Sitting in my telephone counselling course last friday, one day after another blowout, another hurt, I know the lecture is going to be hard. The topic is 'Grief and Loss'. The speaker, a woman of rich empathy, nearly makes me burst when she starts talking about how we deal with significant loss. I'm narrowly saved by the hand-out, staring at the words, trying to lose myself in the black and white flickers of meaning. Then, this surfaces to ground me:

"Grange Westburg speaks of ten stages in the grief process:"
1) State of shock, where the grieving person is stunned, dazed or in denial
- Been there. Too much to comprehend in one sitting.
2) The expression of emotion either in the form of tears, fear or anger
- Night tears and bright anger and pain. Mostly finished with that.
3) Feelings of loneliness
- So, so true. Surrounded by people, but still feeling desperately alone.
4) Physical symptoms like headaches, chest pains and disturbed sleeping patterns
- Tick for the sleeping patterns. Bed at 10pm or 4am; all the same.
5) Feeling of depression, gloom and hopelessness
- No surprises there.
6) Feelings of guilt. If only...
- Less guilt than bewildered self-criticism. What did I do wrong? I thought everything was grand and positive.
7) Possible feelings of resentment or hostility to other people/the lost object
- Well, yeah. Obviously.
8) Inability to return to usual activities, usually accompanied by ambivalent feelings
- Joy in life? Little-to-none. I've had to force smiles and generate positivity for long enough for it to feel natural. This is lifting, though. I danced till 5.30 this morning, drunk as a lord.
9) The gradual emergence of hope as the proportion of 'good' days increases.
- Spot on for where I'm at. God, it sounds like an addiction, or illness. Good days, bad days. Fuck, but she got to me where I hurt the most.
10) The struggle to readjust to reality where the person is able to live with the grief and loss.
- Nearly, nearly, nearly.

Despite the clinical phrases, my heart still leapt at these words. It was such a relief to see my experience quantified and placed in a framework, even though it's intended for the bereaved. The steps aren't meant to be linear, which is good, cos it makes me feel less like an AA attendee, but to read step 9 was a small awakening. Grief doesn't have to apply only to death. This has been a big, big loss for me. I think it's been even harder than dealing with my brother's death. Probably because, as the handout says, "the intensity of grief depends on the unique mix of attachment to, investment in and dependency on the lost object and how it happened". I loved my brother, albeit in a detached, he's-always-been-there kind of way. But although we were close, I was just coming out of my shyness and he was still solidifying his personality, firming, when the cancer took hold and then took him away. The pain was nothing like this. I didn't rely on him for self-worth; it hurt, dragged me down to see him suffering, but this has hurt so, so much more. I feel guilty for not grieving more for Stuart, but I can't deny the reality of my pain over the past two months. It's cut me to shreds, destroyed my pleasure in life. I've felt absolutely alone in this. But I hope something good comes from it; I hope I'm stronger, better able to survive. Otherwise, it'll have been pretty pointless.