So according to the Googles, there are either five or seven stages of grief. Since I have often sought the easy way out, I’m going with the five stages. Here’s my progress so far.
1. Denial: Yeah, never was really in denial about the boy deciding not to be with me. It’s hard to be in denial when he gives rather compelling reasons why he needs to end things, followed up by dating advice for yours truly. Yep, folks, he advised me to “get out there” and “not hide in my classroom.” Niiiiiice. Oops, I think I’m bleeding into…
2. Anger: See previous three sentences. And yes, I’m angry. As Ashley (girlfriend extraordinaire and one of a small number of people who can very truly empathize with me) relayed to me the other night, her husband and her best friend could not wrap their heads around why someone would consciously choose not to be with me. I’m angry at myself for falling for all the nice things he said (“He talked fancy to me! I got confused!” –A Bug’s Life) and angry at him for deciding in a mere 48 hours that cutting me out of his life was a positive life choice.
3. Bargaining: I have done a little of this. Do I try to contact him again? When? Is Christmas enough time? Is there something God wants me to do to really prove I liked this guy? If I do wait until Christmas, and I am a perfect human being, and I go to church and don’t make snarky comments while there, will God somehow make it so the boy will see the mistake he made in letting me go? If I run in the mornings and circuit train in the evenings and eat 300 calories a day, will that fix everything? (Answer: probably not.)
4. Depression: That was me on Wednesday. And a little on Thursday. And while I feel okay today, I expect Sunday to be a little difficult, and I expect to be sad on future dates that we had referenced, like the first day of school, or Thanksgiving, or Christmas, and I expect to be sad when I see something funny or amazing and my first instinct is to take a picture of it and send it to him. I expect to be sad when I listen to Adele, and if I ever work up the nerve to look in the email folder I created for the hundreds of texts and emails we sent to each other, I’m guessing a healthy dose of depression will accompany that ridiculously stupid action. But lucky for me, I’ve battled depression most of my adult life, and I know how to handle it, and I have incredible friends who have been most perfectly supportive all week. So when depression hits, I’m not too concerned about it. I have a plan for that.
5. Acceptance: I know I’m not here yet. While I’m not wearing the bracelet he gave me for my birthday (did I mention that was 10 days ago? TEN DAYS. See Step #2–Anger), I haven’t thrown it away, nor have I given it to my nieces for their dress-up box. I still have it. And every time I get a text message, I half-hope it’s from him. Or when I check my email. Or even my snail mail. I haven’t yet accepted that it’s completely over. I don’t know when I will. But in a matter of days, I seem to have blitzed through three and a half stages of grief.
I always was really good at getting my work done fast.