(written Thursday 19th.)
So, we are back to the five stages of grief, also know as the Kübler-Ross model. I’ve been writing about this topic earlier and, if I recall correctly, I was probably totally wrong in that last post. You see, the other day I realized I’ve been in denial for so long, so long it hurts to think about it actually. I’ve been denying that the father of my baby and I will never be a couple, even though that’s what he’s been implying with subtle hints now and then. I’ve been hoping too much, denying that there never was any hope. And now, I feel used. Humiliated. Stupid. ANGRY. This is where we hit the Kübler-Ross model, because the five stages of grief goes like this: Denial; Anger; Bargaining; Depression; Acceptance.
I don’t know how long these periods usually last, but I know that I’m still at stage two, because half of the time I just want to hit that certain someone has hard as I can with a hot frying pan. Preferably in the face. I get so mad I cry (this probably also has something to do with the fact that I almost don’t sleep at all because my back hurts all the time), and I can’t explain how stupid I feel. I’ve spent the last half year trying to make this sometimes horrible situation as good as possible for him, without thinking about me. Every decision I’ve made has been thourogly thought through, to figure out how it would affect him best, how it wouldn’t give him any consequences. I was so afraid to make him mad, because if he got mad I could lose him, right? Oh, CRAP – could I have been any more brainless?!
I have decided not to talk to him more than I need to, but again – that certain someone has a hard time understanding the words DON’T TALK TO ME. I don’t know how mentally retarded you have to be to ignore that, but hey, my eyes have been closed for a really long time. All I want to do is scream mean words to him at all times, but that wouldn’t get me any further. Blogging about it probably doesn’t either, but it’s a way to work through it. A really mean way, and childish too, but lucky for me I am not the oldest one out of two irresponsible teenagers in this situation.
(Last I should probably finish with an apologizing line that says something about exaggeration and forgiveness, but I’m not in the mood right now. Frying pan, you know).