Ghosting and the Stages of Grief

I had an epiphany the other day: being ghosted stirs up the same cycle of emotions we feel after loss.

When someone disappears without explanation, it’s not just the absence of the person that hurts—it’s the rupture of meaning. It’s the unanswered story our nervous system keeps trying to finish. And just like grief, the process unfolds in stages:

Denial.
I catch myself thinking, “They’ll text back… this isn’t really happening.” I refresh my phone, check old messages, tell myself there must be a reason for the silence. Denial buys me time, but deep down I know the truth.

Anger.
Then the frustration comes: “Seriously? After everything, you just disappear?” Anger stings, but it’s also protective—it reminds me that I deserved better than vanishing acts.

Bargaining.
This is when I think, “If I reach out again, maybe I’ll get clarity…” even though part of me knows the door is already closed. It’s the mind’s attempt to patch the holes in a story that never got an ending.

Sadness.
Eventually, the ache settles in. “Was it me? Why am I not worth an explanation?” This is the tender part—the hollow feeling, the dip into self-doubt. It feels like withdrawal, like my system is craving something that isn’t there.

Acceptance.
Finally, the quiet truth: “Their silence is an answer. I deserve people who show up.” Acceptance isn’t about being okay with what happened—it’s about reclaiming my dignity. It’s the moment I stop waiting for someone else to write the ending and give myself closure instead.

***

What makes ghosting so painful isn’t just that someone left—it’s that they left without words. Our brains are wired for stories, for resolution. When we don’t get that, the silence echoes.

Healing, for me, has been about allowing each stage to move through me—naming the denial, the anger, the bargaining, the sadness—without judgment. And then choosing, again and again, to give myself the gift of closure.

Ghosting hurts, but it also teaches. It teaches me that my worth is not defined by someone else’s ability (or inability) to show up. And it reminds me that the people I want in my life are the ones who stay in the conversation, even when it’s hard.