At 43 years old, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross developed the Kübler-Ross model. Little did this Swede know what she was really inventing. Most people don’t know who Kübler-Ross is, was, or maybe will be. Why the vagueness, you may ask? Well, this little lady has possibly faked her own death, all for the name of her own model.
So, what model did this sassy thang develop? The Kübler-Ross model is better known as the five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. We’ve all heard of it, and unfortunately, most of us have lived it in losing a loved one. The process is an emotional roller-coaster that throws you up, spins you around, slaps you on the fanny, then asks you a complex algebraic question. Much like the typical American work week.
Your alarm clock begins squealing with sick enjoyment at the crack of dawn. You stumble around in a daze as if you spent the previous night with a wild one night stand. You floozies you! Your mind races; then it all begins to sink in. Despite having the “it’s after 5:00pm on a Sunday” slump settle over you the night before, you’re not prepared. It’s Monday. You drag yourself through the hygiene steps, doddle your way out to your car, and then usually just sit for a second. A heavy sigh is exhaled before you turn the key and start your merry commute to work. You spend most of the day in a haze, refusing to admit it. But it is there… it lingers with you all day long, slowly eating away at you. You have a full five days of work ahead of you, no light at the end of the tunnel because we all know “retirement” and “social security” won’t exist in 40-50 years, and there’s no way out.
You’ve survived Monday. The absolute denial is slowly subsiding… but there’s a new tickle floating around in your mind. You get to work on Tuesday and begin your tasks. About an hour or so in, you make the mistake of taking a quick peek at any hint of the outside world: the news, looking out a window, surfing the net, checking Facebook… anything. That itty bitty tickle is suddenly a raging storm inside of you. Why do you have to be at work, in Hell, when some lady in Istanbul or Constantinople just won the lottery and is taking a sabbatical to research worm life?! Shit, you hate bugs… but at least that lady gets to do what she wants, when she wants. She sucks!
Happy Hump Day! You’re half-way through the week and now feel a slightly different itch in your bones. What could it be… possibly hope? There is a dim light at the end of your week’s tunnel.. and you even begin to let yourself daydream here and there. But nothing in life is free… and no pleasure comes without a consequence. You look at the clock and it’s 12:38pm; you have another six hours to go of work. And then the thought comes: “God/Higher Power/Buddha/Channing Tatum (whoever it is that you worship), if you’re listening, I promise I won’t judge anyone, or curse, for the entire rest of the week if you just make this day go by faster.” And then clock stops to a dead halt. You still have two and half days to go.
Welcome to Thursday. Despite being in the home stretch, you have just given up your will power. You speak to customers/clients in a monotone robotic voice all day, while everyone laughs and thinks your trying an impression of Mork & Mindy. You are depressed. Someone asks you if you have plans for the weekend and you groan in response… it seems too far away. Every glance of the clock brings tears to your eyes, while you search for memories of what real life is like and if you’ll ever get through the final two days to visit that glorious place again.
You don’t even wait for the alarm clock to go off today. You jump out of bed, bust out some dance moves… a possible drum set on your belly or butt, and you’re out the door for work. It‘s Friday! Someone at work mentions the past week and suddenly you’re that asshole with a smile saying, “It went by so quick, right?!” Idiot. You’ve accepted your grief cycle.. it’s come to an end. You survived the work week and you now have an amazing 48 hours to yourself. (Okay so it’s actually only 32 hours after two nights with eight hours of sleep). You don’t care that you’re getting less time off than you just worked! It’s Friday and you’re in love. You’re free!
** Yeah, there’s no explanation for a baby monkey and dove/bird displaying “acceptance”… but it’s cute, right? C’mon… you can’t deny it. What’s that there? A little smile… go ahead, indulge in the moment.
So in summary, thank you Ms. Kübler-Ross for explaining the emotionally draining process that we stumble through our full time weeks. Some say how dedicated you were/are to your work due to your mysterious death/faked death…
I think you just couldn’t deal with another round of your good ol’ theory.