Some days you just have to keep swimming
I’ve been dealing with a lot of grief, lately. The work I’ve done for nearly three years has changed dramatically, and with that change, I am losing a key element of my identity which I am realizing has been a big part of who I see myself to be in the world. Not only that, but my (and other coworkers’) impending change of employment, which is becoming self-evidently inevitable with each passing day, is a source of yet more grief, as I contemplate getting on in my life without these people in my life each day. Even the people I don’t much care for and won’t mind never seeing again, have a place in my life, and my life has been shaped by and oriented to them for years, now. So, making a change is hard.
Making any change is hard for me. It always has been. I take it hard. I spiral. I feel like the world is ending and I can’t see any light at all – tunnel or no tunnel. The grief is almost debilitating, and trying to “sit with it” as some of my meditating advisors suggest, just makes it even more profound. What’s more, when I “invite it fully”, as I’ve heard recommended by a very prominent meditation teacher/practitioner, the waves of grief become so amplified, so intense, so profound, that it practically paralyzes me.
And watching myself and my reactions to this kind of experience, and seeing how the “standard issue” coping mechanisms actually cripple me, it occurs to me that the population best served by those sorts of approaches are neurotypical, non-TBI folks whose brains are not wired / re-wired quite the same way mine is. Seriously, this emotional processing gets to be debilitating. And you know what? Despite having gone through this kind of process more times than I can count in the course of my loss-riddled life, despite promises and belief and a bit of dogma around the formula of the Kübler-Ross model (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance), I’m starting to believe that with TBI you need a sixth stage — PIAAGOWYL — Put It Aside And Get On With Your Life. Or P for short.
So we end up with DABDAP. That’s my proposal, anyway.In brief, according to Wikipedia, the five “stages [of grief], popularly known by the acronym DABDA, include:  Denial — “I feel fine.”; “This can’t be happening, not to me.”
Denial is usually only a temporary defense for the individual. This feeling is generally replaced with heightened awareness of possessions and individuals that will be left behind after death. Denial can be conscious or unconscious refusal to accept facts, information, or the reality of the situation. Denial is a defense mechanism and some people can become locked in this stage. Anger — “Why me? It’s not fair!”; “How can this happen to me?”; ‘”Who is to blame?”
Once in the second stage, the individual recognizes that denial cannot continue. Because of anger, the person is very difficult to care for due to misplaced feelings of rage and envy. Anger can manifest itself in different ways. People can be angry with themselves, or with others, and especially those who are close to them. It is important to remain detached and nonjudgmental when dealing with a person experiencing anger from grief. Bargaining — “I’ll do anything for a few more years.”; “I will give my life savings if…”
The third stage involves the hope that the individual can somehow postpone or delay death. Usually, the negotiation for an extended life is made with a higher power in exchange for a reformed lifestyle. Psychologically, the individual is saying, “I understand I will die, but if I could just do something to buy more time…” People facing less serious trauma can bargain or seek to negotiate a compromise. For example “Can we still be friends?..” when facing a break-up. Bargaining rarely provides a sustainable solution, especially if it’s a matter of life or death. Depression — “I’m so sad, why bother with anything?”; “I’m going to die soon so what’s the point?”; “I miss my loved one, why go on?”
During the fourth stage, the dying person begins to understand the certainty of death. Because of this, the individual may become silent, refuse visitors and spend much of the time crying and grieving. This process allows the dying person to disconnect from things of love and affection. It is not recommended to attempt to cheer up an individual who is in this stage. It is an important time for grieving that must be processed. Depression could be referred to as the dress rehearsal for the ‘aftermath’. It is a kind of acceptance with emotional attachment. It’s natural to feel sadness, regret, fear, and uncertainty when going through this stage. Feeling those emotions shows that the person has begun to accept the situation. Acceptance — “It’s going to be okay.”; “I can’t fight it, I may as well prepare for it.”
