Grieving Your Health: The Stages of Grief in Chronic Illness

Coming to terms with a chronic illness is like starring in a TV show you never auditioned for. One minute, you're living your life, making plans, maybe even hitting a solid stride—and the next, you're thrown into a plot twist so dramatic that even a soap opera writer would say, "Alright, tone it down."

It’s not just about managing symptoms or learning new routines; it’s about navigating the profound sense of loss that comes with a shifting identity, changing goals, and mourning the life you once envisioned. And no, a green smoothie and a "positive mindset" won’t miraculously undo your body’s rebellion. (Shocking, I know.)

One of the most helpful frameworks I’ve found for understanding this process is the five stages of grief, originally developed by psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. While traditionally associated with bereavement, these stages are eerily accurate when applied to chronic illness. So, let’s break them down—with a little added irreverence and a hefty dose of reality.

1. Denial: "This Can’t Be Happening"

What It Looks Like:

Convincing yourself the doctors must have it wrong, frantically searching for a less terrifying explanation, or declaring, "I’ll bounce back any day now!" as your body passive-aggressively reminds you otherwise.

Why It Happens:

Because chronic illness disrupts not just your body but your entire worldview. Denial is the brain’s way of saying, "Nope, not today, Satan."

My Reflection:

Oh, the Google rabbit holes I have fallen into. I spent nights searching for that one elusive cure, hoping I’d stumbled upon something that thousands of doctors, researchers, and centuries of medical science had somehow overlooked. Turns out, denial is great for temporary comfort but terrible for actual progress. Eventually, I had to accept that my body wasn’t a fixer-upper—it was my forever home, quirks and all.

2. Anger: "Why Me?"

What It Looks Like:

Rage at your body, frustration with clueless doctors, resentment toward people who take their health for granted, and the occasional desire to flip a table in dramatic fashion.

Why It Happens:

Because it’s unfair. Because chronic illness often feels like punishment for a crime you didn’t commit. Because watching other people run marathons while you struggle to stand up too fast is infuriating.

My Reflection:

Anger has been a frequent, if unwelcome, guest in my journey. I’ve been mad at my body for betraying me, at doctors who dismissed me, and at the sheer absurdity of a world where people can eat gas station sushi unscathed while I flare up from breathing near a scented candle. Eventually, I realized anger is exhausting. Now, I redirect it—whether through advocacy, humor, or occasionally ranting to my dog, who, for the record, is an excellent listener.

3. Bargaining: "Maybe If I Just…"

What It Looks Like:

Promising yourself that if you just rest more, eat better, meditate harder, or stand under the next full moon at precisely the right angle, you’ll feel better. Also known as "desperately grasping for control."

Why It Happens:

Because accepting that no amount of kale or positive thinking can cure you is terrifying. Bargaining lets us pretend, even for a moment, that we have some say in the matter.

My Reflection:

I went through an intense "maybe if I just..." phase, testing every promising supplement, diet, and lifestyle hack. Some things helped, others were nonsense, and a few left me dramatically declaring, "Never again!" (Looking at you, celery juice.) In the end, I had to accept that my illness wasn’t a puzzle to solve—it was a reality to live with.

4. Depression: "What’s the Point?"

What It Looks Like:

Grieving the life you thought you’d have, feeling like a burden, withdrawing from loved ones, and questioning if any of it is worth it.

Why It Happens:

Because chronic illness is isolating. Because the future suddenly looks different—and not in the fun, spontaneous way.

My Reflection:

This stage hit me like a freight train. There were days when the weight of it all made even the smallest tasks feel impossible. What helped? Small joys. A good book, a ridiculously soft blanket, a podcast that made me laugh, and connecting with others who understood. And therapy—big fan of therapy. (Seriously, if you’re struggling, please seek help. You’re worth it.)

5. Acceptance: "I Can Live With This"

What It Looks Like:

Not "I love my illness!" but rather "I don’t have to love it to make peace with it." Finding ways to adapt, advocate for yourself, and embrace a new definition of happiness.

Why It Happens:

Because fighting reality 24/7 is exhausting. At some point, you shift from resisting to adjusting.

My Reflection:

Acceptance, for me, isn’t a one-time epiphany—it’s an ongoing process. It’s learning to celebrate small victories (like getting through the day without swearing at my own joints) and redefining what success looks like. Some days, I still cycle through the other stages, but I remind myself that progress isn’t linear—it’s a chaotic, messy, deeply human journey.

Grief Isn’t Linear—And That’s Okay

These stages aren’t a checklist you complete. You might revisit anger during a flare-up or denial when facing a new diagnosis. That doesn’t mean you’re failing—it means you’re human.

One thing I’ve learned? Grief and hope can coexist. Chronic illness changes your life, but it doesn’t erase joy, love, or purpose. You can still build a meaningful, fulfilling life—just maybe at a slightly different pace.

A Note to Fellow Spoonies

If you’re struggling, you’re not alone. Grieving your health isn’t self-indulgent—it’s a testament to how much your life matters. Be kind to yourself. Give yourself permission to mourn, but also to seek joy wherever you can find it.

If I could go back and give my past self one piece of advice, it would be this: You are not broken. You don’t have to prove your worth by pushing through pain or pretending you’re fine when you’re not. You are enough, just as you are—on the good days, on the bad days, and on the days when the only victory is getting out of bed (or not, because rest is also productive).

I’d love to hear your experiences—have you gone through any of these stages? What’s helped you along the way? Drop a comment, share your story, or just know that somewhere out there, I’m cheering for you.

Sources & Further Reading:

• Kübler-Ross, E. (1969). On Death and Dying. New York: Macmillan.

• Psychology Today. "The Five Stages of Grief & Loss." Link

• National Institute of Mental Health. "Coping with Chronic Illness." Link