Let's talk about the 5 stages of grief

Grief is one of those universal experiences that feels deeply personal and uniquely our own. It doesn’t matter if the loss is of a loved one, a relationship, a job, or even a version of ourselves we can no longer be—grief comes for us all at some point. And yet, it’s messy, non-linear, and sometimes downright unfair.

You’ve probably heard about the “five stages of grief”: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These stages were first introduced by psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, and while they offer a helpful framework, it’s important to remember that grief doesn’t follow a neat checklist. You might experience all five stages, skip a few, or revisit some multiple times.

Personally, I find myself cycling through these stages in phases, sometimes hitting them all, but mostly staying within two or three of them on repeat. Grief isn’t linear, and these stages aren’t prescriptive, but they can be a helpful guide when you’re struggling to name your feelings and feel like you’re drowning.

Breaking Down the Stages of Grief

DenialDenial is like an emotional buffer, shielding you from the full weight of the loss. It’s the mind’s way of saying, “I’m not ready to deal with this yet.” You might feel numb or like you’re living in an alternate reality where the loss hasn’t sunk in. You might find yourself expecting a phone call from the person you lost, or thinking, “This can’t be real.” Sometimes, denial is what gets us through the day. And that’s okay—this stage is about survival.

AngerOh, anger. It’s fiery, raw, and sometimes directed at anything and everything: yourself, others, the universe. Anger can feel like a release but also like a weight. It’s often fueled by questions like “Why me?” or “Why them?” And while it’s tough to sit with, anger is a sign that you’re starting to confront the reality of your loss.

It can manifest in ways that don’t always make sense. You might snap at a stranger in the grocery store for walking too slowly, or lash out at a loved one who’s only trying to help. You may even find yourself angry at the person you lost—angry that they left you, angry that they didn’t fight harder, angry that you now have to navigate life without them. It’s irrational, and it’s real.

BargainingIf denial is the shield and anger is the sword, bargaining is the negotiation. “What if” becomes your mantra. “What if I had done this differently?” “What if I had said something more?” “If only I could turn back time.” It’s an attempt to regain control in a situation that feels overwhelmingly out of your hands. Sometimes, bargaining takes on a spiritual form—pleading with a higher power to reverse time, promising to change, to do better, if only things could go back to the way they were.

The problem with bargaining is that it can trap you in a cycle of guilt. You replay scenarios over and over, convincing yourself that if you had done one thing differently, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out this way. But the truth is, no amount of “what ifs” will change the past. Bargaining is a natural part of grief, but staying stuck here can be exhausting.

DepressionThis stage often feels like the heaviest. It’s the moment when the loss truly hits, and it can feel like you’ll never escape the weight of it. Depression in grief is not the same as clinical depression, but it’s still deeply painful. It’s a fog that settles over everything, making even the simplest tasks feel impossible. Getting out of bed, eating, responding to texts—everything feels too much.

It’s also a time when the world seems to move on without you. People check in less, assuming you’re “doing better,” while you feel like you’re sinking. This stage can be isolating, but it’s also a time to let the emotions flow and process. It’s okay to feel sad. It’s okay to feel lost. You are allowed to grieve in whatever way you need to.

AcceptanceAcceptance doesn’t mean you’re “over it.” It doesn’t mean you’re happy about the loss. Instead, it’s about finding a way to move forward while carrying your grief with you. It’s the bittersweet realization that life continues, even if it’s forever changed. You begin to have more good days than bad, and the sharp pain starts to soften into a dull ache. The loss never disappears, but you learn how to live around it.

Acceptance can be sneaky, too. One day, you laugh at a memory instead of crying. Another day, you realize you went a few hours without thinking about your loss. It’s a slow process, one that doesn’t happen overnight. And just because you’ve reached a place of acceptance doesn’t mean you won’t have days where you cycle back to anger, denial, or depression. That’s just the nature of grief.

My Experience with Grief’s Stages

I spent quite some time in the anger stage. And I looped back around to it at least a dozen more times. This was the stage where I lingered the longest. I don’t feel like I had much time to bargain. Dad was gone, then Mom was diagnosed, and my world shifted to focus entirely on her and her needs. I was too busy juggling work, my own household, my marriage, and trying to fill my dad’s shoes around her house. There wasn’t time to be anything else but exhausted and so angry. I was mad at everything and everyone. Naturally, my wife bore the brunt of it since we’re together the most. She put the dishes away wrong? Angry. She didn’t take the dog out? Angry. She didn’t know what was going on in my head? Angry.

To be honest, I’m still angry a lot. But I’m trying to find acceptance. It’s a day-to-day process.

The Spiral of Grief

One thing I’ve learned about grief is that it’s not a journey with a final destination. It’s more like a spiral—you come back to certain feelings, but each time you’re a little stronger, a little wiser. And while time doesn’t necessarily “heal all wounds,” it does help you find a new rhythm.

If you’re grieving right now, be gentle with yourself. There’s no right or wrong way to do this. Some days you’ll feel like you’re making progress, and other days it’ll feel like you’re back at square one. Both are valid. Grief is a testament to the love and value of what was lost, and learning to live with it is an act of courage.

And if no one has told you this today: you are not alone. You are seen, you are loved, and you will get through this—one breath, one day, one step at a time.