Stages of Grief - And How I'm Journey'ing Them -

Elizabeth Kubler Ross says there are 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.  Her colleague and grief expert, David Kessler, added finding meaning to make this 6 stages. 

And here I am, four weeks from my mother's death, and feeling empty, pissed, exhausted, and too tired to give a f* with absolutely no f*'s to give. 

What stage is that?! 

Here's where I am today: 

Grief - for my mom that she chose to live safely, not taking any risks - even not wanting to have her ears' pierced, out of fear. She lived a life of walking cautiously, always less, never more. And I'm sorry for her. And I'm also grieving for her children who felt obligated to live life large, so that she could stand at the living room window and watch, participating vicariously, always so proud of us, always so cautious. 

Denial - Not really feeling that; or maybe I did years ago when I saw her sorting papers on the dining room table and then resorting them again; or when I asked her help in making face masks, and she couldn't figure out how to turn them over to pin the elastic in before they were sewn. Or maybe when she was short-tempered with my dad and got upset with him because he couldn't sort his medications into the pill holder. Denial that perhaps she was slipping, or just so busy focused on Dad that she had every reason to slip? 

Anger - Like I said, I'm pissed. The November I was 3 years old my father bought Sheri and I cute fluffy brown and cream winter coats; he was so excited to show us off to Mom, and so excited to share with his world that he had a son. And as this 63 year old remembers, my mother shamed him for not buying us something practical, and she never honored him for wanting us to be cute and cuddly and presentable to Mom and my new baby brother. And I've carried that with me for all of my life. That shame that I would want "more," and that fear that if I did, I was not worthy, or wanting was unacceptable. And even more, knowing that my dad had disappointed my mother, and that he would continue to do so, and that it would be my responsibility to take care of her and make sure she was never left alone, and she would always have a companion, someone who understood her "wishes" and made them come true. I'll write more about Anger as I process this. 

Bargaining - With God and with my heritage. Because I've honored the women who came before me, can I leave them now? Can I leave them behind and move forward honoring me and my future? Can I ask the same for my daughters and grand-daughters? Can I tell them that because I carried the past, they don't have to? Dear Mom and Grandma and Great-grandmothers and aunts - I carried you throughout my life, doing the best I could to make you proud of me, to not disappoint you, to live a life you would be proud of. Can I stop now? And live my life? Can I sever those ties that not only connected us, but bound me to pull the past behind me like a mother duck and her ducklings? And why oh why have I felt morally obligated? Are there ancestors or angels or guides and do I want any of these? 

Depression - Just absolutely befuddled at how I got here, and yet knowing how I did, and feeling very sad that for the past 9-19-63 years I have been caring for those who can't care for themselves (Who told me this? I have no idea.). Scott and I bought the home we live in 17 years ago, so squeezingly close to both sets of parents, so we could care for them as they aged, and then buried one parent, then cancer, then another parent, then no cancer, then aging and pain and needs and another parent buried, and dementia and lonely and fear and fulfilling, and death. And somewhere We disappeared and caregivers appeared. Somewhere Ronda never recovered, never gave herself permission or time to move forward - to find the new Ronda; rather, I've been marking time, waiting, waiting. 

Finding Meaning - Not finding meaning for Mom's death, for the deaths that I see and assist with every single day. That's not an issue for me. Yet Finding Meaning for me, for my life, for making plans and goals and moving forward without being feeling responsible, for letting go. How do I find my own meaning now? What is my "Vision" "Mission" "Values"? What is my meaning? What do I want for myself today and what do I want tomorrow to be? What brings me joy? What brings me happiness? What brings me passion? What makes me come alive? I have no f*'ing idea! 

So here I go - an adventure awaits! I now just need to be ok with looking forward - forward, alone, with Scott, no past to weigh me down. Yikes!