The Big Lie of Happily Ever After

The Big Lie of Happily Ever After

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We first hear it as little kids in our bedtime stories. When we’re older, we see it repeated again and again in countless movies. We’re even told we can buy it in endless advertisements. But it isn’t real. It’s all a big, perverse lie that can do real damage in real lives.

What is it, you ask? It’s the human fantasy of “happily ever after.”

The idea is so alluring we quickly get sucked into its web of deceit and empty promises. Little girls are particularly vulnerable to its grasp. They meticulously plan for Prince Charming’s arrival — as we have been promised in Disney movies.

We know the perfect job is just around the corner. The one where we’re paid handsomely for doing what we love for people we respect — and who respect us. We look for our soulmate knowing they’re out there waiting for us. Our happy little family living in our dream house is on the horizon. No fights or arguments. Everything is effortless. Just pure bliss and ease.

We sit and wait. We wait a lot longer than we expected to. But we don’t give up hope. Day after day; year after year. We are secretly convinced that happily ever after is a real place that we can get to. And will get to. It motivates us and picks us up when we’re down. It gives us a reason to keep moving forward through the murkiness of life.

Until one day the fantasy blows up in our faces and reveals the devastating truth. There is no happily ever after.

For many of us, this ugly truth is revealed when we lose someone who meant more to us than life itself. Someone you cannot imagine living without — and who is never coming back. In my case, that dark day of realization came crashing down on me the day my 4-year-old daughter, Margareta, died.

It came without warning. It was accompanied by a scream of sirens and frantic attempts to save her. We tried to beat it back to the depths it came from, but it came nonetheless. And in a matter of hours – after more than three decades of waiting for it – the certainty of happily ever after disintegrated before my eyes.

It was like that scene in the Wizard of Oz. The curtain had been pulled back to reveal that the great and powerful “happily ever after” is just a construct of ordinary people who live lives that often feel difficult and painful. And they dream of turning fantasy into reality.

Our realization that happily ever after is never going to happen leads to anger.

The grief of losing someone – and losing all our hopes and dreams that came with them – is compounded by the anger we begin to feel from being lied to our whole lives. And lied to we certainly were. Not just by others; we lied to ourselves too.

For some, this anger can all but consume us. We rail against the unfairness of it all. Not only are we feeling the impossible pain of losing someone we can’t imagine living without, we are enraged at the realization of all the time we wasted on that stupid fantasy. Angry that we could have been focused on what mattered most: time spent with our loved ones.

We think of all those extra hours we wasted at the office trying to get that promotion or raise. When we could have been spending time with our family. That is time we will never get back. We think of all those moments where we felt stuck waiting for a better life.

All the while, we could have been happy appreciating what we already had…before we lost it all.

Eventually, the anger will subside. It may take more time than you’d like. Months or years; not days or weeks. It may feel like you’ll never get there. But you will. You will eventually give yourself permission to shift your focus away from the anger of being lied to toward all the love that still resides in your heart and in your mind.

After suffering a loss of this kind, we tend to see the world in a new light. Things we used to think were once so important no longer seem worth our time and energy. The drama and frivolity that used to occupy so much of our life is now seen as a useless waste of time.

Others who didn’t suffer this type of loss may not understand our new perspective. They may resent us for it and tell us to move on with our lives. They may distance themselves from us. But their issues are out of our hands; we simply no longer have the energy to spare on it.

Without happily ever after to focus on, we can finally see what really matters to us.

We can simplify our life and readjust our goals. We can focus our energy on what matters most. Right now that is probably limited to one basic thing: surviving. But eventually, it will lead to a life worth living once again. And that is no lie.

Renaming the Stages of Grief

Renaming the Stages of Grief

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Chances are, you’ve heard of the stages of grief. Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross introduced them in her 1969 book, “On Death and Dying.” The stages are:

Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance

Breaking grief down into defined segments that have a clear beginning and end is a very nice idea. This way, you would know when you’re done with one stage and when to move onto the next. You would follow this progression until you’ve accepted your loved one’s death. Then you could come to peace with it.

The problem is, reality isn’t so simple most of the time.

There is a common misconception about the stages of grief.

I talked to a psychologist who specialized in end-of-life and grief counseling after my 4-year-old daughter’s sudden death in 2009. I asked about the stages of grief. She said she had studied under Dr. Kübler-Ross when she was younger, and explained there is a common misunderstanding about the stages of grief.

Dr. Kübler-Ross used the stages to describe the similar experiences of many terminally ill people facing their impending deaths. The stages were not in reference to someone who had lost a loved one. However, grief from losing a loved one shares very similar emotional responses. So the stages of grief became widely assigned both to people who were dying and those they ultimately left behind.

Most explanations of the stages of grief now include the caveat that grief is a unique journey and many people don’t experience these stages in a prescribed order. It is also pointed out that some people may never experience all five stages.

Instead of a roadmap, these “stages” might be more accurately described as “reactions” to grief.

