certainly true that this approach works for some, but what about those of us who feel we don’t have time? What if, like me, you are faced with people who need you to function today, not next month or next year? What then? What if you have a job you love and that contributes substantially to your sense of self-identity? How do you keep that up? What if you have lost a spouse but still have children to function for? Lost a friend but have other friends who need you equally?
This was my situation. I needed to exert whatever control I had left and do anything that was humanly possible to get myself back on my feet as fast as I could. This kind of proactive approach to grieving doesn’t mean avoiding grief—I’m not suggesting for a minute anyone can simply side-step grief—nor does it diminish your love for the dead. It just chooses to focus on the living and what you have left. I very quickly understood that, in losing Abi, we’d already lost so much: I was not prepared to lose more. Being there for my family, keeping the remainder together, was the only thing important to me now.
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s five stages of grief was the only bereavement model I knew about at the time of Abi’s death. 5 Based on her research working with terminally ill patients (and devised as a model of their common reaction to dying), it is well recognised, and most people seem to be able to name a few of the stages.
While I found it helpful to understand that denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance are frequent reactions to grief, and that ‘most people experience these five stages at some point’, I found Kübler-Ross’s model insufficient for my needs. I wanted to be an active participant in my grieving process, focusing my limited attention and energy on the things I could do to support my wellbeing at this vulnerable time. Aware of the statistics (I was told we were now prime candidates for divorce, family estrangement and mental illness), I became determined to actively employ all the psychological strategies my traumatised brain could recall to help steer us through the turmoil of those first few days and weeks, let alone the months ahead.
‘CHOOSE LIFE, NOT DEATH’. DON’T LOSE WHAT YOU HAVE TO WHAT YOU HAVE LOST.
Talk of five-year recovery timelines for parental bereavement filled me with dread. If Abi’s death had taught me anything, it was that life is random and absurdly precious. I had two teenage boys still at home; I could not afford to miss five years. I’d also read the research studies indicating that while the majority of children demonstrate resilience—successfully adapting and recovering to full functioning even when exposed to the most acute forms of trauma and chronic adversities—the biggest threat to those kids was losing their family security and family connections. I vividly recall standing by the oven while a screaming voice inside urged me to ‘choose life, not death’. Don’t lose what you have to what you have lost.
So began my journey to see if, by deliberately employing strategies known to promote wellbeing and resilience, I couldreturn to normal functioning more quickly. Putting aside all the dreams and hopes for my old life, and focusing on a new goal of ‘mainly functioning’, I considered what I had learned through my job as a researcher and my practical experience through the quakes that might possibly be useful to us now. When faced with such an extreme reality, could I exert any control, could I actively assist the grieving process, or was I indeed powerless in the face of such overwhelming odds?
My personal journey, over the months since Abi, Ella and Sally died, has convinced me that there is currently very little mainstream awareness of the psychological tools that can assist with grieving. Nobody seems to have applied the wealth of research and proactive psychological techniques from the world of wellbeing and resilience science to this context. George
This was my situation. I needed to exert whatever control I had left and do anything that was humanly possible to get myself back on my feet as fast as I could. This kind of proactive approach to grieving doesn’t mean avoiding grief—I’m not suggesting for a minute anyone can simply side-step grief—nor does it diminish your love for the dead. It just chooses to focus on the living and what you have left. I very quickly understood that, in losing Abi, we’d already lost so much: I was not prepared to lose more. Being there for my family, keeping the remainder together, was the only thing important to me now.
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s five stages of grief was the only bereavement model I knew about at the time of Abi’s death. 5 Based on her research working with terminally ill patients (and devised as a model of their common reaction to dying), it is well recognised, and most people seem to be able to name a few of the stages.
While I found it helpful to understand that denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance are frequent reactions to grief, and that ‘most people experience these five stages at some point’, I found Kübler-Ross’s model insufficient for my needs. I wanted to be an active participant in my grieving process, focusing my limited attention and energy on the things I could do to support my wellbeing at this vulnerable time. Aware of the statistics (I was told we were now prime candidates for divorce, family estrangement and mental illness), I became determined to actively employ all the psychological strategies my traumatised brain could recall to help steer us through the turmoil of those first few days and weeks, let alone the months ahead.
‘CHOOSE LIFE, NOT DEATH’. DON’T LOSE WHAT YOU HAVE TO WHAT YOU HAVE LOST.
Talk of five-year recovery timelines for parental bereavement filled me with dread. If Abi’s death had taught me anything, it was that life is random and absurdly precious. I had two teenage boys still at home; I could not afford to miss five years. I’d also read the research studies indicating that while the majority of children demonstrate resilience—successfully adapting and recovering to full functioning even when exposed to the most acute forms of trauma and chronic adversities—the biggest threat to those kids was losing their family security and family connections. I vividly recall standing by the oven while a screaming voice inside urged me to ‘choose life, not death’. Don’t lose what you have to what you have lost.
So began my journey to see if, by deliberately employing strategies known to promote wellbeing and resilience, I couldreturn to normal functioning more quickly. Putting aside all the dreams and hopes for my old life, and focusing on a new goal of ‘mainly functioning’, I considered what I had learned through my job as a researcher and my practical experience through the quakes that might possibly be useful to us now. When faced with such an extreme reality, could I exert any control, could I actively assist the grieving process, or was I indeed powerless in the face of such overwhelming odds?
My personal journey, over the months since Abi, Ella and Sally died, has convinced me that there is currently very little mainstream awareness of the psychological tools that can assist with grieving. Nobody seems to have applied the wealth of research and proactive psychological techniques from the world of wellbeing and resilience science to this context. George