In this last stage, individuals begin to come to terms with their mortality, or that of a loved one, or other tragic event. This stage varies according to the person’s situation. People dying can enter this stage a long time before the people they leave behind, who must pass through their own individual stages of dealing with the grief. Kübler-Ross originally applied these stages to people suffering from terminal illness. She later expanded this theoretical model to apply to any form of catastrophic personal loss (job, income, freedom). Such losses may also include significant life events such as the death of a loved one, major rejection , end of a relationship or divorce , drug addiction , incarceration , the onset of a disease or chronic illness , an infertility diagnosis, as well as many tragedies and disasters . As stated before, the Kübler-Ross Model can be used for multiple situations where people are experiencing a significant loss. The subsections below explain how the model is applied differently in a few specific situations. These are just some of the many examples that Kübler-Ross wanted her model to be used for.
Now, in watching how I handle loss and grieve over things, the thing that strikes me is the intensity and duration with which I experience everything — to the point of losing all sense of perspective and temperance. I mean, I just lose it. Each “stage” becomes a raging animal in its own right, and it pulls me down into its jaws like that sinkhole that swallowed that guy in Florida . And nobody, but nobody, can get me out, so long as I’m “feeling it fully” as some teachers suggest.
Seriously, feeling something “fully” is a recipe for disaster with me. The emotion takes on a life of its own and snowballs into something vast and overwhelming and utterly debilitating. And you know what? It doesn’t go away. It stays with me as keenly, 20 years later, as it was when it first arrived. I still teeter on the verge of tears when I think about some losses I had when I was a little kid. I still have to fight back waves of despair and depression when I think about some things that I lost — even when everything turned out okay in the long run. Time doesn’t heal those things with TBI. It just doesn’t. And the more I think about it, the wiser it seems to me that my neuropsych doesn’t tolerate me going off on emotional drama tangents, or encourage me to “feel fully” the crap that I’m going through each day.
Because with brain injury, “fully” is in a whole different league than what most people experience. And the consequences of letting myself get too close to the edge of that pit are WAY too serious. Think Owen Thomas of Allentown, PA — the U Penn football player who hung himself after an uncharacteristic emotional breakdown. He had no history of depression, and no history of mental illness. Yet this young man with a CTE-impacted brain, killed himself, seemingly on a whim.
It’s one thing to go through grief when you’re neurologically intact. Then the 5 “DABDA” stages of grief make sense. But when your impulse control and executive functions and emotional modulation abilities have been compromised… good luck. Here’s how my grief experiences go:
I’m sure that there are plenty of people who have benefited from understanding and applying the DABDA model. I have no doubt of that. In my case, however, I have to put the emphasis on Putting It All Aside and Getting On With My Life — realizing that “these things happen”, that losses are inevitable, that when it happens, it’s not much f*ckin’ fun, and it’s going to hurt like a bitch, but ultimately I’ve got to just live my life, no matter what. I have to continue to function, even when I’m thrown for a loop. I have to make the most of my life, even when everything is falling to pieces, which often feels like is the case… even if there is no specific event I’m forced to deal with.
See, that’s the other piece of things. I can get sucked into a hole, even when things are good. If I’m tired, and I’m pushing myself, and I’m irritable or agitated, my mood can swing to the south in a hurry. It doesn’t matter that everything is hunky dory around me. I can feel like sh*t at an instant’s notice. All I need is some fatigue, maybe a sugar crash, maybe a bit of psychological catastrophic overwhelm about something complicated that I am trying to get done which suddenly looks like it’s too much for me. Anything can set me off. Anything. I can be sitting talking with someone about good things going well, then all of a sudden, I’m in the dumps… overcome by a thick black cloud of confusion and depression.
But then, just as quickly, the depression lifts — sometimes for good reason, other times for no apparent reason at all. Rather than puzzle over it and try to figure it all out, I just have to move on.
Speaking of moving on, it’s time to get to work.