MY Five Stages Of Grief

More than likely, you've heard of the five stages of grief first proposed by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. They are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, acceptance.

Every person experiencing grief will go through the stages in their own way and at their own pace. Some stages could last for months or years. I truly believe that some people never quite make it to that final stage of acceptance.

I also hold on to the firm belief that someone does not have to die for one to experience grief. I repeat, no one has to die for you to experience grief.

For me, my grief came from the loss of the life and the future I thought I knew. It came from the loss of the man whom I had known for 15 years. The love of my life, who, in a matter of hours, would be forever changed by trauma into a different person. Not a bad person, but a different person.

Denial.

I'm going to say that this is the stage I definitely stayed the longest in. Looking back, I think it was like going into protection mode. I was doing whatever I could to make sure nothing changed for my young kids. I was doing whatever I could to make sure my husband was 100% supported and protected at all times. Subconsciously, I think I was also protecting myself because I was not ready to work through my own trauma around that day. I was fine! We were doing ok! Or at least, that is what I would tell people.

Anger.

Anger is a powerful emotion. For a long time, I feel like my anger and my denial chose to cohabitate. I was in denial that I had any trauma around what happened. I didn't have trauma; I was just angry. I was angry that this had happened, and I was angry at the people who asked too many questions or made too many assumptions. I was angry every time I had to navigate a new roadblock on my own. My anger told me that once justice was served, once those responsible were held accountable, everything else would be fine. This didn't end up being the case.

Bargaining.

Oh! The bargaining. Mostly bargaining with myself. If I just do this, then that will fall into place. If I just ignore this for now, then I will be able to focus on that. But the biggest bargain of all was...

If I just focus 100% of my effort and attention on my husband and children, they will be happy and thriving and in turn, that will make all of my issues disappear. If I always look for the bright side, I won't see the darkness.

News flash - it doesn't work that way.

Depression.

As my denial started to fade, and the stark reality of what lay ahead set in, so did the depression. I consider it to be like a "functioning depression". I still took care of all my responsibilities and went to work and all that shit - but I had lost my sparkle. I began to think that now I had let things go on for too long, and I didn't know where or how to start sifting through everything. I felt lost and alone. I knew that I had experienced my side of this trauma, but I still had this self-imposed idea that I didn't deserve to talk about it, like it was shameful. I think I hid it well, but those who know me best started to see the signs. I'm eternally grateful for those who would reach out with a call or text, stop by for coffee, or drag my ass to the gym.

Acceptance.

I've talked about this before in other posts I've made. I truly believe that the first lockdown during COVID gave me the opportunity to focus on myself and what I needed to do in order to feel like I was moving past survival mode. A random conversation with my father-in-law gave me the acknowledgment and permission to truly stand in owning my story.

We were faced with so many unknowns from the pandemic, being stuck at home with my husband, who no longer had access to the gym (his safe haven) and my kids trying to do school online...it was a lot. I was feeling even more lonely and could feel myself slipping away. I needed connection, and since we were being discouraged from physical connection, I had to get creative.

This blog was my initial step toward acceptance. Personally, I believe you remain in this stage as you keep navigating through life.

September 14, 2025, marks 7 years since my husband's hostage taking. (That's been a big step for my healing - actually NAMING what happened and not just saying "the incident".). It has taken me almost 7 years to get here. And the healing never ends. And maybe the grief never does, either. But it is so much more manageable knowing that I already know what it feels like to put in the hard work.

Take care of yourself and each other,

Daniela