorite writers - read him!) describes fiction as "a lie that tells the truth." It's an excellent metaphor, and the reason we so often find pieces of our lives buried in stories about people who never existed. For instance, this bit of honesty from The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society:
Indeed.
When my son, Ian, died at El Alamein-- side by side with Eli's father, John - visitors offering their condolences, thinking to comfort me, said, "Life goes on." What nonsense, I thought, of course it doesn't. It's death that goes on; Ian is dead now and will be dead tomorrow and next year and forever. There's no end to that.
Indeed.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Christmas Present - No Ghosts Allowed
Christmas - the fifth without my girl - is almost over and I cannot say I'm sorry to see it go.
I spent most of the day with family; we gathered at my mother's house and there was too much food and too much wine and too much television. Way too much sugar in too many forms. And I wonder if I will ever get used to feeling so alone in such a crowd. Five nieces and nephews, three of my siblings, my mother...and I did not hear one person say her name all day. That's a lot of silence amidst all that noise.
Christmas Past - ca. 1991
I spent most of the day with family; we gathered at my mother's house and there was too much food and too much wine and too much television. Way too much sugar in too many forms. And I wonder if I will ever get used to feeling so alone in such a crowd. Five nieces and nephews, three of my siblings, my mother...and I did not hear one person say her name all day. That's a lot of silence amidst all that noise.
Christmas Past - ca. 1991Friday, December 11, 2009
December 11th - Again
From the moment of Britt's death, I've struggled with verb tense; past or present? Britt is or Britt was? She loved or she loves? In the early days of my grief, the past tense enraged me. In some instances it still does. I have a daughter - not had. She is my only child - not was. It may seem a small thing, but it's important to me to acknowledge in the most precise way possible her continuing presence in my life.
In other ways, the past tense is just what comes naturally; she loved animals and books and Mexican food. She was a talented writer. And then there are those moments where the rules about shifting tenses do not apply and I slip and slide among them. What is, what was, what would have been.
Today is her birthday. She loved chocolate cake. She would have been 24.
In other ways, the past tense is just what comes naturally; she loved animals and books and Mexican food. She was a talented writer. And then there are those moments where the rules about shifting tenses do not apply and I slip and slide among them. What is, what was, what would have been.
Today is her birthday. She loved chocolate cake. She would have been 24.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Favorite Things
Everyone's little girl has Christmas favorites. The things that make them squeal with delight when the boxes come down from the attic; things that are extra-special because they only come this time of year. Here are two of my girl's favorites.
Britt loved this book, a Night Before Christmas for the Deep South gang. No drifts of snow here, no fancy presents; just a sweet Christmas poem about family being the most important gift of all. Also, there's an elf named Jed, which always made her laugh. For the last few years, I've been looking for our copy of this book. Last night, my sister called to tell me that she'd found a box of Christmas things that belonged to me (stored in her attic during one of my many moves) and the book is now found.
Every year for her birthday (just two weeks before Christmas) one of Britt's presents was a new ornament for the tree. For four years running, nothing would do but this Hallmark set - Barbie! Dolls of the World! She loved them because "Barbie is perfect. And these are all Barbie. So, perfect can come from everywhere and look like everybody." Indeed. I gave this little collection to Miss Anna last night. Right now, she'll like them because they're Barbie. But later, we'll make sure she knows who they belonged to and what they meant to her.
Britt loved this book, a Night Before Christmas for the Deep South gang. No drifts of snow here, no fancy presents; just a sweet Christmas poem about family being the most important gift of all. Also, there's an elf named Jed, which always made her laugh. For the last few years, I've been looking for our copy of this book. Last night, my sister called to tell me that she'd found a box of Christmas things that belonged to me (stored in her attic during one of my many moves) and the book is now found.
Every year for her birthday (just two weeks before Christmas) one of Britt's presents was a new ornament for the tree. For four years running, nothing would do but this Hallmark set - Barbie! Dolls of the World! She loved them because "Barbie is perfect. And these are all Barbie. So, perfect can come from everywhere and look like everybody." Indeed. I gave this little collection to Miss Anna last night. Right now, she'll like them because they're Barbie. But later, we'll make sure she knows who they belonged to and what they meant to her.
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