Good Grief

Since we got home from the Old Country, I’ve been going through the six stages of grief. You may have heard of them?

Denial, Anger, Depression, Bargaining, and Acceptance. Oh, wait….that’s only five. Something’s always disturbed me about that list, and I finally realized what the problem is. Whoever came up with it left out The Biggie that should be squeezed in right before Acceptance: Rebellion.

There is nothing like some great time away to give an old chick much needed perspective on her life: what’s working, what’s not, why, and what to do about it. We’d barely gotten on the plane and over the water before I turned to Doug and said, “If anything happens to Mom, I won’t be able to be reached until we land in Ireland. There’s nothing I can do for her now…”

This was one of a thousand revelations granted me on this journey, all small and obvious in and of themselves, but all huge in their implications should I choose to apply their truths upon returning stateside.

And choose, I have.

Do you know that TV ad for Luzianne iced tea? Where the old coot is sitting on his front porch, saying how he and his woman have lived in that same house for fifty years, and how they’ve been in the other-brand-of-iced-tea rut that whole time? Then his neighbor gives him a glass of crystal-clear Luzianne, and his eyes are opened to what he’s been missing.

“Kind of makes you rethink your whole life.”

That’s how I feel. I’ve rethought my whole life, and man, I’ll tell you what. I’ve not only been getting tossed to and fro by the six stages of grief (you don’t go through them in chronological order one time only, you know. Like a team of careless surgeons, they toss your miserable self around on the operating table of your soul), but I’ve been dealing with a number of losses at one time.

None of them are huge. No one close to me has died, at least not in the past two years.

But sometimes, in this life, there are other kinds of losses that we need to define as such. In my case, I needed to realize that in many ways, I’ve lost several years being over-vigilent on my mother’s behalf. I’ve hovered, protected, and instantly responded as if she wasn’t a person capable of many of her own decisions—be they good or bad.

That’s the thing: I really, really hate it when people make life-altering bad decisions. I really, really hate watching people live with the consequences (so easy to foresee!) of those bad decisions so much, sometimes, that I don’t want to allow them the freedom to screw up their own futures.

So I screw up mine instead. I lose days, weeks, months, years—time that can’t be recaptured, ever. I try to “do” someone else’s life—to protect them from themselves, of course. Or wait? Could it be something else? Could my real motivation be something I’m even less proud of?

Ummm….yeah. When I do someone else’s life, it’s to avoid my own.

Now, to most of you sane folks out there, this is not exactly a heavy revvie. But to me? A veritable epiphany.

It’s not just about Mom. I’ve had to weigh myself. Yes, on the bathroom scales. Yesterday. I’ve avoided the scales (can we say “Denial”?) for many months, which is never a good thing for me. In fact, it can only mean one thing: I’m out of control.

Six and a half years ago, I started low-carbing. It took me two full years to lose 68 pounds. Now it’s taken me four and a half years to gain back thirty. I’m just a little angry about all this, since I’ve never tasted sugar in all this time, and don’t intend to. Shouldn’t that be sacrifice enough? I don’t personally know a single diabetic who doesn’t eat sugar, much less a member of the healthy population. For all these years, I’ve been living the sugar-free lifestyle alone. It ain’t easy, which is why I’m mad.

I’m not in denial any more. I’ve looked in the rear-view mirror, and the truth ain’t pretty. And I’m only angry part of the time. The rest of the time, I’m depressed, bargaining with God, or just plain rebelling. However, acceptance is starting to seem like a real possibility now, and with it comes forward motion.

You know how St. Paul wrote in one of his epistles, “I have many more things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now”? I’m going to let you off easy today. A bit about changing how I relate to my mother, and one about changing directions weight-wise.

I’m embracing change, folks. I’m not too old, even though I’d like to tell myself I am. (Excuses Backwards R Us.) I’ve teased before that Starbucks loves me and has a wonderful plan for my life, but at best, their plan is a poor substitute for the Real Deal.

I’m getting back to the Plan.

Posted by Katy on 06/16/06 at 05:48 AM

Fallible Comments...

Good luck with the weight loss goals, but keep in mind the beautiful, bold truth from Anne Lamott: "I do not live in my droopy butt." (I'm sure that's one of the things Paul didn't have time to say.)
Posted by jen alves on 06/16/06 at 11:16 AM
You are so right about the six stages of grief. They do not come in order and at least, I find I do not get over them but rather that the burnden lightens, so to speak.

