Disorganization

I feel at a loss for words. I think something is shifting in me. Whatever I WAS feeling (strength, courage, hope, or perhaps denial), has transformed into . . . something I don't have words for. There is a sensation of energy in my body that does not allow me to relax. At the same time, I feel tired beyond measure. Nothing seems to bring me comfort or relief.

I know this is "normal." One of my ways of dealing with this is to read about grief, as though learning about it will prepare me for living with it.
I have found several models.
Here is a common one:

Denial /Shock (this isn't happening to me!)
Anger (why is this happening to me?)
Bargaining (I promise I'll be a better person if...)
Depression (I don't care anymore)
Acceptance (I'm ready for whatever comes)

And another:

Numbness (mechanical functioning and social insulation)
Disorganization (intensely painful feelings of loss)
Reorganization (re-entry into a more 'normal' social life.)

So, it seems to me that the initial stage, the shock, numbness, denial stage, is where I have been most days since the accident. Now I am beginning to feel disorganized. I can't say that I'm feeling anger, really. More like panic. The awareness that intense pain is on the horizon, and some fear about facing that.

I feel some hesitation in sharing this. Will it make people feel more uncomfortable talking to me? It is so much easier to write heroic, life-affirming blog entries, to know that I lift people up. I ask myself, now, what I am doing, writing all of this pain. I can only hope that someone else out there who might be experiencing grief can read my words and feel, if nothing else, a little less alone. And I hope that my friends and family can offer me patience while I explore my experience. I know this stage of grief is very important, and it can't be side-stepped. If I let myself go deep into this pain, it will "clear me out for some new delight," as Rumi says.

Ok. I think that is the answer, the little piece of wisdom I have been needing to contact:
I have to TRUST that where I am is where I need to be.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of it's furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
--Rumi