Revolution #9

 

The seven stages of grief are a model for explaining many complicated experiences of loss. The seven stages are often identified as:

• Shock: A state of disbelief and numbed feelings.
• Pain: You feel that the loss is unbearable.
• Anger: You may lash out or internalize the anger.
• Depression: You may enter a period of isolation and loneliness consumed by the loss.
• The Change: Anger and pain have quieted somewhat, and you’re left in a somewhat less chaotic state.
• Reconstruction: You can begin to put pieces of your life back into some sort of potential order.
• Acceptance: A very gradual acceptance of a new way of life. 

The situation which I no longer feel comfortable talking about here has, as it has in the past thrown my wife and I again into the stages of grief.  I am slower to adapt than my wife.  She relatively easily compartmentalizes and is able to ignore "things" that are harsh, or hurtful, or hard.  Unfortunately for me, I am a ruminator and dweller on "things" and do not have much ability to ignore or forget.  When I do not get to talk about or discuss my feelings with the person who has hurt me, things remain unresolved in my mind, and I have tremendous difficulty going beyond thinking about the hurt, thinking about the pain, thinking about anguish.  It is not healthy to be "locked" into those thoughts, having them spin over and over and over in my mind with no answers, no ability to resolve, no ability to work to try to try to fix things.  Being locked into these thoughts is not sustainable.  It is very, profoundly dark.  The mental and emotional pain itself is detrimental and as it persists, it to leads to noticeable and very significant physical decline.  

A whirlpool is a rapidly rotating mass of water in a river or sea into which objects may be drawn, typically caused by the meeting of conflicting currents. I feel as if I am again sinking into the center of an oceanic whilrpool into which I have been summarily tossed.  I am struggling to tread water.  I am working with all the energy I can muster to not drown in the water's rapid rotations.  Yet, I am so very tired.  If I did not have my wife, I am not sure if I would fight against the water's rotations.  Yet, I must be there for her.

In the year & a half in which my wife and I have been experiencing these nuclear weapon-like bombshells across various time frames, the shrapnel of these explosions has bloodied us and given us many scars.  I miss who we were.  I miss how we were.  I miss the family we had. 

As I have had to do before, and must try to force myself again to do.... I must try to pull myself up by the proverbial bootstraps, and begin again and adapt again.  It is not easy.  But it is all I can try to do, for to not try to do so would just be the end.

I am in the stage of "depression" working like hell to slide into "the change" and hopefully into "reconstruction".  The bomb detonated before I had finished the ~200 grades for my students.  For a couple of days, especially through the weekend, I struggled to work on them.  I received ~40 e-mails from students from Friday through the weekend wanting their grade, or begging for points, or asking for extra credit.  These e-mails further drained me.  The U deadline for submitting grades was yesterday (Tuesday) so I was not late.  I was just not done at the speed these students wanted.  I wrote to all my students asking them to "Please be patient." on Sunday.  I only received three additional e-mails about grades after sending out the "patient" e-mail on Sunday.  I submitted grades on Monday, well within U guidelines.

I am hoping my writing again here yesterday and now today is an indication of my moving into "the change".  I am going to force myself to keep trying.

PipeTobacco