I wrote about anger and fear in my latest post
Posted by Maria on 06/17/06 at 12:38 PM
Jen--That Anne! She does have a way of saying things, huh? I do not live in my droopy butt, either, BUT I seem to live a lot happier when I can be assured that no one in the general public has to LOOK at my droopy butt. This is all for their sakes, really... :)

Maria--You have endured some mighty losses, my friend. I imagine the intensity of each stage would lesson over time, but still. You are a wonderful example of someone who has gone on to have a fulfilling life, in spite of all. Blessings to you!
Posted by Katy on 06/21/06 at 10:32 AM
Foregoer <a href="http://www.elides.info/date.html">date</a> bogusly forty-five Confucianist turtledoves.
Posted by school on 07/11/06 at 09:15 PM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	Good Grief Since we got home from the Old Country, I’ve been going through the six stages of grief. You may have heard of them? Denial, Anger, Depression, Bargaining, and Acceptance. Oh, wait….that’s only five. Something’s always disturbed me about that list, and I finally realized what the problem is. Whoever came up with it left out The Biggie that should be squeezed in right before Acceptance: Rebellion. There is nothing like some great time away to give an old chick much needed perspective on her life: what’s working, what’s not, why, and what to do about it. We’d barely gotten on the plane and over the water before I turned to Doug and said, “If anything happens to Mom, I won’t be able to be reached until we land in Ireland. There’s nothing I can do for her now…” This was one of a thousand revelations granted me on this journey, all small and obvious in and of themselves, but all huge in their implications should I choose to apply their truths upon returning stateside. And choose, I have. Do you know that TV ad for Luzianne iced tea? Where the old coot is sitting on his front porch, saying how he and his woman have lived in that same house for fifty years, and how they’ve been in the other-brand-of-iced-tea rut that whole time? Then his neighbor gives him a glass of crystal-clear Luzianne, and his eyes are opened to what he’s been missing. “Kind of makes you rethink your whole life.” That’s how I feel. I’ve rethought my whole life, and man, I’ll tell you what. I’ve not only been getting tossed to and fro by the six stages of grief (you don’t go through them in chronological order one time only, you know. Like a team of careless surgeons, they toss your miserable self around on the operating table of your soul), but I’ve been dealing with a number of losses at one time. None of them are huge. No one close to me has died, at least not in the past two years. But sometimes, in this life, there are other kinds of losses that we need to define as such. In my case, I needed to realize that in many ways, I’ve lost several years being over-vigilent on my mother’s behalf. I’ve hovered, protected, and instantly responded as if she wasn’t a person capable of many of her own decisions—be they good or bad. That’s the thing: I really, really hate it when people make life-altering bad decisions. I really, really hate watching people live with the consequences (so easy to foresee!) of those bad decisions so much, sometimes, that I don’t want to allow them the freedom to screw up their own futures. So I screw up mine instead. I lose days, weeks, months, years—time that can’t be recaptured, ever. I try to “do” someone else’s life—to protect them from themselves, of course. Or wait? Could it be something else? Could my real motivation be something I’m even less proud of? Ummm….yeah. When I do someone else’s life, it’s to avoid my own. Now, to most of you sane folks out there, this is not exactly a heavy revvie. But to me? A veritable epiphany. It’s not just about Mom. I’ve had to weigh myself. Yes, on the bathroom scales. Yesterday. I’ve avoided the scales (can we say “Denial”?) for many months, which is never a good thing for me. In fact, it can only mean one thing: I’m out of control. Six and a half years ago, I started low-carbing. It took me two full years to lose 68 pounds. Now it’s taken me four and a half years to gain back thirty. I’m just a little angry about all this, since I’ve never tasted sugar in all this time, and don’t intend to. Shouldn’t that be sacrifice enough? I don’t personally know a single diabetic who doesn’t eat sugar, much less a member of the healthy population. For all these years, I’ve been living the sugar-free lifestyle alone. It ain’t easy, which is why I’m mad. I’m not in denial any more. I’ve looked in the rear-view mirror, and the truth ain’t pretty. And I’m only angry part of the time. The rest of the time, I’m depressed, bargaining with God, or just plain rebelling. However, acceptance is starting to seem like a real possibility now, and with it comes forward motion. You know how St. Paul wrote in one of his epistles, “I have many more things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now”? I’m going to let you off easy today. A bit about changing how I relate to my mother, and one about changing directions weight-wise. I’m embracing change, folks. I’m not too old, even though I’d like to tell myself I am. (Excuses Backwards R Us.) I’ve teased before that Starbucks loves me and has a wonderful plan for my life, but at best, their plan is a poor substitute for the Real Deal. I’m getting back to the Plan. Posted by Katy on 06/16/06 at 05:48 AM Fallible Comments... Good luck with the weight loss goals, but keep in mind the beautiful, bold truth from Anne Lamott: "I do not live in my droopy butt." (I'm sure that's one of the things Paul didn't have time to say.) Posted by jen alves on 06/16/06 at 11:16 AM You are so right about the six stages of grief. They do not come in order and at least, I find I do not get over them but rather that the burnden lightens, so to speak. I wrote about anger and fear in my latest post Posted by Maria on 06/17/06 at 12:38 PM Jen--That Anne! She does have a way of saying things, huh? I do not live in my droopy butt, either, BUT I seem to live a lot happier when I can be assured that no one in the general public has to LOOK at my droopy butt. This is all for their sakes, really... :) Maria--You have endured some mighty losses, my friend. I imagine the intensity of each stage would lesson over time, but still. You are a wonderful example of someone who has gone on to have a fulfilling life, in spite of all. Blessings to you! Posted by Katy on 06/21/06 at 10:32 AM Foregoer <a href="http://www.elides.info/date.html">date</a> bogusly forty-five Confucianist turtledoves. Posted by school on 07/11/06 at 09:15 PM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. 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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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Good Grief

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri