Grief is a war you don’t sign up for. It doesn’t ask permission. It tears your insides, rearranges your mind, demands you build something out of rubble. When I looked at Victoria’s own journey (her loss of Seth) I saw a map. Not a tidy one. Jagged. Crossed with ruptures. But a map nonetheless.
If you’re in the midst of loss, or trying to understand someone else, this is for you.
Here are Victoria’s 10 stages of grief — the stages she lives. They are not clean. They are not linear. You will circle back. You will sink. You will rise, only to fall again. But if you can see these stages, you might recognize where you are, and maybe where to pull yourself next.
Phase 1: Confronting Reality
1. Denial
The first slash across your peace. Your mind refuses to believe the absence is real. You expect Seth to walk in, to speak, to respond. You cling to what used to be — rituals, pictures, the way he said your name. Denial isn’t lying; it’s the last stand of hope.
2. Anger
When denial cracks, the rage bursts out. Not always at Seth; often at yourself, at time, at whatever cosmic force allowed this. Why did this have to happen? It’s unfair. You lash out. You accuse. You demand reasons.
3. Bargain
“If only…” becomes your mantra. You replay moments. Paths not taken. You try to strike deals — with the universe, with memory. You bargain to rewind, to fix, to avoid this unbearable silence.
Phase 2: Plunging Deeper
4. Despair
The weight bears down. The color drains. Despair is not sadness — it’s the realization that absence is permanent, that no bargaining, wishing, or hoping will bring back what you lost. It’s the collapse of narratives.
5. Resentment
This is the dangerous flame. Resentment at Seth for leaving. Resentment at yourself for not protecting him, for failing him, for failing yourself. Resentment at people who didn’t understand. It’s bitterness that tastes like betrayal.
6. Depression
Not just crying. Not just sorrow. A deep radial ache. Nights where the floor seems harder than the sky. Guilt. Loneliness. The question: “Why bother?” Depression bends you, imperceptibly.
7. Numbness
When emotions get too loud, when despair tears you open, numbness arrives like anesthesia. A defense mechanism. You feel nothing, or feel everything but nothing specific. You disconnect. You float.
Phase 3: Emerging (If You Fight)
8. Acceptance
It doesn’t mean you’re okay. It means you stop fighting reality. You stop pretending the loss can be erased. You learn to live in a new landscape. You see the emptiness, acknowledge it, and begin to not collapse under its weight.
9. Recovery
Recovery is choosing life, again, even if that life is scarred. It’s finding routines, small joys, putting pieces back together that hurt. It’s taking steps when every step feels like stepping on glass. Conversations, art, movement, whatever keeps you conscious.
10. Possibilities
This is the last rung — not the end, but the opening of new doors. You begin to imagine what may yet come. Not forgetting Seth, not replacing him — but recognizing you still have chapters unwritten. You start to believe that life may still offer something: beauty, purpose, meaning, connection.
What The Bully Wants You to Know
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- These stages are not a ladder you climb steadily. In Victoria’s journey, she jumps back and forth — sometimes from Acceptance back to Despair. Sometimes Resentment rears after a moment of calm. It happens. Don’t shame yourself for it.
- There is no timeline. Some stages come fast. Some linger. Some you might bypass. There is no “right” order.
- Doing grief poorly doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human. What matters is that you feel, that you name what you feel, that you don’t let shame or shame‑bearing silence keep you from the grief itself.
- Grief is also transformative. The wreckage can become foundation. It can deepen your compassion, sharpen your insight, widen your capacity to love.
How To Ride the Storm
Here’s what to do when you’re inside one of these stages (especially the uglier ones):
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- Name it. Say, “I’m in Despair.” Just calling your reality gives you a sliver of space from it.
- Find your bridge. A therapist. A journal. A song that cuts through the fog. A ritual. Some anchor.
- Let yourself circle. If you go back to Denial after Acceptance, it’s not failure. It’s part of the map.
- Be ruthless with distractions that lie. Social media removal. Toxic people neutralized. Silence. Solitude. All needed so you don’t cheapen your grief with false comfort.
- Cling to possibility. Even if it’s only that possibility of seeing the sun while tears are still wet. The possibility of meaning.
Grieving is not optional. Loss doesn’t care how strong you are. But you—yes, you—have the choice to lean into the pain, to name it, to wrestle it, to keep standing. The 10 stages are Victoria’s story. Your grief will have its own terrain. Use this map if it helps you know where you are. Use it to keep going.
Grief is brutal. Grief is ugly. But through it you may find a version of yourself stronger — tempered, broken, and yet alive.
What You Can Do
Download my Grief Journal (PDF file) 10 Prompts for Fighting Through the Storm
You don’t ‘get over’ grief. You get through it. And that takes honesty, grit, and self-confrontation.
I’m going to say it again~Most importantly, be patient with yourself.
Null Paradox is For You
Or, more succinctly, I’m for you.
I’m unapologetically raw with how I feel~the highest of highs, the lowest of lows.
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Adieu for now,
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