My Five Stages of Grief
It took me five years to recognize that I was grieving.
They say when you leave an abusive relationship, you follow a trajectory similar to that of Kubler-Ross's five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and hopefully, acceptance.
From the moment my counsellor shared this with me, I became completely fixated on the outcome. If I made it to the final stage of acceptance, I would be able to move on with my life.
All I needed was a plan; one that allowed me to work my way through each of these five stages. Looking back, I know I was incredibly naive to think this way. Yet, this false sense of control helped me get through the darker moments of my recovery.
Denial
Denial consumed majority of my initial therapy sessions with the Sexual Assault Centre of Ottawa. Even though I had registered myself for their 20-week individual support program, I wasn’t ready to accept that my relationship was in fact abusive. As a young girl, exposure to violence against women had often been depicted as one-off traumatic events. I never learned that abuse could find a home in a long-term relationship nor that sexual assault could be committed by a partner.
The majority of my time at the centre was spent learning about healthy relationships and boundaries, which allowed me to see my past relationship in a whole new way.
Anger
As the denial began to lessen, I anticipated the anger that would come next. I wanted to kick and scream. If only I yelled loud enough, someone would have to notice how much pain I was in.
Hatred and betrayal filled my bones. I hated the man who had caused my pain and felt completely betrayed by the systems that were “supposed” to protect me.
We tell women to come forward, yet when we do, we are met with limited resources and all kinds of roadblocks. In university, I confided in a therapist in regards to ongoing stalking and harassment. I told him that I feared for my own safety and he directed me “to keep an eye on it.” A few years later, when I asked for information about a potential restraining order, I was told that it would be hard for my case to get anywhere and I should try to move on.
At the time, the notion of acceptance felt like a lifetime away. I started to blame myself—and so the anger turned inwards. I had failed myself. There were so many signs yet somehow I had failed to see them. How could I go on living knowing I had done this to myself?
It saddens me to say, but as I moved into the next stage, I spent a lot of time hating myself. I felt responsible, as though the experience was my fault. My mind ran through every scenario of “what-if?”
What if I had seen the red flags?
What if I had put my own feelings first?
What if I hadn’t had poor boundaries in the first place?
Bargaining
The feelings of guilt, shame and disgust quickly flooded my mind. As I sat with these feelings, I started to question everything about my experience. “If only I had…” or “how could I have done things differently?” were never-ending scenarios that yet again provided me with the tiniest sense of control.
No matter how much I bargained with myself, I started to understand that I would never be able to change the outcome. Regardless of how many scenarios I played in my head, I wouldn’t be able to reason my way out of what happened to me.
I started to let go of my grip and accept that I couldn’t control what was happening to me. Coming to terms with this realization brought on some of my darkest days.
Depression
Even though acceptance was supposedly on the other side, there was no light at the end of the tunnel. I wasn’t even sure how to climb out of the darkness; it engulfed me. Nightmares were so prevalent that sleep no longer felt safe. I tried to cope by avoiding any potential triggers, which caused me to withdraw and isolate myself from everyone who loved me. I couldn’t face myself, let alone those closest to me. Numbing the pain through sleeping pills and alcohol felt like the only way out.
The length of time spent in my depression made it harder than everything that came before. Minutes felt like hours. Days dragged on for months. As years passed, I started to believe that I would never be able to pull myself out.
Acceptance
There was no ah-ha moment, but no longer a deep sense of humiliation. The more I leaned on loved ones, the more I realized I didn’t have to go at this alone. Little by little, I opened up about my experience. Acceptance didn’t come all at once; instead, I spent years unveiling my true past. Over time, as I knew I was safe, I started to open up and truly confide in others.
What happened next came as quite a surprise.
In my mind, I believed I had conquered this experience by working through each of these stages so meticulously. Yet what I failed to recognize was how my body stepped in to protect me at a time when my mind couldn’t. While I may have come to terms with the emotional turmoil, the trauma very much still lives on in my body. Memories have started to resurface as body sensations, often triggering a fight or flight response. This wasn’t supposed to be a part of my plan.
It’s been frightening to navigate, yet it’s taught me that grief doesn’t follow a trajectory and there really is no end date when it comes to healing. Instead of looking at this as a setback, I am leaning into acceptance. It serves as a beautiful reminder: I have finally gotten to a place where my mind can let go in order to give my body the space it needs to heal.