The Eighth Stage of Grief

What got me out of bed this morning was a blog I wanted to write entitled, "The Eighth Stage of Grief." I'm not sure that's an entirely accurate concept, nor that the idea could even be tied to grief - in fact its probably better placed somewhere else within the DSM-V, but figured as a starting point I'd run with it; sounds kind of provocative, like one of those salacious headlines for the purpose of viral engagement. I've been thinking on it infrequently for months and while I recognize when it occurs, I haven't yet discovered a pattern - much like the other stages of grief - only that it exists, and has no obvious trigger. Yet the closest to which I've been able to tie it is grief and its cycle, despite its key identifier being an abrupt cessation from the complex emotions in which grief so often seems to entrap us; an almost overt promise that the suffering is indeed over. Therein lies the potentiality of an insidious underbelly, as I have yet to determine whether it speaks truth or is another lie our brain chemistry tells us in its endless, sometimes torturous game of life. Another reason I've tied it so closely to grief's chaotic ebb and flow cycle.

Vulnerability has its own layers no doubt. That which is known - surface fears with which we are well acquainted and well versed - those things on which we can speak openly about through familiarity. And that which is unknown - the hidden substratum we either don't know exists, or are genuinely afraid to reveal were we to peel back the layer with which we're acquainted. What would we discover about ourselves were the foundation of our fears exposed, laid bare, rather than simply addressing the familiar manifestation which sits atop it? Were I an actual student of psychology, or if I better understood it, I may draw a parallel to the id, ego, and superego. For when we are truly vulnerable with one another, even that is colored through the human condition; our worldview, and so few comprehend how truly subjective that is, or why, because so much of our identity is skyscrapered atop it as a precarious house of cards. Alas.

We simply cannot comprehend that everything we believe to be true about ourselves and the world around us is so closely tied to the (mostly) very wrong assumptions everyone before us has built entire cultures upon and that we are simply a product of the lowest common denominator of everything within the span of our known knowledge. We don’t want to question it too much because it would threaten us at an incomprehensible level and so few of us could bear knowing everything we believe gives us purpose - or even the idea of purpose itself - is manufactured and propagated to the extent of sacrosanct, inalienable truth. We dare not dig too deeply, nor peel back that many layers when exposing our own vulnerability. Surface is easier. More manageable. Less consequential. That doesn't mean it's not there, and until we unearth it, we have no idea how it affects us because we haven't honestly assessed it.

For lack of a better word, I call the eighth stage of grief, "unaffectedness" (runner-up was, "false breakthrough") insofar as not only do any of the stages of grief cease to exist, we are completely unaffected by the very idea it was even there to begin with; we have hope for an unburdened future without any feelings of loss, or the events surrounding it. This varies significantly from denial, which is a far more active process. I won't rehash Kübler-Ross here, but unaffectedness contains none of the earmarks of denial while simultaneously removing - not subsuming - all other stages of grief. When I experience this, it is as if a great weight has been lifted from me, and I can breathe free and easy knowing my cognitive ability has unshackled me from the chains which bound me; I've made it through to the other side unscathed and can continue pursuing my hopes and dreams and desires unhindered from worries. But is it real? And when/If grief returns, is it because we have invited it back in? For those who struggle with feeling emotions, grief can be a welcome reprieve from the nothingness, and those who know only grief wear it comfortably, as a warm, favored article of clothing. I can see where unaffectedness may have the potential to be very frightening to those who exhibit such traits.

As for myself I wonder, does it promote a reset of perspective so I can begin again with fresh eyes, or is it a byproduct of self-preservation? I can tell you this: I have no idea.