I lose, I have lost, I am lost, I am a loser. Lost, lose, nasty four-letter words. I have lost so I am lost. Ugh. I am in a mess these days. I have stuffed and stuffed and stuffed, did I mention stuffed, my grief down for as long as I can. And all this stuffing has become un-stuffed. I am a grieving mess.
A word on grief. According to Kübler-Ross model there are five stages of grief. For those of you not familiar with the stages they are labeled as denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Five nice, neat little stages of grief that anyone who has had a psych 101 would be familiar with. Well, you know what? Fuck those stages. Fuck them right in the goat ass. I suppose you could say I am in the anger stage of my grief and just for the shits and giggles how's about let's add a good dose of depression. And you know what. I am angry about it. I am just so damned angry. I am angry that I have to go through the motions of living every-fucking-day and I am angry at the people that ask me stupid questions. I mean who-the-fuck has the right to ask me how long my husband has to live? I mean who does that? It's my husband. I watch his decline. How dare you ask me such a question. How dare you!
And does my grief stop with the chronic illness that is my husband? Oh hell to the no. I am dealing with the grief of all the loved ones I have lost. It makes it pretty handy that all of their birthdays are between March-May. That was one birthday comes and goes just in time for another. Yeah for convenience in grieving. Damn life. Damn grief and dammit. Also, added into this mess is my birthday which (yeah I hear you rolling your eyes) I grieve for all my mistakes. I grieve that I am not who I am supposed to be. I grieve for the loss of my youth and my health. I am a damned grieving fool.
So, I am sure that perhaps I should give a go at seeing a therapy, again, I mean I only failed at it once. And hell, I like to fail at shit at least 60-70 times before I give up. I might be a lot of things but I am not a quitter.