Hiatus

So in case y'all thought I fell off the face of the planet, stricken with grief, I'm back. And in a big way. I'm not sure everyone will think that's such a good thing, but I do. Mostly.

One good thing about being fickle is you can run the gauntlet of the grieving process rather quickly. As you all know from the Kubler-Ross model, the stages are

Denial and isolation - The "No, not me" stage.: "This is not happening to me."
Anger - The "Why me?" stage.: "How dare you do this to me?!" (either referring to God, the late person, or themselves)
Bargaining - The "If I do this, you'll do that" stage.: "Just let me live to see my son graduate."
Depression - The "It's really happened" stage.: "I can't bear to face going through this, putting my family through this."
Acceptance - The "This is going to happen" stage.: "I'm ready, I don't want to struggle anymore."

Of course, mine has kind of been out of order. I didn't really get a chance to have a Stage 3, but went from 4 to 5 to 2. I think now I'm not even in a stage. I just am.

I spoke to my friend David the other day. He asked me how it felt to go from being "Rachel—every guy's best friend" to "Rachel—a girl (some) boys want to date." Honestly? I think I hate it. I'm going back to pre-True Aggie Days (becoming a T.A. seems to have been the turning point—funny what kissing a stranger will do to a person)—a time when I knew where I stood with everyone. And I'm not saying this in a depressed, pity me way. I'm just on a break.