I read somewhere that grief has five stages: Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But they never mentioned that one has to go through each stage every single day. It feels like I'm cycling through these stages, unable to pinpoint where exactly I am.
Every morning, I wake up grappling with denial, unable to accept what i have lost. It's like my mind is programmed to reject the harsh reality, just as Dan Brown wrote, "Human mind has a primitive defense mechanism that tends to negate every possibility that puts too much pressure on it to bear. It’s called Denial." How can I come to terms with losing the dreams that once filled me with joy?
Anger becomes a constant companion, directed both inward and outward. I blame myself for feeling so helpless and curse my fate for its cruel habit of taking away everything I hold dear. It's like a relentless game where Providence always wins.
In moments of bargaining, I try to convince myself to find solace in prayer, rationalizing that what happened was inevitable. But despair still gnaws at me, questioning why I feel this pain when everything was supposedly predestined.
Sometimes, the weight of it all becomes unbearable, and I find myself resorting to self-destructive behaviors, indulging in memories and mementos, seeking temporary relief in the past at the expense of long-term misery.
After the storm of emotions subsides, I'm left lying in bed, pondering at the thought of what could have been, or feeling empty and numb, searching for answers in the void but finding none. So I surrender to the present moment, seeking solace in stoic quotes and philosophies.
What's eerie is that, despite the pain, there's a strange comfort in it all. I find solace in solitude, cherishing the memories. I look for ways to forsake the company of others just to initiate my own festivity of solitude. It's a paradoxical yearning to hold onto the pain because it's intertwined with those beautiful memories.
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