As we all know there are five stages of grief. These stages apply to many things – really any loss in any way. I certainly went through these stages as I was grieving the loss of an important relationship, but I also found the stages to be incomplete. Woefully inadequate for all the drama that I demand when I am suffering. So here is a revised list of the Five Stage of Grief; I call it “The Five Plus Five Stages of Grieving Over that Jackass who DARED to dump you”.

Stage 1- Denial; “You are breaking up with me? No, see, that is NOT how it works. I dump you, not the other way around.”

(Stage 1.5 as defined by @BmoreSex – Two Bottles of wine. This is mandatory, do not skip this step.)

Stage 2- Anger; “How dare you think I even wanted to go out with you?”

Stage 3- Bargaining; “Look, return my shit in good condition and I won’t tell your friends about that thing you like to do in bed.”

Stage 4- Depression; “I am so mad at myself for going out with you, and then allowing myself to get dumped.”

Stage 5- Acceptance; “Fine, we’re broken up. I am not even upset. No, we cannot be friends. Asshole.”

Stage 6- Being all Preachy; “I cannot believe that I went through all that. Let me make sure to tell EVERYONE, because I just KNOW they care and need to hear what pearls of wisdom I learned. Here is sermon numero uno; Don’t date assholes.”

Stage 7- Body Piercings; “Nose piercing, try number three, please.” (For the record, this time the nose piercing is doing fine and I haven’t had any the complications of the past two. pfft.)

Stage 8- Country Music; “Yes, I am listening to Dolly Parton, and then I am putting on Rascal Flatts – touch that shuffle button and I will cut off your fingers.”

Stage 9- Posting lyrics to songs on Social Networks; Anything by Adele works here. But don’t be too emo, you don’t want to embarrass yourself. Look, I’m just saying.

Stage 10- Beyonce that bitch; “You were the best thing I never had.”

Now THAT is how it is done, dude. Woman of the world, follow this 5+5 plan, and you will be over that break-up in no time flat. And if you’re not, then you can do what I do – be all angsty over twitter. Bitches love some angsty shit.

My favorite tweet of this whole time period: “Someone told me today the “I burned that bridge.” Yeah, it was called Bridge Getting Shit Upon, on the road to Getting Screwed Over.”

More pretty beads. Thanks to Bedazzled in Baltimore for letting me take pictures in their store.

String of Beads

Pretty Beads at a bead store in Baltimore.

Red Beads

I always hate to preface a post with ‘it isn’t that I don’t care….’ but I find myself doing just that. (I can hear you now. ‘Amy, you don’t care. Don’t even act like you are trying.’ Well, I AM. Trying, that is.)

It isn’t as if I don’t care….but I am SICK to death of hearing of the Titanic.

Can we stop already?

Yes, it was a tragedy and I am sad that it even happened but I stand by my opinion that its historical significance is completely out of proportion with the amount of attention the whole thing gets.

Then there was the screenshot going around of a whole bunch people who didn’t even know the Titanic actually existed;

Look, I am the first one to stand in line and rail against what people under the age of 25 don’t know (first up, how to spell ‘though’) but, again, if I was teaching a class I am not sure I would cover the disaster. While it did have long lasting implications for maritime law and standards, from a history persepctive it is a small blip.

(On another note, who remembers growing up with one of the biggest mysteries being “Where is the Titanic”? The inability to locate the wreckage was considered one of the a huge THING. Like, it has just disappeared. WOOOOOOO. Then they found in the late 80′s. Mystery solved.)

So if we could all stop kvetching over what happened 100 years ago, I would be mighty happy. Because, I don’t know if you noticed, we got plenty of problems in this era that could use that attention.

P.S. James Cameron, I blame you for all this shit.

Here are some of my photos from my recent trip around Baltimore. Enjoy!

Well, it’s official. I am bat-shit crazy. Yep. I have decided to go to BlogHer again. Remember my last time was fraught with me  hiding in my room, caught in spiral of depression? Yeah, good times….good times.

