Saturday 19 May 2012

Reason for Rehab

There's a reason for rehab.  For making people stand up and say 'I'm Billy Bob and I'm an alcoholic' or 'I'm Sally Jo and I have an eating disorder'. 
Acceptance. 
Repeating it over and over is necessary to accepting the fact and dealing with it. 
Acceptance is the 'final' stage of the grieving process, so they say.
In the very early days I couldn't say it.  The words sat in my mouth like cement.
And then, it became like word-vomit....I couldn't continue a conversation for longer than 2 minutes without splurting out the words 'my husband passed away last year'. 
Last year.  It's such a non-descript period of time.  Really it had only been a couple of months when I started to say 'last year'.  It was easier though.  Sharing the exact length of time he'd been gone was too intimate.  Last year conveyed some distance from the event.  It allowed me to say it and say it and say it without ever really taking it in.
And now, I feel like I've gone back to step 1 in the 'Stages of Grief'.  Denial.
I struggle to say it.  I look at photos and it all (our relationship, his illness, his passing) feels like a dream. Was I really married to that incredible man in the photos?  Did I hear his laugh, gaze at his smile, and curl up on the sofa in his arms?  Where did he go?
And when I do manage the words, or allow myself to really remember the days before, I skip quickly to the next thought, the next topic, the next activity to busy my mind.  Because....
I can not accept it.
And I'm not sure I ever will.  Because even if I say 'My name is...and I'm a widow'.  Even if I say it over and over and over, those words remain separate to me, like a puppet or a mask I hold at arms length and use to interact with the world. 
As the year propels forward towards the first anniversary, I feel a growing panic rising within me.  Soon, in the not so distant future, I will not be able to say 'last year'.  I will have to say 'a year ago'.  Then, I imagine, it will begin to feel much more real.  A hole will appear in my puppet and I'm afraid the world will start to get a peak in.  Will acceptance come then?  Perhaps.
Or perhaps we need a forum, a support group to stand before in order for the words to resonant.  Without a group staring back at us as we utter the words, can we really hear them?
Grief is a recovery process, and although we can not change the past, perhaps we need rehab to find a way forward.

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