Saturday, April 10, 2010

The 5 Stages of Hate

I have 2 girlfriends that are going through divorce. Both of them have children. Both of them are divorcing members of the AssClown Clan™. Both of them will frequently use the phrase, "I hate him." Hate is a big word and a big feeling. I was texting with one of my friends and I told her I thought she would go through stages where the hate would subside. I realized as we were talking about it (via texts since her kids were home) that I now feel a kind of generalized numbness and "Ew!" when I think of John. I have similar feelings for others that range from detached malaise (Alex the bald headed bastard) to laughing freedom (Spencer) to vaguely nauseated pity (Special Ops Boy). All nursing students have to remember the 5 stages of Grief. They are engraved in my brain. I don't have to look them up--Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. If I remember correctly the woman that this work is linked to Elizabeth Kübler-Ross (I just learned an umlaut on a Mac is option U) said that one doesn't always go through the stages in the same order and may not reach every stage. For example, I sadly have a few friends that haven't reached acceptance or they skipped the anger stage in griefing the loss of a loved one. I'm going to take a stab (pun intended) at labeling the 5 stages of grief after figuring out you were with a liar or cheater or a combo of the two which could be a 'Chiar'. 
Cheater + Liar =Chiar
5 Stages of Grief Post Recognition of Chiar
  1. LaLa--This is a mistake. There has to be an explanation. He loves me. I just co-sgned a mortgage with him. He got me flowers last week. We just had sex 3 hours ago and he told me he loved me...what's a ManGroomer?
  2. Ghetto--I am gonna kill that bitch. Where is that mutha fucka? I'm going to kill him. I'm going to put water in the boat and jet ski gas tanks. I'm going to carve my name in the leather of all his precious Johnson and Murphy shoes. I'm faxing copies of their texts to the director of nursing where she works. Whoa.  I thought all those things back then and I decided to chill...until I logged on to Amazon one cold December morning and ordered a case of Vienna Sausages.
  3. Waffler--Why did this happen? Is this karma? I'm nice. He isn't so bad. I know he doesn't love her. Is it because I was involved with Dillhole for so long? Is this pay back?  Wanna go with me to Border's to look at self help books? Maybe we can work this out. I hate him. I hate her. Maybe we could go to a marriage counselor. No way. He's a liar. Why didn't I see it? Maybe I can fix it...
  4. Medicator--Where's my Xanax? Is it bad to drink wine every day? I'm so tired. I'm going to take a nap. What can I eat? Do you have any candy around here? I love bread. Do you have any pot? And cookies. Where's my drink? 
  5. Present--Wait, listen to this story! Can you believe? I wake up without thinking about him. Days go by and he doesn't enter my mind. Heart no longer races when I think about the lies. A detached numbness is all I feel. I am thinking about now or the things I am working towards instead of the past.
I have ridden the roller coaster of all those emotions. I recall the "Ghetto" stage rearing her ugly ass several times. I didn't know I was capable of such anger. I wonder if she kept the parenting magazines I ordered with the "bill me later" option? I no longer believe that I somehow made this happen. I have learned a valuable lesson about listening to my gut. I don't drink wine every day and I hoard Xanax rather than taking it. I wish I could wave a magic wand and help my friends skip all the stages and fast forward to the Present stage. But alas, no magic wand exists...when I Googled "Magic Wand", this kept coming up:

1 comment:

  1. I too have a friend who is going through this very same thing. Heartbreaking especially for the fact she has three children. I wish I had a magic wand for her too. Btw there are magic wands for sale on the Internet that are not the vibie types! I wanted to get on for you during the ghetto stage.

    Sulie

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