We’ve all heard about the famous Five Stages of Grief—Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Sounds neat, doesn’t it? Like a checklist for healing. “Just work through these, and you’ll be fine!”

Except… grief doesn’t work like that. It’s not tidy. It doesn’t come in stages. And if it does, it certainly doesn’t follow any kind of logical order.

The original five stages came from psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in 1969 but here’s the twist: they were based on people coming to terms with their own terminal diagnoses, not those grieving a loss. Somewhere along the line, society decided these stages applied to all grief, and the myth was born.

When my son Matthew was diagnosed with cancer, my grief began long before he died. That’s called anticipatory grief and no, it’s not some “blessing in disguise” just because you get time to say goodbye. It’s a special kind of torture. Watching someone you love slowly disappear, knowing there is nothing you can do, is excruciating!

When Matthew died, I wasn’t ready. How could anyone be ready to watch their child take their last breath? The pain was like a silent scream that had nowhere to go. That was my brutal beginning—not denial.

Then came numbness. The world stopped. I felt nothing. I thought I was broken. In reality, I was in shock, disconnected for survival. That numbness was a protective mechanism, not a sign that I didn’t care.

Next? Disbelief. I replayed everything in my mind, trying to make sense of it. Bargaining? I’d done that beside his bedside, begging the universe, the angels, and God to take me instead. Anger? I’d been living with it for more than two years, since before his diagnosis. Anger at our local GP, who kept brushing him off and refusing to take his symptoms seriously. Anger at our very broken National Health Service and the feeling of utter helplessness.

And then I discovered the Five Stages of Grief and I thought I’d failed. I wasn’t doing it right. I wasn’t following the rules!

But here’s the truth: grief isn’t a linear journey. It’s a tangled, messy maze. Sometimes it feels like quicksand, other times like a wave knocking you sideways when you’re least expecting it, usually in the biscuit aisle at the supermarket.

Forget the stages. Grief doesn’t need rules. It needs space. Compassion. And time. One model I do love says we grow around our grief. It doesn’t shrink, we just slowly expand our life around it.

I’ve also found controlled grief helpful. I’d give myself space to break down in private, pillow-punching, crying, talking to the ceiling. Then I’d put myself back together enough to show up for others. It was messy, but it worked for me.

Nearly nine years later, I still grieve. I still miss Matthew. And I always will. But I’ve made peace with my grief. It’s part of me now.

So if you’re grieving, know this: you’re not doing it wrong. There’s no right way. Just your way. Grief is love, showing up in a new form. Let it in. Let it be felt. Because feeling is healing.

And if someone tries to hand you the five stages like a grief instruction manual, make your excuses and get out of there fast.

Take a listen to my podcast about the 5 stages of grief here.

Connect with me through my Linktree: https://linktr.ee/louisebates