Before I started this post, I checked out the Stages of Grief on Wikipedia. The stages are not in the order I thought they were, so my new found knowledge almost makes this post moot. But, when I have let that stop me? So, instead...
I hit Stage Two like nobody's business yesterday. I originally thought that anger was Stage Four, or at least Three... but it's Two. So my theory on me going through the grieving process about the state of my life right now, is not so much linear. I've already done my share (and probably other people's) of Stages One and Three. Not to mention quite bit of Four (with special guest, ice cream). I've also experienced Stage Six -- nonexistent, but otherwise known as extreme bitchiness.
But, yesterday... whoa, Two. I had an explosion of anger in being left all alone to face everything.
(Editor's Note: This post originally went on for four more excruciating paragraphs. I was therapeutic for me to write, but wouldn't be for anyone to read. Suffice it to say that I'm angry, okay?)
In other news, I want to name my first born son Atticus. I mean, he beat out Gandhi, yo.