The Sixth Stage of Grief (after TBI)

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:[2]

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
  5. 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:

  1. Denial — “I feel fine.”; “This can’t be happening, not to me.”
    Denial is usually only a temporary defense for the individual, but for me, it can continue intermittently for quite some time. What’s more, what most people would consider “denial” is more a case of my brain not gathering all the salient facts together and making proper sense of it all in quite the right way. I can go for weeks and months without really realizing what’s going on, because I have not assembled all the pieces of information “in one place” in my brain — it’s not so much denial, as it is the way I process information — with full focus on one or two issues, totally excluding everything else until I have made sense of the one or two that are in front of me. This feeling is generally replaced with heightened awareness of possessions and individuals that will be left behind after death. In my case, I don’t know that it’s ever really replaced. Wtih me, denial can go on for a long, long time, even after the situation is a distant memory. 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. And with TBI this is more problematic, because as I said above, cognitive processing differences look a lot like denial, when they are just different ways of parsing info and fitting it all together.
  2. 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. And when this stage comes with someone who has TBI-related anger issues, it can be hell for everyone and anyone. Combine the anger with impulse control issues, and an already underlying lower threshold for anger management, and you’ve got an extremely volatile situation. Because of anger, the person is very difficult nearly impossible to care for due to misplaced feelings of rage and envy. The misplaced feelings can be tied in with a multitude of different life situations, and the feelings themselves can be so amplified that the person can become just a little dangerous. I’ve found myself actually throwing things at my desk at work, over the past few weeks, which is a red flag for me — and H.R. Anger can manifest itself in different ways. People can be angry with themselves, or with others, and especially those who are close to them. Or at nothing or no one in particular. With TBI, you don’t need a reason to be angry. But you sure as hell need strategies for controlling your outbursts and getting your mind out of that state. It is important to remain detached and nonjudgmental when dealing with a person experiencing anger from grief. And it is important to find ways to keep cool and calm down the erupting volcano, when you are dealing with grief and TBI all in one. Seriously, this stage – while it might seem like “just another stage” for neurotypical individuals – can be seriously impactful for someone who’s living with brain injury. It requires a lot more attention and better coping strategies than “letting the process run its course”.
  3. 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 (or whatever else you’re losing / have lost). 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. In my case, the bargaining stage doesn’t work very well, because I have difficulty remembering from day to day what I’ve promised in return for a reprieve. It’s almost comical — one day I can bargain and promise that I’ll do such-and-such, but the next day I’ll completely forget that I made that promise and I’ll be back to anger and sadness and denial and all the other stages. Then I’ll remember, “Oh, yeah – I promised that if I did such-and-such, I will get such-and-such… But I’ve already forgotten, so I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain, so why should things work out the way I want them to?” Hence, bargaining is not much of a strategy for me. It only works if you can remember what you promised the day or week before.
  4. 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?” And so on. Heck, you don’t even need a specific thought or point of view to get depressed with TBI. With me, levels of depression are directly related to how much energy I’ve expended on things, how much I’ve worn myself out, and how much more I feel I need to do. When I have a lot on my plate but I don’t have a lot of energy, and I have been living on pure adrenaline for days, *wham* I get depressed. Severely. The thing is, it passes as quickly as it arrives, given the right circumstances. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I have “snapped out of it” when I was feeling so low, so close to the edge. I used to get alarmed, when I would sink so low. Now I am often aware that my depression is a temporary thing, and all I need to do — literally — is get my mind off what’s bothering me, to feel instantly better.
    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. … Um, maybe for someone who is dying, but not for someone like me who is sinking into a depression over some stupid sh*t that’s gotten the best of ’em because they ran out of energy and are feeling sorry for themself. It is an important time for grieving that must be processed. But if I stay in it, heaven help me. 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. Or it can show that the person has lost all perspective and is sinking into a hole that they really need to get out of, while they still have some measure of self-control and at least a little access to perspective. Leaving me in a depressed state for an extended period of time is just not good. Fortunately, I usually know how to get myself out of it. In some cases, watching America’s Funniest Home Videos will do the trick — at least then I know I’m not the stupidest person in the world.
  5. Acceptance — “It’s going to be okay.”; “I can’t fight it, I may as well prepare for it.” “And there is no way I can avoid this, so I might as well suck it up and get on with what I need to do.”
    In this last stage, individuals begin to come to terms with their mortality, or that of a loved one, or other tragic event. This is where I get to the point where I can let go of any attempts to block what’s happening and just get on with dealing with what I need to deal with. This stage varies according to the person’s situation. And it can come and go (when you have TBI issues) as quickly as any of the other stages above. Seriously, I can be in a state of full-blown acceptance and peace one moment, then cycle through all the other stages in an instant. It’s crazy-making. 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. And people who have TBI issues can never permanently reach this stage. At least, in my experience I haven’t. God, there is a whole lot of old sh*t I still struggle with. I know acceptance is in there somewhere, but it has to share space with the other four stages concurrently.
  6. Which leads me to the last stage PIAAGOWYL — Put It Aside And Get On With Your Life. Or P for short. This is the thing I do when I am just done with the suffering, done with the anguish, done with it all, and I just don’t have the strength left to continue on. My brain gets fixed on all those stages, at varying times and to varying degrees, and from one day to the next, I can still be impacted by things that happened to me years ago, which I haven’t been able to get out of my system. The old “shadows” of those raw emotions are still very real to me, and I feel them intensely. I have worked like mad to get rid of them, to work my way through them, but I suspect that my impacted working memory and other memory issues may prevent me from retaining the “lessons” I’ve gotten from “processing” all the stuff before. It’s like I never even learned those lessons, when I am in a certain frame of mind. So I cannot spend a ton of time working my way through them. They’re just there. I just have to move on. I just have to live my life and do what I need to do, regardless of how I feel or what my head is telling me about me and my life.

