Things You Don't Realize About Grief

There are many things that you don't realize about grief until you actually experience it. At first it goes completely as planned with the Kübler-Ross model (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance). You go through all those steps, usually multiple times. Other things aren't so obvious. Such as:

#1. Grief is Awkward

Before Doreen died, I could say things about my sister without making myself or others feel uncomfortable. And people could speak freely of their own sister as well. Now if I bring up Doreen, I feel like people are put in a situation where they either feel uncomfortable or they feel they need to be understanding of my grief by giving me a knowing look or hug. I can no longer say that Doreen did something without it creating a pause, no matter how small. Even if it's only in my head, it's still there. If your sister is living, such statements go without further examination, but not if your sister is dead.

Before Doreen died, I didn't get hugs from my boss...well, not very many. He didn't meet me at Applebees with a plant and ask questions about the family she left behind. I am lucky to have a boss who cares about me, but it's still awkward.

If someone hasn't died, most likely your out-of-office reply on your e-mail means you're on vacation. It's awkward when co-workers and customers assume you were on vacation and when they ask about it you have to tell them that you were on bereavement leave.

It's WAY more awkward when people avoid you than when they approach you and attempt to comfort you. They never know what to say, mostly because there's nothing TO say that would make you feel better, but even if they say something stupid it is still less awkward than pretending you don't exist.

It's also awkward to be constantly comforted. It's awkward to receive cards, calls, messages, flowers, meals...it all makes me feel needy, but it also makes me feel loved. It's healing when you can graciously accept love and acts of service from people who love you, but it's still awkward to accept charity and to feel the pity of others.

#2. There is a lot of guilt

I have few regrets about my relationship with Doreen, but there is still guilt whether it's logical or not. Why didn't I tell her to go to the hospital? Why wasn't I more concerned when she said she wasn't feeling well? Am I so selfish that I was only focused on my own problems? Why did I think it was no big deal that she thought she had an ulcer? Aren't ulcers serious enough for me to care about? Why did I move to Baltimore? I could've been there at the hospital with her if I wasn't so far away. I would've made it there before she died. I could've kept on top of the hospital staff and I would've known that something bad was happening just by looking at her. Why didn't I try to call and talk to her in her hospital room? I had a BBQ at my house that evening and was tired after cleaning up. Why didn't I read up more on Bariatric Surgery so I could remind her that she shouldn't wait to get help if anything was out of the norm. Why didn't I help her keep her weight down? Why did I make pies, quiche, pancakes and other unhealthy foods for her when she visited? I should've only made healthy food. Maybe I encouraged her to over-eat while she was here by making foods which are difficult to resist.

The guilt attacks from both sides. I also feel it when I'm happy. Why am I laughing with friends or enjoying my baby? I should be sad because my sister just died. It has only been 2 weeks. Surely I should be mourning longer than that.

#3- It renews itself

Just when you feel like you're in a good place, something happens that starts it all over. This year it will be the 4th of July (She was here last year), when Benjamin starts crawling, then walking, when Doreen's 40th b-day comes up, when Olivia's 7th b-day comes up, when Benjamin's 1st b-day comes up, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve/Day. It will all be clouded by the lack of her presence. Events where you would normally be celebrating will be terribly sad because she's not there. And then it will start over in 2012. Every first holiday will be the worst, and each year should get a little easier...but only a little at a time. And then it will hit you harder than expected every once in a while. It will take a very long time to quit grieving. I'd say a good 15 years, unless another young person dies in the meantime (please no!). I was just making peace with losing my father 12 years ago when this happened. I feel destined to be depressed.

#4- You realize most things are really unimportant

There was a customer who was a real ass to me via e-mail and telephone over a very minor problem he was having. He was grossly exaggerating the inconvenience he was experiencing from a problem that was not caused by me, yet holding me personally accountable for it and even attempted to get me in trouble. And other people continue to bicker about the stupidest things with their loved ones. In general people care about really stupid things. I want to tell them but I don't want to get on a soap box and make it awkward for them to be around me. Especially since I was worried about the same things 2 weeks ago. That one saying is very true. You really should be nicer than you have to be, because everyone is fighting some sort of battle.

I'm sure there are other things most people don't realize about grief, but these are the only ones I can think of right now.

I Have a Dream...with my apologies to Dr. King

I can't remember if it was 2003 or 2004, but I woke up on MLK day in NYC and told my friend Sarah, "I had a dream". She gave me one of those looks reserved for only the dumbest of jokes. I was confused for a minute until I realized what day it was. That year MLK day was, for me, a convenient weekend to take a vacation.

