Stages of Grief: Denial

‘Hello my love, are you planning to come and kiss me before leaving London?’

This is the message I really want to send, despite knowing that his last text basically was real and echoing the same line of communication that came across consistently over the past year and a half: ‘I love you but I’m not ready for a relationship.’

What does it mean not to be ready for a relationship?? I’ve been ready for one for so long I struggle to even tap into a scenario where I wouldn’t want one.

Hence my newly found stage of grief: Denial.

I am still here, my friends, like a complete loser, peaking out the window and each time I catch sign of movement on the street with the corner of the eye to check if, by any chance, he did, in fact, decide to pop by just to check how I am.

Maybe not exactly planning on coming up, but I was hoping he felt there was no way he could come by London and not stop by the flat we so intently loved each other in, for just one more time.

People, please stop walking on by I cannot focus.

An Uber stopped in the middle of the street earlier. I saw a huge bouquet of coloreful roses slowly exiting the back of the car. It’s not the bouquet I would have chosen for the reunion, my brain tells me, ‘shut up brain!’ it’s simply perfect it’s a huge bouquet of roses and that’s so unimportant. It’s him!!

I thought.

I stared at the flowers in disbelief.

He had come to get me.

He was finally ready.

But no, it was a middle-aged woman who was going to see my neighbor for dinner and was throughout enough to bring her flowers.

This denial plan is most definitely not working out at its best.

My heart dropped a little.

Frankly, it would be even better if it dropped a little further because at the moment it’s still flying and it’s tied to a tiny little plastic string hanging from my balcony, it’s certainly not flying off to Morocco as it so intently keeps on dreaming of.

Even in denial, the pain is real. A part of your heart still believes it will happen, another, on the other hand, feel like there is a knife stabbed inside of it. In oder to survive, it’s compressing all of its muscles to prevent it from bleeding out, knowing far too well that actually there will be no way out of this one. At some point the muscles will become too tired to hold the blade so tight it won’t bleed and it will have to remove the blade and face the damage. We will have to assess the depth of the wounds, healing time and appropriate treatment.

But no. I refuse to let go. I refuse to let go.

Once again, I have to change my whole projection of future.

Each time we choose a new partner and dive deep into a new story, we create a shared vision of our future. In the first few months it’s just a dream, then it becomes more of a reality: would you move here with me? Would you come meet my family? Where would we send our kids to school?

Honestly, in this case I absolutely loved our shared vision of reality. Initially it was hard to bridge the gap between two different cultures and religions but as we grew closer I could truly see it. I even googled what our babies would look like.

(Don’t judge. I am already judging myself.)

In recent months things became more real, more serious. I was closer to thinking we would get engaged rather than break up but here I am once again.

Do you ever get used to breakups?

Honestly, I don’t think one ever gets used to breakups. We are human, and, having to part ways with someone we have to grieve as if they had died when in fact they are roaming planet Earth potentially loving someone else, just kills you.

After a few hurtful breakups you get used to the stages of grief. You no longer become as scared when you have panic attacks, when you don’t sleep, and in this case you rejoice when you just cannot eat and finally loose a few pounds instead of devouring an entire pastry store.

That’s a step up!

But no. You never get used to breakups, each breakup feels a little bit more painful than the previous as each time you love you do it more conscientiously, more purposefully, you try to choose whom you love with greater care.

I googled the stages of grief…

Quite frankly, all I have to do is read my blog again. I had researched them all in depth and from a psychological standpoint I already know what’s next: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Knowing I’m only on stage 1 is beyond depressing already so I’m hoping that this counts as depression as I don’t really want to go through that one stage again.

That said, I am ready for anger my friends. Bring it on. Let’s start hating on this amazing man who decided to leave me in a mature and classy way as he wasn’t ready to properly love me.

Nope. Still in denial.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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From The Good Men Project on Medium

What Does Being in Love and Loving Someone Really Mean?

My 9-Year-Old Accidentally Explained Why His Mom Divorced Me

The One Thing Men Want More Than Sex

The Internal Struggle Men Battle in Silence

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