By: Atlas Desmond
When you lose something important,
you’re supposed to go through a specific set of steps:
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance.
But when he left me I didn’t go through these steps
In the right order.
Before he left,
I was depressed
Because the way he talked about me had finally
penetrated something deep.
I felt his lack of love,
Like a stale sponge against a greasy pan.
It was supposed to be full, was supposed to be saturated,
But it had dried up.
I was depressed
Because I still had his company
But I didn’t have his love anymore.
He insisted,
No, no,
Nothing’s changed,
But it was clear that was a lie.
I swallowed that lie instead of food
And thought maybe it would sustain me.
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance.
The denial happened after he left.
I collapsed to the floor
Sobbing
Clutching my phone like a lifeline
Calling for help before I fell apart altogether.
I got ahold of a friend and said,
He just called me
He said he never wants to see me again
Please, please, please—
She told me to come over,
And I sprinted across campus.
When it came time to cross the street to her apartment,
I had to make myself pause and not bolt across.
Suddenly the idea of getting hit by a truck wasn’t so bad;
At least it would externalize the mental pain I was in
And then people would see the blood,
instead of just trusting that it was there.
When I made it to my friend’s apartment, I said
I can’t believe this is happening
This doesn’t feel real
This feels like a nightmare.
I wanted to pinch myself to wake up.
It’s hard looking back now,
To realize that I never did.
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance.
Bargaining might have been next.
I told myself, I won’t get rid of his pictures,
Just in case he shows up again.
I won’t get rid of his things,
Just in case he returns.
I made a deal with myself
Of how I would behave
If he appeared once more and apologized.
I would try to take care of myself,
Would try to have boundaries,
Wouldn’t let him get too close too fast.
The funny thing is
He never came back.
My parents thought he would.
My friends thought he must.
I was told not to burn any bridges
So that I could make it easier for him to come home
But he never did.
And I waited,
Tear-streaked and bloody,
Prepared to see him again
And lie, saying,
“I understand,” and
“We can go back to normal.”
He never came back.
Nothing I could do could make him come back.
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance.
The anger hit after that.
The how could you do this to me and
Is this how you treat people you claim to love?
At the beginning, the anger crashed over me like a panic attack
And I had to sprint just to outrun it.
Now, it crashes over me more slowly:
I’m sitting on a beach and every time the tide comes up it covers my feet.
I’m angry, yes,
But I’ve been angry for a while.
And more than that, I’m tired
But I’m afraid that if I lay down in the sand
The water will rise up and swallow me whole.
I’m tired of the taste of salt in my mouth
And the feel of seaweed on my skin.
When we were together,
He was always so quick to tell me to lay down
And take whatever discomfort he gave me.
He would say “Apologize,”
And I would grovel at his feet.
He would say “You’re a horrible, broken person,”
And I would lay in the sand,
The sun burning my eyes,
And agree.
Now he’s gone.
And as the pain laps at my feet,
I have to remind myself not to lay down and take it anymore.
He spent years
Teaching me how to hate myself better,
Calling me fantastic, amazing, beautiful,
But a monster at heart.
He spent years
Teaching me to trust him
Only to kick sand in my eyes when I least expected.
I’m glad the bargaining stage is over
Because I don’t know what I would do with myself if I still wanted him.
But the anger stage has yet to leave,
Which is good
Because I deserve to be angry at someone
Who took so much delight in making me cry.
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance.
There are some mornings where I feel them all at once.
I accept that he’s gone,
But oh God, can’t you just make him come back?
So I can slap him in the face with my anger,
And fall to my knees with my tears?
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts,
Oh God it hurts.
It hurts to know how easy I was to leave.
It hurts to know how much pain I took
Simply because he called it love.
He said he was fixing me
But really he was just tearing me down,
Crumbling me up,
Making me bite sized.
Because before, I’d been too big, too strong,
And it intimidated him.
He thought I was too much
So he fought to make me less,
And I let him.
Well, he’s gone now,
And I don’t have to let him anymore.
I will not be the one to hurt myself
Simply because he handed me a knife and commented
On how wonderful my bright red blood would taste.
He handed me a knife
And I threw it in a lake.
He handed me a knife
And I said fuck you and hung up the phone.
He handed me a knife
And I tore his pictures down,
replacing them with pictures of people who actually loved me
In a way that didn’t necessitate pain.
He left.
And at this point, I can finally say,
I’m glad he’s gone.
I won’t say that I hope he doesn’t come back
Because my anger is still very real
And I want him to understand the pain he caused.
He believed he lived life as the victim,
Always the one receiving harm, never the one giving it,
And I want him to know that’s untrue.
He carried pain with him like a flag,
Unwrapped it like it was precious,
And hit me over the head with it like it was a victory.
He planted his flag in my chest and said,
This is the land I have conquered.
I want to see him again, if only to say,
You have conquered nothing.
I am still here.
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance.
Acceptance…
Acceptance looks like a hole in my chest
Where his flag used to be planted.
It’s healed up now, though there are still scabs that I pick at sometimes,
And I know it will scar.
Sometimes I imagine loving other people, holding other people
But right now, protecting myself looks like
Keeping myself safe from other people bearing promises and knives.
I don’t want to be touched.
I don’t want to be held.
I just want to go back to my room, wrap my own wounds,
And tell myself that it will be okay,
Because I am the only one who can protect myself anymore
And I will do that with the grace
And strength
And dedication
That I once put toward protecting him.
I will love myself like a child
And let myself go into hibernation like a wild animal
Needing a break from the cold.
This is my grief.
Atlas Desmond graduated from Drake University in May 2024, and has previously been published in Brevity. Atlas has a passion for writing fiction and flash non-fiction and hopes to eventually publish a novel. Atlas is a trans and queer author. “Stages of Grief” was written in March 2023.