How I Long for That Egyptian River

Now that my feelings have shifted, I’ve figured out the word for my reaction to my husband’s layoff. It’s not “happy,” “relieved,” “excited,” “hopeful,” “positive,” or “optimistic.”

The word for what I was feeling until sometime last night: denial.

At first, I was confused about the change in emotional state. I tried to blame the coconut milk in my raw “porridge” last night (which I’m not sure is allowed on my not-crazy diet) or staying up late researching affiliate programs and disclosure statements.

But then I recalled Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s Five Stages of Grieving. (To refresh your memory, they’re Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance, and they’re not chronological stages as one can jump back and forth between them during the grieving process and even skip stages entirely.)

I didn’t recognize that I was grieving my husband’s job loss until my husband and I both shifted from denial to depression at the same time (although my husband calls his mood “despondent,” and I call mine “down”). It was unlikely that a particular food or a lack of sleep could account for both of our moods. After all, my husband doesn’t seem to be bothered by any foods (except American cheese), and he went to bed with the baby last night around 8pm.

I looked up the Kübler-Ross Model to refresh my memory (I could only remember four stages of grief. I kept forgetting “bargaining”), and it all seemed to fit.

So far, I think I’ve felt two kinds of denial, anger, and depression. And maybe a little bit of bargaining. But that could be just magical thinking. Like, if I really foster my friendships here in Utah this month and declutter and keep the house clean, my husband will be employed by the end of May. (Conversely, I worried that moving my daughter’s birthday party up a month and postponing signing her up for soccer camp this June would cause him to remain unemployed.)

The first thing I felt when he called with the news was denial of the reality of the situation. Specifically, I thought he was joking.

Then, as I talked with my friends and my husband, anger set in. Both my husband and I engaged in angry talk and said lots of mean things about those sons of  mothers as we reflected on the past months and realized that they’d known they were canning half of the company for at least two months.

Then the day after the news, I started feeling much better. This was my pleasant, hopeful stage. I thought it was a healthy acceptance of reality. In retrospect, I can see that this was just another type of denial. My husband and I weren’t denying reality, we were simply denying that it was that bad. He’d find a job in a couple of weeks, we assured each other. Things were quiet because it was the weekend, but once Monday hit, the calls would be rolling in.

Then came Monday morning. All day I’ve just wanted my kids to leave me alone. I’ve felt like if I could just get the house cleaned and have some peace I would feel better and be able to establish a “new normal” rather than this hodgepodge non-schedule we’ve been keeping for nearly a week.

I called and canceled the housecleaner, as planned, and then my son helped remind me how impossible it is to mop the floor with him awake (and got a nasty goose-egg on the back of his head when he tried to run across the wet floor).

I noticed that my daughter had written a note on the calendar stating, “On the 6th fo [sic] April I will say goodbye to my first friend.” (I don’t know why she thinks she needs to start saying goodbye to people so early, nor do I know which friend she’s planning to bid farewell on Wednesday, but I felt sad to see the note.)

I escaped during lunchtime to the library while my husband watched the kids. I was going to pick up the cookbook I want to use for my daughter’s birthday cupcakes. But the copy at the branch I went to had been lost. I can get another copy, it will just take a couple of days to arrive. I had parked in front of a book store, one of the big ones I knew would have the book in stock, but I forced myself to turn the key in the ignition and return home empty-handed rather than buy the book.

Then on the way home, I had to listen to The Band. OK, I could have changed the station, but what’s the point? It all sucks anyway.

And I think that was about when I figured out I was in the “depression” stage.

There have been happy things today (I mention these not only to help improve my mood but to redeem this blog post from my incessant whining). Our friends came over and played for a couple of hours this afternoon. Another friend called and asked for instructions for making onigiri, which left me feeling pleased that she’d liked them so much when I made them for her that she wanted to replicate them. I had left a message at a business I was certain I owed money explaining our situation and that I wanted to clear all of our accounts now, and when they called back today they insisted that my balance with them was zero.

I tear up a bit when I think of all of these things. I’m so grateful for all of the love and care people are giving us.

I just wish it were enough to bring back that pleasant, euphoric denial.