They should be used to help us understand common emotions experienced on the journey of grief.

But the problem with words is they can carry different meanings to different people based on personal experience. The five stages didn’t resonate with me because my definition of those words didn’t match what I was experiencing.

So I set out to change the existing words into ones that better describe the common experiences shared by those who’ve lost a loved one.

Devastation replaces Denial.

Initially, a terminally ill patient might deny the validity of their diagnosis. After all, we continually hear feel-good stories of people who beat the odds. We hear stories of misdiagnoses or people who are miraculously cured by alternative treatments. So it would be expected that a person’s instinctual survival mode would kick in and convince themselves that they will be one of the lucky ones. Because the alternative is too scary to accept.

The pain is overwhelming in the immediate aftermath of a loved one’s death. So much so, it is impossible to comprehend how you can survive it.

You cannot wrap your mind around how you will go on living in a world that no longer includes your loved one. The word that best describes how I felt during this time was complete and utter devastation.

Just like the denial of a terminally ill person, your mind can pretend the death didn’t really happen in an attempt to avoid the pain. You might continually expect them to walk through the door, or be on the other end of the phone when it rings. Or you might keep telling yourself that this has to be a nightmare you’ll soon wake up from.

While some people never experience these illusions, for others it can go on for months or even years. But unlike a terminally ill patient who is told of a future probability that hasn’t happened yet – and therefore is not absolute – you cannot change the fact that your loved one died. You are simply trying to avoid the devastating pain that comes with that reality.

Anger is still Anger, but also Avoidance.

There is no denying that you are bound to experience some amount of anger with any kind of loss. You may be angry if you feel your loved one’s death was avoidable. Especially if it was at the hands of someone else. You might be angry at God or yourself. Some become angry at family and friends for saying unhelpful (or even hurtful) things. Or because they’re not supporting you in the way you want them to. Others may even be angry at their loved one for dying.

Many people often become angry at the simple fact that the rest of the world continues to go on as if nothing happened.

You are angry at a world that doesn’t seem to acknowledge or care that you just lost one of the most important people in your life. And you can’t figure out how you’re possibly going to live without them.

I’ve heard anger can be your mind’s way of deflecting other, more vulnerable emotions you don’t want to feel. Emotions like fear, shame, guilt, or helplessness. Or a pain so deep and intense, you have not developed the emotional tools you need to deal with it.

Anger, on the other hand, is familiar. It is a primal defense against external threats.

Yet anger isn’t meant to be prolonged or a tool for avoidance. You shouldn’t deny your anger, yet you shouldn’t let it keep you from learning how to better understand and then deal with all of those scarier, more vulnerable emotions.

Bargaining is replaced by “What if…?”

I understand how a terminally ill person would feel compelled to try to change the prognosis by making a deal with God or the universe. But we don’t have any bargaining power if our loved one has already died. Instead, many people find themselves replaying the events that led up to their loved one’s death.

We do this in a futile attempt to re-engineer and alter the outcome.

The bargaining of a terminally ill person is replaced by, “What if…?”

What if they had gone to the doctor sooner, or understood the warning signs for what they were instead of brushing them aside? What if they hadn’t gone on that fateful trip, or went on a different day? There are endless variations of decisions we could have made and actions we could have taken.

Many of us go through this heart-wrenching exercise for weeks or months on end. It becomes a desperate attempt to regain the previously held illusion that we are in control over what happens to us in our lives.

But try as we might, all of these “What if…?” scenarios only end in feelings of regret, helplessness, guilt, or misery. The sooner we decide to stop asking, “What if…,” the sooner we are able to begin the slow journey of tending to our broken hearts.

Overwhelmed replaces Depression.

Read a list of the symptoms of depression when you’ve recently lost someone dear to you, and you’ll likely identify with most of them. However, I’ve heard some psychologists and grief counselors argue that instead of calling it clinical depression, it is simply our natural response to such a significant loss. It includes feelings of sadness, emptiness, and hopelessness. It causes complete and utter exhaustion, sore muscles, loss of appetite or mindless eating. Grief can cause severe insomnia or feeling the urge to escape a painful reality with constant sleep. It can even bring feelings of wanting to end your life; thinking it is the only way you’ll ever escape the unrelenting pain.

Regardless of whatever you or others want to call it, it is completely overwhelming.

Problem can occur when the overwhelming feelings and emotions interfere with your ability to go back to work or go about your daily life. Some people choose to take medication. Others oppose it. Regardless of what you decide is best for you, the important thing to remember is that what you are experiencing is a normal reaction to such a devastating loss.

In my personal experience, it is important that you be patient with yourself and allow all of these feelings to wash over you in order to process them and eventually let them go. The more you try to repress them, the longer they will stay.

Acceptance becomes Healing.

In the case of a terminally ill patient, the idea of acceptance is to stop fighting and find a way to come to peace with the inevitable reality of impending death. I can imagine this is the most difficult step of all. And some may never reach it. Similarly, some who have lost a loved one – a child in particular – may never come to “accept” the death. To many, acceptance often implies agreement or approval. To others, acceptance may imply severing ties to a past we cannot let go of.

