You have those
legs and arms
that do that
Fingers that stick
Skin that stretches
Big eyes, markings
Vibrant colors
strobe blue
and red
attracting many
Always watching
sometimes distant
Sly smile
When you croak
it means something
You have those
legs and arms
that do that
Fingers that stick
Skin that stretches
Big eyes, markings
Vibrant colors
strobe blue
and red
attracting many
Always watching
sometimes distant
Sly smile
When you croak
it means something
Kübler-Ross’s model for grief doesn’t seem to apply here, as it suggests five distinct stages in a particular order – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance – and that’s not what’s happening right now.
In fact, further research suggests this theory is really only a theory, and others argue this model only applies to people whose loss is the passing of a loved one.
Grief, in general, applies to loss. Of anything significant. Maybe I’m still grieving New York City, which sounds downright pathetic.
Thing is, I can’t tell if I’m grieving, or if I’m just depressed and angry. I struggle with it. I go out and spend time with friends, I look for work, I go to church, I strive to be good. But my mind recedes into the shadows.
Throw guilt on top of that – feeling I’m always saying or doing something wrong or hurtful or making things more complicated than they are.
On the bright side, the dark thoughts that used to enter my head haven’t tried lately. These ideas used to visit me on subway platforms and other places.
I don’t feel I can really talk about it. I mean, I was getting better at talking to anybody about whatever I wanted. But if I were to try opening my mouth and uttering words – actual soundbytes – I wouldn’t be able to. It’s frustrating.
The best I can do is sum up: I’m sad and angry and guilty.
It’s time to get ready for church.