I remember reading about the Kübler-Ross grief cycle way back. It says that a person goes through several stages of emotions to cope with grief. I believe that if she ever needed the perfect model to prove and sell her theory, they should have plastered my face right in front their hard-bound study.
Shock. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Testing. Acceptance. This is the rollercoaster that is my life.
Maybe it's just harder now that things have been changing drastically. I feel like I'm at that point where I'm drifting at a sharp turn, and everything's just out to get me. It's been rough, intolerable, and downright fucked up. I admit, my problems are petty compared to the world's. Still you can't blame me for standing on my own feet and complaining that they hurt. After trekking miles of dirty road, it almost feels like it sucks to be me. Well, almost.
I've always been more insightful. I guess after having a boulder thrown at you, you can't do much but duck and cover - primitive, instinctive. I've always thought I was stronger than this, and so did most people. I feel bad that I keep turning back into this sad creature all in crumbles, cause i keep letting down the people who trust that I can manage. I'm apparently more human than I thought, and it sucks to have this fact slapped across your face. (call it egotistical, but I did plan to rule the world when I was seven) I realize how immature I've been and I'm hoping this would be enough apology to everyone for every time I threw my fist at a wall, for every time I complained unnecesarily, and for every time I pulled an act of a spoiled three year old.
I've forgotten that small cliche of a principle that's always been true. "What doesn't kill me, makes me stronger." After the news of my dad being sick and temporarily unable to work, a few chapters of law readings and a whole pile of cases to be digested, realizing that the thesis group I'm heading is falling behind, losing friends here and there, having eleven people calling out my attention cause i've gained weight (it's that damned pill. damn it to hell!!!), and proving through 8 different men that apparently i'm no girlfriend type (or that i'm cursed to like commitment-phobic men) these past few weeks have made me want to jump off the freaking balcony from where I smoke my lungs out every night. (yes, my smoking's gotten worse.) Bit by bit they pile on to my shoulders and it sucks that I can't seem to deal. I tried to be nonchalant about it. Still I ended up angry. And for some time now I've just been hurt. And stuck. I was stuck.
Still if I'm lucky, all this won't kill me anytime soon. If anything, it is making me stronger. I'm finding out the worth of real friends. I'm finding out the value of faith. I'm learning to focus. I'm re-learning spontaneity. I'm finally devoid of that pathetic, immature notion called romance. I'm learning to turn to St. Thomas' philosophy of Stoicism. (wait, was that him?) I'm learning to give up and it's not so bad. All that rollercoaster emotion, the hurt, the denial, the monologues, and tears... I'm giving up and today, I've finally exhaled. Another phase done. Throw another boulder at me.
Sometimes there's nothing you can do but to let go and let things happen.
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross would be so damn proud of me. Hahaha. ^_^
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