Not so crazy after all - the cycle of grief

Psychology is everywhere now, we are all busy throwing around a lot of psycho-babble (as my husband would say), but often when it comes to our own stuff we're a bit blind. As I was writing yesterday, I couldn't help see the parallel between my strange poker attachment and someone hanging on to a dead person's things. This brought to my mind a model called the "cycle of grief". It was developed by Elizabeth Kuebler-Ross from her work with dying people and their relatives. Since then, we've understood that it is actually much more widely applicable to situations of loss and change. I'm not going to write and essay on it here, but it suffices to say that in her model grief comes in different stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. It's pretty widely known these days - hell, it even featured in one of Grey's Anatomy's little verbal preambles. It is also a somewhat contested model in that we are all unique and we are not going to fit neatly into those stages like a programmed automaton. One of the things that many people going through grief will tell you about is the "rollercoaster" experience of flipping through different emotional states, at times going round and round and round. If all goes well, each agonising cycle may bring you a little closer to that place of acceptance.
So then what about my own craziness and this basic pattern of human emotion? Well, me, I'm cycling through the stages right now, perhaps with the exception of denial. The ending came far too dramatically for denial to have got more than a passing glance. Any given minute of the day in which I focus on this situation, I might be telling you any of the below with equal sincerity:

Anger: "You bastard! Why did you have to say those things to me that made me fall in love with you? What DID you mean? What DIDN'T you mean? What did you MEAN? If you didn't mean it, why the hell did you say it? Why? Why? Why? I want to hurt you, I can't bear to hurt you! I'm a stupid, stupid girl for getting drawn in to you like that!"

Bargaining: "Maybe you did mean it after all. Maybe you don't have to be gone altogether. Maybe I can at least read what you're writing, listen to your recordings, imagine you're still there. I can still feel close to you, can't I? Can't I????"

Depression: "Ah, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone. My lover, my best friend! I'll never ever, ever see him again or exchange a single word with him. I can't bear it, my heart is full of pain. Everything else is pale and dull and dead! Just get me out of this!!!"

Acceptance: "It's over, it was one of the most intense amazing times of my life. Thanks to him I found so much in myself that I didn't know was there. I am grateful and I live on. There is much in life without him that I enjoy. He'll always have a little corner of my heart and he lives on in the things he has taught me. There are some things I will never know or understand, I'll just have to make my peace with that. I hope he's well and I hope he's happy. I know I'll love again, when my heart has had some healing time."

And so it goes, round and round. Maybe cycling isn't even the best description. It is like all of these responses co-exist, each of them triggered readily by a thought or willingly stepped into. They follow in no particular order, except perhaps the sure fact that once in depression for any length of time, I pull myself out of it in a fit of anger or try to bargain my way into a less agonising space.

So if this is a basic human response, why did I judge it as crazy in the first place? Well in my family, it goes like this: "Go to acceptance. Go directly to acceptance, do not pass anger (it's unpleasant) and do not collect any bargains with life (it's mad). You may on occasion show a moderate and reasonable amount of sadness." I don't blame them - no, that's untrue, I do blame them, but I also understand them. My parents have lived through the war, they've seen loss far greater than I could ever imagine. What is more, they are German. They know a thing or two about guilt. Overt expressions of grief when you are at least partially responsible for a situation is not something they could condone. So you must try and be extra good at all times. I too have grown up with that premise and am working hard to find a better way for me. I have left the moral high ground behind and yes, I am 50% responsible for this situation, but I also FEEL. I feel all of the above and more - I am allowed to, it is fine, I am fine.