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.

More later.

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Author: brokenbrilliant

I am a long-term multiple (mild) Traumatic Brain Injury (mTBI or TBI) survivor who experienced assaults, falls, car accidents, sports-related injuries in the 1960s, '70s, '80s, and '90s. My last mild TBI was in 2004, but it was definitely the worst of the lot. I never received medical treatment for my injuries, some of which were sports injuries (and you have to get back in the game!), but I have been living very successfully with cognitive/behavioral (social, emotional, functional) symptoms and complications since I was a young kid. I’ve done it so well, in fact, that virtually nobody knows that I sustained those injuries… and the folks who do know, haven’t fully realized just how it’s impacted my life. It has impacted my life, however. In serious and debilitating ways. I’m coming out from behind the shields I’ve put up, in hopes of successfully addressing my own (invisible) challenges and helping others to see that sustaining a TBI is not the end of the world, and they can, in fact, live happy, fulfilled, productive lives in spite of it all.

20 thoughts on “The Sixth Stage of Grief (after TBI)”

  1. Pingback: Seedlings of Hope
  2. BB. The idea that the grief will never go away is how I also have experienced it. I see how TBI and PTSD as so entwined. I knew lady who lost 2 sons in Viet Namn, She had portraits of them in her bedandbreakfast place. I stayed there for awhile and I saw her allow herself certain time each day to feel that loss. ((30 years later)) Then she went about her day with a spirituality that kept busy joyfully on what she had left- a real inspiration! A person with tbi or any experience that levels the self and its relevance to the body, has suffered a very real death. To mourn your own death never ends- you know what was and what is. For me, I operated in mostly denial for 20 years. JF It wasn’t until this decade that the memories of coma and the year long struggle to regain some self resurfaced. Lamictal and low stimulant broke the memories thru.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Thank you for sharing. It is always interesting to hear others’ stories. The grief we feel is so real and so present… and yet very misunderstood. But like the lady you knew, we can have that experience of loss and grief, and still get on with our lives with a deeper appreciation for what we have.

    It still stings to lose, and be very aware of the loss. It cuts to the core. The one thing that keeps me going is knowing that I am not the only one who is in that kind of pain. It can get better, but I’m not sure it every truly goes away.

    Unless, of course, we just forget — which is what I tend to do. That is one of the benefits of a bad memory, I suppose.

    Be well.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. My jaw is on the floor. This is exactly what I was looking for… a way to explain HOW I grieve differently than everyone else. I suffered a severe TBI/DAI almost 5 years ago at the hands of a drunk driver. I should be dead, but I healed “miraculously.” I’m unable to work, but I have the ability to appear to function normally in public. I’m actually writing a book about my experience and have been trying to figure out how to explain the grief we go through. I definitely can’t say it any better than you did. Don’t worry- I won’t be stealing your words! Just wanted to say thanks for being so f*cking eloquent! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  5. I agree: for those of us with Executive Functioning challenges rumination only makes things worse — and that’s what “focusing on your feelings” actually is, beyond a certain point.

    I add a stage in my grief articles too – Positive Acceptance: “the developmental stage where we are able to incorporate a vision of the future that can include our diagnosis without allowing it to define our vision for ourselves and our lives.” [from Stages of Grief following Diagnosis].

