Real Talk: It's Okay to Not Be Okay

Let’s take a moment to step aside and talk about something real deep—because, let’s face it, life is freakin’ hard and constantly throwing us curveballs. Therapy can be a powerful support during times like these. It offers a space to make sense of things when everything feels completely out of your control and your emotions are at an all-time high—or low.

One of the hardest things any of us will ever go through is losing someone. The finality of it. The endless what ifs. Feeling stuck between moving forward and not wanting to forget that person. And the gut-wrenching pain that comes with missing them.

Death touches all of us eventually, and our first experience with grief can turn our world upside down. In a strange way, it connects us all—because if you’ve been through it, you know just how painful it is.

I’m no different. I’ve experienced countless losses throughout my life and watched grief ripple through my high school all four years I was there. From eerie silence across campus, to tears on the basketball court. Friends collapsing in my arms. Peers saying they didn’t want to go on. Grief doesn’t just affect one person—it shakes entire communities.

So if loss is so intense, how could talking about it possibly help?

At the very least, it can help you feel less alone—and less “crazy.” It offers a space away from the puppy-dog eyes of adults and the awkwardness with friends who might not know what to say. You don’t have to censor yourself or pretend to be okay.

Therapy can teach you about the five stages of grief and help you realize that what you’re feeling is normal. No, it can’t erase the pain or bring your loved one back. But it can help you find a few moments of peace. It can teach you to be gentle with yourself, to listen to what your body and heart need when the grief hits hardest.

Wait—There Are Five Stages of Grief?!

Yeah, I know. That sounds like a lot—and honestly, it is. Not gonna lie. And if you ask others, there are even more than five. Regardless, breaking it down really helps when you’re trying to make sense of what’s happening after a loss. Grief can feel like a total emotional tornado, and these stages help you understand that what you’re going through is actually normal.

The five stages aren’t a checklist or something you go through in a straight line. You might bounce between them, skip some, or feel them all at once. But just to give you a better idea, here’s what these stages might look like in real life:

Denial

When a friend from college suddenly passed away, I was the one who had to break the news to my husband. This wasn’t just any friend—it was one of his best friends from SDSU. My hands were practically shaking as I prepared to tell him.

But his response completely threw me off.

He looked at me and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. Tell your grandmother my condolences.”

Umm… what?!

At first, I was confused. But then I realized what was happening. Our friend happened to share the same name as one of my grandmother’s best friends, and the overprotective part of my husband’s brain simply refused to let him believe I was talking about his friend. He had mentally replaced the person I was talking about with someone who was already gone—someone whose death felt easier to accept.

And here’s the wild part: he knew my grandmother's friend had already passed away. But denial doesn’t care about logic. It’s not about what makes sense—it’s about what your brain needs in the moment to cope. It’s a way of slowing down the emotional impact so it doesn’t crush you all at once.

That moment taught me that denial isn’t just shock—it’s a defense mechanism.

Anger

Anger is probably one of the easier stages to recognize when you're grieving—but what people don't always talk about is who that anger gets directed at.

Sometimes, you’re mad at the situation. Other times, at the person who died for “leaving.” And sometimes? You're angry at God.

I felt this kind of anger when my grandmother passed away—on the eve of my wedding night. I was devastated that she was gone, yes, but I was furious that it happened then. Right before what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life.

I remember thinking: Seriously, God? Why now?

I was a good person. I followed the rules. I was kind. I had done everything “right.”So why this?

The truth is, no one caused her death. There wasn’t anyone to blame. But my grief had all this intense energy that needed somewhere to land—and for me, that was a higher power.

That’s what anger in grief can look like. It doesn’t always make sense, and it’s not always rational. But it’s real. And it deserves to be felt, not buried.

Bargaining

My sophomore year of high school, a junior died by suicide. She was popular, smart, so incredibly kind—and her death rocked our entire school. Literally, the whole campus was shook. I’ll never forget that day. There were so many emotions, so much confusion, and an overwhelming number of what ifs.

People kept saying things like:

"I should’ve called her more."

"I should’ve noticed the signs."

"If I had just done this… maybe she'd still be here."

That’s what bargaining sounds like.

The truth is, we’ll probably never know exactly why. But when you're grieving, your brain starts reaching for something—anything—to make sense of something that feels totally unexplainable. Bargaining is our mind’s way of trying to rewrite the past, like if we could just hit rewind and change one tiny detail, it could all turn out differently.

It’s a heartbreaking and exhausting game. You try to find control in a situation where there is none. You think, If only I had… and somehow convince yourself that you could’ve saved them.

But here’s the hard truth: no one wins in that game.

It’s part of the process. And while it hurts, it doesn’t last forever. With the help of a therapist you can start to accept that what happened wasn’t your fault.

Depression

Oh look—my favorite emotion: depression!

(Just kidding. Kind of.)

Grief-related depression hits different. The crying spells can come out of nowhere, last way longer than expected, and feel impossibly heavy. It’s intense. Thankfully, that kind of emotional intensity doesn’t last forever.

What I’ve learned from my own grief journey is this: let it happen. Don’t fight it. Listen to your body and what it needs—without judgment.

For me, that might look like laying in the front yard, staring up at the stars, while my husband silently wonders if he should call someone for help. Other times, it’s finding a body of water—my go-to coping strategy—so I can dip my feet in, feel the coolness, and just sit with my emotions. Let them pass through me instead of bottling them up.

Depression means you’re feeling the weight of loss—and that’s a sign of love. The sadness might not fully go away, but when you stop resisting it, the intensity softens. It becomes more manageable.

Acceptance

Acceptance doesn’t mean the pain disappears. It doesn’t mean you’re “over it.” And it definitely doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten the person you lost.

I think acceptance looks different for everyone.

Maybe it’s finding whatever peace you can in knowing your loved one is gone.

Maybe it’s being okay with just the memories—and feeling genuinely grateful that you had those moments at all.

Maybe it’s creating a way to honor them, to keep their spirit alive.

It might look like lighting a candle every year on their birthday.

Talking to them out loud when no one’s around.

Sharing their stories with others or laughing at their old jokes.

Whatever it is, acceptance is learning to live with them gone—not by erasing the grief, but by carrying it more gently.

As you can probably tell by now, every loss is different—because every relationship is different. That’s what makes grief so personal… and sometimes so confusing. There’s no right way to do it. No timeline. And that’s why trying to navigate it all on your own can feel overwhelming.

But here’s the thing: you don’t have to go through it alone.

Support is out there—whether it’s a therapist, a trusted adult, a friend who just listens, or even a journal.

It’s always okay to not be okay.