The Five Stages of Grief
To say coming out to my parents has been difficult would be an understatement. They have not taken well to the news that the Intern and I are together, and there has been a sense of desperate urgency in their "conversations" with me since I told them that we are getting married at the end of the summer. To that end, they are flying out here in two weeks to try to stop the wedding.
Thankfully, I have remarkable friends (and a few paid professionals) who have helped me through the last year and a half of familial agony. And I truly owe a debt I cannot repay to the men and women who have stood with me, comforted me, cried with me, consumed beverages and meals with me, let me sit silently on their couch for hours, held me, and encouraged me. But even still, I am deeply grieving the temporary loss of my family as I knew it.
What is most surprising for me is that, for the first time in this whole process, I feel angry. I am angry that it has taken my parents four years to come visit me in Vancouver, and that the sole reason they are doing so is to attempt to disassemble the most important relationship I have. I am angry that my sisters have refused to come to our wedding. I am angry that there is no one in Toronto to advocate for me. I am angry that my church has been largely useless in its support of the Intern and me. I am angry that I have to edit the Intern/our wedding out of every conversation with my family to avoid the almost-certain explosion that will come as result.
Anger is supposed to be stage two in the five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance). But there is no way I am only on stage two after a year and a half of drama and trauma. Plus, I already did acceptance, depression, and bargaining (in that order). Good Lord, I hope denial isn't next.
Thankfully, I have remarkable friends (and a few paid professionals) who have helped me through the last year and a half of familial agony. And I truly owe a debt I cannot repay to the men and women who have stood with me, comforted me, cried with me, consumed beverages and meals with me, let me sit silently on their couch for hours, held me, and encouraged me. But even still, I am deeply grieving the temporary loss of my family as I knew it.
What is most surprising for me is that, for the first time in this whole process, I feel angry. I am angry that it has taken my parents four years to come visit me in Vancouver, and that the sole reason they are doing so is to attempt to disassemble the most important relationship I have. I am angry that my sisters have refused to come to our wedding. I am angry that there is no one in Toronto to advocate for me. I am angry that my church has been largely useless in its support of the Intern and me. I am angry that I have to edit the Intern/our wedding out of every conversation with my family to avoid the almost-certain explosion that will come as result.
Anger is supposed to be stage two in the five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance). But there is no way I am only on stage two after a year and a half of drama and trauma. Plus, I already did acceptance, depression, and bargaining (in that order). Good Lord, I hope denial isn't next.
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