    I liken grief to peeling an onion. You might be interested in “Some HELP for the Grieving” – What to DO while we’re peeling the onion. They have aged off the “recent posts” list on the sidebar, so the easiest way to find them is to click the Master Linklist from the top of page dropdown, then click on the Grief LinkList and click from there.

    I hope things look better for you soon. Onward and upward?
    xx,
    mgh
    (Madelyn Griffith-Haynie – ADDandSoMuchMore dot com)
    – ADD Coach Training Field founder; ADD Coaching co-founder –
    “It takes a village to educate a world!”

    Liked by 1 person

  6. That’s great! Tell me when your book is out, and I’ll post about it here. Better yet, write a guest post about your book — before it’s ready, as well as when it’s available — and if it fits here, I’ll post it. I think it will fit, just for the record. Good luck with your writing.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Thanks for the info – great to hear from you again.

    Grief is a real phenomenon for me. I’ve been experiencing it a lot, lately, for some reason. Could be because of my job situation, with a lot of layoffs looming in the next few months. I may not be in danger, but a lot of other people are, and the whole thing is just very upsetting for me, for a variety of reasons.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Thank you so much! I’ll definitely do that. It’ll take at least a few more months, but it’s finally actually progressing after starting it years ago!

    Wishing you the best with changes in your job… and everything else!

    Liked by 2 people

  9. I’m so sorry to read that things are tough for you right now – for me as well, but I am experiencing high anxiety more than any traditional grief response.

    My stomach has been in knots every day since election day. I’m not so much grieving the past as terrified for the future – mine, yours, the world’s.

    I experienced this level of pervasive unease for the year or so after I was gang-mugged in front of the house where I had an apartment a couple of years ago – a new experience in a life that was, until that point, fairly resilient despite multiple setbacks. This feels like a return to PTSD, actually.

    I can push it down and sort-of soldier on in a limited fashion, busying myself with activities that don’t really move my ball forward — but *only* until I read about some new appointment or policy proposal, or public rabble rousing aimed by one hate group toward another entire community. And it seems to be everywhere since DT got the nasty ball rolling!

    Praying for both of us. I hope that you make it through this round of layoffs, and can find a way to find a calm space to be as you work through another layer of grief’s onion.
    xx,
    mgh

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Sorry to hear things have been tough for you. You’re certainly not alone in that! I’m doing my best to stay focused on what’s in front of me – winterizing the house, putting my perpetual mess in order, just getting on with whatever normalcy I can find in my life – all the while, refusing to give in to the temptation to normalize the whole political situation. We have a host of issues we need to solve, but first things first – figure out how to stay free, in the face of everything that’s happening. Stay strong. You can.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Thanks, BB. I do know that, fearful of the impact of the incoming regime, others feel the same lack of confidence in our country’s future – slightly more than half of us, if the press can be believed (which is always slightly doubtful in my mind).

    I’m usually quite chipper during the Christmas holidays, so this is quite the change for me – but I’m doing everything I know to keep from spiraling downward. One foot after the next – escape sleeping, blogging, playing fetch with my puppy, sappy Christmas Movies. 🙂

    That’s what resonated with me about your article – keeping on regardless.

    xx,
    mgh

    Liked by 1 person

  12. Yeah, it’s a tough one. Actually, less than half the total voting population voted, so we’re looking at less than 1/4 of the country voting someone into power – and the rest of us may be stuck with it. Seems unfair (to put it mildly).

    It’s time for “guerilla” tactics to keep one’s head above water. I’m listening to a lot of Christmas music, myself. The repetitive melodies are somehow soothing to me. And it’s sure better than the other stuff that can get into my brain, this time of year — especially this year.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. I am doing something similar with sappy Christmas Movies – you know, the ones where the characters are concerned about assorted crises for most of the film, yet all end happily. Or the ones where love and relationship are all they have, but it turns out to be more than enough. 🙂

    I am running them back to back on Hulu and YouTube to keep my mind on anything besides the things that are troubling me greatly about our future as a nation and my own future personally.

    They have lightened my mood considerably, although it changes very little about the pragmatics of life. Perhaps I’ll switch to Christmas music today, while I attend to a few of those pragmatics while it is still possible to do something that might make some kind of difference.

    God bless us, every one!
    xx,
    mgh

    Liked by 1 person

  14. Whatever it takes to keep us functioning. I’m setting the bar fairly low for myself – just not spiraling down in a depressive vortex counts as progress. After the New Year, I’ll think about getting chipper again. Like… in March 😉 Until then, anything over and above basic functioning is gravy.

    Liked by 1 person

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