12/9/2011 Underneath it all, I have a tremendous amount of guilt. I have bouts where I feel so damn guilty about who and what my daughter has become, even though logically I know that much of what’s happened is inherent in her, and is her doing. I see how successful my other child is and, knowing that I parented them equally—with equal values, equal love, and equal experiences—their perspectives, personalities, and personas are vastly different.
That said, my guilt these past few years has been much like what Elisabeth Kübler-Ross describes as the five stages of grief.
Here’s my thinking.
1. Denial — “I feel fine.” “This can’t be happening, not to me.”
Denial is usually only a temporary defense for the individual.
At first I didn’t believe that my daughter was a pothead, a drug user, a ne’er-do-well. I did a lot of dismissing, excusing, justifying of the things I heard and saw and, deep down, knew. I thought if I didn’t acknowledge certain things, then they weren’t true. How could a mother like me, who has been so loving, strict, and involved have a daughter who sneaks out to raves and uses hard drugs and puts herself into danger? I taught my children about being abstinent, so how is it possible that my daughter has been sexually active? No way.
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.
When I woke up and saw that this stuff was indeed happening, I was so pissed. How could she do this to me, slap me in the face like this, thumb her nose at all I stand for? Why wouldn’t anyone help me? I hated when people would offer advice and stand around and do nothing. I heard, “You should…” enough times that I wanted to beat someone’s baby.
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.
I’m a non-religious person, but I caught myself numerous times speaking to g-d. I asked him what to do, what I could give up, what I needed to change if only I could have my loving child back—even if I had to reach back to when she was five—I wanted her back.
4. Depression — “I’m so sad; why bother with anything?” “What’s the point?” “I miss my loved one; why go on?
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.
I was so bad at the beginning of this journey, that I increased my dosage for my antidepressants. I was so sad, blamed myself for everything, and was frightened for my daughter’s well being. I still am sometimes, and feel sorry for myself a lot, but I keep taking those pills and try to laugh at things I can’t control (and there are a lot of them).
5. Acceptance — “It’s going to be okay.” “I can’t fight it, so 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.
In recent months, I’ve become more resolved to move on with my own life. I’ve realized that I can’t change her thinking, her behavior, her attitude, her propensities…I can only control my own. Being with my boyfriend and bouncing thoughts and ideas off him makes me more determined to move past the nightmarish way I’ve lived and find a sliver of happiness for myself. I have not fallen apart completely, and I’m not crumpled up in the corner, so there may be hope for a “normal” life, whatever that may be. With her moving out for good in the next week, I’m planning (in my head) how I’m going to live differently—and better.