Fast forward 6 or 7 years, and here I am, still dreaming. Of course my dreams are different than they were back then, many of the old ones having already come to fruition just beautifully. Aaaannnd, there are also some new "developments" that I now need to dream and mobilize my way back out of, preferably in a non-violent fashion. Okay, let's just be frank. I got fat, ya'll! That's not to say that losing weight is my biggest or most altuistic dream, it just happens to be what this particular post is about. And I don't have a lot of other problems at the moment. (See other posts re: Wal-Mart, Coupons, etc.)

If a civil rights activist ever reads this, let me apologize right now. As I'm writing this, I have exactly 3 followers and they know how seriously I take civil rights for all people. So I hope nobody gets offended that I, too, am inspired by Dr. King. Even as a white, college-educated woman, from a middle-class, two-parent household, he speaks to me. And from his grave, he directs me to follow my dreams, large and small. This particular one may seem small in light of real problems in the world (see Haiti), but in America, obesity is huge. Pun intended? You betcha! And if Dr. King can be an icon and a legacy of civil rights, surely I can lose a few pounds. Okay, more than a few.

Have you ever done anything wrong that you just couldn't stop? It is the worst type of feeling to be out of control. Mainly, because you don't realize that you've lost control until way too late. And when you realize that you have to give something up, you go through all the stages of grief backwards and forwards until finally.....Acceptance. And if that's not bad enough, you start the process all over again the minute you hit a bump in the road on your way to recovery. Excuses!! If-onlys!! It's different for me because ___ (fill in the blank). It's the same story no matter what you're trying to quit. The truth is, it's not different for me. I don't believe I'm a food addict, per se. There are definitely differences to my problem, but there are also many similarities. How many times have I puzzled over how someone could do something so stupid as to drink and drive, or inject a drug into their veins. Well? Those same people probably don't understand why I let my ass get so big. It's not as socially acceptable to wrestle a cannoli out of somebody's hand, they way others might do with car keys.


I've been scared of being fat my whole life, and it seemed predestined. I began yo-yo dieting somewhere around age 10 or 12. I was skinny then, but would routinely get up at 6am for Mousercize on the Disney Channel, or dig through my mother's exercise tapes on VHS. Sometimes I would do sit-ups in bed instead of going to sleep. I just knew that I was going to be overweight one day, and at that age, that was my solution. Just a few years ago, I asked my physician for help. Since my BMI was 24, she wouldn't help me. Even though I was 20 pounds overweight, I wouldn't be clinically overweight until my BMI was 25, nevermind that I was trying to avoid that. She told me to eat right and exercise. Well duh! I didn't need to be told what to do, I needed to be told HOW to do it. It sounds dumb, but I really couldn't figure it out! It really is like those commercials about relearning to do things without smoking. Part of our brain is malfunctioning and we can't do what we know we need to do. Well here I am now with a BMI of 31.3, clinically obese. (Check your BMI here) Was it bad genes, or a self-fulfilling prophecy? Or better yet: Was it programmed into me unwittingly by my parents in a perpetual cycle of low self-esteem and unhealthy relationships with food? Ding, ding, ding!!! But that's another post all in itself. And incidentally, it's waaayyy beside the point because I take full responsibility for every glorious cannoli in my adult life. They all meant something to me. :)

What's crazy is that, like many of my failures in life ,(posts on relationships soon!!), it took a very long time to realize that I have to do something. Big. Now. I just think we all have these images of ourselves that are hard to overcome. For most of my life, I've been in a healthy weight range, so I still feel like a normal sized person. You know how anorexics think they're fat? Well, I think I'm thin! It's not until I go shopping for pants, or someone tags a photo of me on facebook that I remember. And It has been very convenient living in Maryland, where my old friends can't see me, and my new friends don't know the difference. Even I was alarmed when I stepped on a scale in August for the first time since before my wedding. "Ouch!", said the scale. I just sit here and shake my head because never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this.

So here it is, January 18th, 2010. MLK Day. I don't know how many diets and exercise programs I've began and quit in my 31 years, most of them not even necessary. This one is necessary. I can't be obese. I don't want to have heart problems, thyroid problems, diabetes, etc. and pass these habits on to my children. And I'm just not made to shop in stores where all the jeans are made with stretchy material. (They're so awful!). So I apologize in advance that I am sure to have a long series of posts about my weightloss journey. I will try to pepper in some posts that the skinny-minis will find interesting, too. To be honest, it's difficult to even post this at all, since it's something I consider to be nobody's business. And I'm not thrilled about airing my inner-most thoughts about being fat to everyone on facebook, but I need the outlet. I need the support. I need to prepare for the day when I'm not motivated. This first two weeks and 7.4 pounds lost has been easy, but it won't last. Disappointment, frustration and tears are most certainly on the horizon, and I need to be ready. I need to have a plan so that I can wake up everyday believing in my dream, and believing in myself that I can overcome.