Acceptance doesn’t have to mean any of this.

In the case of losing a loved one, acceptance may simply mark the moment we are ready to begin our journey of healing.

Our loved one is dead; we can’t change that. Instead, we have two choices. First, we can choose to stay wrapped up in a security blanket of misery. Why? Some feel it is the strongest, most palpable connection we have left to our loved one. It may feel as though we would be betraying or diminishing our love for them if we were to ever be happy in a world without them. I have been there myself, and place no judgment on those who are not ready to leave that world.

When you are ready, you can choose to begin to find a new way forward in a world that may not include our loved one, but continues to acknowledge and incorporate the deep, profound love we still feel – and always will. We can choose to embrace the overwhelming pain and learn from it. We can learn to allow joy and happiness back into our lives. And ultimately, we can choose to heal.

…

Those are my choices for new words to replace the traditional “stages” of grief. If those don’t resonate with you, then replace them with ones that do. Ultimately, the stages – or reactions – of grief are only there to let you know you’re not alone in this journey.

Wishing you peace.

When Death Isn’t Fair

When Death Isn’t Fair

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I read about a little 3-year-old girl who was killed when a heavy security door fell on her during a crowded fundraiser at an ice cream shop. It can only be described as a freak, tragic accident. Her devastated family is left to wonder “why?” Why her? Why did she have to be in that exact spot in the moment when the door fell? And why did the door fall at all? These questions may torment them for a long time to come.

Her death is a palpable reminder that much of the time, death is very unfair.

“It isn’t fair.” This is a common refrain in many grief support group meetings. Most often, they are referring to a situation where their loved one died at the hands of someone else. For example, they were hit by a drunk driver, and the person at fault came out of it with barely a scratch.

In fact, fairness is in the eye of the beholder. And many bereaved people find themselves angry at the unfairness of the circumstances of their loved one’s death. 

I understand their pain.

Why did their mother get cancer at the young age of 45, when she had gone to great lengths to take good care of her health? Meanwhile, others seem to indulge in many vices for years on end and live well into their 90s.

Why did their brother get thrown out of the car and die when everyone else survived the crash with only cuts or broken bones?

And why was their baby stillborn after an otherwise healthy full-term pregnancy, while we hear countless stories of babies born many weeks premature who survive?

The fact is we consider death to be unfair whenever someone dies before we think it’s their time.

Try as you might, you cannot explain the unfairness away. No one who is bereaved wants to hear, “It was part of God’s plan; we are not meant to understand.” Well it wasn’t part of our plan, and it hurts like hell.

“They were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” is not only unhelpful, but some may argue insensitive. Chances are they were in the place they were supposed to be, going about their day just like the rest of us. But unlike the rest of us, the unthinkable happened. Many times death is random, unpredictable, and it isn’t fair.

Agonizing over why they died can become an insidious trap that many bereaved get stuck in.

It keeps us up at night. Some of us become a shadow of the person we once were. Continually asking why can freeze us in a state of despair or anger – or both.

Unfortunately, there is no secret cure that can be conveyed in words. We are all unique, and so is our grief. We all need to process it at our own pace and in our own way. For some it may take months; for others it may take years. And some may never stop asking why their loved one died.

For me, it came down to accepting the finality of my daughter’s death.

At 4-years-old, she drowned in our pool when no one was looking. While I knew how she died, I grappled with those questions of why.

Why did the circumstances of the day unfold as they did? What if any one of those actions or choices were different; would it have changed the outcome? Why did it have to happen to us – a loving, supportive family who took good care of each other? Was there some bigger reason that I wasn’t aware of?

The questions of “why” haunted me and took up all my energy. I read many books to try to find the answers. I asked those questions over and over during my grief counseling knowing full well there was no answer my therapist could give. But at least I said them out loud. My questions were echoed by others in the support group meetings I attended. It made me feel understood and not alone in my anguish.

Eventually, I came to the understanding that continuing to ask the questions just kept feeding the dark beast that is guilt and despair. I realized that even if I had the answers, my daughter would still be dead and the pain would remain.

So, I made the choice to stop asking why. I decided to replace it with purpose.

My daughter had died and I couldn’t change it – so what was I going to do to honor her life and memory?

I’ve heard of many wonderful ways people channel their pain into ways to honor their loved one’s memory. Others have created large foundations in their loved one’s name to help others. Still others perform small acts of kindness for strangers in honor of their loved one. I’ve heard of everything in between. In my case, I decided to create www.aliveinmemory.org to write about my grief to try to help others in theirs.

No matter what the act or activity, focusing your efforts on finding a way to honor your loved one can provide meaning for a death that appeared to have none. It can help shift our focus from despair to love; from anger to acceptance. And while it will never change the fact that their death was unfair, it can help us begin to heal.