Denial

Denial — As the reality of loss is hard to face, one of the first reactions to follow the loss is Denial. What this means is that the person is trying to shut out the reality or magnitude of their situation, and begin to develop a false, preferable reality.  (Wikipedia)

Always a man driven by logic, resulting in a career in software development, my view of the world has always been very black and white, with very few grey areas.  The same views extend in to the arena of truth.  For me, there is simply the truth, or untruth, therefore my experiences of denial as part of my five stages of grief were relatively short lived.

Having lost the love of my life, and then my step son, whom I had brought up as my own since the age of two, all within the space of four days, my experience of denial was largely encapsulated by sheer debilitating  shock.  

The passing of my partner had placed me into a state of stupor, whereby I would try not to think about things too much, in an effort to prevent being overwhelmed, allowing the thoughts in at a rate I could cope with.  The news of my son's death turned off the thought tap completely, leaving me totally numb and unable to think at all.  

The best analogy would be the loud high pitched tone before deafness, or the bright white light before blindness.  The loss of my partner produced the bright light, causing me to squint my thoughts as you would cover your eyes at the sun.  My sons death was blinding and darkness created an empty void of my mind.

I think to some extent some aspects of this denial were helpful in as much as they allowed me to get through the two most difficult days of my life, namely the horrendous task of telling our youngest child, at the time only 3 years of age, that mummy would not be coming home. I will never forget the look on her face.  When delivering the tragic news about her brother four days later, I found myself with a lot to explain, and managed to do so without thinking about it myself.  I could hear myself saying the words, but it all seemed abstract and off in the distance.  

After several weeks, fully aware of the fact I was refusing to allow myself to think, I allowed some thoughts to drift in.  Try to imagine if you will, opening the outside hatch on a submerged submarine. You can't just let a little water in through the hatch, and my thoughts were the same, crashing in at a rate where I simply could not keep up with the questions let alone produce any answers.  What of our life now? How will these changes effect our lives? How will we cope financially and emotionally?  The questions just kept coming.

Reeling from the sheer enormity of it all, I shut it down for a few more days, relying on sleep, and making a constant effort not to think while awake.  My way out of this conundrum was to take a single question I had remembered from the onslaught, and attempt to process it on its own.  Still no easy task at first, as often an unrefined question leads to many more questions, but this new found level of  processing my thoughts allowed me to move slowly through them at a rate that was not so utterly overwhelming.  

Most of my denial revolved around a simple thought, "I cannot believe this has all happened, and therefore, I won't.".  Shutting out my thoughts regarding my grief and loss seemed a necessary defense mechanism that allowed me to take on board these tragic events, in a more reasoned fashion, absent the emotional overload.

There are more subtle ways in which denial following loss can effect a person, sometimes when you least expect it.  I have covered some of the subtleties I have experienced in my poems about denial.