Stepping Through the Stages of Grief (in your own shoes)
Grief has often been described in stages. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance, and in some expanded models, even more nuanced steps. These stages can be helpful because they put words to emotions that otherwise feel overwhelming. But let’s get one thing clear: grief is not a step-by-step process. There isn’t a neat path forward or a checklist to complete.
Every person’s grief journey is uniquely their own. Some people feel waves of anger early on, while others don’t. Some find themselves cycling through guilt over and over, while others feel it only briefly. You may feel acceptance one moment and deep despair the next. None of it is wrong. None of it is failing. It’s simply your experience.
The Models We Hear About
Most people are familiar with the 5-stage model of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. It’s a simplified version that has helped many people recognize the complicated emotions of loss.
There’s also a 7-stage model, which elaborates more fully: shock and denial, pain and guilt, anger and bargaining, depression, the upward turn, reconstruction and working through, and acceptance and hope.
I personally find the 7-stage model encouraging because it acknowledges something important: grief doesn’t always stay in the darkest places. Within its waves, there are also turns toward rebuilding, toward moments of relief, and eventually toward hope. That hope doesn’t mean forgetting the loss or “moving on.” Instead, it means learning to live alongside your grief in a way that allows space for joy again.
Why Stages Don’t Happen in Order
One of the biggest misconceptions about grief is that these stages happen in a linear way. They don’t. You may feel denial and then anger, only to circle back to denial weeks later. You might reach moments of acceptance but still feel bursts of sadness or guilt years down the road.
That doesn’t mean you’re “backsliding.” It means you’re human. Grief is alive, fluid, and ever-changing. And the truth is, you will always carry it with you in some form, but it won’t always be as heavy as it feels right now.
What can help is recognizing the emotions when they arrive. For example, If you know that guilt is a natural part of grief, you might be able to pause and say, “I see this for what it is.” That awareness doesn’t erase the pain, but it can soften how it lands.
Journaling as a Companion to Grief
One of the gentlest, most powerful tools I’ve found for grief is journaling. When your emotions live only in your mind, they can feel tangled and suffocating. But putting them on paper is like emptying out a cluttered drawer.
At first, it’s overwhelming. Everything is piled on top of everything else. But as you begin to pull things out piece by piece, you can see what’s really there. Some things need to be held onto. Others can be set aside. And through that process, the mess becomes easier to live with.
Journaling works the same way. It doesn’t make the pain disappear, but it can bring clarity, peace, and even surprising discoveries about what you’re carrying. Sometimes, writing reveals thoughts and emotions you didn’t even know were stuck inside. By naming them, you give yourself a way forward.
Your Journey, Your Way
Grief is deeply personal, and there’s no right or wrong way to move through it. Models like the 5 or 7 stages are tools — not rules. They give us language, but they don’t define us.
That’s why I’ve created a set of journal prompts for each of the 7 stages of grief. Think of them as a resource you can return to whenever you need. You don’t need to follow them in order. Use them when a particular emotion feels strong, or when you feel stuck. Skip the ones that don’t resonate. Circle back to the ones that do.
Your grief will always be yours. But in the mess and the waves, you may also find common threads and places where you connect with others who understand. That connection, too, is part of healing.
Journal Prompts for the 7 Stages of Grief
Stage 1: Shock and Denial
What part of this loss still feels “unreal” to me?
How do I find myself avoiding the truth of my loss?
What helps me feel grounded in the reality of today?
Write about a moment when the truth first started to sink in.
If I could tell myself one gentle truth right now, what would it be?
Stage 2: Pain and Guilt
What emotions feel heaviest on my heart today?
Where do I feel guilt connected to this loss, and is that guilt truly mine to carry?
Write about the difference between responsibility and regret in this situation.
What helps ease my pain, even for a moment?
If my loved one could speak to me about my guilt, what might they say?
Stage 3: Anger and Bargaining
What am I angry about right now, and why?
Who or what do I direct my anger toward?
If I’ve caught myself making “what if” bargains, what are they?
Write a letter (you don’t have to send it) to the person, situation, or higher power you feel angry with.
How can I allow myself to feel anger without letting it consume me?
Stage 4: Depression
Describe how grief shows up in my body (energy, appetite, sleep).
What feels hardest for me to do right now?
What small comforts bring me relief, even briefly?
Write about a time when I felt joy before my loss. How does remembering that feel today?
If I could ask for help in this low moment, what would I ask for?
Stage 5: The Upward Turn
What tiny signs of healing have I noticed, even if they feel small?
When was the last time I caught myself smiling or laughing?
What new routines or habits are beginning to form as I adjust?
Write about a moment recently when the grief felt less sharp.
What glimmers of hope do I see for myself?
Stage 6: Reconstruction and Working Through
How am I beginning to rebuild my life around this loss?
What strengths have I discovered in myself since this loss?
Write about a challenge I’ve overcome that once felt impossible.
What lessons or wisdom has grief revealed to me?
How do I want to carry my loved one’s memory forward as I move ahead?
Stage 7: Acceptance and Hope
What does acceptance mean to me in the context of this loss?
In what ways have I learned to live alongside my grief?
Write about a future moment I’m looking forward to.
How do I carry both love for what I’ve lost and hope for what’s ahead?
If I could offer hope to someone else grieving, what would I say?