I know I have my disagreements with BlogHer, but, in the end, they support women writers so I do not mind giving them my money. Plus, a trip up to NYC never hurts. I am doing several things differently this time, and I have made a list;

1. Realize that the content is not up to par, and skip most sessions.

2. Realize the Expo Hall will be full of PR reps catering to SAHMs, and try not to be offended. TRY, probably not succeed.

3. No new clothes. Everything is new to people I have never met before, anyway.

4. Stay on the outside. I think last time I worried too much about fitting in, and it increased my anxiety even more. This time, I will stay on the outside, it is where I am most comfortable. Crowds give me hives.

5. Get away from the conference. I will grab a show, spend an afternoon at Central Park, go shopping in Chelsea….but I WILL get away.

The best part? I finally get to meet my oldest and dearest twitter friend, Ashley! Stay tuned for all the crazy, you know you love it.

You and I have been through a lot together, dear reader. You have been with me through my divorce, a move, a tween daughter, BlogHer madness, anxiety attacks, depression, and lots and lots of ranting. There have been a good share of good times too, and you have supported me. I thank you for that.

The other day I realized something important. Baggage. We all have it. Maybe I have more than my share, but I manage well enough. What I realized though, was that the only way to work through my baggage was to write about it. It is a way to set it down, leave it, and move on. And that is why I am writing this post.

Even though I was asked not to by someone I care about. But I am anyway, becasue I have to; because it is the only way I can move on; because it is what I do.

The beginning is easy – I am single again.

Yes, my boyfriend and I broke up.

I wish it was clean, I wish it was respectful, I wish we had reached that decision mututally. But none of that is true. It is ugly, and with this post, I know I add to the ugliness – yet I write it anyway.

Where to begin?

How about a short-handed version? People meddled, I was angry, he was not, I said ‘them or me’ and he said ‘them’. Now, you know the whole sordid story. But I know you, you want details? Well, here they are.

Remember how I wrote that we had broken-up, but gotten back together? Yes? Well, what I did not know was, during the short time we were broken-up, people he knew (we both knew) were happy about it. Proof:

(if you can’t read it, it says “Just so you know, we’re keeping you. Hang in tight, you’re worth it. You are worth better.”)

Nice, huh? The worst? This was a person I had trusted, a person he had always said I get along with better than him, a person he wasn’t even sure he liked.

(I should note here that we have had each other’s log-ins to twitter for a long time, and always made it clear “what is said to one, is said to another’. Some out there view this as an invasion of his privacy, but he always encouraged me to read his DMs and vice versa).

When I pointed out this DM, he immediately changed the password to his account and never let me in again. I was the one who had done something wrong, not the person who had sent the message. I am a pretty big self-doubter so I showed the message to a couple of people I knew, people I know for sure who will tell me the truth. Each and every person was shocked. And then I knew.

I knew choices had been made, and they had not gone in my favor. The man who had never lied to me was now hiding things; the man who always took up for me was now standing up for someone else; the man who loved me, didn’t anymore.

The last straw came Sunday night, in the form of two more meddlers.

The first one, upon seeing a tweet that had nothing to do with her assumed it was about them (because, of COURSE, everything I tweet is about her. OF COURSE IT IS). My boyfriend decided that instead of talking out our differences (which we were doing, right at that very moment), he would comfort the other person.

Then another message from the another person, on another of our accounts (along the lines of the one above, but…at that point…what is the point? He even accused me of ‘breaking in’ to his messages. He fails to mention the part where he gave me the password. But I am the bad guy.  A professional one at that, dontcha know?)

At the end, the swath of wreckage and destruction is wide. And I want to blame all these other people, make it their fault, but I can’t. I can’t lie to myself or you. In the end, two people separated because one was looking for a way out and the other wouldn’t except anything less than what she deserved.

So thank you, readers, again, for being here for me. For listening to me – here and on twitter where I have been emoting on the timeline for weeks now – and all my babbling. If it is OK with you, I am going to set this baggage down right here, and leave it here.

Time to move on.

(For those NOT on twitter a DM is a direct message. It is like twitter’s email. It is private and can be only sent to people who follow each other. Think of it as a ‘private message’.)