Sorry for your loss.
How many stages of grief are there again? Five or seven. I have a suspicion its an odd number.
Nine seems a bit on the high end though. Do we even have that many emotional states? And really, since I’m the male of the species its more likely in the lower order digits. Maybe three.
In any event I’m in phase where I’m angry. Although you might be able to argue that this is a modus operandi for Joey rather than a numerical step to be worked through on some sort of linear progression. And really I don’t have a good counter argument for this. Maybe anger is a bit much. Constant simmering hostility might be a better fit.
Primarily this is directed at other people (and not at recent events) and how other humans are not slotting into my behavioral expectations of them. Ha ha. Which sounds ridiculous now that I type it out…
I imagine this is likely a pattern that repeats itself wherever one is in the world. When someone close to you dies, there is the ‘day one’ stuff that happens.
First off you get bombarded with flowers and food. Both of which… well… flowers, while nice, I guess, have zero utility. And really, I’d rather people just transferred the money they’ve just blown on Dicotyledonous frivolity into my bank account. Also, day one having to deal with an endless stream of delivery people is the last thing you feel like doing. Ergh!
Food is less stupid. But my freezer is now stacked to the absolute brim. I have enough frozen lasagna… which, while I like it as much as the next man, I’m already developing a psychological aversion to said calorie due to the sheer volume of icicle’d carbohydrates in my domicile.
This is a serious lesson learned. If anyone I know dies, their next of kin are getting vouchers. For a Thai massage. Which is, after two days of being wound tighter than a coil spring, all I really wanted.
Then there’s the… relaying of sympathies. Which is likely the front runner of the perceived vexations about this whole endeavor.
People who you wouldn’t mind speaking to, text you. The people you have no desire to speak to, call you. Repeatedly.
Its a nightmare.
Then theres the people that you expect should make contact with you when they find out… but don’t. Those people! I mean they do get around to texting you eventually… the next day… or a couple of days later. Sorry for your loss.
Also, is it ever acceptable to send someone a WhatsApp filled with emoji’s as a replacement for actual words? Seriously how were you raised? I am sorely tempted to take a scythe to my phone book list.
I am mostly over it now. Having typed out my grievances. Some people just suck. (or maybe they just seriously don’t like you Joey) Expending energy to gripe about it is… well, its not beneficial. I mean on some sort of level I can appreciate that. And if I really break it down, the problem is me and not them. I’m being emotionally reactionary to external stimuli that I have no control over. I should just roll with it.
I am feeling better now. And will likely get back to spamming out blog posts about… well… all manner of inane subject matter again from tomorrow. Hopefully it’ll be a Bleugh!-Biden post… and not a Trump what the actual fuck is wrong with you people? post. (As an important aside, and something I’d like to record for posterity, I would have voted for Jo Jorgensen… mostly because she shares my namesake… and also because I am a godless libertarian. Also Jo’s should rule the world)